All categorization is deeply rooted in politics

Ethnic politics serves as both a means of communication and a system of governance, assuming dominance in the hands of the ethnic group representing the majority of the population. In the United States, the classification of race and ethnicity has been predominantly shaped by white elites. It is noteworthy that while numerous white anthropologists assume the role of spokespersons for China's ethnic minorities, they often overlook the fact that racial and ethnic distinctions within the U.S. are equally complex and problematic for non-white communities.

Chinese individuals residing in the United States often encounter confusion when it comes to completing forms that require information about their personal backgrounds. They question the rationale behind categorizing Asians based on their country of origin, while neglecting to do the same for white Europeans. Additionally, they wonder why Jews are not provided with a separate category. Moreover, the requirement to indicate whether one is Latino or Hispanic as a separate category raises further questions. Lastly, the amalgamation of Asian and Pacific Islander into a single category calls for scrutiny.

Even in American universities, the term faculty of color is used to refer to professors who are not white. However, it seems that white American elites disregard this term as if they do not consider white as a color.

Interestingly, I have encountered two Jewish colleagues who, despite not outwardly displaying their Jewish identity, privately confided in me, saying, "I am a Jew." This act could be interpreted as an effort to bridge the gap between us, considering that I am Chinese, or perhaps because they themselves felt uneasy about their own racial identities and sought reassurance from me, a non-white individual. It is likely that many white Americans do not pay much attention to these dynamics either, especially if they are classified as Caucasian, which includes white individuals of European ancestry.

All I can say is that all categorization is deeply rooted in politics.

Can Western anthropologists genuinely serve as spokespersons for China's ethnic minorities?

Taking off from this discussion, one notes that when American anthropologists (often privileged Caucasian scholars affiliated with esteemed universities) undertake field research in China, they exhibit a heightened eagerness to incite minority interviewees (including underage students) to contemplate on the supposed contradiction between their ethnicity as minorities and their Chinese identity. This purported contradiction is nothing more than their preconceived wishful thinking rather than a genuine reality.

For instance, certain academics adamantly keep on questioning Chinese students from minority backgrounds regarding their self-identification as ethnically Chinese or simply Chinese. However, it is important to acknowledge that in the perception of these Chinese minority children, being Chinese and so-and-so Chinese ethnic minority are not separate choices but rather an organic fusion of their identity.

Engaging in such provocative inquiries also infringes upon the established principles of academic ethics within the realm of social science in the United States. In this country, any comprehensive research on minors' social circumstances must undergo meticulous examination by an accredited committee on campus. It is noteworthy that I personally served as a certified Institutional Review Board (IRB) member at Allegheny College. This situation raises concerns regarding the applicability of a dual standard by American scholars when it comes to investigations conducted domestically versus those carried out abroad.

I have witnessed on at least two occasions the resolute resistance of ethnic minority scholars in China to the deliberate attempt by the white elite scholar to assume the role of spokesperson for China's ethnic minorities.

In 2017, I interviewed a Guangxi Zhuang scholar who became visibly upset when discussing an American scholar's work on the artificial "creation" of the Zhuang people. The author Katherine Palmer Kaup, arbitrarily asserts the following on page 18 of her book Creating the Zhuang: Ethnic Politics in China, "In the Zhuang case, however, the state played the primary role, without the help of Zhuang elites, in building Zhuang ethnic solidarity. The party did not shape its policies in response to Zhuang elite actively. The party created the Zhuang elite." And on page 87, "Few Zhuang actively promoted a Zhuang autonomous unit, and many actively resisted it." The Guangxi Zhuang scholar vehemently questioned, "Who said the Zhuang people were artificially created?"

Katherine Palmer Kaup includes Huang Xianfan (1899-1982), a renowned Zhuang historian and ethnographer, and his book A General History of the Zhuang People in her bibliography. However, it appears that she fails to recognize Mr. Huang Xianfan as more than just an ordinary author of a general history. Unbeknownst to them, Mr. Huang Xianfan was actually a distinguished Zhuang cultural elite and political activist. He studied in 1930s at the Beijing Normal University and the Imperial University of Tokyo, Japan. Furthermore, he led the first extensive historical and cultural survey of Guangxi, a significant milestone in its history. Additionally, Mr. Huang Xianfan wrote a remarkable biography on Wei Baqun, a Zhuang revolutionary.

I want to emphasize that the presence of the Zhuang ethnic minority in China is undeniable and cannot be erased, nor can it be artificially "created" by anyone. The achievement of regional ethnic autonomy in Guangxi is the outcome of collaborative endeavors between the central government and the intellectual leaders of the Zhuang community.

Moreover, according to Katherine Palmer Kaup's book, Wei Baqun is portrayed solely as a peasant revolutionary, with no connection to Zhuang identity. However, Huang Xianfan's biographical research, along with historian Han Xiaorong's study, provide compelling evidence that supports Wei Baqun's Zhuang heritage. These scholars confirm that Wei Baqun indeed embraced his Zhuang identity, utilizing the Zhuang language and traditional songs as powerful tools to propagate the ideals of the revolution, all based on well-substantiated historical records.

In recent decades, Western social science research has been greatly influenced by postmodern critical theory, leading to a tendency to deconstruct established political entities, cognitive frameworks, and "grand narratives" based on their historical construction. This approach challenges conventions and established ideas, promoting deeper cognitive understanding and critical analysis. Yet, it is also misleading to become overly enamored of this approach without detailed discernment.

In her book, Katherine Palmer Kaup frequently muddles the distinction between Zhuang as an ethnic group and Guangxi Zhuang Autonomous Region as an administrative division. This results in a paradoxical situation where she questions the autonomy of the autonomous region while simultaneously erasing the distinct identity of the Zhuang people. The outcome of such an approach is utter nihilism, a viewpoint that even the Zhuang community finds hard to reconcile with. It is challenging to justify Kaup's assertion that the Zhuang people's "lack of interest-advocacy experience" hinders "further mobilization." After all, if Zhuang identity is considered non-existent, where does the foundation for "mobilization" lie, and what exactly is the objective of "further mobilization?"

One notable incident involves a Miao scholar from Guizhou who encountered a European scholar during a conference in Europe. The European scholar insisted that the term Miao was merely a fictionalized notion created by the Chinese. In response, the Miao scholar vehemently rebuked him, leaving the European scholar visibly shaken and overwhelmed till he "collapsed onto the sofa."

At the beginning of 2018, I had the opportunity to conduct an interview with Prof. Wang Mingke, a renowned anthropologist and the director of the Institute of History and Philology at the Academia Sinica in Taipei. During our conversation, Prof. Wang shared with me an incident involving a highly influential middle-aged Sinologist in the United States. According to him, this sinologist was determined to compile a book to trace how the Han people were "artificially created." However, Prof. Wang, along with several other esteemed scholars of Chinese descent who were initially invited to participate in the publication project, eventually chose to withdraw their involvement.

However, within the context of the foreign new Qing history, there is a divergent perspective on this nihilistic post-modern thinking. Scholars of the new Qing history argue that the Manchus not only constituted an unquestionable ethnic entity but also possessed a sense of ethnic sovereignty. If we were to apply the aforementioned postmodern nihilistic logic to the new Qing history, it would imply that the Manchus themselves were artificially constructed. This prompts us to question the concept of ethnic sovereignty advocated by American scholars.

During the 1950s, China encountered significant difficulties in ethnic identification. Fei Xiaotong (1910-2005), the eminent Chinese socialist and anthropologist trained in London School of Economics, once recounted that there were over 400 self-reported names for ethnic groups in Yunnan Province alone, making it evidently impractical to acknowledge each and every one of them. This intricacy, I believe, is not fully understood by American scholars either.

It must be stated that the process of ethnic identification, which involves the implementation of governmental policies, research conducted by experts and scholars, and the active involvement of ethnic elites and the general population, is not without flaws and controversies, which is deemed as a normal occurrence. Over time, these issues have been openly acknowledged in academic research on ethnic affairs. Nonetheless, it is important to note that the actual situation does not align with the notion of a completely arbitrary division as asserted by Western scholars.

In fact, when these white elites' attempts to be the spokespersons of China's ethnic minorities are met with a head-on attack by China's ethnic minority intellectuals, they should reflect on whether China's native ethnic minority elites are better able to represent their own ethnicity and determine their own identity. They should reflect on whether white American anthropology professors, who may be able to speak Mandarin well, who have studied the ethnic languages for only a few months, who have gone to do hasty research in the summer, and who do not have a clear understanding of many of the basic facts, are more representative. They should also reflect on whether it is not a kind of rumor and an insult to say that the Zhuang and the Miao have been "created" in those very words themselves.

Is it "internal Orientalism" or "external Orientalism" of the West towards minorities of the East?

In Minority Rules: The Miao and the Feminine in China's Cultural Politics (2000), a highly influential book that has been translated into Chinese, author Luisa Schein repeatedly suggests and underscores the notion that the purpose of developing ethnic tours in Guizhou is to cater to the interest of urban Han Chinese tourists. Specifically, the focus is on satisfying their curiosity about Miao culture. Western scholars often employ such a common tactic of creating a dichotomy between Han Chinese middle-class tourists and ethnic minorities.

One newly-published English paper I read recently explores the topic of ethnic tourism in China yet continues the Western mindset of urban Chinese gazing on rural ethnic people. Both Schein's book and this article utilized explicitly or implicitly the theory of Orientalism. Originating from Edward Said, a prominent figure in post-colonial theory who critiques Western culture, this theory is employed to analyze the dynamics between the Han people and other ethnic groups within China. It is evident that there are underlying intentions behind this utilization.

Yet, Schein and other Western researchers have willfully disregarded a crucial fact: the initial driving force behind ethnic tourism in Guizhou Province is undeniably Western tourists themselves, rather than domestic tourists.

Anyone familiar with Chinese tourism knows that the rise of self-funded domestic tourism in the true sense of the word in China was relatively late. Before this, travel within the country was more oriented towards business trips with occasional sightseeing. The surge in self-funded and group domestic tourism began in the mid-1990s, marking a significant shift in travel patterns. During this period, popular destinations for domestic tours in China were predominantly major urban centers and picturesque natural landscapes. This aligns perfectly with the aesthetic preferences of the Chinese people, who have a particular affinity for mountains and waters.

In the late 1980s and early 1990s, establishing representative ethnic villages in Guizhou, such as Langde Miao Village, Xijiang Miao Village, and Zhaoxing Dong Village, was a direct response to the demands of international tourists. Initially, the management of these villages viewed their interaction with foreign guests as a foreign affairs mission.

During my interview with Chen Zhengtao, the former secretary of Langde Miao Village in 2016, he mentioned that in order to cater to international tourism, significant efforts were made to convince the villagers to deviate from their traditional practices of only wearing costumes and playing copper drums during festivals and rituals. Instead, they were encouraged to partake in simulated rituals when foreign guests visited the village.

It is important to highlight that Schein's claim in her book, stating that Xijiang Miao Village in Guizhou, which was inaccessible to foreigners during the 1990s, was "one of the most popular destinations" for Chinese domestic tourists, is completely contrary to prevailing facts. As a result of historical economic disparity, the development of domestic tourism in China lagged behind international tourism.

Moreover, Chinese tourists' appreciation for culturally immersive experiences in minority villages came later than their Western counterparts. In fact, it can be argued that it was the West, exemplified by the now discontinued Lonely Planet travel guides, that played a significant role in awakening this interest among Chinese tourists.

The prevalence of international tourism, fueled by the Western middle classes' curiosity, has significantly impacted the cultural landscape of developing nations. This shift has resulted in the commercialization and performance-driven portrayal of their national culture, ultimately aimed at maximizing profits. Such observations have formed a widely accepted conclusion within the realm of global anthropological studies on tourism. To put it differently, the proponents of marginalizing ethnic traditions in Guizhou, seeking exoticism, and perpetuating the portrayal of Miao women through an Orientalized lens, are not what Schein refers to as "internal orientalism" primarily driven by China's urban middle-class; rather, they embody the Western external orientalism towards the Eastern minority cultures.

However, the modern manifestation of Orientalism has evolved into various forms, including exclusive cultural expeditions tailored for the affluent Western upper-middle class, specialized photography tours focused on capturing ethnic diversity, and cross-border commerce revolving around selling traditional ethnic jewelry.

Schein's written work frequently employs the broad category of tourists deliberately, thereby evading the acknowledgment of international tourism's pivotal role in shaping Guizhou's ethnic tourism. This approach fails to recognize the erosion of local culture due to Western tourists' interest and tour operators' promotions.

I have had the opportunity to explore the largest Amish community in the United States, which is located in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. This German-speaking enclave is a fascinating destination that attracts a diverse range of visitors, primarily middle-class Americans. The focus of the tours to Amish country is on the unique aspects of Amish life, including their distinctive attire, masterful craftsmanship, and traditional material culture, such as the iconic two-wheeled horse-drawn carriages (buggy). 

Additionally, visitors learn about the Amish's specific dietary choices, adherence to old-fashioned religious beliefs, and life practices that reject the modern mainstream civilization. This tourism development is a prime example of America's internal orientalism.

Luisa Schein was one of the first American anthropologists to enter the Chinese mainland to conduct anthropological fieldwork after China's reform and opening up. However, her approach was plagued by preconceived theoretical presuppositions, a tendency to search for evidence confirming her own theories, and the manner in which she was treated as a foreign guest accompanied by multiple layers of escorts. These factors hindered her ability to delve beyond surface-level observations, impeding a deeper understanding of village life and the genuine dynamics underlying tourism development in Guizhou. Here, too, some American anthropologists need to reflect on their privileged position as foreign guests in China and the consequent limitations placed on conducting authentic participant observation research.

The real problem exposed here is that white American academic elites do have many shortcomings when it comes to utilizing theories and formulating concepts. One notable aspect is their tendency to possess preconceived notions, coupled with an eagerness to validate these theories. Additionally, they struggle to approach issues holistically, demonstrate a lack of clarity in discerning relevant concepts, and possess a limited understanding of individuals and of their actions.

Furthermore, it appears that these academics are morally inclined to assume the role of a benevolent white savior akin to Lawrence of Arabia in films. They consistently believe that numerous victims of oppression eagerly await their summons for help and deliverance.

The author is Wu Guo, associate professor of history and head of the Chinese Studies Program at Allegheny College.

Guo Jiaxiang /Editor    Liu Li /Translator

Yang Xinhua /Chief Editor    Ren Qiang /Coordinator

Zhang Ying /Reviewer

Zhang Weiwei /Copyeditor    Tan Yujie /Image Editor

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