I also delayed because my own feelings and perceptions have been so mixed. Some history: during the first half of the 1980s, I visited China several times to teach at Fudan University in Shanghai (also one brief teaching stint at Beijing University). It was a remarkable time in Chinese history, and, for an assistant professor who had not visited China, even these short visits left a deep impression. China was recovering from the Cultural Revolution, and its economic reforms and opening to the world economy were accelerating. At that time, China was captivated by the West (and particularly the United States), and I, the Western professor, was captivated by China.
During the 1980s, I worked with the Committee on International Relations with the PRC, a non-governmental group funded by U.S. foundations, to spur international relations exchanges with Chinese universities and scholars. In April 1989 the Committee commissioned me to conduct a review of international relations programs and institutions in China. My report (as I now recall it) was full of optimism: international relations research and also non-governmental organizations working on international issues seemed to be developing rapidly. The space for serious, independent scholarship appeared to be widening by the minute.
Then came June 1989. I returned to China during the 1990s, but the romance was over. China had also entered a different era: local capabilities were now greater (less need for foreign visitors) but also more politically constrained. The Chinese romance with the West also dissipated.
My return in fall 2009 for a semester of teaching is like an encounter with an "ex": a realization that, at an earlier point in my life, China played a big role. Now I should determine how much China (and I) have changed.
Within China, Shanghai was always the center of my affection. If you would like to see Shanghai in the first half of the 1980s, pick up a copy of Steve Spielberg's excellent film treatment of Empire of the Sun (J. G. Ballard's novel). Shanghai still retained the feel of the pre-World War II city, not only in the previously "European" quarters that had been shaped by the old unequal treaty system. Shanghai today is. . .you name the cliché: dynamic, congested, prosperous, polluted. Most noticeable when compared to those visits more than two decades ago, however, is a complete shift in scale. The tallest building in Shanghai back then was the Park Hotel (a wonderful Art Deco creation of the famed Shanghai architect, Ladislaus Hudec--still accepting guests, if you are interested). Now, our apartment on the 31st floor of a building in central Shanghai (not a wonderful architectural creation, but comfortable enough) looks out on a forest of skyscrapers.
Probably no city in human history has built "up" so quickly on this scale. (You can tell I am living in China where "first," "biggest," "number one" are very important.)
One investigation during this stay is whether the new Shanghai is a livable city (beyond the empirical finding that many, many people manage to live here). Its achievements in infrastructure, much touted by successive mayors and the party leadership, cannot be denied: a new subway system that runs efficiently and costs little for the passenger (about 60 US cents for the average ride); roadways that are congested but rarely grind to a complete halt; airports that would be the envy of any country; a surprising effort to "green" the city despite the absence of any large parks in the center. On the other hand, no one will drink the water that comes out of the tap, and the air (at least in September) was probably the worst that I have ever inhaled. (Bangkok in the 1990s probably came close.)
If you have read Joseph Caro's splendid biography of Robert Moses, the man who built New York City's infrastructure, you will understand the mentality that has built contemporary Shanghai: top-down planning all the way, the views of neighborhoods or citizens be damned. The vision of urban "order" in this case is that of Communist Party functionaries, but the vision of Moses and countless U.S. urban planners of the 1950s and 1960s was not that different. The amenities that most urban citizens might value do not seem to be part of the new Shanghai: a sense of neighborhood, an ability to walk or move about without noise and pollution (and without being run over by taxis or motorcycles), space for spontaneous, collective activity. Despite its poverty and lack of modern infrastructure (and I am not nostalgic for those features), the Shanghai of twenty-five years ago seemed to have more of those qualities, and that Shanghai has largely disappeared (apart from relatively small patches, such as the French Concession, in the foreground of the view earlier in this post.)
The question that I will not be able to answer even partially on this brief trip is whether those who live in Shanghai are rebuilding a different urban life that is also satisfying, within an environment that they had little or no voice in designing. More exploration of this vast city is definitely required.
