第三，我找了8分钟简单英文视频跟读练习。这个视频名字就叫“English learning methods How to speak english fluently”，特别简单，不仅适合跟读练习，还能如标题学到英语学习的方法，最后还能在每天跟读的时候获得很多信心。这篇文章里分享了7个简单有效的英文学习方法（这里安利下莫不谷在游荡者专门写了语言学习的攻略文章，是付费注册游荡者后后台就可以查看的内容）：
listen to english everyday每天听英语；
speak everyday even alone即使独自一人也每天说英语；
dont be afraid of mistakes不要害怕说错；
learn and use small sentences学习使用小短句；
copy and repeat after native speakers和母语者跟读重复；
think in english用英语思考；
talk with others and record yourself和别人用英语聊天然后记录下来。
September 3 will mark the eightieth anniversary of the end of World War II, and Xi Jinping will host Vladimir Putin in Beijing for a military parade to mark the occasion. For both men, it will be an opportunity to assert the civilizational agendas they are pursuing.
Xi and Putin see themselves as men who inherited a baton from their forefathers to continue a struggle against outside enemy forces who have always wanted to eliminate their countries’ distinct national characteristics and subjugate them.
For both, the war was personal. During World War II, Xi’s revolutionary father Zhongxun concentrated his energies against the Nationalists and was never near Japanese forces. Yet Jinping’s mother Qi Xin personally witnessed the Japanese seizure of Beijing, was nearly killed by enemy cavalry, and witnessed atrocities committed by imperial forces. Xi Jinping even lost a first cousin, only an infant, to the fires of war.
Putin’s family also suffered. His father was severely wounded in combat against the Nazis and survived the Siege of Leningrad, where an elder brother died. His maternal grandmother was slain by Nazi occupiers.
For both Xi and Putin, victory then was costly, but incomplete. Although the war concluded before they were born, it resonates with them differently from other contemporary world leaders. Xi and Putin believe that “hegemonic forces” still want to impose a foreign model upon them and block their rightful place in the world. Now, they want to use the memory of the war to inoculate future generations against Western values and legitimate the global order they envision.
Having witnessed the chaos their nations faced for much of the twentieth century, both are deeply preoccupied with the question of political order. Xi Jinping was incarcerated and exiled during the Cultural Revolution and feared state collapse during the Tiananmen Square protests in 1989. Vladimir Putin famously saw the collapse of Soviet power in East Germany as a young KGB officer. Both Xi and Putin believe that their rise to power stopped centrifugal forces, supported by the West, that threatened to tear their nations apart before they came to power.
Commemorating World War II serves that mission. Both men clearly believe that their nations need a sense of idealism, sacrifice, and commitment to survive. History as moral education is a powerful tool for that purpose. World War II was a moment that showed their nations could achieve extraordinary victories.
Xi and Putin see the suffering their peoples experienced as something that deserves only the most profound respect both at home and abroad. The anniversary has been turned into an instrument to instill loyalty to the state among a younger generation. That message is especially significant for their militaries, as Russia continues its war against Ukraine and China prepares the People’s Liberation Army for a possible war on Taiwan.
It is also a time to remind the outside world what China and Russia think they deserve as major contributors to victory in World War II. At the war’s end, both nations were recognized as major powers. For Putin, Yalta meant Russia was given special rights in its so-called “near abroad.” For Xi, the defeat of Japan meant Taiwan should rightfully return to the Chinese mainland. Beijing and Moscow see American activities in their neighborhoods as a return to the power politics that led to war decades ago.
That is why Xi and Putin obsess over a perceived grievance that diminishes the contributions of the countries' role in the war. Control over history is literally a matter of regime security and strategic imperatives.
The Chinese Communist Party opposes any attempts to deny the Nanjing Massacre and the horrific biological and chemical warfare experiments on human beings at Unit 731 in Manchuria. Two movies, one on each of those topics, are being released this year in China. The party also opposes the largely accurate narrative that the communists sat out much of the war against the Japanese.
In Russia, former Culture Minister Vladimir Medinsky used the words “human scum” to refer to anyone who debunked the legend of Panfilov's Twenty-Eight Guardsmen, who allegedly all died fighting off the Nazis outside Moscow.
Yet questions remain about the long-term efforts by Xi and Putin to immortalize their regimes and their use of the memory of World War II for that purpose. The story of Chinese and Russian history is often one of unintended consequences. Mao Zedong launched his Cultural Revolution to prevent capitalism from appearing in China. It was such a disaster it triggered Reform and Opening. Mikhail Gorbachev’s attempt to save the Soviet Union destroyed it.
Putin sees the war against Ukraine as a sort of sequel to World War II that can help him recast another generation of Russians according to his vision. He sneered as young people fled the country to avoid the draft, describing them as “scum and traitors” that Russians would “simply spit out” “like a gnat that accidentally flew into their mouths.” He seeks to politically empower veterans – for instance through his Time of Heroes program to get them elected on his party’s ticket. Patriotic education has contributed to the militarization of society. The economy is now hardened against sanctions and geared to fight a long-term war. Yet what will Russia do without its most talented young people if they flee or die on the battlefield? Will Russians become exhausted by the war? And how long can prolonged competition with the West last with an economy whose future has been mortgaged on the war?
Xi can only use the memory of war and the possibility of potential war in the future. He uses the revolutionary legacy, of which the war against Japan was a part, to achieve what he calls “self-revolution.” It is a call to vigilance, a call to “eat bitterness,” a call to yet another young generation of Chinese to devote their lives not just to themselves but also to national rejuvenation. Yet Xi does not want his relationship with the West to go completely off the rails. Unlike Putin, he wants to benefit from economic, financial, and technological ties while he can. The question is whether Xi can achieve both struggle and pragmatism at the same time.
As for the international community, the commemoration in Beijing will likely not fundamentally change any feelings in the West towards Russia or China. No Western nation is convinced that the Ukrainians are Nazis, as Putin falsely alleges. And although China has sought to avoid economic and reputational costs, it has unambiguously been a major facilitator of Russia’s war machine. The military parade, along with the recent treatment of Japanese citizens and military exercises around Taiwan, might frighten China’s neighbors more than win them over with the memory of China’s role in the defeat of Imperial Japan.
No historian can deny the contributions of China and Russia in the defeat of fascism in World War II. But the war’s role in justifying authoritarianism at home and expansion abroad is not a tribute that will inspire everyone.
ChinaTalk is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support our work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
For more with Joseph Torigian, check out our podcast on his first book on CCP power struggles.
And the two-part five hour epic we did covering his monumental biography of Xi Zhongxun.
For the 80th anniversary of the Allied victory over Japan, ChinaTalk interviewed Ian Toll about his Pacific War trilogy, which masterfully brings America’s bloodiest war — and the world’s only nuclear war — to life. Ian’s detailed scholarship creates a multisensory historical experience, from the metallic tang of radiation after the bombs were dropped to the stench of Pacific battlefields.
Ian’s forthcoming book, The Freshwater War, will explore the naval campaign the US fought against Britain on the Great Lakes between 1812 and 1815.
Today our conversation covers….
How Ian innovates when writing historical narratives,
Whether Allied victory was predetermined after the US entered the war,
Why the Kamikaze were born out of resource scarcity, and whether Japanese military tactics were suicidal as well,
How foreign wars temporarily stabilized Japan’s revolutionary domestic politics,
How American military leadership played the media and politics to become national heroes,
Lessons from 1945 for a potential Taiwan invasion.
Cohosting is , author of Chip War. Thanks to the US-Japan Foundation for sponsoring this podcast.
Jordan Schneider: I want to start with your closest scholarly forebearer, Samuel Eliot Morison. He was FDR’s buddy who ended up getting presidential approval to be embedded in the fight in the Pacific. Over the next 20 years, he published a 15-volume, 6,000-page history of United States naval operations in World War II.
For this show, aside from reading your 2,000 pages, I also read a few hundred pages of Morison, which — while there are echoes — feels like it was of a different time, era, and audience. When reflecting back on where you chose to spend your time in research and pages, compared to what he thought was most interesting and vital, what were the things that you both agreed needed the full treatment? What were things that you felt comfortable writing in the 21st century that you could spend less time on? What were some of the themes that you wanted to emphasize to a greater extent than he did in his book?
Ian Toll: Well, Morison will always be the first, if not the greatest, historian of the Pacific War. It’s an unusual case because Morison pitched the president of the United States — who was himself a former assistant secretary of the Navy — this idea. FDR ran the Navy day-to-day during the Woodrow Wilson administration and was fascinated with naval history going all the way back to the American Revolution. He was a collector and an antiquarian.
FDR was unique as a president in anticipating the importance of research and writing to document the history of this war, even before it began to unfold.
Samuel Eliot Morison, a historian at Harvard who was well-established in the field, said, “Why don’t you just put me in charge of this whole project and let the Navy know that I get an all-access pass to the Pacific War as it’s happening? I will produce a multi-volume official history — but really a history written by me, Samuel Eliot Morison, with all of my strongly opinionated views, having witnessed many of these events, in some cases from actually being aboard a ship in a task force as it went into battle.”
Morison’s concern was to write the first draft of the history, and he did a remarkable job. He had access in a way that no outsider could possibly have had. He became personal friends with many of the admirals who fought that war and was a direct witness to many events. That was true in Okinawa, where he was aboard a ship in the task force and could work his personal impressions into the narrative.
All of that is very unique. Morison was seeing the war through the eyes of his contemporaries. He was very much involved in the debates that the admirals had as they were rolling across the Pacific. He was probably less interested than I am in the way that the war was experienced by the ordinary sailor, soldier, and airmen, and more interested in grand strategy.
I like to pull those together — the way the war unfolded in the eyes of those who fought it, but then also returning to the conference rooms where the planning unfolded. I wanted to understand how the politics of inter-service rivalries in the US military affected decisions — that was an important story unique to the Pacific because of the divided command structure.
This Solomon-like choice to say the South Pacific will be MacArthur’s domain — the US Army will be in charge of the South Pacific, the Central and North Pacific will be Nimitz’s domain — meant we were really going to divide this enormous ocean into two theaters. We were going to let the Navy have one, let the Army have one. That was to establish peace within this large and fractious military.
In some ways, that was a suboptimal decision. In other ways, it seemed to work out fine because the United States had the ability to mobilize such an enormous war machine, such that we could fight two wars in the Pacific.
We fought two parallel counteroffensives — one south of the equator, one north of the equator. Because we had the ability to do that, the Japanese really were unable to concentrate their diminishing forces to meet either prong of this two-headed offensive.
Jordan Schneider: As you’re thinking about how to devote your research time and the pages that you allocate to these stories, can you reflect a little about your process of having all these simultaneous strains of the experiences of these individual soldiers, as well as these grand debates between MacArthur and Nimitz and the president about how to put all the pieces on the chessboard? What was both the research as well as synthesis process for you in this comprehensive history?
Ian Toll: My process, from when I first began doing this about 25 years ago, is to read everything. Now, with the Pacific War, you can’t literally read everything. The first book I wrote, Six Frigates, about the founding of the US Navy, I felt at times I was touching almost everything that had been written. That will never be the case with a war this big.
But to read very, very widely — histories, the original documents, the planning documents, the action reports, the memoirs, the letters, the letters of the military commanders and the lowest ranking soldier and sailor who experienced these events. Casting a wide net and spending years. before sitting down to write, going out and gathering up an enormous amount of material, and looking at the subject from every different angle.
Then there’s a middle step, which is important and often neglected by a lot of historians, which is to take all of that material and file it in a way that when you come back to the part of the narratives that you’re writing, you can immediately put your hands on that source to work it in. It is an information management issue, which requires a lot of thinking about how to do the research initially and how to organize it so you can then use it in the writing.
Eventually, it just becomes many thousands of documents organized in a certain way, a narrative that is going to unfold. The narrative is iterative in the sense that I may go down a blind alley and decide I need to throw that out. I throw hundreds of pages out. I’m doing it again with the book I’m writing now. To try to give the reader a sense that you’re shifting between different perspectives constantly — the perspective of Nimitz and his staff at Pearl Harbor planning an operation, then shifting immediately to the perspective of Marines in the Fifth Regiment who are landing on a beach and then carrying out the operation that you were just seeing how this was planned, then shifting to the Japanese perspective and shifting back to the US home front.
It’s a constantly shifting narrative, in which you’re looking at the same subjects from a different point of view, but then integrated into a narrative that unspools a little bit the way a novel would.
Chris Miller: How did you learn to do that, shifting perspective so smoothly? Because it’s easy to say, “Oh, shift from Nimitz’s room where he’s looking at the map, then shift to Iwo Jima.” But you do that in a way that few narrative histories do. Jordan and I both agreed that we’ve never read a 2,000-page history and wanted another page until we read yours. How do you learn that scene shifting? What were you looking at as examples? What were you reading that gave you a model for this type of vast, sweeping narrative history?
Jordan Schneider: To give a sense of what Ian does — one of my favorite scenes was Hirohito’ssurrender speech, which covers 30 pages. First, there was a debate over whether or not to surrender in the first place. Then 10 pages of incredible palace drama — is there going to be a coup? Then, there was a coup, and it failed. Then the scene moves to NHK, and the phonograph is being placed, and the guy bows at the emperor’s photograph. Then you have these scenes all across Imperial Japan of different people responding to hearing the emperor’s voice in different ways.
The speech was in archaic Japanese, so people didn’t even know what it was saying. Some people decided, “Okay, if we’re going to surrender, then that means I need to do my final Kamikaze run.” Other people were saying, “Oh my God, thank God.”
It sounds overwhelming and kaleidoscopic, but it is actually one of the most incredible pieces of literature that I have consumed. Where does that all come from? How do you develop this skill?
Ian Toll: Well, I really appreciate the praise. It’s praise that keeps me going because this is hard work. I’ve been doing this full-time since 2002. That’s when I signed my first book contract. That’s 23 years, and I have four books to show for it. Part of the answer is that I take a lot of time. I throw a lot of work out. Probably a lot of that work is good, but it doesn’t work within the narrative pacing that I was going for. It’s a lot of following instinct.
I said in an author’s note that there’s room for innovation in this genre of historical narrative. It’s been a genre that has been trapped within certain ideas about narrative conventions — the idea that if you use the storytelling techniques of a novel or even a film, you might be compromising the scholarly purpose of the work. I don’t believe that’s true.
You can borrow from the techniques of novels or even films, in a way that may illuminate certain issues that you’re writing about, that may bring the reader closer to the way it felt for the participants to be there. I use research that I’ve accumulated over many years and have cast a very wide net to try to find material that hasn’t received as much attention as it should have in previous works.
Jordan Schneider: Let’s talk about that filmic quality.. There are these moments of terrific awe-inspiring beauty that you point to — these ships blowing up and these massive artillery barrages, the sunrise over Mount Fuji that the admirals see as they’re pulling into the harbor, about to accept the surrender of the Japanese and the way that they see that as this flag that they’ve been fighting against and finding on people’s corpses for the past six years.
Your book made me watch some more World War II Pacific movies, and I was disappointed, honestly, with what I saw relative to the incredible Technicolor visions that you and your narrative painted in my head. How did you develop that sensibility and when did it become clear to you that you needed to make sure that your readers have some of the images that were in these soldiers’ heads in ours as well?
Ian Toll: As I’m coming through these sources, I often zero in on these images, descriptions of images. One of the things you’ll find if you start reading Pacific War narratives again and again is that you will have an American from Illinois who had never traveled beyond a few miles where he was born, seeing these extraordinary things in the Pacific, this exotic, remote part of the world.
Often they’d describe the sunsets, and you’d get a sense that they are having a sublime, ineffable experience seeing these things. That grabs my attention when I see it. Then I want the reader to see that image, but then also get a sense of how that felt for people who had not traveled widely before being thrown into this extraordinary war.
On that subject, there’s a whole genre of wartime art. You have talented watercolorists working on a destroyer who took a sketchbook along and brought back images, which are particularly important because you weren’t permitted to take a camera with you in the Pacific War. You had to have special authorization to have a camera. The art sometimes is useful to see the war through the eyes of the people who were there.
Those aspects of the Pacific War narratives always jumped off the page for me. Then I tried to in turn weave them into the narratives.
Jordan Schneider: There’s beauty and there’s also horror. You spend a lot of time describing deaths. Even when people aren’t literally dying, the smell of some of these battlefields and the smell of the corpses is another thing that’s going to live with me for a while. That contrast struck me — these incredible sunsets and these spectacular displays of mechanical might and fleets that are extending farther than the eye can see. Then every once in a while, they blow up and people die horrific deaths because of what all these machines can do. How did you try to do justice to that as well?
Ian Toll: In the case of the Pacific War or any other war, really any other aspect of World War II, there’s plenty of carnage in the historical record. These things happened. The challenge becomes describing those in a way that gives the reader a sense of what it was like to be there. You’re right about the smell — that’s another thing that just jumps off the page. If someone describes a smell, whether it’s the awful smells that you get on a battlefield or even the smell of flowers on a beach, those tend to leap out at me, and then I try to find a way to work those in.
We have five senses. If you can get three out of four of the physical senses into a description of a battle scene, you’re able to reach the reader through more than one route. Those images, those impressions, tend to build on themselves. If you can get many of them into a narrative — not doing what a novelist does where you make it up, you need to pull these details from first-hand accounts that are reliable — but if you get many of them, that tends to build to where the reader gets a sense of what it was like to be there.
Jordan Schneider: This is my big note for the Chip Wars revised edition. Chris, we need more smell in it.
Chris Miller: You know, the place that really stood out for me in the book was on Iwo Jima, which everyone knows is this absolute bloodbath. But the discussion of the sulfuric volcanic ash all around in these subterranean caves — you got smells and also tastes, talking about the water being sulfuric in its taste. It felt like I was walking into Mordor, but it wasn’t made up in Tolkien’s mind. It was a hellhole on Earth.
Jordan Schneider: The smell and the taste that’s going to live with me forever is the Enola Gaydropping the bomb and the pilots tasting metal because of the radiation. They hadn’t looked back, but they knew that the bomb had gone off because they felt it in their molars. What more can you ask for from a historian?
Ian Toll: That detail really grabbed my attention too. That’s in one of the pilot accounts, I believe. You had this electric taste in your mouth from the explosion, from the bomb. They noticed that at the Trinity test, the first atomic bomb test in New Mexico, as well.
Chris Miller: You have these juxtapositions of extraordinary heroism and extraordinary barbarism on both sides. A lot of military histories tend in one direction or the other and don’t balance out both. You show them both being constantly present in different ways, competing impulses. Can you walk us through the ethics of what you’re recounting and how you, as a historian, try to properly balance these two competing impulses?
Ian Toll: You mean the impulses to acknowledge the humanity and suffering of the enemy — it’s part of what makes good war histories memorable, is that you have a situation in which it’s impossible for people on the battlefield not to feel a sense of hatred toward the enemy. This is murder on a mass organized scale. Then you have a war like the Pacific War, where, in some ways, that hatred reached a pitch that we haven’t seen, at least in any other American war — this dehumanization and hatred that was felt. Much of it was justified, honestly.
To evoke that for the reader, that sense of hatred, that sense that many Americans had that the Japanese were somehow less than fully human and that this justified wiping out their cities — to feel that in a visceral way for the reader because of the way you’ve shown how the war was experienced by the Americans who experienced it, by the POWs, by the civilians who were caught in the war zone in the way of rampaging Japanese armies. But then at the same time to acknowledge, to fully understand the humanity of the Japanese and the suffering of the Japanese.
It comes down to weaving these different perspectives together into one integrated narrative. Many others have done it well — such as John Toland’s book, The Rising Sun, which I recommend. He was one of the first to write the history of that war from the Japanese perspective in a way that was broadly sympathetic to the Japanese people and their suffering, while acknowledging that the Japanese militarists had tyrannized and abused that country and eventually brought on the immense suffering of 1944 and 1945.
The Kamikaze — A Problem of Scale
Jordan Schneider: The kamikaze dynamics that we get into in 1944 and 1945 are some of the most artful sections. The training system for Japanese airmen was incredibly selective, where a thousand people joined and only a hundred made it out the other side.
That led to this very elite core of fighter pilots, but ultimately, they were short of decent pilots such that pilots were so useless by 1942 and 1943 that the most efficient tactical maneuver to spend the least steel to deal the most damage on American ships was to use pilots as the 1940s version of guided homing missiles. It’s much easier to teach someone to fly into a plane than it is to dogfight with a Zero.
On one hand, it makes sense. On the other hand, you’re sending people to their deaths. On a lot of these missions, which aren’t literally suicide missions, you have Americans who are at some level doing the same thing, with flights that go off carriers where 12 planes go out and one or two make it back. But there is something that is particularly resonant and horrific about Kamikaze flights. My guess is, 500 years from now, if people are talking about anything when it comes to the Pacific War, the Kamikaze flights are going to be one of the three lines that people still remember.
How did you approach that? What are the different aspects of the story that you wanted to hit as you were describing the different parts of the Kamikaze story?
Ian Toll: The Japanese had trained what may have been pound for pound the best cadre of carrier pilots in the world at the beginning of the war. They were superb. There had been a national selection process, extremely difficult — tougher than getting into Stanford today — for getting accepted to naval pilot training in 1939-1940. Then they went through this extremely rigorous pilot training process that built these superb pilots. But they never thought seriously in Japan about the problem of expanding that training pipeline to produce many more pilots in order to fight a war on the scale of the Pacific War.
When their first team of pilots was killed off in 1942-43, with few left by 1944, they did not have a next generation of pilots to come in and carry on the fight. The decision to deploy Kamikazes on a mass scale was tactically correct in a sense. If you have pilots who you cannot afford to train — you don’t have the time, the fuel, the resources to train pilots to effectively attack ships using conventional dive bombing attacks, conventional aerial torpedo attacks, the kinds of attacks that the Japanese had used effectively in the early part of the war — then maybe what you do is train the pilot to fly a plane with a bomb attached to it into a ship like a guided missile. Maybe that’s simply the best tactical use of the resource that you have.
That is ultimately what persuaded the Japanese to go ahead and deploy Kamikazes on basically their entire air war — their entire air war was a Kamikaze war in the last year of the war. Then you have, on top of that, this question of the morality of sending 20-, 21-, 22-year-old men to their certain deaths in this situation.
The part of the story that has been neglected and forgotten in the West is that this was immensely controversial, even in Japan. The Kamikazes came to be revered. But at the outset, even within the military, within the Navy — the Navy was mainly the Kamikaze service that launched the Kamikazes — there was immense opposition to this within the ranks of the Japanese Navy. It took time for this to be accepted, but this was the way they were going to fight this war.
Trying to understand what it was like to be a Kamikaze pilot, to draw upon these letters and diaries that have been published, many of them in English, but then also what it did to the crew of a US ship to know that they were under this kind of attack. The unique sense of horror that they felt operating off of Okinawa in particular — the height of the Kamikaze campaign — where 34 ships were sunk, and many more were badly damaged with US Navy casualties running well into the thousands. Certainly, more Navy personnel were killed than Army or Marines at the Battle of Okinawa, as bad as the ground fighting was. That unique sense of horror and loathing that they felt as these planes came in making beelines, flying suicide runs, and doing terrible damage.
Chris Miller: I was struck by the other facet of how the Kamikazes emerged. There’s the logic of how you most efficiently use your limited number of airplanes and pilots to sink ships. But it also seemed like the Japanese army and all of its island defenses were pursuing a Kamikaze strategy. In all these island campaigns, 90% plus of the Japanese garrisons were killed. They would start the battle knowing they would lose, but trying to exact as much punishment as they could, which at a strategic level is rational, but tactically a brutal way to fight a campaign.
I found myself wondering, did the Japanese army have its own version of the Kamikaze mentality? Was the entire war effort on Japan’s side suicidal after 1942? It was obvious to everyone that the production differences were large enough that Japan would definitely lose. Is there something to that analysis?
Ian Toll: Absolutely. You could say that Kamikazes are a metaphor for the entire project of Imperial Japan, particularly after Midway and Guadalcanal when we reached the second half of the Pacific War, when it was clear that Japan was going to lose the war. Whatever that meant — losing could be many different versions of losing the war. But historians have traced a cultural change that occurred in the Japanese military after the Russo-Japanese War and then after the First World War, in which the Japanese Army leadership convinced itself, “We have got to do something about this problem of our soldiers surrendering. That’s not acceptable.”
They actually altered the military manuals and the standing orders to say, “You shall not surrender in any circumstance. There will never be any surrender in the Japanese Army.”That was a very fateful decision because once you’ve put your soldiers in that situation, which they know they’re not going to survive, that they’re going to fight to the last man, that alters the psychology on the battlefield and leads inevitably to a much more brutal environment.
On one island after another, starting most famously on the Aleutian island of Attu in the spring of 1943, you had entire Japanese garrisons fighting and dying to the last man. This being celebrated in Japan by a press that was being very closely guided and censored by the regime, building in Japan a sense that this is an extraordinary act of bravery, of commitment, of fanaticism that the allies, the Americans, would never be able to match.
This was going to be the secret weapon for the Japanese, showing that they were willing to make much greater sacrifices than their enemies were.
As the war went on and US forces drew closer to Japan, the story changed to, “This is how we’re going to protect the homeland. We’re going to show the Americans that the cost of invading our homeland, of trying to occupy our homeland, is so great that they won't want to pay it.” It became a question of whether they could force the Americans to the negotiating table to resolve this conflict in a way in which Japan would have to acknowledge its defeat. That would mean giving up some portion of its overseas empire, but preserving its emperor system and keeping American and allied troops out of Japanese territory. That became a driving obsession of the Japanese leadership in the last year and a half of the war.
These fanatical demonstrations, fighting to the last man on one island after another, the Kamikazes, all became a kind of theater. A way of showing the Americans, “This is what you’re dealing with. We’re different from other people. We’re willing to die — the whole country will die to the last man, woman, and child if necessary.” Wouldn’t it be better to sit down and negotiate some solution to this war, which leaves us with some vestige of the Imperial project intact?
Inside Japan’s Imperial Project
Jordan Schneider: There’s of course the irony that by the time the Americans land, MacArthur says, “Actually, when we got here, we were taking a big bet that they wouldn’t want to fight anymore.” Somehow, someone snapped a finger and the rebellion turned off, or we would be in trouble. We didn’t have enough troops to do this. But the fact was, once the war was done, the war was done. The only people still fighting were five guys in the hills of the Philippines who just didn’t get the message or something.
Another contrast is why Nazi Germany took it to the end and why the Japanese took it to the end. With Nazi Germany, it was one guy and all the generals. Definitely by late 1944, you had a whole plot. Everyone saw the writing on the wall, and there was a wide consensus — enough to have a whole conspiracy. You had these back-channel feelers to the English. But because of the lack of a focal point and because you had a consensus, even though you had dissenting voices, they weren’t able to mobilize even as much as the Operation Valkyrie folks were.
You have this thesis in Japan of, “If we just show them how crazy we are, then they’ll come to the negotiating table.” But they never really tried to do the negotiating in the first place, aside from this conversation with the Soviets, which anyone really could have seen wasn’t actually going anywhere.
Let’s talk about elite Japanese politics as well, starting in the second half of the war. Even though everyone was doing these suicide missions, even though everyone knew they were on this national suicide mission by 1943, a few million more people had to die before we got to the inevitable conclusion. Why is that?
Ian Toll: To understand what was happening in Japan’s ruling circle in the last year of the war, it’s necessary to go back to the beginning of the 1930s and understand how Japan descended into militarist tyranny. The story is one of extraordinary turmoil, chaos, revolutionary energy, assassinations, uprisings, and almost a complete breakdown of discipline within the ranks of the army, but also the Navy.
Again and again, hot-headed extremist officers and factions of younger mid-ranking officers threatened the Japanese leadership at gunpoint, forcing a much more right-wing, fanatical, imperialist, and aggressive foreign and domestic policy. Increasingly, the generals and admirals were running every aspect of military, foreign, and domestic affairs. The army took over the Japanese education system in the 1930s.
“Always Struggling for the Nation”, Japanese WWII Propaganda. Source.
What happened with the China incident — the beginning of the Second Sino-Japanese War in 1937 — and then the attack on Pearl Harbor and the war with Great Britain and the US beginning in 1941, was that these large foreign wars tended to heal, or at least stabilize, this domestic turmoil within Japan.
The leadership saw war as a way to maintain a fragile peace and stability within a society that was in many ways very revolutionary.
As you approach the end of the Pacific War, the problem isn’t whether to surrender or not. The problem is that whatever Japan did as a country — if they surrendered, if they initiated negotiations, if they tried to use diplomacy to get out of this war — there was the threat of a resumption of these assassinations, a civil war. You could have a civil war between different elements within the Army. You could have fighting between the Army and the Navy. This was seen in Japan as a real danger.
To complicate the picture even more, in the US we had a window — imperfect, but we had a window — into what was happening within the ruling circle in Japan because we were reading their diplomatic mail. We had broken their codes, communications between the foreign ministry in Tokyo and Japanese embassies throughout the world. We were intercepting those messages, decoding them, and reading them.
We were aware that the Japanese, by the spring of 1945, had seen their last hope as bringing Stalin and the Soviet government in to mediate between the US and Great Britain. The Japanese had a historical precedent for this. The end of the Russo-Japanese War ended with a negotiated peace between Russia and Japan, which had been mediated by the US. Theodore Roosevelt won a Nobel Prize for Peace for that mediation.
They were trying to replicate what they had seen as the acceptable end to the Russo-Japanese War — a negotiated settlement which allowed them to maintain and build their empire. Here, they would like to try to negotiate a truce. They were deeply divided within the ruling circle over what such a negotiated arrangement might look like. But the point often forgotten in the West is that it wasn’t just a division — it was a fear of a descent into complete chaos and civil war, which would make it impossible for the Japanese government to do anything in an organized way.
Our leaders understood enough of that dynamic that we saw the necessity of strengthening the peace faction within the ruling circle, and neutralizing the Army in particular, which wanted to fight on. The atomic bomb became a means to that end.
Chris Miller: But the violence of Japanese politics in the ’20s and ’30s ends up seeming like a really important driver of the violence of Japan’s war effort and even the suicide dynamics that we just discussed. You get some of that in Japanese army politics in the ’20s and ’30s as well. It’s almost as if the Japanese army took over the entire country not just in terms of running the schools, but in terms of running the culture to a substantial degree.
Jordan Schneider: Yamamoto famously was doing his best to talk everyone out of bombing Pearl Harbor. But then at a certain point, he says, “All right, you guys are dumb enough to do it. Might as well do the dumb thing the smart way.”
The thing that strikes me about the tension of this narrative history is that once you get to Pearl Harbor and the American political reaction to it, that is your turning point — America’s decision to fight this war in the first place. Regardless of whether Midway had gone this or that way, if the Marines had gotten kicked off of Guadalcanal, you have such an enormous material imbalance between the Americans and the Japanese.
If, because of Japanese politics, you’re taking off the table Japan ever wanting to cash in their chips and negotiate, then it seems like a US victory was inevitable. What do you think about that inevitability question? If it’s all inevitable, aside from the human drama of the smells and the visuals, what is the point of spending so much time and energy studying the Pacific War?
Ian Toll: It’s an issue that will never be resolved. It’s the question of whether we want to take a determinist approach to understanding WWII. I probably lean a bit more toward the determinist way of thinking about it.
Winston Churchill, in his post-war memoir of WWII, had a famous passage in which, as soon as he had heard the news of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, he said, “So we had won after all.” Meaning that this entire conflict, including the conflict with Nazi Germany, was now going to be settled. It was just a question of the proper application of military power. Now, that was written many years later. I think it was deliberately provocative in that mischievous, Churchillian way. But I do think it is true that before the attack on Pearl Harbor, you had a deeply divided political situation in Washington in which the isolationist movement was perhaps gaining strength in the fall of 1941.
This is a movement that had strength in both the Democratic and Republican parties. It had strength in every region. It was a formidable force in our politics, a sense of real moral fervor around the idea that we were not going to be dragged into a global war. After the attack on Pearl Harbor, that movement collapsed overnight. When I say overnight, I mean literally overnight. FDR asked for a declaration of war against Japan the day after the attack on Pearl Harbor. It passed both houses of Congress. I think there was one dissenting vote in the house. There was a unanimous vote in the Senate.
It does not go too far to say that this one decision the Japanese made to attack and launch a surprise attack at Pearl Harbor completely altered the domestic politics around going to war against Japan. Three days later, Hitler made the curious decision to declare war on the United States when we hadn’t declared war on him.
Then it was a global war, and the largest economy in the world — the economy with the greatest latent military power — was a combatant.
Not only were we combatant, but we had the broad public political consensus that we needed to quickly mobilize our economies for war, which we did. I think that was the turning point. It was the attack on Pearl Harbor and the reaction — the political reaction within the US — that really made it inevitable that not just Japan, but Nazi Germany would be finished within three to four years.
The one other major contingency is that the Soviets were able to stop the German attack on the Eastern Front and stabilize that war and survive long enough so that Allied supplies could get in, allowing them to turn the tide. If there had been some surrender on the Eastern Front, that could have taken the entire war, including the Pacific War, in a different direction.
“What Becomes of a General?”
Jordan Schneider: Let's talk about the generals and admirals, starting with Chester Nimitz…
Paid subscribers get early access to the rest of the conversation, where we discuss…
The various command styles that shaped US military strategy in the Pacific,
How General MacArthur and Admiral Halsey became media darlings —controlling public opinion and war politics in the process,
The evolution of submarine warfare and Japanese defensive strategy,
Counterfactuals, including a world where the Allies invaded Taiwan,
Broader lessons for the future of warfare, especially in the Taiwan Strait.
The Schneider clan will be heading to the Bay Area from September 9 through the rest of the month. If you're interested in meeting up or doing a house swap with a two-bedroom in Manhattan, or just happen to have an empty apartment that can fit a few adults and a very cute baby, please do reach out to jordan@chinatalk.media.
Dan Wang at long last makes his solo ChinaTalk debut! We’re here to discuss and celebrate his first book, Breakneck.
We get into…
Engineering states vs lawyerly societies,
The competing legacies of the 1980s in China, One Child Policy and Tiananmen vs intellectual debate, cultural vibrancy, and rock and roll,
Methods of knowing China, from the People’s Daily and Seeking Truth to on-the-ground research,
How to compare the values of China’s convenient yet repressive society with the chaotic pluralism of the USA,
What Li Qiang’s career post-Shanghai lockdowns can tell us about the value of loyalty vs competence in Xi’s China.
Jordan Schneider: So Dan, you chose Robert Alter’s Hebrew Bible translation to sit next to your book. What can the Bible tell us about modern China?
Dan Wang: Something I wonder about is thinking less about the Old Testament, but more about the New Testament and the Catholic Church in particular. The Catholic Church and the Communist Party are very similar organizations, and it might be the case that the CCP and the Catholic Church will be enduring institutions that we’ll still find around 100 years from now — maybe even 500 years from now.
It’s no accident that the CCP resembles the Catholic Church, partly because, according to Kerry Brown, the Communist Party has spent an immense amount of effort trying to understand the Catholic Church. The Communist Party isn’t simply copying the Catholic Church, though. I understand the Communist Party to be a cross between the Catholic Church and the Sicilian Mafia, with this incredible sense of omertà and a very strong understanding that you can’t only be thugs. One has to build a church; one has to have an ideology. What we have is a very powerful Catholic Church in China that also has the omertà — that also has the gangsterism.
Jordan Schneider: One of the things I most admire about this book is how it looks forward multiple decades in a way that doesn’t bore me — unlike when someone like Peter Zeihan does it, talking about demographic destiny or geography. The way you incorporate different data points and pieces of context that you’ve absorbed over your years on this planet gives it weight that I take very seriously.
However, my critique is that you may have over-indexed on Xi and the Xi era, which at some point is going to end. Many of the forward-looking projections you have on the Chinese side are premised on whatever comes after Xi looking like what Xi was. Dan, how do you think about that issue?
Dan Wang: It’s interesting that you start by saying I may be over-indexed on Xi, because one strain of criticism I’ve seen is that maybe I’m under-indexed on Xi. In my central thesis of the engineering state, one can question whether Xi is really an engineer. On one hand, he is because he has a degree in chemical engineering from Tsinghua, but he also has a doctorate in Marxist economics, also from Tsinghua. There’s been debate about whether Xi is an engineer in the hydraulic mold set by Hu Jintao.
It’s very valid to consider that the China of the future will not look like the China of the present. In fact, we can guarantee it. But I have no confidence about what China of the future will look like in a post-Xi world. It could be that Xi Jinping represents someone like Chun Doo-hwan, South Korea’s dictator who intensified Park Chung-hee’s rule and triggered disaster as a result. Maybe someone who comes after Xi is an intensification of Xi in all aspects. Maybe it’s someone who looks quite different.
Given that we have to draw lines forward to some extent from what we have right now, I’m reluctant to assign a big rupture in China’s political traditions based on the idea that whoever replaces Xi might not end up looking like him.
Jordan Schneider: The story you focus on from the late 70s and 80s — which was a time in CCP history when you see more vibrancy, more lawyerly energy coming into the party — you focused on the most horrific, repressive arc of that period, which was the one-child policy and all the state invasion and suppression required to execute it.
But there are other stories you can tell about the late 70s and 80s that speak to many of the challenges you see in China today and project into China’s future. There’s the idea of a society that can create interesting cultural goods, party leadership that distrusts the people, bottom-up political innovation, economic innovation beyond what the state controls — and the state being more understanding of that than maybe it is today. How do you read that history beyond the universe that the one-child policy created?
Dan Wang: The 1980s were certainly China’s most interesting decade, and maybe it’s understudied and under-theorized. As you note, I spend quite a bit of time thinking about the one-child policy, and I didn’t quite grasp how brutal its enforcement was, partly because it was a while ago. The peak enforcement happened in the early 80s and then another wave in the late 90s, before both of our lifetimes. Much of the one-child policy enforcement focused mostly in rural areas, and we don’t have as many rural perspectives relative to elite urban perspectives.
That was one of the big stories of the 1980s. But you’re right — there were many other big stories. The 1980s is cited by many people, especially of my parents’ generation, as a decade when every question could have been asked inside Chinese society, inside the Communist Party. This was the decade of rock and roll. This was the decade when people really believed that China would have some degree of political liberalization.
Those questions kept persisting and might even have had a resolution different from how we know it resolved in June 1989, when the forces of liberalism were comprehensively crushed and the party took a pretty different direction. We could draw a different line from the 1980s, and maybe we should. But given that it ended with a really dramatic act of political repression and given that the conservative reformers — perhaps represented by Deng Xiaoping as well as Li Peng — had the upper hand, maybe the story is still more about politics than creativity.
Jordan Schneider: You have these two lines that capture the inverse of what the 1980s felt like. Someone you met in Chiang Mai who left China told you that contemporary China “feels like a space in which the ceiling keeps getting lower… To stay means that we have to walk around with our heads lowered and our backs hunched.” You also write that, “After six years in China, I missed pluralism. It’s wonderful for me to be in America now, in a society made up of many voices, not only an official register meant to speak over all the rest.”
The flip side of those two lines captures some spirit of what the 80s were like. I buy your argument that one side has won. They’ve been winning for the past 40-plus years. But even with the White Paper movement, there are still undercurrents that seem impossible to disappear.
Dan Wang: Absolutely. The currents are always out there. This is part of what makes people like Ian Johnson’s work really interesting. When he documents something like Mao’s quote that “a single spark can start a prairie fire (星星之火，可以燎原),” he’s absolutely right. It has become really difficult to comprehensively and decisively eliminate the forces of creativity — that desire for a different future. That’s always there and always worth supporting.
《三湾改编》by Xu Baozhong 许宝中, an oil painting commemorating the Sanwan Reorganization of party control over the army. Source.
Jordan Schneider: As an aside, I went into this book thinking you wouldn’t tell me many new things — that I would get your takes, but not much fresh information. The one-child policy in particular was the section that I hadn’t fully internalized. The magnitude and personal horror attached to what that meant for tens of millions of people was striking. This goes to show why everyone should read the book and not just listen to all the podcasts Dan’s going to be on over the next few weeks.
It’s a book written for a mass-market audience, but it’s also something that every single listener of ChinaTalk will derive something new, unique, and insightful from — whether it’s from your historical work, the memoir sections, the travelogues, or the big thoughts.
It’s a remarkable achievement, and I want to congratulate you on it.
Dan Wang: Thank you, Jordan. I’ve used different registers, and you picked up on exactly that. My favorite chapter to write was unexpectedly the one-child policy, because I didn’t really expect that the emotional arc of the one-child policy still produces so much anger in people. Many normally temperate people in China would be driven to a froth of rage when they remember that era. We all know a lot about Zero COVID, which is also one of the social engineering projects I write about. But the one-child policy is understudied and perhaps under-theorized.
Jordan Schneider: This is striking because we have many folks from the mainland who moved here, and there are many Chinese Americans too. Chinese Americans have siblings, but mainlanders who’ve moved here over the past 30 years basically don’t. It’s wild to have an entire generation — for literally all of human history, you have total fertility rates above 2 — and for it to go below that in such an intrusive and brutal way. Not in a slow fade you’re seeing in South Korea, but something truly heart-wrenching.
Dan Wang: I had a really interesting conversation with someone who read that chapter recently — someone who was adopted himself in the US Pacific Northwest. We’re of similar ages. One of the things he told me when he read my chapter was that when he was growing up in the late 80s and early 90s, he would sometimes go to gatherings with other adopted children. A majority of the adopted children you could find in the US Pacific Northwest were Chinese girls. This is another one of those things that unless you have some experience here, is much less vivid than you might imagine.
Jordan Schneider: It’s the ghosts of all these lives that weren’t lived. What was it, something like 40 million?
Dan Wang: That’s the best estimate right now. We still don’t have a really comprehensive consensus on exactly how many lives the one-child policy cost, partly because the data is sketchy and it’s difficult to draw these hypotheticals. According to the Communist Party, state propaganda claims that the one-child policy averted something like 400 million births. That seems to be subject to strange extrapolation that not all demographers accept.
Some demographers say that the one-child policy was pure brutality without substantially affecting the birth rate in China. Even on this crucial period — and I acknowledge this in my book — it has become difficult to figure out exactly how many births the one-child policy era averted. But based on some of the more accepted scholarly estimates, there are 40 million Chinese girls. The femicide produced by the one-child policy was very intense, with families forced to keep boys and forced to discard their infant girls.
Jordan Schneider: I don’t know if I have a transition for that. It makes me think of the Bible. I have a new one-year-old, which you were just holding for a while, and reading that chapter in the context of now being a parent hit differently. You tell these truly horrific stories — you only give two paragraphs about some bureaucrat who was the “worst performing” when it came to births and decided “we’re not having births for a month.” There were abortions on the delivery table.
It felt cliché where everyone says, “Oh, the way you read the news and see the world is going to change when you have a child.” That chapter was maybe one of the first times where I experienced a piece of history or literature that sat with me in a different way. I don’t know if I want to thank you for that?
Dan Wang: Well, I thank you, Jordan, for letting me hold this extremely cute one-year-old. Part of what made this chapter difficult to write was that my wife suffered a miscarriage, coincidentally, just as I was writing this chapter. To think that it was a matter of state policy to have conducted over 300 million abortions — which is the official statistic from the National Health Commission — as well as many forced sterilizations, the brutality meted out against overwhelmingly female bodies. That was a challenge to think about, to try to place myself back in the 80s.
Methods of Knowing China
Jordan Schneider: …And we’re going to hard pivot. Methods of knowing. You’ve worked at a similar job that I had, covering Chinese policy at a very close, full-time clip. You’ve traveled around, you’ve read extensively, you slowed down and hung out in Michigan, looked at a pretty view, and wrote a book. You explore different levels in this book as well. I guess the answer is all of the above, right? Because it’s your revealed preference. But what are the limits of those different methods of exploring the world that you’ve used that ended up creating this book?
Dan Wang: There’s never enough information and sourcing about anything to satisfy even the most niche-specific question. This is something you know as an analyst or researcher. No matter how narrowly you try to define your research task, you’ll find that the literature is endless. Many people have covered this, and yet what they have is also totally incomplete.
I didn’t try to be overly formalist in my study of China. One could spend a lot of time thinking about everything Xi Jinping said. One could simply travel around the country and talk to people and experience how life differs between, say, Shenzhen and Guizhou. One could hang out mostly in Shanghai and try to be an analyst, figure out data, and talk to business executives.
I decided that I was going to do all of the above. I was going to read every speech published in Seeking Truth 求是, the party’s main theory magazine. I was going to read some of the necessary documents, but I wasn’t going to read every issue of People’s Daily. That would be madness. Thank you to the people who do this work — you’re doing God’s work. Not really for me, but I’m glad there are people synthesizing all of this excellent work.
I decided that I had to spend considerable time traveling around the country to physically see some of the ways Guizhou is improving through the build-out of better airports, better train stations, and bigger bridges. I decided that I had to spend time talking to folks in Beijing and Shanghai — the capital for politics, the business center for how executives think about the world. I did my best to try to be synthetic and not let any single perspective override the others, but to be as synthetic and comprehensive as possible, to produce whatever mix it ends up being.
Jordan Schneider: Not to praise you too much, but many people can choose to spend their time spreading their bets across different modalities of knowledge. Your ability to abstract away to get to the aphorisms and provocations while also being able to go levels down and levels up is what makes you a unique mind. But I’m going to stop giving you compliments.
Dan Wang: This is your show — you can give me all the compliments you want. The most important thing is to tread softly and lightly. Sometimes you need to dip deeper into a particular pond, but otherwise, maybe you should just be out there figuring out new ways to explore different areas.
Jordan Schneider: Maybe this is just me talking about myself, but going deeper and narrower seems easier to be useful and interesting, versus trying to do the big synthetic thing you did with this book, which is a higher degree of difficulty.
Over the long scope of ChinaTalk, I’m trying to think over a multi-decade horizon. But you’ve shown me what it actually means to do that in this book. You showed me a different way of going even further out, to levels of abstraction in a way that’s still interesting. Maybe the biggest provocation I’ll take from this is to try to think more at that level.
Dan Wang: Shucks, this is too many compliments, Jordan.
Do Books Matter?
Jordan Schneider: All right, let’s get some critiques. Your grandfather was in the PLA during the China-Vietnam War, and he was a propaganda officer. His job was dropping leaflets on Vietnamese troops urging them to resist. That, in retrospect, sounded laughable because these guys had just fought foreign colonialists for 30 years. What was a leaflet written in shitty Vietnamese going to do to them? But you think books matter?
Dan Wang: Books do matter. Maybe books matter a little less than they used to, but even if books are declining in importance, authors are gaining in importance. Especially if we are in the age of AI, as we seem to be, authors are gaining in importance. Maybe some people are just going to be Viet Cong troops trying to resist whatever big idea is going to threaten to enter their field of vision. But it’s still important for us to try to create knowledge.
This is something I admire you for, Jordan — maintaining ChinaTalk after a rebrand, having done this for so long. You were one of the first China podcasts, right? To have persisted in this format that was novel is admirable as well. That’s something we should applaud you for. If leaflets aren’t very good, well, maybe podcasts are the answer. Thank you for taking us there.
Jordan Schneider: Speaking of podcasts, you recently did a show with Stephen Kotkin — two hours, excellent, everyone should take a listen. He spoke in a misty-eyed way at some point about the dream of authors — you write a book, it’s read one year from now, read 10 years from now, maybe even, God willing, read 50 years from now.
I found it ironic that you both brought up The Power Broker with him and had this whole nice riff in your book about The Power Broker having soured the minds of a generation of Democratic politicians. Square the circle for me, Dan.
Dan Wang: Such is the power of books. No one would describe The Power Broker as a mere leaflet, which is what I’ve written with Breakneck. But The Power Broker has certainly had tremendous influence. It’s one of several books that we can pinpoint as having created the lawyerly society. Robert Caro’s monumental work is subtitled Robert Moses and the Fall of New York.
Aside from The Power Broker, we can probably name Silent Spring by Rachel Carson, which is about pesticide use in the United States. There’s also Jane Jacobs’ The Death and Life of Great American Cities. Maybe we can toss in The Population Bomb by the Ehrlichs as well. These four works were very important in confronting the mistakes of the American engineering society throughout the 1950s — which sprayed too many pesticides, which rammed highways across too many urban neighborhoods, which had exhausted itself with these gigantic land wars in Asia. They presented a very useful corrective.
If we doubt the power of books, let’s look at The Power Broker, which just celebrated its 50th anniversary. Now, I certainly don’t have aspirations that Breakneck would be read 50 years from now. I don’t have many aspirations that it will be read one year from now. But having just a little bit more to work with to think about — it’s always going to be important to have a sense of mutual curiosity between the US and China. Even if we can get people interested for just one year, that’s very well worth doing.
Pluralism in China and America
Jordan Schneider: You brought us to America. I want to come back to this idea of pluralism that you brought up. I was having a conversation at some very fancy China meetup — is there any other kind? — which was mostly white people. One of these white people had lived in Shanghai for a very long time, had become very wealthy, was an investor, and a ChinaTalk listener. He asked me, “Jordan, why don’t you live in China?” My response was, “Well, I couldn’t do my show in China.” He said, “But you’d have such a great standard of living. You’d be a great McKinsey consultant.” (He’s wrong — I’d be a terrible McKinsey consultant.) “You could have three nurses and two house cleaners, and if you just didn’t make any trouble, then you could have a really great life there.”
Reflecting on why I left China — the proximate reason was COVID; I was outside when the country closed and couldn’t get back — but the reason why six years, which is how long you made it, probably would have been my shelf life too, is this idea of living in a pluralist society. Having the freedom to say what I want and talk to people openly who have very divergent opinions is just core to what living a good life means to me. What’s my question? Is this enough to win a cold war? Should we go there? Where do you want to go with pluralist society?
Dan Wang: Your attitude towards this former Shanghai resident — I probably have the same attitude. This is insufficient for a flourishing society. But let me acknowledge that certainly for many people, a life in Shanghai or perhaps another first-tier city in China — maybe we can throw in Hong Kong here — is desirable because it is very convenient. This is one of the words that many Chinese bring up — that life is just very fāngbiàn, very convenient, to be in one of these big Asian cities.
There’s no doubt that life is very fāngbiàn in Shanghai or Hong Kong. The subways work very well, there’s excellent public order, there are great ways to try out new bars and new restaurants. One could have a nanny from probably Indonesia or the Philippines if you’re living in a city like Singapore, maybe from inland China, from Anhui, if you’re living in Shanghai. There are many ways in which life in Shanghai, Singapore, Hong Kong, or other first-tier Chinese cities is just much more pleasant than in New York, where we’re chatting. Here, the subways are extraordinarily loud, the streets aren’t necessarily very orderly and clean.
We can accept all of these things. But what we also have in New York — and this is part of the reason that I’m drawn back to the US again — are bookstores. At these bookstores, one can find books very critical of the US government, very critical of both the Republicans as well as the Democrats, who have both made incredible errors. For the most part, though there have been some restrictions on protests under Trump’s regime in America right now, there still is broad latitude for people to protest all of his illegal or inhumane actions, and that is still very real. Protest culture online is also very real.
What I’m saying is that I hope we don’t have to choose. The United States should be able to have, at its present levels of tolerance of dissent, as well as very functional cities that have good subways, good bus systems, nice airports, and where people are able to get around and have a rate of improvement that doesn’t come at truly absurd financial costs. New York in particular has a really hard time building anything. I don’t see why we should have to choose between having bookstores and Port Authority bus terminals that are well renovated in less than five years — which is not within the current project as proposed by Governor Hochul right now. We don’t have to choose.
Certainly, I acknowledge that for many Chinese who move back, they really like having the convenience of their food delivered to them. They get to save quite a lot of money because their rent isn’t necessarily very high. Maybe they really don’t care to think much about politics or philosophy or ideals. But there are also plenty of Chinese who do crave these things. These are creative types — journalists, feminists, people who are interested in ideas. They’re really keen to make something of their lives in cities like New York. That’s something we should welcome here in the United States and allow them to pursue the sort of activity that is borderline impossible in China.
Jordan Schneider: You mentioned convenience. You had a whole chapter about when China was the least convenient place in the world. I love this line:
I often think about the China Daily headline “Shanghai Has No Plans for City Lockdown.” It could be read in two ways. I first understood it as a denial that the city would impose a lockdown. I understand it now as a totally accurate explanation of what happened next: The city had made no plans for confining twenty-five million people to their homes for eight weeks.
Dan Wang: Yes.
Jordan Schneider:Breakneck written in 2019 is a much different book than Breakneck written in 2023, 2024, particularly because since 1989, we really had close to three decades of the state not really imposing on people’s lives — as long as you were Han — in a way that really wrecked what you expected a functioning middle-class, convenient urban life to be.
Dan Wang: That’s one of the scary things about the engineering state: the capability is always there to make a lot of people’s lives go off track in really big ways. Throughout the 1950s, under this earlier, more idealistic era of the pursuit of communism, maybe most of the 1950s was pretty good if you weren’t a landlord, if you weren’t a kulak. But then that terminated with Mao’s great famine, in which these quack agronomy techniques, as well as lies to the central government, terminated in a famine that killed perhaps 30 or 40 million people.
After we felt that Mao was chastened, he again unleashed the forces of total mayhem to plunge the country into the Cultural Revolution. That is perhaps not so much a typical move by engineers. Mao was much more of a poet — he was romantic, he was a warlord. That was his answer to “bombard the headquarters.” The next great trauma that the Communist Party visited was the one-child policy, which was mostly against the rural areas.
You’re right — it was good for about three decades, if you didn’t mind the steadily worsening repression from Xi Jinping, which closed off a lot of avenues for creative expression as well as dissent, both online and offline. Maybe it would have been good if you weren’t a Uyghur in Xinjiang, if you weren’t a Tibetan in Tibet.
Then everybody around the country was plunged into this pandemic control, the apotheosis of which was Shanghai — probably the greatest lockdown ever imposed in the history of humanity, when 25 million people were unable to leave their apartment compounds over the course of eight to 12 weeks in the spring of 2022. The government organized, in the early stages, no adequate food delivery to many families who went hungry so that parents could save food for their children. That was about two weeks of the Shanghai lockdown, in which the food situation was quite severe.
In the midst of all of this, you have four decades of astonishing growth from China, in which the country was growing at a rate of 8 or 9%. That created tremendous wealth, alleviated poverty, and made a lot of Chinese right now feel really good about what the country was able to accomplish. This is where I really want to grapple with both the good aspects as well as the bad aspects of China. Yes, it’s absolutely the case that the wealth creation here was astonishing. That has been much more impressive than what any other developing country was able to achieve — India, Indonesia, Brazil have not had the economic takeoff that China enjoyed that brought so many people out of misery and poverty.
At the same time, we have more novel forms of political repression that humanity has never seen before. Both of these trends are real, and they both have to be acknowledged.
Jordan Schneider: If there’s one thing that’s missing in the book, it’s the Xinjiang chapter. Given that each chapter has some personal connection or observation from you, I get it — maybe you just didn’t spend a lot of time in Xinjiang. The Yunnan arc which you portray is this happy, fun, free place where these minorities are in the mountains so they can get away with not actually doing a lockdown.
The Xinjiang arc has an engineering story there. There’s an engineering of the soul story, which is probably even more dramatic than the digital authoritarianism arc. It’s this idea that you can do to the Uyghurs what you did to all the other minorities — basically wave your hand enough and then they stop being minorities anymore. Do you want to do your analysis of that? Did it get left on the chopping block? How do you think about covering that story?
Dan Wang: You’re absolutely right that I try to cover the stories that I have some personal experience of, something like Zero COVID. You’re right that I’ve never been to Xinjiang. I wish I had the opportunity to go, but it was challenging because foreign nationals — I’m a Canadian citizen — are tracked more intensively. I never quite had the courage to spend time in Xinjiang and see things for myself. I was actively discouraged by some folks in Beijing from even attempting the trip.
I try to write about things that I could talk more knowledgeably about. There was no other reason that I left off Xinjiang. I wrote a little bit about the treatment of Tibetans, mostly going off journal articles that I synthesized into the book. But there were plenty of things left on the chopping block. I could have written more about the Three Gorges Dam, which is the world’s largest power plant and displaced about a million people in China’s southwest. I could have written more about all aspects of social and digital control that people in China have to go through.
But I also wanted to write a relatively short book. My book is under 300 pages, and I wanted to hear that people criticized that I wrote a book that was too short by 100 pages, rather than a book that was too long by 100 or 200 pages. That’s where I chose to land and that was the side I chose to err on. But certainly if I had the ability to do some reporting and if I did take a look at this analysis, I would have written much more about the ethno-religious oppression that took place mostly under Xi.
Jordan Schneider: You did cram in a lot of good writing. Some quotes:
The Chinese government often resembles a crew of skilled firefighters who douse blazes they themselves ignited.
The engineering state can be awfully literal-minded. Sometimes, it feels like China’s leadership is made up entirely of hydraulic engineers, who view the economy and society as liquid flows, as if all human activity — from mass production to reproduction — can be directed, restricted, increased, or blocked with the same ease as turning a series of valves.
What’s the point of good writing? You could have done this faster, presumably, without having nice sentences and extended metaphors.
Dan Wang: I write for one reason, which is pleasure. In my daily life, all of us must attend to our daily pleasures, and that’s going to be very important. I don’t read that much poetry, although I expect that I want to. But I spend a lot of time thinking about the voluptuous beauty of Italian comic opera. I take a lot of inspiration from the cadences and beats of composers like Mozart and Rossini and Bellini and Donizetti and Verdi. There has to be something important about if you’re going to write any sentence at all, why not make it beautiful and readable and full of cadence and full of splendor?
Jordan Schneider: We’re going to do a few more.
“As more Americans retreat into a digital phantasm, Xi will be shepherding Chinese through the physical world to make babies, make steel, and make semiconductors.”
“When Song assured China’s leadership that the population trajectories could be as firmly controlled as missile trajectories, they listened.”
“Skeptics of a one-child policy were making population projections with the aid of an abacus or a handheld calculator. Song Jian presented his group’s projections in precise machine-generated lines on graph paper; other groups drew uneven squiggles by hand. It wasn’t even a fair fight.”
Dan Wang: What does beauty mean to you, Jordan? How do you practice it? How do you try to enact it in your interviews, in your podcasting and your writing?
Jordan Schneider: I don’t know. I feel really sloppy and I guess I’m okay with that. It’s not something I spend a lot of time cultivating. We’re gonna have 200-plus newsletters this year. That means I’m not laboring over every sentence. Every once in a while I do, and then I think, “Oh wait, but if I do this, the output changes and it won’t be as much."
The subtext, the psychological undercurrent of why I do so many shows and write so fast is to quiet my brain. I’m scared of silence and the contemplation that’s necessary to do something this considered. Or maybe there’s just too much ADD to do writing like this. But yeah, I should give it a shot every Thursday — slow down and try to actually write something really worth reading.
Dan Wang: Sometimes it’s really important, Jordan, to have a pause.
Mao 70% Right, Xi 60% Right…
Jordan Schneider: Xi Jinping, 60% right? Derek Thompson says that Trump is a great assignment editor. Is it too early to give him a percentage? Because I do feel like a fair amount of the stuff he’s gesturing towards is adjacent to the critique of this lawyerly society. He’s Nietzschean and beyond law in a certain profound sense, right?
Dan Wang: I call Xi Jinping 60% correct on everything for two reasons. Many of Xi’s motivations for trying to restrain the debt of property developers or to examine some of the anti-competitive behaviors of internet companies in China — these are completely valid and well-reasoned motivations. It’s just that often the solution, Beijing’s solution, is often worse than whatever scary problem China has. I also assign Xi to be 60% correct on everything, partly because Deng Xiaoping assigned Mao Zedong to be 70% correct on everything (三七开定论). Xi would be the last person to put up his hand to say that he’s better than Chairman Mao in anything. So 60% correct for Xi.
Jordan Schneider: Pretty good, but 70% is high for Mao.
Dan Wang: Well, that’s the official verdict of history.
Jordan Schneider: Okay, but what’s your number for Mao?
Dan Wang: Mao was probably 30% correct. That might be the right projection for Trump. It’s too early to say. We need to have Trump move on from this world before his successors can really assess his legacy and maybe give him something like 70% correct in most of the things he did. Perhaps we’ll have that. Who’s going to be the Deng Xiaoping of America, Jordan?
Jordan Schneider: …Amy Klobuchar?
Dan Wang: Maybe… probably not.
Jordan Schneider: I don’t know. Jake Paul? There’s no one man.
I departed the country with a better appreciation of the self-limiting features of the Chinese system. Most notably, the Communist Party distrusts and fears the Chinese people, limiting their potential for flourishing.
If you want to make the inverse of the argument that I made at the very beginning — if we’re presuming a party is still going to be there and we’re presuming that that party has still internalized the lessons of Gorbachev, who probably didn’t fear the Soviet people nearly as much as maybe he should have if he wanted to keep the party — the guarding, literally and figuratively, is a constant you can draw through not just the post-Mao folks, but really everyone. Even the Hu Yaobangs and the Zhao Ziyangs, the most liberal folks we’ve seen, still distrust and fear the people at some elemental level. To imagine a Chinese leader coming up through the party system who doesn’t have that in their core is hard for me to project forward.
Dan Wang: That’s absolutely right. Maybe the Chinese are looking at the United States and saying, “Well, in 2016, maybe the American elites should have feared their people a little bit more, and they didn’t have quite enough fear there.” That’s certainly a possibility. Yes, it’s going to be the case that the Chinese are never going to fully trust their people, or maybe even not trust them very much at all. This is one of the reasons that China will not have a flourishing liberal society by any stretch of the imagination.
If the Communist Party goes away, we would still have a party. If the Nationalists had won before they were ejected to Taiwan in 1949, we would still have a country nursing its grievances over imperialist incursions in the past, still very intent on achieving some degree of technological primacy over the rest of the world. They probably wouldn’t be trusting their people very extensively either.
I hope that China could develop a regime that does trust its people much more than they do now, because the Chinese people are such a lovable folk. Don’t you agree, Jordan? They can be extremely creative. Their memes are no less than what American 20-year-olds and 14-year-olds are able to produce online. There’s so much wordplay with the Chinese language. There’s a lot of joking throughout China. The Chinese are very funny. People in Yunnan are very funny, which is my heritage. People in Beijing are very funny. The people in Shanghai… maybe not so funny, but most people everywhere else can be very funny.
I wish that the regime could recognize that it has a lot of people who have wonderful, creative spirits who are going to have great memes all day long. They’re going to create wonderful pieces of artwork and literature and all sorts of great shows, great movies. If they had that opportunity, they would have all sorts of wonderful jokes that they could play on us. I’m really optimistic that the spirit of the Chinese teenager is indomitable, just as the spirit of the American teenager is completely indomitable. It’s only that one of them is very actively suppressed by the state and the other is not.
Jordan Schneider: The one line I disagree with was when you say, “I missed the ambient friendliness of Americans,” as if you didn’t get that in China. I moved through the country in a different way than you did with my face, but it was still very friendly. That’s one of the things that will never leave me. You mentioned it at a different point in the book, talking about why this is the destination of choice for so many Chinese. It’s not just because it’s rich and a land of opportunity, but the cultural overlaps in terms of entrepreneurship and ease of engagement with other folks are really profound.
Dan Wang: Well, I would say that you do have a good face, and I wouldn’t sell it short. I have a different face. Not all of us can be so blessed. Certainly there is ambient friendliness in China. But there can also be an ambient “get in your face about your business” sense. There’s sometimes an ambient aggressiveness and pushiness in China, as there is in the US as well.
This is more stark to me because I spent some time in Europe. I just traveled to Europe for two months and we were mostly in Denmark. One of the things we hear about Danish folks is that they have a really hard time making friends after high school. You would have your friends from elementary school, some friends from university, maybe some friends you made when traveling to the United States. But after that, people have enough friends. They’re good. People travel around in roving packs to the bar and then they don’t really socialize with the other roving packs at the Danish bar.
It’s much easier to have a conversation with someone on the bus in New York, on the street in New York, walking around, and they don’t get up so much in your business. You’re right that there’s absolutely a lot of ambient friendliness in China. That’s one of the things I really enjoy about the place. But the flip side of that coin is that they can really get up in your business. How often are you asked as soon as you meet a new Chinese person — Are you married? How many children do you have? What’s your salary? Sometimes I don’t really feel like answering those questions. It’s a bit odd.
Jordan Schneider: The ambient anxiety as well is something very different in the US. Even when you have these think pieces about how people can’t afford rent and life is terrible, it’s not a nationally defining thing in the US the way modern anxieties are in China.
Dan Wang: This is certainly one of the many reasons I am glad that I did not grow up in China, especially not as a woman, because the pressure that women face in China is completely insane. It’s not only workplace stuff. In the workplace, you and I both know that Chinese women are many of the most capable people. They do most of the work; often they are the most efficient people in every organization and they are consistently passed over for leadership because they are not a guy. China really doesn’t treat women very well in the workplace.
Then imagine the pressure you face once you are seeing your neighbors or even worse, family over the most important Chinese holiday. Over Lunar New Year, every woman is asked one question. To the single: Are you married yet? To the married: When will you have children? It feels like, unless a woman has produced at least one child and at least one son, then she will not have broader respect within the family. Chinese women are consistently the most undervalued people, and they are the ones who should be elevated the most.
Generally, China is just a high-pressure society where one does need a little bit of pushiness to get ahead. That can sometimes be pretty wearing once you’ve spent enough time in China, because the pushiness is not really wonderful. The overworked aspects of a lot of people — 996 is real for a segment of the population who work from nine to nine, six days a week. Then they go home and face a lot of family pressures. Many people don’t have an easy time being able to afford their apartments in Shanghai or Beijing. It’s a high-pressure environment. That’s one of these things where you come to the US, you’re left alone. You go to Florida or Texas, and people aggressively leave you alone. That’s something I crave after being over there for a while.
Jordan Schneider: The pushiness of both the one-child policy stuff and now the party telling you that you need to have more kids is just — you have a number of these Orwellian flips which you document in modern society. That’s one of them. The other, of course, is COVID being this thing that would kill you and is worth not getting your cancer treatment in order to prevent, to “Oh, it’s a flu — and by the way, you don’t even need ibuprofen to get through, much less a vaccine, much less a Moderna vaccine."
You see echoes of it in the US sometimes, where Trump says, “Oh, don’t care about Epstein anymore.” But it doesn’t work really to completely turn on a gravity distortion field and just say when you were saying A is A one day, to say B is A the next day. That’s another benefit of a pluralist society — to have people, to have noise that pushes back on that.
Dan Wang: Well, this is what engineers do. They tell you for a while, “You must not have more than one child,” to “You really should have three children.” To hear that COVID is this life-threatening thing and it is our national duty to prevent any transmissions, to “Oh, it’s not that big of a deal.” This is how engineers treat society — they swerve really suddenly every so often. At some point, that is going to give people very severe whiplash.
Jordan Schneider: “Beijing has been taking the future dead seriously for the past four decades. That is why they will not out-compete the United States.” What a line!
Dan Wang:The country that will outperform in the world has a sense of humor, and Beijing has the least sense of humor of all of them — at least official Beijing. Unofficial Beijing is very humorous. One of my favorite recent pieces is a gag where Alex Boyd, who is part of Asia Society, found and translated this page of official jokes from Xi Jinping.
You can read some of these jokes from Xi Jinping himself and decide how many of them are actually funny. Humor with Chinese characteristics isn’t really going to knock us off our feet. I prefer the superpower that isn’t taking the future with such seriousness. By taking the future with such gravity — this is one of the great insights from Stephen Kotkin — there is this apocalyptic sense in communist systems. You liberalize a little bit, you slip out a little bit, and somehow the entire system will collapse. Every day becomes an apocalyptic, life-or-death struggle for the Communist Party. That sort of system will end up being fairly brittle.
Engineers don’t know how to persuade. The Communist Party insists on a history in which the party is always correct and where all errors come from traitors or foreigners, rather than acknowledging fault and telling persuasive stories. The instinct of the engineering state is simply to censor alternative narratives. Xi comes off as someone who is a little too eager for groveling respect from the rest of the world, which is exactly why he’ll never get it.
Dan Wang: Yes.
Jordan Schneider: The other Kotkin-esque moment you highlighted is this idea that Li Qiang, who was the mayor of Shanghai initially, was one of the people trying to keep his city more open. But once it came down to it and he got the order, he implemented the biggest lockdown in human history. He became the most reviled local politician in the entire country, and then he got the biggest promotion anyone can get — to be premier. It’s such a reminder that while China is a country where people are promoted on performance at some level, once you reach the top rungs of power, it’s about loyalty. This man delivered on what he was told to do, even when it came at what would be considerable political cost in a democratic society. This is still a crazy system we’re dealing with — that’s not political logic.
You make the point that basically every party in the world that was in charge during COVID lost votes after COVID ended because people were upset about that time in their lives. But to have the emblem of bad Omicron-era COVID policy now be someone people are going to see on their TV for the next five years — this is remarkable.
Dan Wang: Well, maybe he’s going to be squeezed out of TV because he seems to be a remarkably weak premier by the standards of Chinese premiers. You’re absolutely right that in every pandemic country, the ruling party lost vote shares. It’s only in China that the most hated emblem of zero-COVID restrictions gets promoted to the top — the highest any politician could go under Xi.
Jordan Schneider: The idea that Kamala would have Fauci as her running mate is basically what we’re talking about.
Dan Wang: Yes, that would be quite something, wouldn’t it? This surely degrades and erodes some of the competence of other people inside the Politburo and Central Committee, because there were plenty of people who perhaps administered their cities more effectively with pandemic control policies.
One could debate how effective Li Qiang was. One could say he did his best trying to resist a very fierce lockdown, and then when that shifted, he was in charge with another vice premier of implementing that lockdown. Maybe he simply followed orders and did the best job he could. But certainly, I wouldn’t have expected after the Shanghai lockdown that Li Qiang, who was one of Xi’s protégés, would be promoted to anything as high as premier within the Chinese system. For him to become premier must surely have bred considerable resentment within his peers who looked at what an awful job he perhaps did. You can maybe debate that, but Li Qiang certainly created a lot of misery. For them to see this guy vault over them in terms of party hierarchy cannot feel good for other cadres.
Li Qiang inspects mask production outside Shanghai, January 2020. Source.
Cold War 2.0?
Jordan Schneider: You’ve got Rickover, Moses, and Eisenhower as Americans you’re shouting out — all perhaps peaked in the 1950s or early 1960s, all products of Cold War America. Moses was doing his thing even in the ’30s, but there’s a narrative that was maybe a little more prominent in American politics a year or two ago: that Cold War framing is the thing that will get the US out of its engineering rut. We will do big things because now we have another adversary, and we’ll break eggs and build amazing stuff again because we have a new replacement for the Soviet Union. You’re still hopeful, though, that we can get there, even if this isn’t the defining framework for America for the next few decades.
Dan Wang: I certainly don’t hope we repeat all the mistakes of the last Cold War, which wasn’t very cold for Vietnam, which wasn’t very cold for Laos, and which wasn’t very cold for Afghanistan. The US and Soviet Union made tremendous mistakes and inflicted horrors on foreign populations, as well as somewhat on their own populations, in the course of pursuing the Cold War. I’m reluctant to say the US should desire or embrace anything resembling a Cold War, given how the last one went.
I’m hopeful the US will be able to recover some of its engineering chops, because it’s become tremendously obvious that the US needs to do this without any framing of China as the great adversary. We’re in New York right now. Affordable housing is a very big issue. New York can’t build subways at less than $2 billion per mile, which is far above European levels of construction. The US can’t fix Port Authority Bus Terminal in under five years. This is to say nothing of Massachusetts or California, which have really bad construction issues. None of that needs to implicate China. That’s purely an American lawyerly society problem.
We have movements like the Abundance Agenda trying to make sure US big cities are able to build quite a lot more. There’s broad complaint within both the American left and right that the US manufacturing base has rusted top to bottom, where apex manufacturers like Intel and Boeing have just an unbroken tail of woe if we look at any of their headlines. The US manufacturing base wasn’t able to produce anything as simple as masks and cotton swabs in the early days of the pandemic. That was pathetic.
We also have a defense industrial base that has significantly rusted, with the US unable to produce a lot of munitions or naval ships on time. Maybe the defense industrial base has to implicate China, but really that implicates already existing problems as well as the war in Ukraine, which took a lot of munitions from the United States.
The US needs to fix its own problems, not to be able to confront China, but because it has been doing pretty badly itself. The same goes for China — the contest will not go to the country that builds a bigger rocket or more homes. The contest will be won by the country that’s able to deliver better for its own citizens. That’s ultimately where both countries really need to get to.
Jordan Schneider: I agree with that. The question is: if we need a fundamental rethink and Cold War framing from 2020 to 2024 didn’t get us there, is Derek Thompson and Ezra Klein and Dan Wang evangelizing enough to have our Sputnik moment 2.0? Not only does it address the international stuff, but it also gets you the interstate highway system equivalent for what we need today. That’s our only data point. Maybe we can go back further in history.
Dan Wang: I’m also unsure that Cold War framing will work because right now, as we’re speaking at the end of August 2025, President Trump seems to be the most pro-China member of the White House, and he doesn’t seem terribly interested in a Cold War. A reporter asked him whether he should welcome more Chinese students to the United States. He responded, “It’s our honor to have them.” He’s right. The US should be attracting more students from China as well as from all nations. That won’t work if the commander in chief is uninterested in having a cold war.
We’ve tried to impose this Cold War framing for a while, and it hasn’t worked, at least so far. Maybe we will get there in some other way, but there isn’t a single knockdown argument that will have the US recover some of its engineering chops. There need to be many types of arguments, and the worse the situation becomes, the more the US needs to do.
Jordan Schneider: Mike Gallagher had an op-ed in the Wall Street Journal basically saying we should dramatically tighten immigration policy from China. You have a USCIS head saying that F-1 visa holders should understand that they’re not welcome here after graduation, and OPT may be going the way of the dodo bird. We’ll see how it plays out. It’s clear that Trump is not entirely on board with this. But I wonder if Xi is going to do something more dramatic than a balloon — which doesn’t necessarily have to be an invasion of Taiwan — that clicks, that gives the Cold War framing a second breath of fresh air.
Dan Wang: Maybe. But I suspect Xi has studied his history and is really reluctant to give Americans an excuse to engage in another Cold War. Even the balloon seemed like it might have been an accident where the leadership didn’t know about it. We can deal with balloons, Jordan. We can deal with balloons all day.
Jordan Schneider: Yeah, but can we deal with 50 Filipinos dying or something? We’ll see. As Kotkin says, history’s full of surprises. One thing we know about history is it’s full of surprises.
On the Cold War stuff, when I had you and Ezra and Derek on, you asked me if the US should have a goal of constraining Chinese growth. Do you have an answer to that question? How would you frame our policy optimization function when thinking about that?
Dan Wang: The US should not be seen as being in a position to constrain China’s growth. It would be disastrous for the US if the Chinese earnestly believed that the US government was trying to hold down China’s innovation prospects or economic growth prospects, because that would seem very dramatically unfair. Now, there are some people in Beijing who already believe some version of this, but that’s not necessarily consensus.
It’s important for the US government to communicate that it wants a good future for Chinese people everywhere. There’s nothing Trump would lose by saying that he wishes the people of China can be rich, well off, and happy.
Jordan Schneider: Let’s close with some book recommendations. I don’t know why — read the Bible, Stendhal, someone you recommended to me the other day.
Dan Wang: The Book of Exodus, Jordan. That’s where it’s at. Maybe bested by the Book of Genesis. But the five books of the Torah — that’s something really important here.
Jordan Schneider: But you’re just shrugging off Prophets and Writings?
Dan Wang: Well, Ecclesiastes is very beautiful. As Robert Alter translates, the chapter is called Kohelet. There’s certainly a great deal of beauty in the Song of Songs and in the dreariness, frankly, of Ecclesiastes or Kohelet. Something important for us all to keep in mind is that the heart of the wise dwells in the house of mourning, while the heart of fools dwells in the house of mirth.
Jordan Schneider: Dan, what’s our outro song?
Dan Wang: There is no music more sublime than the ending of The Marriage of Figaro by Mozart, in which the Count asks and begs for forgiveness from the Countess for all of his incredible indiscretions.
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