Becoming a Bourgeois Materialist in Buddhist Communist China

Here I am with my latest things, all of which have made me a more happy and confident person, at least as far as you know.

If you've been reading Arienne's blog--www.arnoldsinchina.blogspot.com--you've probably figured out by now that Buddhism plays a large role in the history and life of Inner Mongolia, northern China, and China generally. Hohhot was--and still is--influenced greatly by Buddhism, which became prominent in China nearly 2000 years ago. Most of the tourist sites we've visited here in Inner Mongolia (and in Datong) have been Buddhist Temples and Lamasaries. Since 1949, of course, China has also been a communist nation.

Given that communism, at least during the Mao years, was bent on destroying bourgeois elitism and keeping China from going down the "capitalist road;" given that Buddhism is predicated upon the fundamental premise that materialism is the source of all suffering and that happiness and enlightenment can only be achieved by liberating ourselves from material attachments; and given that I am by nature drawn to the monastic ideal (I drink only one beer a night, except on weekends; I rise early [7am] and deprive myself of food in-between meals and snacks), it is ironic, perplexing, and deeply disturbing that I'm becoming a bourgeois materialist in Buddhist Communist China.

In the interest of full disclosure and complete self-criticism--a common practice within the communist legal system--the following is a list of extraneous items that I have purchased since arriving in China:

--mountain bike (awesome aluminum-framed Merida, far-exceeding anything needed for basic transportation)

--bike computer (gives kilometers--not miles--average speed, distance, max speed; totally superfluous)

--front shocks (upgraded my front forks; totally unnecessary; but the new ones totally rock!)

--bike helmet (paid the outrageous amount of 350 RMB--or about $50--for a colorful, imported bike helmet that is like a big status symbol affixed to my big head; the ultimate in bourgeois extravagance)

--three sport jackets (purchased one and had two tailor-made; total price: 700 RMB or just under $100, just so that I can parade around the university acting like a big-shot foreign-expert professor; I learned long ago that if you don't have much substance, style can go a long way.)

--four sweater vests (at a cost of 200 RMB total, or $26, just to enhance the professorial image)

--French-press for tea making (when just a common strainer would be adequate, I have to have an elite French-press apparatus)

--portable DVD player (I might have locked my children outside or sent them to a Chinese school, but instead I bought them a DVD player)

In one sense, China has become, for me, just one great big shopping spree, with the "experience" of life here taking a back-seat to the things I can buy. I vainly imagine myself, upon my return to the States, striking a cosmopolitan pose in my tailor-made sport coats; impressing fellow cyclists with my exotic Chinese-made gear (can you get that in the States?); dazzling other history instructors with my sweater-vests. I lie awake at night figuring out how I'll transport all my cool stuff back to the States.

Fearful of the long-term effects this materialist binge might be having on my soul, I visited some Buddhist Temples as a means of self-purification. What did I find there? You guessed it: gift shops. Buddhist Temples here have the BEST gift shops around, and they don't restrict their merchandise to Buddhist-themed items. You can get all sorts of sundry souvenirs, jewelry, masks, clothing, and other Inner-Mongoliacana, and you can even bargain, which really stirs the juices of hard-core shoppers like myself. I mean, spending money is a thrill, but if you can get a bracelet for 15 RMB as opposed to 20 RMB (saving yourself 70 cents in the bargain), shopping itself becomes Nirvana.

Above: Haunted by demons as I try to transcend material attachment amidst the awe-inspiring Buddhist carvings at the Yungang Caves in Datong (notice the “mindful” Buddhist half-smile and the harmonious hand-gesture [right hand], while my left hand is clutching our killer extra slim Casio digital camera, purchased at Costco last spring for about $250). Oh, and that’s one of my new sweater vests.

As for communism, I am inclined to agree with the US government, which now considers the Chinese economy as capitalist. They should classify it as "hyper-capitalist," because it seems that everyone in China is either selling or buying something. It seems that every street becomes a market at some point during the week. It seems that stores and banks never close on weekends. It seems that everyone has a cell-phone. It seems that everyone wants a car. It seems that shopping and bargaining are the Chinese national pastimes.

It is really hard to look at mall in Beijing (like this one) or even Hohhot and see a "communist economy."

Globalization and hyper-capitalism also make for some pretty crazy juxtapositions, not just of wealth and poverty, which is ever-present, but just absurd contrasts, such as these books lying side by side in one of the gift shops at Da Zhao, the largest Buddhist Temple in Hohhot.

Yep—Dale Carnegie’s “The Complete Book of Succeed Law” right next to a biography of Chairman Mao.

You may have already seen this (below) from Arienne's blog, but I just think this is awesome: Washington apple growers might not know that their produce is lying on the altar of Guan Yin, the Bodhisattva of Compassion, at the Five Pagoda Temple in Hohhot, P.R. China.

So globalism and capitalism are creating some pretty crazy convergences between traditional culture and pop culture. They are also making me into a rank materialist. I'm looking forward to returning to my home in the most capitalist and materialist nation on earth so that I can once again take up my ascetic lifestyle of renouncing materialism. For now, I'm looking forward to going to Muslim Market later today and shopping for a leather jacket!

Thanks for reading.

Dave