Newly printed “no smoking” signs went up across China when the government rolled out a nationwide public indoor smoking ban in May 2011. A sticky gray layer of smoke residue now coats many signs, representing the challenges China’s growing tobacco-control movement faces against a multibillion-dollar government-run industry and deeply embedded social practices.

How has the cigarette become so integrated into the fabric of everyday life across the People’s Republic of China (PRC)?

To get to the heart of this question, historians, health policy specialists, sociologists, anthropologists, business scholars, and other experts met Mar. 26 and 27 in Beijing for a conference organized by Stanford’s Asia Health Policy Program. They examined connections intricately woven over the past 60 years between marketing and cigarette gifting, production and consumer demand, government policy and economic profit, and many other dimensions of China’s cigarette culture.

Anthropologist Matthew Kohrman, a specialist on tobacco in China, led the conference, which was held at the new Stanford Center at Peking University. In an interview, he spoke about the history of China’s cigarette industry, cigarettes and society, and the tobacco-control movement.

The early years

Tobacco first entered China through missionary contact in the 1600s, says Kohrman, but it was not until the early 20th century when cigarettes began gaining popularity. The first cigarette advertising was a “confused tapestry” of messages as marketers figured out what spoke to the public. “There were just as many images of neo-Confucian filial piety as there were of cosmopolitan ‘modern women,’” says Kohrman.

Through improved marketing and aggressive factory building, British American Tobacco and Nanyang Brothers, China’s two largest pre-war firms, helped increase the demand for cigarettes. The Sino-Japanese War (1937–1945) disrupted the cigarette supply, but their popularity had taken hold. Some cigarette firms shifted during the war to the relative safety of southwest China, where tobacco production has remained concentrated ever since.

Post-1949

After the founding of the PRC in 1949, the tobacco industry was nationalized and strong relationships between the central government and cigarette manufacturers in the provinces were formed. Cigarettes also began to be viewed as a part of everyday life. “Ration coupons for cigarettes were issued alongside grain, sugar, and bicycle coupons,” says Kohman. “The Maoist regime legitimized cigarettes as the right of every citizen."

During the Deng Xiaoping era (1978–1997), China’s cigarette industry really took off as manufacturers competed with one another for foreign currency to purchase cutting-edge European equipment and newer varieties of tobacco seed stock. Increased production and the return of full-scale advertising fueled greater consumer demand, and manufacturers began producing more and more varieties of cigarette. Vendors displayed glass cases filled with a colorful patchwork of cigarette packs bearing names like Panda, Double Happiness, and Red Pagoda.

The tobacco industry remained under government control as other industries privatized in the 1980s and 1990s. Party-state management of the cigarette became even more centralized in the early 1980s with the creation of the China Tobacco Monopoly Administration and its parallel external counterpart, the China Tobacco Corporation.

Since 1949, provincial protectionism has marked the cigarette market. It is now possible to purchase Beijing cigarettes in Kunming, Chengdu brands in Shanghai, and so on, but to distribute cigarettes in another province, a manufacturer must cut a deal with provincial government officials. Provincial administrations are loath to cut such deals because central government policy dictates that the portion of cigarette sales tax which does not go to the central government always is channeled to the finance bureau of the province of original production. China’s 2001 entry into the World Trade Organization opened the market ever so slightly to international brands like Marlboro and Kent, but domestic brands continue to dominate because of fierce protectionism.

...If it chooses to do so, China is in a position to lead and change the landscape in a very profound way.
-Matthew Kohrman, Professor of Anthropology, Stanford
A new era

In 2003, the World Health Organization established the first global health treaty, the Framework Convention on Tobacco Control (FCTC). Although the United States still has not yet ratified the FCTC, China signed the treaty in 2003 and ratified it in 2005. Kohrman says China’s tobacco industry giants fear competition from international cigarette brands more than they worry about tobacco-control measures related to the FCTC.

Nonetheless, the FCTC ushered in a new era of public health research about tobacco and has helped increase public awareness about the dangers of smoking. New restrictions have been imposed on print and television advertising for cigarettes, and international organizations, such as the Bloomberg Family Foundation, have begun funding anti-tobacco work in China.

A big challenge to tobacco-control campaigns, says Kohrman, is the sheer amount of money that tobacco companies have available for marketing. “In 2010, China’s tobacco industry posted profits in excess of U.S. $90 billion—that’s huge. Tobacco control research and advocacy now annually receive a few million dollars, and much of that is coming through outside funders, which have very specific projects in mind.”

China’s tobacco advertisers have adapted to the new restrictions that prevent them from openly promoting cigarettes in the media. They have instead moved to point-of-sale and soft-marketing tactics, including misinformation campaigns about the “dangers” of quitting smoking. “The actual expenditure on marketing probably hasn’t dropped very much,” says Kohrman.

Cigarettes and society

Strong marketing and the legitimization of cigarettes as a part of everyday life have led to the deep integration of cigarettes into Chinese society. While only 3 to 4 percent of women in China smoke, cigarettes are an important part of male identity and social mobility. The wide range of cigarette brands has led to the growth of high-end varieties favored by businessmen and politicians, with some brands costing as much as $50 a pack. The custom of cigarette gifting has existed in China for decades, and it is difficult for a young man to turn down a package of cigarettes from a senior colleague or supervisor.

There is also the fact that nicotine is highly addictive, and quitting is difficult in an environment where smoking cigarettes is socially sanctioned. Kohrman says, “When you take an incredibly addictive substance like nicotine and throw it into the mix of all of these norms and customs, it creates a pretty toxic brew.”

The future?

Tobacco control presents a formidable challenge in China, one that requires understanding the historical context and complex dimensions of the cigarette industry. “Cigarettes have been insinuated into so many aspects of daily life across China, and the market for this product has now become so closely enmeshed with matters of government finance and operations,” says Kohrman.

What happens in China could have implications for the entire world. “There’s a tobacco-induced human annihilation unfolding right now in almost every country and questions about how society and Big Tobacco are enmeshed, and how cigarette culture and government finance have become mutually supportive are pivotal,” says Kohrman. “Every country except Bhutan has legalized cigarette sales and is subject to many of the same general issues as China—only in China they’re on a much larger scale. But if it chooses to do so, China is in a position to lead and change the landscape in a very profound way.”   

This month marks the passing of 70 years since the February 19, 1942 signing of Executive Order 9066 by President Franklin Roosevelt, an act resulting in the forcible removal and incarceration of more than 110,000 people of Japanese descent. About two-thirds of those relocated to concentration camps scattered across desolate areas of the United States were U.S. citizens. To reflect on this milestone and its legacy, SPICE joined with the Inter-University Center for Japanese Language Studies (IUC) and the National Consortium for Teaching About Asia (NCTA) to co-sponsor “Commemorating 70 Years Since Executive Order 9066: A Panel Discussion on the Japanese-American Experience of World War II.” Moderated by Stanford Professor of Japanese literature and IUC Executive Director Indra Levy, the event drew a crowd of educators, students, and community members eager to enrich their understanding of this troubling chapter in U.S. history. Presentations were given by an esteemed panel: Professor Emeritus Donald Hata of California State University Dominguez Hills, writer and artist Dr. Ruth Y. Okimoto, Academy Award-winning filmmaker Steven Okazaki, and journalist and filmmaker gayle yamada. Drawing on their diverse experiences, the panelists addressed how the wartime treatment of Japanese Americans by the U.S. government does not, as Levy emphasized, “sit quietly in the past.”

 

 

A common thread connecting the presentations, raised both by panelists who spent their childhoods in the camps and those born after the war, was that the traumatic experience of the war years left an indelible mark on the Japanese-American community. In the words of yamada, “The Japanese-American experience during World War II defined us as a people. The war was not a personal experience for me but it defined who I have become almost without me realizing it.” Hata recalled that after the war, many families including his own lived in “fear of being singled out again as scapegoats,” and consequently “abandoned, rejected and suppressed Japanese language and culture. The desired goal was to be a 200% white American, an emasculated model minority devoid of any connection to their Japanese heritage.” Okazaki echoed this, explaining that he only realized years later how much the Japanese-American community in which he was raised was “acting out a post-camp experience…that’s why we had to be in Boy Scouts—it’s because of the camps—that’s why we had to be in every single sports league—it’s because of the camps…that’s why we had to be so American, that’s why we were constantly told not to stick out, to belong, not to get in trouble.” For Okimoto, the dislocation of being forced from her home and sent to the camps following Executive Order 9066 was paralleled by the challenges of then re-entering society following the end of the war: “We laugh about it now but it was very scary after the war to come back to a community being the only Japanese family and having people stare and chase us.”

The scars left by wartime experiences, panelists suggested, made it difficult for Japanese Americans to confront and openly discuss this period for many years. Yet, each of them discovered a way—teaching, archiving and creative reconstruction of the past—to explore the legacy of Japanese Americans in World War II, both for their own personal understanding and in order to share these stories with others. Hata found that his time at the IUC in Japan “brought clarity and a sense of identity and purpose to my life…I learned about Japanese history and about my Japanese immigrant heritage.” Hata later drew on this when he developed groundbreaking teaching materials in order to introduce the experience of wartime concentration camps into a college survey course on U.S. history. His text Japanese Americans and World War II: Mass Removal, Imprisonment, and Redress, co-authored with Nadine Hata, first came out as a slim 15-page supplement at a time when there were no other suitable materials for teaching this history, and is today a core source in this field. Okimoto, on the other hand, discovered that drawing and painting were her “salvation,” for they offered a way to “express myself about those years that I could not talk about,” which in turn enabled her to document the history of the Poston camp where she and her family were imprisoned during the war in Sharing a Desert Home: Life on the Colorado River Indian Reservation, Poston, Arizona, 1942-45 and contributions to From Our Side of the Fence.

Both Okazaki and yamada turned to documentary filmmaking to reveal unexplored aspects of Japanese-American wartime history. Okazaki’s many films have included a documentary on three men who challenged the legality of Executive Order 9066, an exploration of the life and art of Estelle Ishigo, one of the few Caucasians to enter the camps with her Japanese-American husband, and his third and most recent project All We Could Carry, from which Okazaki shared clips of poignant testimony of camp survivors. Yamada in turn was drawn to a project focused not on the camp experience, but rather the veterans of the Military Intelligence Service (MIS), including her father and many other Japanese-American soldiers who served in the Pacific War by translating intelligence, questioning Japanese prisoners, and bravely leading “cave flushing” operations. Yamada’s film on the MIS, Uncommon Courage, which she screened during her presentation, vividly demonstrated how these Japanese Americans employed their language and cultural knowledge to save lives on both sides of the conflict, all while many of their families were behind barbed wire in the United States. 

Okazaki affirmed that even after making three films on the subject he remains convinced that there are still stories yet to be told, because the discussion is, in a sense, just beginning. “It shocks me that the discussion is evolving so much still that even the terminology is still in discussion and evolving, and probably will continue to evolve.” Hata directly confronted this previously unexplored aspect—the insidious bureaucratic nomenclature represented in terms like “evacuation,” “relocation camp,” and “non-alien” (rather than U.S. citizen), which “cleverly obscured the reality that U.S. citizens, solely on the basis of their race, were herded without trials or due process into concentration camps as political prisoners, surrounded by barbed wire, watch towers, machine guns and searchlights, and soldiers with orders to shoot anyone trying to escape. Let us never forget what WRA [War Relocation Authority] was designed to do and did very efficiently.” Raising consciousness, diligently archiving the past, and identifying new stories and perspectives, emerged as shared concerns among the panelists, even as they emphasized that fighting historical amnesia was a future-oriented endeavor. Yamada noted that the kind of archiving projects she is involved with enable people of any ethnic background or race to “look at a moment in time—which was the war—and figure out for themselves how they could work through the same kind of issues that are being brought up.” “I hope that no other child in America,” concluded Okimoto, summing up the lessons of her presentation, “has to go through such an experience as that, to stand in a barrack, in a classroom, and have the teacher say ‘Ok children, it’s time to salute the flag.’…You’re in a prison camp but you’re saying ‘I pledge allegiance to the flag’…I hope that there’s no war where an ethnic group would be put in that kind of situation.”

The presentations were followed by a discussion, during which speakers fielded questions from the audience and elaborated on their stories and work. Panelists also remained after the event to meet with participants and sign books and DVDs. The video of the panel presentations is now available online, so that even those who could not attend in person can be inspired to learn more on their own, share this history with students, friends and family members, and ultimately work together to confront the troubling legacy of racial profiling and hysteria in the United States during World War II. “All four panelists were the model of courage in their personal discussions of the meaning of Executive Order 9066,” reflected Levy, “For those who were unable to attend the panel discussion, I am thankful that we were able to make a video record of the event. This recording will be an important part of the lessons I teach my son, and I highly recommend it to all parents and educators who are concerned about the legacy we bequeath to the next generation of Americans.”

 

Riding around on the back of a motorcycle in 2009, Jeremy Menchik snapped photos of hundreds of Indonesian campaign posters. That number has now grown to over 5000 images, which Menchik and Colm Fox have painstakingly coded and analyzed to better understand the politics of identity in Indonesia. The initial results of their research reveal similarities between the United States and Indonesia, and shed light on the transitional democracies of the Arab Spring.

Menchik is a 2011–12 Shorenstein Fellow at Stanford University, and will take up a position as an assistant professor in international relations at Boston University in 2013.

Fox is a doctoral student at the George Washington University’s Department of Political Science.

How important is political identity in Indonesia? Why?

Indonesia is the largest Muslim-majority country in the world, and one of the most diverse. But what we found was that rather than being unique, Indonesian politicians behave remarkably similar to American politicians in using a variety of regional, religious, and ethnic identity symbols to court voters.

For example, just recently on NPR, I heard Mitt Romney and Newt Gingrich using broken Spanish to appeal to Latino voters in Florida. That is no different than candidates for mayor in northern Sumatra, who often print one poster with them wearing Islamic clothing for one neighborhood, and another poster with them wearing Batak clothing for a different neighborhood. And a third where they are draped in the Indonesian flag.

Our research suggests that despite the obvious differences between a developed, Western country like the United States, and a developing, Muslim-majority country like Indonesia, politicians often act similarly when they are trying to win elections.

What is an important factor in determining a candidate’s use of identity symbols?

What we found is that the election rules matter, a lot. Candidates are far more likely to use religious and ethnic symbols in a plurality (“winner-take-all”) system like the United States than in a proportional representation system (PR) like Indonesia. This is an important finding, because tinkering with election rules is one of the tools that international relations practitioners can use to reduce ethnic and sectarian violence. And what we are saying is that it works. Changing election rules can change the types and levels of identities that are politicized. And that is an important lesson for conflict resolution.

What are some of the most surprising results to come out of your research?

The first is how badly the dominant explanations for identity politics—modernization theory and secularization theory—fared when they were tested on a large dataset. We are at an interesting juncture in time, where our theories of religion and politics have not caught up with the way the world works.

A second surprising finding is how much electoral rules shape the use of identity symbols. Indonesia is a Muslim-majority country, but you would not know it in many of the PR elections. Having strong party backing is so crucial to winning seats in the legislature that it overrides candidates’ religious identity. This points to a similarity between a developed, consolidated Western democracy like the United States, and a developing, unconsolidated Muslim-majority country like Indonesia. The rules are really important for understanding "how politics works" in the Muslim world.

Finally, it was interesting to see the continued importance of history for understanding contemporary political behavior. Regional rebellions that happened in the 1950s continue to echo in politics today. There are certainly ways that changing electoral rules and economic development can result in a shift in political identity, but without understanding the specific Indonesian context, a lot of our results do not make sense. That is an important lesson that for understanding how people in a Muslim country vote; the regionally specific history of that country is very important.      

During last year’s Arab Spring, the ideal of democracy was celebrated throughout the world. How might your research shed light on understanding the complexities of these transitioning democracies?

Well this research has clear implications for the Arab Spring, particularly for understanding the future of Egypt. Just because religious parties like the Muslim Brotherhood or the Salafist Nour party come into office does not mean that democracy is doomed, or that religious minorities are going to suffer. As long as secular Muslims, Christians, liberals, and other groups have a stake in elections, we are likely to see cross-ethnic and cross-religious coalitions emerge. This is a very good thing. One obvious difference, however, is that we did not see a lot of overt military participation in politics in Indonesia after 1999. The military was largely absent. And that is one way that Egypt is very different from Indonesia. If there is a big threat to democracy in Egypt, it is not coming from the politicization of identity—it is coming from the suppression of the people's voice by the military.

China possesses vast coal reserves, and coal accounts for 70 percent of the country’s total energy consumption—3 billion tons per year. But China also consumes oil, natural gas, and an increasing amount of renewable energy.

Xuteng Hu, a Corporate Affiliates Visiting Fellow Program alumnus (2007–08), manages energy and materials development projects at PetroChina’s Petrochemical Research Institute in Beijing, where he serves as vice president.

Hu received his master’s and doctorate degrees in chemical engineering from Tsinghua University. 

PetroChina, one of China’s largest energy companies, has recently developed its own biojet fuel. The company is also researching other renewable energy technologies, including biofuel made from plant fiber.

During his year at Stanford University, Hu conducted research on the governance of China’s state-owned enterprises, focusing on energy companies like PetroChina, Sinopec, and China National Offshore Oil Corporation. He also studied strategies for the development and promotion of different forms of energy, ranging from coal to chemicals and oil to natural gas. Jean C. Oi, a political science professor and director of the Stanford China Program, served as Hu’s research advisor.

Since returning to China three years ago, Hu has managed the research and development of synthetic petroleum-based materials, and the construction of major pilot petrochemical plants. Perhaps most exciting of all, the biojet fuel project he led conducted a successful demonstration flight in October.

Of his time at Stanford, Hu says: “My experiences helped me think about corporate governance structure, energy development, and other issues related closely to my work from different perspectives, such as culture and society. It also enhanced my understanding of cultural and business exchanges between China and the West.”