This week marks the final day the celebration of the Chinese New Year, the Year of the Dragon, a lunar calendar event that occurs once every 12 years. Dragon years have deep psychological resonance for the Chinese, as the dragon symbolizes transformation. But the trajectory of that transformation is not always for the better: the dragon has two faces, and it's never clear which side will be revealed
During the last Dragon year, 2000, China saw tremendous economic growth and prosperity. But in perhaps the worst Dragon year in modern Chinese history, 1976, an earthquake demolished the city of Tangshan, killing and injuring nearly a million people. On the other hand, in that same year Mao Zedong, China's long-time dictator, died, ushering in a new era for China. The outlook for the new 2012 Dragon year is unclear, but signs point to a growing struggle for freedom, in which the forces of government control and corruption will be challenged by citizens empowered through the Internet.
For me, the Year of the Dragon recalls the remote town where I grew up, Dragon Mountain, in Hunan Province. The town was named for the mountains that encircle it, which resemble a long, sleeping dragon. The most exciting time of the year for me was the Chinese New Year, when I eagerly awaited the arrival of thousands of peasants from nearby villages who would pour into town to perform their unique dragon dances.
A few dozen young men from each village would form a team to show off and compete against teams from other villages. They rolled, ran and jumped, mimicking the imagined movements that demonstrated the power and magnificence of the dragon. The performances came to a noisy, chaotic ending with teams dancing all over the town hoisting large dragon heads and long dragon bodies high above the crowd as if the dragons were flying. The thundering sound of firecrackers exploding at my feet and above my head was simultaneously deafening and dazzling.
Although one of the poorest places in China, local lore held that Dragon Mountain would be the birthplace of the 'son of the dragon' who would rule China. But tough times were a way of life. During a famine in the early 1960s, one entire village after another perished. Fang Zibai, a peasant who claimed to be the son of the dragon, called upon his fellow villagers to rise up against the Communist regime, and thousands followed him. Training themselves and claiming to be the 'Army of Heaven,' they believed no bullets could pierce them. Fang's warriors encircled the local government, but their assault was brutally crushed by the military and Fang was captured. At the side of the beautiful river that ran down from the mountain dragon's mouth and through the town, I was among the thousands who witnessed Fang's public execution.
Dragon Mountain remained extremely poor until the 1980s, when economic reform began to change the region. Economic growth connected this backwater to the rest of China, ending the villagers' isolation. Tens of thousands of people from Dragon Mountain joined migrant workers from other parts of China in booming Shenzhen and other coastal cities to work in sweat shops and factories. In 2010, this mobile work force, with rural labor from towns like Dragon Mountain, sent about $100 million back to their homes. For Dragon Mountain, these funds totaled more than 15 percent of its GDP.
When I left Dragon Mountain in 1969, the town had only about 3,000 residents. Today there are about 120,000, and its GDP has increased over 200-fold since 1949.
The residents of Dragon Mountain like to credit this phenomenal growth to Yang Zhengwu, a local school teacher and a former Red Guard leader during the Cultural Revolution. He rose up to be the party chief of Hunan Province, but was later removed from office during a corruption scandal. Yang directed resources to Dragon Mountain County, and as money poured in, buildings and highways appeared.
But just like the mythical dragon, economic growth for Dragon Mountain has had two faces. Many traditions have been replaced by new, Western-style fashions such as English names for students, pop music and bars. On the darker side, hundreds of girls from the poorer neighboring province of Sichuan have moved to Dragon Mountain, working as prostitutes in hotels, massage parlors and bath houses. In a sad demonstration of globalization, call girls and other sex workers from foreign countries like Russia have flocked to what used to be a backward, isolated community. The moral system has collapsed in Dragon Mountain, just as it has in many other areas of China.
The two aspects of the Dragon continue to show themselves. To meet the new demands placed by an expected doubling of the population, Dragon Mountain is opening a new building for its police station this year. This 15-story building will have 215,278 square feet of space, bigger than the New York Police Department's headquarters, for the sole purpose of maintaining 'social stability.' The construction also removes from production about 10 acres of valuable farm land, an increasingly scarce resource in a region where there is less than a tenth of an acre per person.
Undoubtedly, the enhanced police force will be put to use soon, because the problems in Dragon Mountain mirror the problems we are seeing in other counties in China. An increasing number of farmers have had their land taken from them with little to no compensation, while retired teachers have had their pensions slashed by local authorities. The twist now is that when visits and meetings with officials lead nowhere, these aggrieved groups are finding each other and organizing through the Internet.
