Yanwen’s blog

There are two things that I find equally challenging.

First, a friend of mine shared some Olympic Games anecdotes produced by China's self-media, which are independently operated social media accounts on platforms like WeChat and Weibo. Many of these self-media broadcasts are in need of quality improvement, telling too much without showing enough.

I recall learning about the journalistic principle of "Show, don't tell" a long time ago. Over the years, I have found it rather challenging to consistently apply this principle in writing.

The classic "Show, don't tell" concept likely originates from Anton Chekhov, who famously said, "Don't tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass." He emphasized capturing small details to create vivid images in the reader's mind.

Ernest Hemingway expanded on this with his famous "iceberg theory" or "theory of omission," suggesting that a writer should focus on surface elements and allow deeper themes and meanings to be implicit rather than explicitly stated. 

He explained, "If a writer of prose knows enough of what he is writing about, he may omit things that he knows, and the reader, if the writer is writing truly enough, will have a feeling of those things as strongly as though the writer had stated them. The dignity of movement of an iceberg is due to only one-eighth of it being above water."

The iceberg theory illustrates two parts of writing: (1) the visible part of the story is only a small portion of the overall meaning, much like the small visible part of an iceberg above water; (2) the unsaid part includes deeper meaning, context, and subtext, much like the larger part of the iceberg that lies beneath the surface, unseen but essential to the whole. This is a huge challenge to a writer.

The second challenge is the news of Apple beating Wall Street's expectations in its June quarterly report, despite the worst iPhone sales in years. Apple's performance reminds me of its shifting manufacturing strategy: first moving production to China, then leaving China for India, and now partially returning to China. 

The market is tough, with the U.S. banning Huawei and facing competition from other Chinese brands like Xiaomi and Vivo. In facing these huge challenges, a Chinese saying best describes a survivor like Huawei, "是金子永远会发光的" (Shì jīnzi yǒngyuǎn huì fāguāng de), meaning: "Gold will always shine."

Navigating these challenges—whether mastering the art of "show, don't tell" in writing or for tech giants in global markets—requires insight, adaptability, and resilience. But in the end, the gold will always shine.

A few days ago, I came across an interesting observation. It appears that the anti-China sentiment among average Americans has somewhat alleviated. This shift in attitude may be because they have come to realize that years of blaming China for the country’s problems didn’t address issues like the crisis at the southern border, rising crime rates in big cities, outdated infrastructure, deindustrialization, and polarization.

While it’s disappointing to see politicians resort to scapegoating to gain votes and power, there’s at least a valuable lesson for us all in this situation: the importance of correctly identifying a problem by understanding the background and the root causes.

I remember when my children were young and would argue, my son often asked, “What’s your problem?” My daughter’s frequent response was, “I don’t know.” How can one solve the problem when one doesn't know what the problem is?

So, the initial step in solving any problem is to understand its background and root cause.

Take deindustrialization, for example. A good starting point is the nonfiction book The Unwinding: An Inner History of the New America by George Packer. It examines the country’s transformation from the 1970s to the 2010s, highlighting the economic, social, and political changes over time.

Given the U.S. capitalist system, the shift towards offshoring manufacturing was ultimately driven by profit motives. Understanding this economic and historical context reveals that the visible stories, such as the rust belt’s decline or the loss of jobs or the hillbilly elegy, are just symptoms; they are not the root causes. It's like fever is a symptom of an underlying disease. It takes careful analysis and wisdom to look beyond the surface and truly identify the core issues.

The same principle applies on an individual level. To solve a problem, you need to go deeper than the apparent symptoms and understand the underlying causes. Only then can meaningful solutions be found.

A Chinese poem goes, "不识庐山真面目，只缘身在此山中" (Bù shí Lú Shān zhēn miàn mù, zhǐ yuán shēn zài cǐ shān zhōng) meaning: "One does not recognize the true face of Mount Lu simply because one is within the mountain." The poem emphasizes the challenge of seeing the whole picture when you are too immersed in the situation. That is, you need a broader perspective to identify and address core issues.

In the end, whether addressing national challenges or personal dilemmas, a deeper understanding of the root causes will guide us towards effective solutions.

It's been nearly three months since I started swimming at the YMCA pool. During this time, I’ve become acquainted with some regulars. I've received comments on how fast I swim with my head above water. It always feels good to hear positive remarks, though I don’t latch onto them like little kids.

This got me thinking about feedback and my last employer. The upper management there dispensed accolades upon rank-and-file employees at our monthly meetings. How did upper management know about performance down below? Through peer recommendations. I remember one colleague commenting on this practice: "It's nothing but the practice of 'you scratch my back and I'll scratch yours.'"

In reality, dispensing accolades is a form of feedback and serves important functions, such as expressing appreciation to colleagues. Feedback comes in many forms—my doctor’s office asks me to leave feedback after my visits, Walmart requests that I complete a survey after my purchases, teachers ask for evaluations, and employers give annual reviews.

As the Chinese saying goes, "礼尚往来" (lǐ shàng wǎng lái), meaning "Courtesy demands reciprocity" or "One good turn deserves another." This highlights the importance of mutual exchange and the significance of giving and receiving praise or feedback, much like the concept of "you scratch my back and I'll scratch yours."

Another common example of feedback today is seen on the internet. Internet celebrities and content creators often ask for likes or thumbs-up icons on their posts and videos. These simple actions provide immediate feedback on their work, indicating what resonates with their audience and encouraging them to continue creating engaging content.

If adults with mature minds benefit from feedback, children thrive on it from the adults in their lives. I remember one of my sisters often gives feedback to her son with comments like, "You are so smart!" However, effective feedback should be future-oriented, constructive, supportive, specific, motivational, reflective, and focused on praising effort.

For example: "I'm proud of the effort you put in. Where do you think you did best? Your speech was very impressive. Next time, try speaking a bit louder. Overall, great job! You broke your own record this time; can you outdo yourself next time?"

Feedback, whether from online interactions, professional settings, or personal relationships, can be a powerful tool for growth and motivation when given thoughtfully. Don’t be stingy in dispensing feedback in life; it can make a significant difference in someone’s journey toward improvement and success.

Today is August 1st Army Day, a holiday in China commemorating the founding of the People's Liberation Army (PLA). The date marks the anniversary of the Nanchang Uprising in 1927, the first military action fought against the Kuomintang.

Growing up in an army courtyard, our family felt especially privileged on this date when the local government organized activities that benefited the army and their families.

During my teenage years, there was a tendency in our courtyard to glorify army life, emphasizing heroism, camaraderie, adventure, bravery, and the honor of shouldering the lofty mission of defending the motherland. I even had a picture of myself taken in a borrowed army uniform.

I still remember reciting lines from Mulan: 将军百战死，壮士十年归 (Jiāng jūn bǎi zhàn sǐ, zhuàng shì shí nián guī), meaning: "A general may die in a hundred battles; a valiant soldier may return after ten years."

As time has passed, having experienced a long stretch of peace and witnessed secondhand the death, loss, cruelty and hardship caused by wars, I know there's nothing glamorous about army life. It's nothing but human sacrifice. I have come to appreciate peace above all.

In recent years, with the widespread and rapid media coverage of war-torn scenes, people all over the world should share the same aversion towards war.

War, whether in Iraq or Ukraine, no matter how governments brandish it, means the same thing for ordinary people: the sacrifice of their lives. On the other hand, it also means one thing for the rich: an opportunity to become even richer.

The world would enjoy more peace if more people saw the true nature of war and understood its devastating consequences, and more importantly refused to be part of the war machine.

I learn something new almost every time I meet with my Korean student. Thought-provoking occasionally. Last Sunday, she told me that she was going to accept a job at Samsung, which requires her to communicate orally with American clients.

She is very worried because she isn't confident in her English. "What if I can't understand my client? I can't keep asking them to repeat themselves."

She also worries about making mistakes when she speaks. She is shy and afraid of making errors, especially in front of her Korean colleagues. I emphasized to her that the goal is to communicate effectively, not to be error-free. People appreciate the effort and understand if you make mistakes. Mistakes are simply part of the learning process.

To ease her worries, I suggested preparing for common business scenarios and becoming familiar with frequently used terms. We can practice role-playing these scenarios to boost her confidence.

When I suggested that she take every opportunity to practice English, especially with her American-born children and with the support of her Korean colleagues, and even find a mentor within the company, she smiled and said, "In Korea, people feel strange speaking a foreign language with another Korean. Also, we always speak Korean at home."

I wondered if it was a cultural norm to always speak Korean when conversing with another Korean, making speaking English feel unnatural or even disrespectful. It could also be a form of peer pressure, where individuals fear being judged or ridiculed for speaking a foreign language among fellow Koreans.

On the other hand, this might explain why the second generation of Koreans speaks their mother's language much better than the second generation of Chinese immigrants.

I know it's common for Chinese people to speak Chinese among themselves initially to stay within their comfort zone since English is difficult for them, though some do speak English for the purpose of learning the language. It's also common among Chinese immigrant families to speak English at home, sometimes exclusively English with their children. This may be why second-generation Chinese immigrants often fail to learn Chinese as well as their Korean counterparts.

English language usage at home seems like a double-edged sword. On one hand, it can accelerate English proficiency and help with integration into English-speaking societies. On the other hand, it may lead to a loss of the native language, making it harder for children to connect with their cultural heritage and communicate with family members in China who speak only the native language.

Finally, I told her that it is crucial to develop a positive mindset and build confidence. Making real progress in her English will help boost her confidence.

A Chinese saying goes, "世上无难事，只怕有心人" (Shì shàng wú nán shì, zhǐ pà yǒu xīn rén), meaning: "Nothing in the world is difficult for those who set their mind to it." This saying emphasizes the importance of determination and a positive mindset, aligning well with the themes of overcoming challenges and building confidence.

For adult learners, language learning is challenging yet rewarding. We have to commit ourselves to real learning by practicing regularly. Keep in mind that mistakes are stepping stones to improvement. Practice, determination, and a positive mindset will help us get there.