◇◇新语丝(www.xys.org)(xys4.dxiong.com)(www.xinyusi.info)(xys2.dropin.org)◇◇ 谎言、该死的谎言和中国科学 记者:Sam Greall 英国《新人文主义》2010年9/10月合刊 (ziren翻译)   中华人民共和国正在成为一个科技大国,但是谁来检验有关的种种事实呢? Sam Geall寻找中国科学警察   “好人的标准是什么?”北京大学国际关系学院院长王缉思在7月份举行的 一场毕业典礼上这样问。他给出的答案是:“当学生不考场作弊,当学者不抄袭 剽窃,当包工头不偷工减料,当商人不卖假冒伪劣产品,当官员不贪污腐败。” 你也许会认为这些都是天经地义的,尤其又是在毕业典礼这种场合。但事实上王 是勇敢地道出了那些几乎每天都会出现在中国媒体上的问题。在中国,既存在坚 定维护学术和科学的价值的人,又有通过散播伪科学升官发财的人。他们之间进 行着一场持续的斗争,无疑王缉思表明了他的立场。   在过去的两个月里,有两个名字频频在报纸、杂志、电视和微博上亮相:张 悟本和唐骏。回顾他们的命运起伏,我们也许能够体会到这场斗争的规模和波及 的范围。   张悟本是一位北京的食疗专家,今年47岁。他最为人知的主张就是《把吃出 来的病吃回去》一书中说的每天吃一斤绿豆可以治疗糖尿病和近视,吃五斤就能 抗癌。他本人成为各类脱口秀的座上宾;而他的诊所更是火爆——300块一次每 次十分钟的咨询已经预约到2012年;病人等不及想插队的话,得掏5000块“加急 费”才能见这位健康神人一面。   但在绿豆的价格暴涨三倍之后公众对张悟本产生了抵触情绪——据说绿豆涨 价正是由于他的食疗方案风靡一时。更有传言说他囤积绿豆以期涨价牟利。之后 人们开始关注他的简历:张自称出自三代中医世家,反对使用常规西药,结果被 发现只是一名子承父业的下岗纺织工人。中国卫生部也否认他拥有在其网站上所 宣传的“高级营养师资格”。他位于鸟巢附近富丽堂皇的“悟本堂”也被城管认 定为非法建筑,遂即遭到拆除。   随后就是唐骏——顶着新华都总裁的光环,一度广受中国媒体的青睐,四处 鼓动人心。中国国际广播电台不但夸赞他的“天才”,还生造出有中国特色的英 语词汇“破冰似的成功”来吹捧他。但此后他的信誉不断遭到公开的质疑。他自 称拥有的多项专利均查无实据。他自封的加州理工学院博士更是子虚乌有。实际 上他的所谓博士学位买自一所未经认证的“野鸡大学”,西太平洋大学。这倒给 他的自传《我的成功可以复制》增添了讽刺性的一笔。   这两起事件的共同之处是中国的科学理性的倡导者都发挥了作用,比如《财 经》杂志的科技编辑方玄昌和从生化学家转行的科普专栏作家方是民。后者是 《新语丝》的创始人和管理者,他的笔名方舟子更为人熟知。虽然屡遭屏蔽,但 《新语丝》作为一个监督性的网站仍然具有相当大的影响力。   方舟子有时也被称作“科学警察”——据他说新语丝网站已经曝光了900多 起学术腐败案件。正是由于他的调查才曝光了唐骏资质的问题。唐因此宣称将诉 方舟子诽谤,但这也不是方第一次面临类似的威胁。2006年方舟子将“刘子华用 八卦发现太阳系第十颗行星”斥之为毫无科学依据。尽管刘死了已经有14年了, 但其家属还是成功起诉了方,最后判他赔偿2万。   这起民事判决启发中科院自然科学史研究所的宋振海发起请愿,要求从《科 普法》里删除“伪科学”的提法。他声称方舟子借用这个词扼杀了“基于中国传 统文化的科学创新”。虽然有150名传统理论和中医的支持者签名,请愿活动没 什么结果。虽然这种利用诽谤诉讼吹毛求疵,压制合法报道、争论的做法令人担 忧,其他针对中国理性主义者做出的举动却更令人震惊——转为愤怒、受迫害妄 想,直至暴力相向。   一个显著的例子发生在一位生猛的哲学家黎明身上。2006年他自称“在老子 和康德的共同指引下”找到了解决数学上的“四色问题”的新方法。(“四色问 题”是指可以证明在一幅地图上用不超过4种颜色填图,就可以使相邻的区域用 不同的颜色标记)方舟子对此表示怀疑,在其网站上发文指黎为狂人。黎则公开 回应提议进行“文明的生死对决”:如果“破解四色定理”失败,黎鸣先生愿按 照协议,文明地进行自杀;如果“破解四色定理”成功,方舟子先生愿按照协议, 文明地进行自杀。方对此一笑了之,称这既不科学也不人道。黎明未能“破解” 这个问题。   有些回应更加“不文明”。今年早些时候,方舟子和方玄昌一起参加一档有 关地震预测的电视辩论。在节目中一位中国地震局的官员信誓旦旦地提起能预测 地震的鹦鹉和凭耳鸣就预测地震的超能力——一个具有这种超能力的人宣称在今 年四月中国西北部玉树地震之前他感觉到耳鸣。任振球是一位支持传统“八卦” 理论的中国气象科学研究院的退休人员。他不仅主张科学不能只建立在可重复的 实验之上,还指责这些科学活动家收了美国政府的钱来阻碍中国的创新。方是民 在他的博客中写道,节目录制之后任振球称他为卖国贼,还打了他一拳。   接下来就是有人企图谋杀方玄昌。6月24日晚10点左右方玄昌完成工作准备 回家。半小时后当他快到位于北京三环的公寓时突然感到后背受到一击,他起初 以为是被飞来的足球砸到了。他转过身去却发现两个壮实的矮个子男人手挥钢筋。 他试图跑开,而那两名男子紧随其后不断地用钢筋砸他的头和后背,他只好极力 保护自己。最后直到他跌跌撞撞地上了一辆出租车,两个打手才离开现场,此时 他的衣服已被鲜血浸透。当晚在北京海军总医院,医生缝合了方头后长达五厘米 的裂口。袭击他的人有职业杀手的身手,在四分钟内完成了了残暴的伏击,而且 对旁观的路人毫不在意。“他们的目的很清楚”,方玄昌在六月三十日的电邮中 告诉我:“当场打死我,或者让我无法及时赶到医院流血而死”。   为什么有人竟然企图杀害方玄昌?没人知道,似乎也少有人关心。一个多月 之后,袭击者依然逍遥法外,尽管《财经》也尽全力配合调查,尽管中国记协出 面参与。各种威胁不但没有任何收敛反倒接踵而来。方舟子七月二日在他的新浪 微博里说接到了一个恐吓电话:“这几天小心点,有人要整你了”。与对张悟本 和唐骏铺天盖地的报道相比,很少有媒体报道这次袭击:只有北京当地的报纸做 了简短的报道,却没有一家中国媒体发问:到底是谁想要袭击一位科学记者?对 中国的记者来说,这倒也不奇怪。相反,袭击发出的警告很明确:别掺乎,要么 下一个就是你。   但中国的揭假者们并没有因此沉默。如果见过方玄昌,就不会对此感到惊讶。 在他遇袭前一个月,我在北京金融区的一家别致的咖啡馆里第一次见到了这位37 岁的编辑。他身形厚实、强健,但谈吐轻快,语调坚定,旁人很难插话。他告诉 我他对丧失了的“五四”精神很感兴趣——20世纪早期的这场文化和政治运动, 倡导在科学和民主(当时被亲切地拟人化地尊为“赛先生”“德先生”)的启蒙 和指引下,批判性地思考和创新。“没多少人理解我们正在做的工作”,他说: “大多数中国人看待科学的态度是迷信的、惧怕的”。在精英阶层事情更加糟糕, 他说,他们把科学奉为抽象的教条,却没有掌握科学的方法。就科学的、批判性 的思考方面而言,方又说道:“中国人需要一场新的启蒙运动”。   官办杂志《科学新闻》的主编贾鹤鹏同意这一说法。他解释说:“在精英阶 层看来,科学是中国各种问题一了百了的解决办法,因此在中国获得了比其他任 何领域都高的地位。任何宣称是科学的东西就相当于好的东西。”目前中国领导 人的一个重要口号就是“科学发展观”,而政府每过一段时间就号召破除“迷 信”。他说,但这一切都与“基于证据的方法”或者“实证精神”毫无关系。在 如今的中国科学的困境正在此:“赛先生”也许是好的;但是独立的批判性的思 考无疑是坏的,或者像方玄昌所面对的——是有生命危险的。这使得科学上的持 异议者——也就是那些不将科学视为一种意识形态,而是倡导实验、讲证据的方 法的怀疑者;那些敢于批评各种不当行为的人——在走政治的钢丝绳。   王缉思教授在北京大学毕业典礼上进一步说:“国际排名,例如哪个国家排 第一,这不重要。”但这样的信息到不了那些一心想推动科学出成绩的官员耳朵 里。这种“不发表就完蛋”的氛围导致各大学设定不切实际的目标和意料之中的 剽窃泛滥。1月英国的《晶体学报(E)》,一份同行评议的国际科学期刊,宣布 由于编造数据,一次性撤消七十篇中国科学家发表的论文。三个月后,这份杂志 又宣布由于数据和不正确的原子识别问题,撤销了另外39篇论文,其中37篇全部 由中国的大学完成。位于新泽西森坦那瑞大学对旗下中国商学院项目作了一份评 估“揭示出大面积抄袭的证据;各种问题中仅抄袭一项就到了该立即开除违规学 生的地步”,之后便结束了该项目。《自然》杂志引用过的一篇中国政府的研究, 发现来自中国六家最高学术机构的六千多名科学家中约有三分之一承认他们曾经 有过“剽窃、篡改和编造”的行为。   但绝非只因强调数量就损害了中国科学的品质。论文发表层面弥漫着为人不 齿的偏见——显示重大发现迹象的研究备受尊崇,无明确结论的研究无人问津。 发表在《对照临床试验》上的一篇对1998年以来有关针灸研究的系统评论发现, 出自中国的临床试验无一例外地显示针灸有效。换句话说,全中国没有一篇发表 的试验表明某项针灸治疗无效。更糟糕的是,民族主义的情绪和保卫国粹的心态 让人们坚持那些已被否定的方法,这使得迷信在学政两界仍然大有市场。   我曾经受邀参加在在声名显赫的中国人民大学举行的一个讲座。主讲人,一 位戴眼镜穿白大褂的教授,居然把遗传修饰和麦田怪圈以及越南的青海无上师的 教义联系起来。但最富争议的、政府支持伪科学的例子还是地震预报,这也是中 国揭假者们关注的重点。(贾鹤鹏主编的杂志严正批评了这一做法。他还告诉我 在展览中国古人类学发现的里程碑——北京猿人的遗址博物馆里,竟然出现有关 中国地震预报成果的展示,使他大吃一惊。)   预测地震的种种举动——一般都是震后对某些现象的分析,比如动物的异常 行为;高级一点的手法包括观测地震模式和电磁场变化等等——在科学界已基本 被否定。《科学》杂志上一篇名为《地震无法预测》的评论总结说“把宝押在监 测地震前兆是极不明智的”。日本政府曾一度支持地政预测的研究,但1999年日 本首相的一个咨询机构却认为地震预测根本不现实,并主张转而研究防灾技术。 即便如此地震预测仍然是许多中国科学家和官员的孜孜以求的信仰,尤其是自 1975年2月4日的海城地震以来。中国的地震学家一直声称他们成功地预报了这次 地震,而随即的疏散避免了很多伤亡。   (海城地震发生的)文化大革命时代特别强调群众参与科学,当时流行一句 口号“卑贱者最聪明,高贵者最愚蠢”。为了迎合文革的热情,中共宣称海城地 震的成功预报是毛泽东思想的伟大胜利,并且动员了10万业余地震学家和志愿者 参与地震预报。一份同情者的回忆描述了当时的情形:在沈阳一个志愿参与预报 的团每天都派人驻守在时钟周围监听扬声器里来自地下异动——通过电线连着埋 在地下通道中的麦克风。但在地震发生13年后,一份官方的出版物显示海城地震 中共有1328人死亡,16980人受伤。(科学家们之前声称极少数人死亡。)而且 主震之前约24小时内发生了一系列的强烈前震,这也很可能促使很多人自发逃离 住所,减轻了伤亡。   地震预报活动导致了很多假警报,一直到了上世纪90年代还时有出现:在 1996至1999年之间,约30余起不准确的预报使中国多座城市一度陷入停顿。(虽 然新疆地震局称在1997年成功地预报了一起发生在伽师县的地震。)更值得铭记 的是,中国科学家们没能预报出1976年破坏力巨大,导致24万人死亡的唐山大地 震。唐山大地震的悲剧非但没能降低地震预报的热度,反而被归罪为中国地震部 门的无能。尤其是官员们被指忽视了传说中的大自然的警示:包括黄鼠狼的迁徙 和不寻常地超量捕鱼。冯小刚最近的大片《唐山大地震》就以成群飞舞的蜻蜓开 篇,作为地震的自然征兆。显然,这些猜想分散了人们对防灾不利和救灾反应迟 缓的反思。以5.12汶川大地震为例,虽然全面的调查已经被阻止,调查真相的人 士如谭作人也被监禁,但很可能四川省的许多学校建筑质量如此低劣导致大量本 不应该发生的学生死亡。   不管目前的问题是有关地震、营养还是医疗,我们在今天的中国所见证的是: 科学,自二十世纪初被奉为中国发展的基石以来,不断地被意识形态、迷信、官 僚思维以及对不同意见的恐惧所干扰。这才是最让人害怕的情形。   随着中国进入了一个新的经济和地缘政治力量的时代,她的专制资本主义模 式吸引了越来越多的崇拜者——从发展中国家的领导人到富裕国家的专栏作家。 中国对待诚实理性质询的态度也变得越来越重要。中国对待批判性思维的态度有 助于国家应对国际科学挑战,从流行病到气候变化,再到环境危机。我们只能希 望继续听到像方舟子和方玄昌这样的科学斗士勇敢地呼喊。   编辑更新——在本文付印之后,方舟子也在北京被袭,所幸只受轻微伤。 Articles > Volume 125 Issue 5 September/October 2010 > Lies, damn lies and Chinese science The People's Republic is becoming a technological superpower, but who's checking the facts? Sam Geall seeks out the Chinese science cops Sam Geall “What is the definition of a good person?” Wang Jisi, dean of the School of International Studies at Peking University, asked at a graduation address in July. His answer: “He does not cheat in exams, or plagiarise another scholar’s work, or cut corners in construction projects, or sell fake goods or accept bribes.” All fairly uncontroversial, you might think, especially considering the occasion. But, in fact, Wang was bravely addressing an issue that surfaces almost every day in the Chinese media. He was taking a stand in the continuing battle between those who uphold academic and scientific values and those others who can still achieve high status and rewards in China from peddling pseudoscience. One way to capture the size and scope of this battle is through an examination of the fortunes of two men whose names have, over the last two months, been almost inescapable in newspapers, magazines, microblogs and television debates: Zhang Wuben and Tang Jun. Zhang Wuben is a 47-year-old nutritional therapist from Beijing, whose best-known claim, elaborated in his book Cure the Diseases You Get from Eating by Eating, is that consuming half a kilogram of mung beans every day can cure diabetes and short-sightedness, while eating five times that amount improves a patient’s chances of surviving various cancers. A frequent guest on television talk shows, his clinic was so popular that regular 300-yuan (£29) consultations, which lasted ten minutes, were booked up until 2012. Patients who wanted a fast-track service could pay 5,000 yuan (£483) for an emergency appointment with the health guru. However, public sentiment turned against Zhang after the price of mung beans tripled, reportedly due to the popularity of his health advice. Rumours spread that he was hoarding beans and speculating on rising prices. Then attention turned to his resumé: Zhang, who opposes the use of conventional medicines, had said he was descended from three generations of Traditional Chinese Medicine specialists, but it turned out that he used to be a textile worker, like his father before him. The Chinese Ministry of Health denied he had the “advanced level nutritionist qualification” that he claimed on his website. The authorities in Beijing tore down Zhang’s ornate headquarters near the Olympic stadium, claiming it had been built illegally. Then there is Tang Jun, motivational speaker and high-profile CEO of New Huadu Industrial Group, who, early on, was also widely feted in the Chinese media. China Radio International lauded his “genius” and (in a characteristically mangled Chinglish phrase) his “ice-breaking success”. But his reputation has since received a public battering. Patents he claimed to have filed did not exist. Neither did Tang’s purported PhD from the California Institute of Technology. His degree was from an unaccredited “diploma mill” called Pacific Western University. This revelation added an ironic twist to the title of Tang’ s autobiography, My Success Can Be Replicated. What these two cases also have in common is the role played by China’ s science advocates – such as Fang Xuanchang, science and technology editor at Caijing magazine, and the biochemist-turned-columnist Fang Shimin (no relation, better known by his pen name Fang Zhouzi), who runs the influential (though frequently blocked) watchdog website New Threads. Fang Zhouzi, sometimes called the “science cop”, claims to have exposed more than 900 cases of academic fraud in China. It was his investigation that brought to light the controversy around Tang Jun’s qualifications. Tang has since said he will sue Fang for libel – and it’s not the first time he has faced such a threat. In 2006 Fang dismissed as unfounded the claim that the academic Liu Zihua had used ancient Chinese philosophy to discover a tenth planet in the solar system. Despite the fact Liu had already been dead for 14 years, his family successfully sued Fang, fining him 20,000 yuan (around £2,000). This libel judgement led Song Zhenghai, of the Chinese Academy of Sciences’ Institute for the History of Natural Science, to launch a petition to remove the term “pseudoscience” from the country’s science popularisation law, claiming Fang had used the term to help stifle “innovative sciences based on traditional cultures”. The petition was unsuccessful, although it was signed by 150 advocates of traditional theories in science and medicine. And while the censorious use of libel laws to stifle legitimate journalism and debate is worrying, some of the other reactions to the Chinese rationalists have been more shocking, veering into anger, paranoia – and even violence. A notable example occurred after maverick philosopher Li Ming claimed in 2006 to have found a new way to solve a mathematics problem known as the four-colour theorem, “under the shared guidance of [Daoist philosopher] Laozi and [Immanuel] Kant”. (This theorem states that a contiguous map requires no more than four colours to fill the different regions of the map, so that no two adjacent regions are of the same colour.) Fang Zhouzi was sceptical, and wrote on his website that Li was a crank. So Li replied by publicly proposing a “civilised duel to the death”: if the philosopher could not crack the theorem, he would commit suicide. If he succeeded, Fang Zhouzi should kill himself. Fang declined the bet, saying it was unscientific and inhumane. Li failed to crack the theorem. Some responses have been still less “civilised”. Earlier this year, Fang Zhouzi appeared alongside fellow science journalist Fang Xuanchang on a television debate about earthquake prediction. An official from China’s national earthquake administration spoke positively on the programme about parrots that can predict tremblors and the paranormal abilities of a man who claimed he heard ringing in his ears before the April earthquake in Yushu, northwest China. Ren Zhenqiu – a scholar formerly at the Chinese Academy of Meteorological Sciences, who argues that science should not be based solely on repeatable experiments and endorses a traditional philosophy known as the “Eight Diagrams” – accused the science activists of taking money from the United States government intended to stifle Chinese innovation. After the recording, Fang Zhouzi claimed on his blog, Ren Zhenqiu said he was a “big Chinese traitor” and threw a punch at him. Then someone tried to kill Fang Xuanchang. On 24 June, Fang finished work around 10pm and began his walk home. Half an hour later, nearing his apartment in Beijing, he felt a sudden blow, which he initially mistook for a football bouncing off his back. Fang turned to see two large men behind him brandishing steel bars. He tried to run away – and then to shield himself – as the men struck him repeatedly across his back and head. As Fang stumbled towards a passing taxi, his clothes soaked in blood, the attackers left the scene. That night at Beijing’s Navy General Hospital, doctors stitched a five-centimetre wound on the back of his head. His assailants behaved like professionals, Fang told me, executing the brutal attack in about four minutes and showing little concern about passersby. “Their goal was clear,” he said in an email message on 30 June. “That was to kill me on the spot, or stop me from reaching the hospital in time, so that I would bleed to death.” No one knows who tried to kill Fang Xuanchang and few people seem to care. More than a month later, the attackers remain at large, despite Caijing magazine’s best efforts to involve the police and the All China Journalists Federation. Nor has this been the end of the threats. On 2 July, Fang Zhouzi wrote on his Sina microblog that he had received a threatening phone call. “Be careful in the next few days,” the voice said. “Someone is going to fix you.” In comparison to the controversies around Zhang Wuben and Tang Jun, there has been little coverage of the beating: it was reported in brief in the Beijing newspapers, but no reports asked why someone might want to attack a science journalist. This is hardly surprising – for Chinese journalists, the message of the attack is clear: don’t go near the subject, or you might be next. But the debunkers have not fallen silent, and upon encountering Fang this is not surprising. I first met the 37-year-old editor about a month before the attack at a chic coffee shop in Beijing’s financial district. Fang cuts an imposing, brawny figure, yet speaks quietly, quickly and with an insistent tone that makes it hard to get a word in. He told me about his interest in the lost spirit of China’s anti-imperialist May Fourth Movement: the early 20th-century cultural and political uprising that championed critical thought and innovation, guided by two enlightenment concepts famously personified as “Mr Science” and “Mr Democracy”. “Not many people understand the work we are doing,” he said. “Most Chinese people’s attitudes to science are superstitious and fearful.” Things may be even worse at the elite level, he said, where science is encouraged in the abstract, without a grasp of the scientific method. Regarding scientific and critical thinking, Fang added, “Chinese people need a new enlightenment.” Jia Hepeng, editor of the government-backed magazine Science News Bi-weekly, agreed. At an elite level, he explained: “Science – with a capital ‘S’ – is regarded as a once-and-for-all solution to Chinese problems, and as a result it has enjoyed a higher status than any other discipline in China. Anything that is scientific is equal to good.” An important slogan of the current generation of Chinese leaders is the so-called “scientific view of development”, and the government periodically leads crackdowns against “superstition”. But these have nothing to do with “evidence-based approaches” or the “experimental spirit”, he said. Here is the predicament in today’s China: Mr Science may be good, but independent, critical thinking is bad – or as Fang discovered, even life-threatening. This leaves the science dissenters – the sceptics who understand science not as an ideology, but advocate experimental, evidence-based approaches and dare to criticise malpractice – walking a political tightrope. In his speech to Peking University graduates professor Wang bravely ventured that “International rankings, such as which country is number one, are not important.” But it’s a message that hasn’t reached China’s bureaucrats leading the push for achievement in science. This publish-or-perish culture has led to unrealistic targets at Chinese universities – and as a predictable consequence, rampant plagiarism. In January, the peer-reviewed international journal Acta Crystallographica Section E announced the retraction of more than 70 papers by Chinese scientists who had falsified data. Three months later, the same publication announced the removal of another 39 articles “as a result of problems with the data sets or incorrect atom assignments”, 37 of which were entirely produced in Chinese universities. The New Jersey-based Centenary College closed its affiliated Chinese business school programme in July after a review “revealed evidence of widespread plagiarism, among other issues, at a level that ordinarily would have resulted in students’ immediate dismissal from the college.” A government study, cited by Nature, found that about one-third of over 6,000 scientists surveyed at six top Chinese institutions had practised “plagiarism, falsification or fabrication”. But it’s not only the emphasis on quantity that damages scientific quality in China. Publication bias – the tendency to privilege the results of studies that show a significant finding, rather than inconclusive results – is notoriously pervasive. One systematic review of acupuncture studies from 1998, published in Controlled Clinical Trials, found that every single clinical trial originating in China was positive – in other words, no trial published in China had found a treatment to be ineffective. Moreover, a nationalistic and defensive approach to discredited methods keeps superstition alive in the academies and government. i once sat through an invited lecture at Beijing’s prestigious People’ s University, delivered by an bespectacled professor in a white lab coat, which linked the science of genetic modification to crop circles and the teachings of the Vietnamese guru Supreme Master Ching Hai (author of The Dogs in My Life and The Birds in My Life). But perhaps the most controversial example of government-backed pseudoscience is earthquake forecasting – and this is a particular focus for China’s debunkers. (Jia Hepeng, whose magazine is critical of the practice, told me of his shock at finding a display about the country’s achievements in earthquake forecasting at a museum dedicated to that milestone of palaeoanthropological discovery, the Peking Man.) The practice of earthquake prediction – which can include observation of seismicity patterns and electromagnetic fields, but is also usually characterised by post-hoc analyses of phenomena like anomalous animal behaviour – is largely discredited in scientific circles. One commentary in Science, titled “Earthquakes Cannot Be Predicted”, concluded that it seemed “unwise to invest heavily in monitoring possible [earthquake] precursors”. An advisory body to the Japanese prime minister – Japan had previously been supportive of earthquake prediction research – argued in 1999 that forecasting was not realistic and that research should instead focus on developing new disaster prevention technologies. But nonetheless the practice remains an article of faith for many Chinese scientists and officials, particularly since Chinese seismologists have long claimed that they successfully predicted the 4 February 1975 earthquake in the north-eastern city of Haicheng, and that the subsequent evacuation of the city avoided many injuries and deaths. Caught up in the fervour of the Cultural Revolution, with its emphasis on mass participation in science (one popular slogan: “the lowliest are the smartest and the most elite are the most foolish”), the Communist Party declared the Haicheng prediction a victory for Maoist ideology and mobilised about 100,000 amateur seismologists and volunteers to work as earthquake forecasters. One sympathetic account from the time describes a volunteer brigade in Shenyang, north-east China, which had someone stationed around the clock to listen for unnatural rumblings in a speaker wired to a microphone placed in an underground tunnel. However, an official Chinese publication 13 years after the quake stated that there were 1,328 deaths and 16,980 injuries from the Haicheng quake (scientists had previously said that “very few” were killed). The main quake was also preceded by an intense series of foreshocks for around 24 hours, likely causing many people to flee spontaneously. The practice led to many false alarms, continuing up until the 1990s: some 30 inaccurate predictions brought Chinese cities to a standstill between 1996 and 1999 (although the Xinjiang Seismological Bureau claimed a success in predicting an earthquake in Jiashi county in 1997). More memorably, scientists failed to predict the hugely destructive Tangshan earthquake in 1976, which resulted in more than 240,000 deaths. But rather than dampening the fervour for earthquake prediction, the tragedy of the Tangshan quake was instead blamed on the inadequacies of China’s earthquake administration. Officials were singled out for having ignored purported natural indicators of disaster: these apparently included the migration of yellow weasels and unusually large catches of fish. Aftershock, Feng Xiaogang’s recent blockbuster film about the disaster, opens with a huge swarm of dragonflies, presented as a natural omen of the quake. It is clear that such speculations distract from the real deficiencies in disaster prevention and response. For example, it appears likely – although full investigations have been prevented and activists pursuing the case, like Tan Zuoren, have been jailed – that many schools in Sichuan province were built to extremely low standards and that there were many avoidable deaths of children during the May 2008 earthquake. Whether the issue at hand concerns earthquakes or nutrition or medicine, what we witness in today’s China is the way in which science – upheld since the early 20th century as the cornerstone of Chinese development – is repeatedly stymied by ideology, superstition, bureaucratic thinking and fear of dissent. This is a frightening situation. As China enters a new phase of economic and geopolitical might – and its model of authoritarian capitalism gains an increasing number of admirers, from developing-world leaders to op-ed writers in the rich world – the country’s attitude towards honest, rational inquiry becomes of crucial importance. China’s approach to critical thinking will help define the country’s response to global scientific challenges, from pandemics to climate change and the environmental crisis. We can only hope that the courageous voices of debunkers like Fang Zhouzi and Fang Xuanchang will continue to be heard. Editor's update - since this piece went to press, Fang Zhouzi has also been attacked in Beijing, sustaining minor injuries. More information on this on the New Humanist blog. (XYS20101007) ◇◇新语丝(www.xys.org)(xys4.dxiong.com)(www.xinyusi.info)(xys2.dropin.org)◇◇