The Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother
In January 2011, a Chinese-American Professor at Yale Law School published a self-effacing memoir to an age-old hymn of perseverance and motivation. Disgruntled parents, Eton-schooled politicians, editorialists and the immigrant mass bombarded the news cycle with a plethora of disgust, anger, envy, pathos, and for me personally, catharsis. Almost overnight, Chua was propelled into the realms of international infamy, along with her silent-but-strong Jewish husband (also conveniently American), her two daughters, and her two dogs.
The first sighting of The Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother came in the Washington Post under the cunning, albeit misleading, title: ‘Why Chinese Mothers are Superior’. Its release was timed perfectly, emerging right after the Paris-based OECD published a study showing that Chinese students topped the rankings in all academic categories, while the United States achieved an average ranking of 25 out of 34 countries. Upon the story’s release, Amy Chua, the self-proclaimed ‘Tiger Mother’, polarised audiences internationally. Her form of ‘authoritarian parenting’ shocked and outraged Westerners, who she described as “weak-willed” and “indulgent”.
The outrage and anger over what was perceived to be a ‘how-to’ guide to parenting inundated public opinion before the book was formally released. This is because the Washington Post superimposed a perception of the book upon the public which the West could not overcome. It no longer mattered that Chua’s book was a parody aimed at highlighting the shortcomings of the ‘Chinese’ way. Her contention, or rather the Post’s contention, that the Chinese were superior in parenting (or anything really) became the prerogative that had to be rebuffed immediately.
The oncoming prowl of China was already an unwritten and unspoken taboo in the American mainstream media. Whilst Americans originally comforted themselves with the fact that their military spending was more than that of the entire world combined, the volatility of their economy (upon which their military might predominantly depended) was exposed by the onslaught of the Global Financial Crisis, piercing a knife through the heart of their self-confidence. The academic successes of Chua’s Ivy League family confirmed what seemed to be an undeniable fact: that the battle of 21st century hegemony was no longer dictated by the strength of the American sword; rather, it now swayed to the hymn of the Tiger Mother.
In light of this, the reaction of Western newspapers seems hardly surprising. What Chua wrote in her book was immaterial; what was important was the fact that Chua was Chinese (her American nationality was conveniently truncated). No one denied the monumental (or one in 12) coincidence that Chua’s Chinese zodiac sign, a tiger, was the symbolic animal chosen to represent the group of nations known as the East Asian Tigers. But it was an uncomfortable coincidence that not four years ago, Chua released a book entitled: Day of Empire: How Hyperpowers Rise to Global Dominance – and Why They Fall.
Despite these coincidences, it remains ironic that a nation such as the United States, whose rhetoric is filled with notions of universality and equality, actually reinforced ethnic divides and cultural differences in this time of ‘crisis’. The reaction of Western media was not to highlight the similarities that Chua’s daughter correctly affirms at the end of the memoir, but rather to exaggerate differences. What ensued was not a period of reflection upon the knowledge or strength that can be appropriated from other cultures; rather, it was a period in which Americans tried to assert their superiority, by highlighting the faults in what they perceive to be the other team.
This ‘us versus them’ delineation directly contradicts the plight for inclusiveness and global community which permeates American rhetoric. Other cultures embrace the exports of American culture as they approach their shores; yet this embrace is not reciprocated when these cultures attempt to contribute their own skills, and dare I say attributes, to the social fabric of the United States, a nation that purports to epitomise freedom.
As states attempt to re-imagine a world whose borders are porous, we all struggle to define our own identities in firmer and more meaningful terms, beyond the territory of our birth and the paradigms of our forefathers. Principles of non-discrimination and equality provide legal protection (at least in theory) for our public identities, ameliorating discrimination based on the colour of our skin or our decision to attend Little League or maths tutoring on the weekend. Our private identities – Chinese, English, Italian or Brazilian – should likewise be challenged so that we are able to define what these terms mean and what value they hold, so as to prevent our own futures from becoming limited by amorphous labels.
By the end, it was clear that The Battle Hymn had become A Desperate Cry. Chua learned, like we all should, that we exist beyond these cultural labels and that success, by whatever token, only comes with hard work. Now wasn’t that what Jefferson and Franklin tried to teach us all those years ago?
Catrina Yu is in her third year of a Bachelor of Arts and Bachelor of Laws, majoring in Government and International Relations.
