Yanwen’s blog

10/8/2026

Yesterday, the world watched the announcement of the 2026 Nobel Prize in Chemistry. Japanese chemist Kensō Soai shared the prize with French chemist Henri B. Kagan for their pioneering work on asymmetric synthesis and the chemistry of mirror-image molecules.

The announcement made me think about a question that goes beyond this year's prize.

Japan has produced an unusually large number of Nobel laureates in the natural sciences, especially relative to its population and to other Asian countries. According to the Japan Society for the Promotion of Science (JSPS), by the end of 2025, 21 Japan-born researchers had received Nobel Prizes in the sciences during the 21st century, putting Japan close to the United Kingdom in second place behind the United States.

China has a population more than ten times that of Japan and now has an enormous scientific research system. Yet the number of Nobel laureates in the natural sciences remains much smaller. Why?

Why has Japan been able to produce so many internationally important scientists, particularly in basic science, despite having a population much smaller than China or the United States? I am sure many Chinese people have asked themselves the same question.

I don't know the exact answer. Perhaps there isn't one. The JSPS itself says that no single, definitive explanation exists. But there are several factors that seem worth considering.

First, Japan built a strong scientific foundation over several generations.

Japan deliberately invested in science and engineering after World War II and developed strong universities and research institutions. A scientific tradition takes time to develop. Rome was not built in a day, and neither is a world-class scientific system.

Japan's Nobel tradition also goes much further back than China's. In 1949, just as the newly established People's Republic of China was beginning from a position of “一穷二白”—poor and lacking a modern industrial and scientific base—Japan celebrated its first Nobel laureate. Physicist Hideki Yukawa received the Nobel Prize that year.

Since then, Japanese researchers have repeatedly won Nobel Prizes in physics, chemistry, and physiology or medicine. Japan's first Nobel Prize was therefore not an isolated achievement; it became the beginning of a scientific tradition that has continued for generations.

Second, Japan has been able to keep some of its top scientists doing world-class research at home.

This is an important difference.

Unlike Yang Chen-Ning and Tsung-Dao Lee, who were Chinese-born scientists whose Nobel-winning work was done in the United States, many Japanese Nobel laureates were made in Japan!

A study of Japanese Nobel laureates found that 11 of the 15 Japanese natural-science laureates it examined had conducted their Nobel-winning research in Japan.

This suggests that Japan was able to create research environments in which talented scientists could do world-class work without having to leave the country.

Third, Japan has provided scientists with relatively stable conditions for long-term research.

The JSPS itself points to this as one possible explanation for Japan's Nobel success. Since the end of World War II, Japan has developed a relatively stable research environment that has allowed scientists to pursue work they are genuinely interested in.

This is especially important for basic science.

A Nobel Prize often comes decades after the original discovery. Scientific breakthroughs cannot always be planned according to a three-year timetable or judged by immediate economic results. A scientist may spend years or decades studying a question simply because he or she finds it fascinating.

That kind of research requires patience and long-term commitment.

Japan has also developed broad systems for supporting researchers rather than relying entirely on a handful of superstar scientists. For example, its KAKENHI grants have supported long-running lines of basic research, including work that later contributed to Nobel Prizes.

Fourth, the university laboratory system may have played an important role.

Japan traditionally developed research groups organized around professors, with students and younger researchers working closely with senior scientists. This structure can create continuity from one generation to the next.

A study of Japanese Nobel laureates found that many had been educated at prestigious national universities and later conducted research in relatively free academic environments. The same study emphasized the importance of a research atmosphere in which scientists could pursue their own intellectual interests.

The laboratory is therefore not simply a place where an individual scientist works. It can become a small community in which knowledge, methods, habits, and scientific curiosity are passed from one generation to another.

Fifth, Japan seems to combine intense educational competition with considerable freedom later in a scientist's career.

Japanese children can experience intense competition for entrance to prestigious schools and universities. Many Japanese Nobel laureates studied at top national universities such as the University of Tokyo and Kyoto University.

But once these scientists entered research, some found relatively free environments in which they could pursue questions that interested them.

That combination is intriguing: discipline in education, followed by freedom in research.

So perhaps the real lesson is not that Japan has more talented people than China. Clearly, population size alone cannot explain scientific achievement.

A country needs talented people, but talent is not enough. It also needs universities, mentors, laboratories, funding, the atmosphere of intellectual freedom, and—perhaps most importantly—enough time for good ideas to mature.

Japan's Nobel record may therefore offer an interesting lesson for China and for any country hoping to produce world-class science: it is not enough to have many talented people. You have to create an environment in which they can stay, think, experiment, fail, and keep pursuing an idea for decades.

10/7/2026

Last Sunday, I came across an article that immediately provoked a strong reaction in me. Its title was “Why Do Chinese Audiences Love Watching Women Catch the Other Woman?” (中国人为什么这么爱看“抓小三”, Zhōngguó rén wèishénme zhème ài kàn “zhuā xiǎosān”).

The article explores the enduring popularity of Chinese television dramas featuring wives confronting their husbands' mistresses. It begins with a scene from The First Half of My Life (《我的前半生》) that went viral nine years ago and traces how the “other woman,” or 小三 (xiǎosān), has been portrayed in Chinese television dramas over the decades.

The author also explores why stories about infidelity attract audiences. This fascination is not unique to China. From an evolutionary perspective, jealousy may be a natural response to perceived threats to a relationship. Watching a confrontation between a wife and her husband's mistress may allow viewers to experience these threats vicariously.

There is also the satisfaction of seeing someone who has violated a social norm punished. Negative gossip and conflict can capture our attention, making these characters compelling to both viewers and writers.

The article cites survey data suggesting that self-reported rates of extramarital sex increased between 2000 and 2020, with men consistently reporting higher rates than women.

To its credit, the author also points out that blaming all marital problems on a third party oversimplifies the reality of relationships. It gives people an easy target for their anger while allowing deeper problems within a marriage to go unexamined.

But one assumption in these stories particularly bothers me: the idea that the husband is essentially a decent family man who is tempted and seduced by another woman.

The mistress is often portrayed as the villain who started pursuing a married man and destroys his family. The man, meanwhile, appears almost passive, as though he has been led astray against his better judgment. Public anger is directed overwhelmingly at the woman, while the married man receives far less condemnation.

This issue is not merely an observation about television dramas for me. It touches something I have seen in my own family. One of my relatives was involved with another woman for two years while he was already in a relationship with someone else. What troubles me is that people tend to focus on the “third person” and blame her, while paying much less attention to the man’s own choices.

I find this deeply unfair.

A married man is not a victim of temptation. He is a person who made a commitment and has the responsibility to honor it. Whatever role another woman may have played, he remains responsible for his own choices. To portray him as someone who was merely seduced shifts the blame away from the person who broke his marital commitment.

This reflects a broader double standard in attitudes toward extramarital affairs. Women are often judged more harshly than men, while men's infidelity may be excused as a natural weakness or the result of irresistible temptation. "All men are like this," as my sister explained. The underlying message is that men cannot always be expected to remain faithful, but women should be held responsible for tempting them. Why double standard?

If a marriage involves two people, responsibility for protecting it cannot rest on one person alone. Should we hold both accountable without treating one as the sole villain and the other as a helpless victim?

Thinking about this double standard and Women's Lib movement reminds me of an old cigarette commercial with the slogan, “You've come a long way, baby.”

Women have indeed come a long way in their struggle for equality. Yet some old assumptions remain stubbornly alive.

Perhaps we have come a long way—but we still have a long way to go before men and women are judged by the same standards.

10/6/2026

Last week, I came across an article on the Chinese internet offering advice on raising a boy. Since it made me think about my grandson, I thought I would write down the ideas and share them with my son.

The author is a mother with seven or eight years of experience raising a son. She offers four practical suggestions. The first three are about how parents interact with a boy; the last one, she jokes, is really about protecting the mother's mental health.

Here are the four ideas.

1. Share the workload—don't let the mother do everything.

The author emphasizes the importance of involving the father in raising a boy. Boys can have enormous amounts of energy, and physical play can be a good way for them to explore that energy. Instead of leaving most of the childcare to the mother, fathers can take an active role through play, sports, outdoor activities, and everyday care.

This benefits everyone. The child gets more time with his father, the father develops his own relationship with his son, and the mother gets some time to rest.

I would take this as a general parenting principle rather than something unique to boys: raising a child should be a shared responsibility.

2. Set clear rules and boundaries early.

Young children need to know what is acceptable and what is not. Rules about routines, manners, safety, and how to treat other people can be introduced from an early age.

The important thing is not simply to have many rules, but to make expectations clear and consistent. Children need to know that actions have consequences and that some boundaries are not negotiable.

The earlier, the easier for rule-setting. Also, what matters more is consistency, patience, and the relationship between the child and the adults setting the rules.

3. Sometimes ask for help instead of turning everything into a confrontation.

The author suggests that when a child refuses to cooperate, a parent does not always have to respond with a command or a power struggle. Sometimes, asking for the child's help can work better.

For example, instead of saying, “Clean up your toys,” a parent might say, “Can you help me put these away?”

This gives the child a sense that he is capable and useful. It can also turn cooperation into something positive rather than another battle of wills.

I think this is about giving children appropriate responsibility and allowing them to experience the satisfaction of being helpful.

4. Practice informed parenting—and take care of yourself.

The last suggestion is really for the parent.

Parenting anxiety often comes from uncertainty. The more parents understand about child development and their own children's personalities, the better they may be able to respond calmly rather than reacting to every difficult moment.

But even good parenting strategies won't make every day easy. Children will have tantrums, test boundaries, refuse to cooperate, and surprise their parents.

That is why parents also need to take care of themselves. A tired, anxious, overwhelmed parent has less patience and energy to give a child.

Perhaps this is the most important lesson of the four: raising a child is a long journey, and the parent is part of the equation, too.

Of course no parenting formula can predict what kind of person a child will become. My grandson will have his own personality, strengths, and challenges. But I hope his parents can give him three things as he grows: clear boundaries, plenty of opportunities to explore, and parents who have enough patience and energy to enjoy the journey with him.

After all, raising a child is not only about shaping the child. It is also about learning how to become better parents along the way.

10/5/2026

There is a Chinese term that most Chinese people understand: 卷 (juǎn), often translated as “involution” or used to describe relentless competition. It refers to a situation in which people keep working harder and harder just to get ahead, even when the extra effort brings diminishing returns. No one wants to fall behind, so everyone feels compelled to keep pushing.

My children may have heard this term, but they may not fully understand its implications in Chinese society.

A few days ago, I read a news story about mental health problems in China. It made me wonder whether the intense competition many people experience, beginning in childhood, might be contributing to the problem.

Research shows that the number of people in China living with depression and anxiety has increased substantially over the past three decades. A Global Burden of Disease analysis estimated that the number of people with depressive disorders rose by 54% between 1990 and 2021, while the number with anxiety disorders increased by 31%.

However, the picture becomes more complicated when the figures are adjusted for changes in population size and age structure. By these measures, the prevalence of depression actually declined slightly, while the prevalence of anxiety remained relatively stable. In other words, an increase in the total number of people affected does not necessarily mean that an individual's risk has increased.

Another important source of information is the China Mental Health Survey, published in The Lancet Psychiatry in 2019. This nationally representative study surveyed 32,552 adults across China and estimated that 16.6% had experienced a mental disorder at some point in their lives, excluding dementia, while 9.3% had experienced one in the preceding 12 months. Anxiety disorders were the most common category, with a lifetime prevalence of 7.6% and a 12-month prevalence of 5.0%.

These figures do not prove that competition causes mental health problems. But they make me think about the pressures people face, especially young people.

In China, competition can begin remarkably early. Some children face intense pressure to perform well in elementary school, prepare for examinations, attend extracurricular classes, and keep up with their peers. Parents worry that their children will fall behind, and children may absorb those worries. One family's anxiety can become another family's pressure, creating a cycle in which everyone feels compelled to do more.

Anxiety can spread through families, sometimes without anyone intending it. Parents who want the best for their children may communicate their fears through constant reminders, high expectations, or comparisons with other children. The children, in turn, may begin to believe that they are never doing enough.

This makes me think about my little grandson. I talked to my son about the importance of not placing too much pressure on the little boy as he grows up.

Then I realized something: perhaps I should start by examining my own worries. If I want my grandson to grow up with less anxiety, I need to be careful not to pass my anxieties on to his parents, either.

We cannot eliminate competition from life, nor can we protect children from every difficulty. But we can help them understand that their worth is not measured by grades, achievements, or how they compare with others. Perhaps giving the next generation a little less pressure begins with learning to worry a little less ourselves.

10/4/2026

Yesterday was Saturday. We went to Central Park in Manhattan with my son's family. It was the baby's first trip there.

That morning, I had read an article from Emory University about a study examining how grandmothers' brains respond to pictures of their grandchildren. The study, published in Proceedings of the Royal Society B in 2021, used functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI) to observe brain activity in 50 grandmothers.

Here are the main findings.

1. Grandmothers showed strong emotional responses to their grandchildren.

When the grandmothers looked at pictures of their grandchildren, brain regions associated with emotional empathy showed increased activity. The researchers suggested that grandmothers may be especially responsive to their grandchildren's emotions. When a grandchild smiles, a grandmother may share the child's joy; when the child cries, she may feel the child's distress.

2. Their responses to their adult children were somewhat different.

When the same grandmothers looked at pictures of their adult sons or daughters, brain regions associated with cognitive empathy showed stronger activation. This suggests a more analytical kind of response: trying to understand what an adult child is thinking or feeling, and why.

The researchers suggested that young children's “cute factor” may help explain the difference. A baby's face can evoke an immediate emotional response that an adult child's face may not trigger in the same way.

3. Grandmothers may be part of a broader human caregiving system.

The study adds to evidence that caregiving involves a network of brain processes that extends beyond biological parents. Throughout human history, children have often been cared for by other family members, including grandparents. In some societies, grandmothers play a particularly important role in helping raise the next generation.

There is a Chinese saying, 儿不嫌娘多 (ér bù xián niáng duō) which roughly means, “A child can never have too many mothers.” It expresses the idea that a child can benefit from the love and care of more than one mother figure. In this sense, a grandmother's love is adding another source of care, affection and support.

Perhaps this is one reason grandmothers have played such an important role in families across generations. Science may help us understand the brain activity behind caregiving, but the value of having more people love and care for a child has long been understood in family life.

Of course, the study has limitations. It involved only 50 participants, who were physically and mentally healthy and actively engaged as grandmothers. We cannot assume that every grandmother responds in the same way. The researchers also noted that further studies could examine grandfathers and explore differences across cultures.

What struck me most about this article was the connection between the scientific findings and my own experience. Perhaps the science is beginning to explain something many grandmothers have felt for generations: the joy of loving a child again, this time from a different place in life.

One reader asks, “好奇爷爷啥反应，与奶奶的又有啥量化上的区别?” 

—wait for another research on grandpa!