Orchestrating a symphonic spectacle

We are quite familiar with the process. We went through a required pre-military training in high school, marched in the sun to practice and perfect precise execution of commands in cadence and unison. What for? For the parade day at the end of the school year, in uniforms, silly!

What was billed as the school’s sports meeting (I called it games in my English class) required some setting up, not so much on the athletic events as it was on the opening and closing spectacles. The spectacle of the opening was worth all the prep.

But first, the foreign contingent in the parade to which I belonged. Of the teachers, there were three Australians (Indian, Caucasian, and Chinese), two Hawaiians (a haole ex-New Yorker and a Flip-me), a bona fide Filipina, a kimono-clad sensei, a Belgian (more Belgie than Belgique) married to a Zhongguoren lady who studied in Belgium, and a Hanggul Saram (SoKor). Our Brit, Russkyette, and samurai peace warrior skipped the early morning rise.

Remarkable in the same group were Hindu, Muslim, Buddhist, Christian, and secular students from Bangladesh, India, Pakistan, Nepal, Sri Lanka, Ethiopia, Ghana, Nigeria, Central Africa, Ceska, France, Indonesia, Malaysia, Papua New Guinea, Mauritius, Turkey, and the United States who marched together.

Not so remarkable but understandable was our display of rugged individualism (polite term for an unruly mob). Devoid of the context of service to social harmony, our march into the middle of the field was nothing but unadulterated chaos.

Compared to the Chinese orderly formation and precise march, full of color and symmetry, gracious moves and measured steps, we were a sore sight in the middle of the football field where a speaker’s platform was set up and the various contingents occupied their assigned space like spokes on a wheel, save us foreigners who could not keep a straight line if our breakfast depended on it.

But as a part of the spectacle that included the cooing of released doves, colorful kites, festooned balloons, and waving banners, we were garbed in dragon red kung fu attire, laughable in my case given the lean demeanor of regular practitioners while I am kin to the current movie Kung Fu Panda girth!

The foreign contingent embarrassingly yakked away in their loud discordant tongues, indifferent to decorum as we entered the stadium waving our national colors; we kept to our noise even while the national Qi Lai was played and the Chinese flag was raised. Tellingly, we got silent when the internationally recognized Olympic music familiar to network TV blared as the five-ring emblem went up the pole.

The difference in practice and context permeates our misunderstanding of Chinese culture with its deeply rooted moorings on balance and harmony. The athletic events, before they were individual exertions, were representational efforts of the athletes on behalf of their classes who cheered them on with gusto. The issue was not who needed to be ahead of the crowd, but rather the discovery of “one’s place in the order of things.”

This became clear to me on my way out of the stadium. I chanced on a group photo-op in front of the school auditorium for school officials and visiting dignitaries; 150 Western dark suit-and-tie-attired faculty members were already in place standing on four-tiered platforms that I could easily tumble with a strong Siberian wind.

I lingered to watch how the event was unfolding. At least 10 directors instructed on people’s stance in their bright red emblazoned chest banners, suggesting how their bodies might stand slightly sideways to accommodate more people on what was evidently a tight formation. I cringed at the quality of the makeshift scaffolds. But the directors, focused on orchestrating a symphonic spectacle, trusted the component parts to organize the whole.

Then 30 more people appeared 20 minutes later, joined the patiently waiting tableau, occupied their designated places, adjusted face tilts and postured chests when directed, and a facilitator finally took a last look at a sea of faces reminiscent of Lady Gaga’s Poker Face, resulting in a gracious nod before the cameras started clicking away.

Not to be too strict on dichotomies, but my Western mind is used to managing events by describing “what,” scheduling “when,” and articulating “why.” My Chinese hosts are focused on placement “where,” designing the way of “how,” and defining “who” played what role. This is not a difference in kind but on emphasis, and what a difference it makes. This, the conduct of the Games and the running of a nation!

China whose population is four times that of the United States, is deeply rooted on social harmony of symphonic spectacles compared to our addictive adulation of individual diversity and rugged disparities. Neither is exclusive of the other but the difference is on the emphasis. Now China yearns for citizens to recognize and practice personal creativity; the U.S. seeks harmony in its federated communities. We will do well to learn the gifts and limitations of one and the other.

From such learning will the new human rise.

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Jaime R. Vergara (jrvergarajr2031@aol.com) is a former PSS teacher and is currently writing from the campus of Shenyang
Aerospace University in China.