Introduction: possibilities of and paths to a constructive and productive Third Space?
Human history can be characterized as a history of cooperation among more and more groups of people with diverse traditions and practices, although âcooperationâ is by no means always benign, voluntary or mutually beneficial but more likely involves negotiation, manipulation and/or coercion (Tomasello, 2014; Harari, 2015). As we are entering the third decade of the 21st century, where glocal (global-local) is a fact of life and âone world one civilizationâ is more than just an idea, cooperation among people speaking different languages in different cultures is not only inevitable but desirable. It is with this understanding of the world we are in and the future to which we are heading that rethinking the goals and approaches of the enterprise of foreign language pedagogy, with special attention to the field of Chinese as a foreign language (CFL), becomes necessary and urgent. Simply satisfying the desire of gazing at the other, curiosity about the other (seeing/hearing something about them) or superiority over the other (telling/showing them what to do) are no longer enough or meaningful as program-matic objectivesâwe need to go beyond these assumed and often unquestioned outcomes to focus on meeting the call of learning to cooperate with the other. To this end, it is time to further explore the conceptualization of Third Space with special focus on the possibilities of and paths to the constructive and productive cross-lingual-cultural interactions taking place in a negotiated and co-constructed multilingual and transcultural space.
Spatializing what happens when differences meet (self meets the other, old meets new, etc.) presents the advantage of catching and further exploring the complexity of hybridity inevitable in these meetings, such as Bourdieuâs generative âhabitus,â a âstructuring structureâ where the more durable âprimary habitusâ confronts the more amenable âsecondary habitusâ (Bourdieu, 1984, p. 166; Bourdieu & Passeron, 1977, pp. 42â45); Bhabhaâs âspace of translation,â where negotiated construction of an object âthat is new, neither the one nor the otherâ (Bhabha, 1994, p. 37); Derridaâs âbeing-elsewhere,â an undefinable space where and only where the monolingual/multilingual paradoxically exist (Derrida, 1998, pp. 39â43); Panikkarâs âterra nullius (no manâs land)â where a utopia of interculturality âsituated between two (or more) culturesâ and âmust kept silentâ (Panikkar, 2000, p. 2); Sinhaâs âblended spaceâ where blending as microgenesis takes place within the collaborative micro-community (Sinha, 2005, p. 1551); Jullienâs âĂ©cart,â a constructed dynamic space in between two sides where shared imagination and conceptualization may take place (Jullien, 2013, p. 373); and, perhaps most influential to the field of foreign language education, Kramschâs potentially subversive âthird place,â where foreign language learners may turn âmultilingual social actorsâ through their âresignifying practiceâ (Kramsch, 2009, pp. 103, 115, 200).
Focusing on the possibilities of and paths to a constructive and productive Third Space, cross-lingual and cross-cultural interactions should and can open up a new field, where different cultures converge, contest and cooperate; where expectations for the actors and interpretations of their actions do not entirely or constantly conform to the assumptions and norms of one culture but dynamic and fluid, motivated by specific goals of the interaction in question and negotiated among involved actors; and where the cooperative interactions of the actorsâ emerging multilingual and transcultural personae are made possible by, and in turn, continue to co-construct the multilingual and transcultural Third Space that is continuously becoming.
From feeling âonly-oneâ to seeing âobvious-twoâ to doing ânot-twoâ: inter-cultural? Transcultural?
Although it seems unquestionably outdated, the subconsciousness of âmy culture is the only cultureâ or âmy culture is the only culture that mattersâ is still part of the reality in every culture. To the extent that the other cultureâs presence cannot be simply overlooked, the subconsciousness of âtheirs is but an inferior version or earlier stage of oursâ may kick in. Operating under such subconsciousness in cross-lingual and cross-cultural interactions, the higher foreign language proficiency level the learners have, unfortunately, the more likely âcommunication breakdownsâ and misconceptions about each other will occur as language and/or behavioral mistakes, inevitable in non-native environments, will likely be interpreted as intended offenses. It therefore should be argued strongly that developing learnersâ awareness of and sensitivity towards other cultures remains a major issue for foreign language programs to consider (Walker, Chapter 7 of this volume).
More complicated, more problematic and more consequential is the conceptualization of the âobvious-two.â As well intended as they may be (ill intended is beyond the scope of this study), those from the perceived dominant culture tend to exoticize the other side as âthe otherâ (they are so different from us), hoping to normalize differences but often ending up further abnormalizing the other. For examples, see Arthur Smithâs study on Chinese behavior culture (Smith, 1894) and Richard Nisbettâs study on how Asians think (Nisbett, 2003), both offering neatly contrasted but nearly static perceptions of âthe otherâ; those from the perceived marginalized culture tend to exoticize the self as âthe otherâ (we are so different from them), hoping to redefine the selfâs place in its own right but often ending up further isolating the self, such as Ji Xianlinâs belief that the Eastâs holistic âcombining two into one ćäșäžșäž heerweiyiâ culture will replace the Westâs analytic âdividing one into two äžćäžșäș yifenweierâ culture and save the 21st century for humanities (Ji, 1992); and Cao Shunqingâs argument that the Eastern civilization and the Western civilization are two qualitatively different entitiesââćŒèŽšææ yizhi wenmingâ (Cao, 2016). Finally, paradoxically, those tend to romanticize the other are more likely driven by what they see the self is not than by what the other is, such as the ahistorical presentation of âthe Chinese way of thinkingâ by Francois Jullien (Jullien, 2000) and the equally ahistorical presentation of âthe American way of lifeâ by Lin Da (Lin, 2015). It is not uncommon for those of us who live and work regularly between cultures to hear disappointments that the âthe otherâ is not as the other as they are supposed to beâfor example, upon arriving China, some American learners of Chinese are surprised that the Chinese are not behaving the Chinese way while some Chinese who work with the American learners of Chinese are dismayed that the Americans are not American enough. Indeed, the popularity of the two-color-schemed (red and blue) and simplistically contrasted graphic series East Meets West (Liu, 2016) further demonstrates that developing critical reception towards static ahistorical generalizations of cultural differences should become a serious concern of foreign language programs.
Consider the case of âSteven quitting learning Chinese.â According to his Chinese teacherâs published account, Steven (who has a Chinese name ćČćæ Shi Liwen) was the all-agreed most hard-working and most talented top student in Yale Universityâs Chinese language program during the years he was in Yale and he quitted learning Chinese after two summer study-abroad trips to Chinaâthat is, he quitted learning the language after actually interacting with the native people in their native cultural environment (Su, 2007).1 The reasons for Stevenâs quitting are so complex and so revealing that it is worth discussing more about it here. According to this published nonfiction narrative, Steven already wanted to quit after his first summer in China because he felt his Chinese language partners/roommates kept reminding him how great Chinese culture was and how short the US history was. The fact that they wanted him to learn a Chinese song named Our Great China really provoked him: âCan you imagine what effects it would have if America had a song named Our Great USA?â he asked, and he declared in English: âI am sick of it!â (Su, 2007, pp. 109â110). However, he managed to continue learning this time. When Steven returned to Yale from his second summer study-abroad trip to China, he calmly informed his Chinese teacher (ćčłééćș), in his smooth and Beijing-accented Chinese (äžćŁæ»æșçć
æ»Ą ć·èéłçäșŹçć) that he had decided to quit learning Chinese. He explained: âI am not kidding you. I already know how I can pass off and drift through in China, and I am not bad at doing this at allâ (The Chinese word âæ·· hĂčnâ with fourth tone is used here as a verb to mean âpass off,â âdrift alongâ). He went on to express his frustration: âI have never thought I could have become such a ⊠jerk, thatâs right, a jerk!â (The same Chinese word âæ··hĂșnâ with second tone is used here as part of the noun âæ··è hĂșndĂ nâ to mean âa jerk,â âa bastardâ). Responding to his teacherâs surprise, he came up with an English word âfakeâ to further explain:
As long as you learn how to fake and get used to all kinds of faking, thatâll be itâŠ. you first lie (âéȘ piĂ nâ) to yourself and then you lie to othersâŠ. you lie to yourself that you are not that âStevenâ and you change to this âShi, Li, Wen,â and then you are free to fakeâŠ. you can fake for whatever reason, the Chinese love to hear flattering words, Iâll then say flattering words to them; if they say they donât like Americans, Iâll say I am a Uighur from Xinjiang; if they want to learn something about America, Iâll then say I am a Yale student. This is called âoilyâ (âæČč yĂłuâ) in Beijing speech, and I, this âShi, Li, Wen,â is pretty oily now.
Steven finally sincerely told his teacher (èŻæłéćș): âI have discovered that the better Chinese language I have the less respect I have towards it and it seems getting more and more so this way; if I continue to learn, the result can only be that I will become disrespectful to both the Chinese language and China.â With an unusually calm tone of voice (ćŁæ°ćŽćŒćžžćčłé), Steven declared: âSo, Iâve decided to quit Chinese.â It is worth noting that towards the end of the narrative, it was indicated that the teacher noticed Stevenâs Chinese sounded very fluent and effective (æ”ç
蟟æ) (Su, 2007, pp. 111â112).
It is clear that Steven was keenly (painfully?) aware that there are âusâ and âthem,â but it is unclear if he saw âthemâ as the wrong/bad version of âusâ that should be left behind, or if he thought âthemâ as a âqualitatively different entityâ impossible to penetrate and to work with. He just didnât seem to be able to pass the âobvious-twoâ stage and move on to the next step. Indeed, just recognizing differences alone will not lead to productive cross-cultural conversation; dwelling on the differences and overly exoticizing, romanticizing or stereotyping the other often end up strengthening the division rather than bringing about the cooperation between âusâ and âthem.â A constructive and productive Third Space can only be emerging from the state that is beyond âobvious-twoâ after seeing them, as the Chinese Buddhist tradition may call it, the state of âæ äș wuerâ (no-two). Raimon Panikkar once warned that, to speak of âinterculturationâ or âmutual fecundation,â
We must seek a middle way between the colonial mentality which believes that we can express the totality of the human experience through the notions of a single culture, and the opposite extreme which thinks that there is no communication possible between diverse cultures, and which should then condemn themselves to a cultural apartheid in order to preserve their identity.
(Panikkar, 2000, p. 5)
We may add that this type of condemning oneself to a âcultural apartheidâ could happen to anyone just by staying on seeing âobvious-two,â regardless of whether that person is from a perceived dominant culture or from a perceived marginalized culture.
The acts of ć fan (return, reverse), äžäș buer (donât see/do âtwoâ) and ç©ć wuhua (transformation of things): the Daoist and Buddhist practices
If the term âmiddle wayâ sounds too clichĂ© to have real impact on bringing about âmutual fecundation,â let us introduce to the dialog some considerations from the Chinese tradition, namely, the acts of ć fan (return, reverse), äžäș buer (donât see/do âtwoâ) and ç©ć wuhua (transformation of things).
A quick glance on some of the most well-known texts from the Daoist tradition, such as the ăèćăLaozi2 and the ăćșćăZhuangzi,3 one will find relative dualism seemingly everywhere: Birth relative to and contrasting with death, good relative to and contrasting with evil, beautiful relative to and contrasting with ugly, hard relative to and contrasting with soft, tall relative to and contrasting with short, and so forth. Upon close reading, one can argue that the motive of the recognition of all these relative dualistic contrasts is the desire to transcend them instead of dwelling on them. It starts with a remarkable critical reflection on the act of recognizing differences. The first line of the second chapter of the Laozi is widely quoted but often-misinterpreted: â怩äžçç„çŸäčäžșçŸæŻæ¶çŁâ (Yang, 2014, p. 8). The commonly accepted interpretation of this line, âWhen people see somethings as beautiful, other things become uglyâ (Mitchell, 1988, p. 2) takes the pronoun âæŻ siâ (this, it) to refer to âother thingsâ and thus makes the expression to reflects a relative dualism the Laozi attempts to transcend. In the original text, the pronoun refers to what has been stated before it, that is, the act of recognizing the beautiful as beautiful, and the expression should be read as âWhen all under the heaven knows the beautiful as beautifulâthis is uglyâ (Lau, 1963, p. 6; I modified Lauâs English translation to reflect the original textâs sentence structure more c...