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When Vice Premier Deng Xiaoping (Teng Hsiao-p'ing) stepped up the Four Modernizations campaign in November, there were hopes that China's interest in American technology would extend to such Western values as human rights and intellectual freedom. No such luck. The Peking government is now trying to stamp out those pernicious notions in what seemed to be a reprise of the anti-intellectual purge in 1957 that crushed Chairman Mao's short-lived 'let a hundred flowers bloom" campaign...
...regard as more accurate than Wade-Giles as a way of transcribing Chinese sounds. Taiwan has no plans to switch, since it sees the adoption of Pinyin as an acceptance of Communist claims. Others have more personal reasons. "If they want to call Vice Premier Teng Hsiao-p'ing 'Deng Xiaoping,' that's their business," grumped Boston Globe Columnist Anthony Spinazzola. "I don't have to order him in a restaurant." Which is something...
There were three concerts, all televised nationally. At the first, there was a row of armchairs with snowy antimacassars and little tables set for tea. The occupants turned out to be top members of the Chinese Establishment: Vice Premier Deng Xiaoping (Teng Hsiao-p'ing), Foreign Minister Huang Hua, Vice Premier Fang Yi and Mme. Sun Yatsen, who is in her late 80s. During the intermission, Deng held a reception at which he said in effect that he did not know much about music but he knew what he liked: anything that promoted friendship. After the concert...
Nowhere is the new freedom more appreciated than in ballet. A whole generation of dancers was lost as schools were closed. Mao's wife Jiang Qing (Chiang Ch'ing) decided that she just did not like two steps basic to the dance vocabulary, the entrechat and the pas de basque. So she had them excised, which was akin to taking the verb out of sentences. Now the ballet classes are filled again, and a classical ballet performance is the hottest ticket in China...
...abusive and cynical. A Soviet journalist tells Bukovsky that he is happy with Communism because it allows him to earn a good living writing demagogic rubbish. "In a normal country," he says, "they wouldn't let me within a mile of the press! What would I be do ing? Working as a navvy." The most pervasive reality, bureaucratic absurdity, al lows Bukovsky to score even in the last wild moments of his captivity...