That’s right – not one, not two, but twenty-five wanted criminals were arrested at the Qingdao Beer Festival, after being pinned by facial recognition software checkpoints at entrances.
In addition to the 25 wanted criminals who were scooped up immediately, the technology also registered individuals with histories of drug abuse, 19 of whom tested positive for illegal substances and were later arrested. Throw in five people with prior convictions for theft who, when checked, were arrested having been found to have stolen phones and valuables at the event, and you have a total of 49 arrests. One of the guys had been on the run for ten years. That’s a hard way to go in – no one wants to be unceremoniously handcuffed as he strolls in for a day of beer-drinking.
“Those wanted criminals let their guard down when they went to the festival, which doesn’t check for ID,” Li Peng, head of the local police’s publicity department told Sixth Tone, “But they were not aware that a simple shot of their faces would lead to their arrest.”
It bodes well for the quickly-improving functionality of facial recognition technology – 2017 has already seen a steady flow of facial recognition success stories. At the same time, it is kind of scary to realize we’re moving towards a reality where you can be arrested by a robot. Today, Qingdao Beer Festival, tomorrow, the world.
Technically, the above is a spot for Rap of China (中国有嘻哈), the breakout reality TV sensation released earlier this year by internet video streaming platform iQiyi. But there’s more going on in this image than initially meets the eye.
Take a hard look at the ballcap that singer, dancer, film actor and professional fresh-faced lad Kris Wu is wearing there. Look familiar?
Indeed, Kris Wu is subtly copping the style of Cui Jian, the godfather of Chinese rock’n’roll, who is never seen without his signature white baseball hat with a red star. Cui had his own music competition reality show last year, China Star (中国之星), which was not as popular as Rap of China.
Notice that Kris has lifted this iconic style, but in the place of Cui’s famous red star, he has emblazoned his own initials. Like, “Hi, I’m Kris Wu, I’m on every conceivable urban surface that can contain advertisement, but in case you still aren’t getting the point, LOOK AT MY HAT.” Kris Wu has physically replaced Cui Jian’s star with his own name.
Over the course of this series, some commentators have posed the question: is Kris Wu selling these things, or are these things selling Kris Wu? The answer is both, obviously.
Elon Musk is a crazy guy. Imagine being so powerfully entrepreneurial that you could actively change the nature of the whole world around you. He’s been getting a steady stream of pats on the back as he’s been moving forward with the Hyperloop – a weird vacuum-tube based inter-city transportation solution, test footage of which he recently released on Instagram.
But the situation could be souring for Musk, with the state-owned Chinese Aerospace Science and Industry Corporation (CASIC) having just announced plans for a supersonic “flying train.” The train, which, contrary to the name, will be a mode of ground transportation, is nonetheless expected to achieve speeds of up to 2,485 miles per hour. By comparison, Musk’s puny, insignificant Hyperloop would only be able to reach speeds closer to 760 miles per hour.
The concept is essentially putting a maglev train, which uses electromagnets to reduce friction, inside a Hyperloop-style vacuum tube. Suck on that one for a while, Musk. CASIC chief engineer Mao Kai is optimistic about the project. He elaborated on it in a statement, explaining that there are three proposed tiers of the train: a 600-ish mph train for cities, a 1200-ish mph train for between China’s megacity clusters, and a 2,500-ish mph train for long-distance travel along the land-based Silk Road Economic Belt and the oceangoing Maritime Silk Road. That last one is about five times faster than conventional passenger airplanes.
The train, if realized, could be an enormous step in elevating the country’s second and third tier cities, by connecting them to the economic wellsprings of first tier cities like Shanghai and Beijing. Mao mentioned that the train will have an acceleration speed slower than an airplane taking off (so you’re not going to have to gear up for a goddamn roller coaster every time you want to go into the city). It will also be unaffected by weather, not consume fossil fuels, and link seamlessly with subways.
People here are excited.
“I hope to ride in a train like this in my lifetime!” reads one top-rated comment.
“If this thing takes off, China will suddenly be too small – we’ll have to expand our domain,” reads another distressingly high-rated comment.
At this stage though, it’s too early to tell much about the future of the non-flying, supersonic flying train. So far it’s just big talk from the aerospace arm of China’s central government. As Musk moves forward with the Hyperloop, and China reaches ever higher in its effort to support its freshly economically-empowered population, all we can do is wait and see.
Picture this if you can: The lunatic figurehead of a populist movement, a man given not just to delusions of grandeur, but to fully-formed hallucinations of his messianic nature. He is surrounded by a motley crew of advisors and allies, each possessed of their own deranged agendas and protecting personal fiefdoms. He feels beset on all sides by his enemies — imagined and real — and decides the best way to move forward is to purge his team with fire and bring in new blood.
Tough to imagine in this day and age, right?
In 1851, Hong Xiuquan (1814-1864), a young Hakka scholar with a serious God complex, emerged from the hills of Guangdong and Guangxi Provinces with a thousands of followers convinced — as Hong himself was — that Hong Xiuquan was the living son of the Christian God, the younger bro of Jesus Christ sent to Earth to purge the world of demons. Lacking a ready supply of actual Hell Spawn to slay, Hong and his followers — known as the God Worshippers — settled for a plan to kill lots of Manchus. Lots and lots of Manchus.
To help him in his quest to make All Under Heaven great again, Hong relied on his advisors, each of whom he made a “King.”
(Management pro tip: Title bumps are fine. Walmart has “Associates.” Subway has “Sandwich Artists.” But avoid title bumps which come with an implied crown and a realm. Makes things messy during performance review month.)
There was the “East King,” Yang Xiuqing (1821-1856). Yang was the de facto military commander of the God Worshippers despite a thin resume which began and ended with the line: “Former illiterate charcoal maker.”
Then there was Xiao Chaogui (d. 1852), a poor farmer from Guangxi hill country, who rose through the ranks of the God Worshippers to become a sworn brother of Hong Xiuquan with the title of “West King.”
There was also Wei Changhui (1823-1856), a former pawnshop owner, who was called the “North King” but who had little in common with Jon Snow other than his long flowing hair. (Hong’s followers cut off their queues in defiance of the Manchus and were sometimes known as the “Long Haired Bandits.”) Feng Yunshan (d. 1852), one of Hong Xiuquan’s earliest allies, was named the “South King.”
And finally, there was Shi Dakai (1831-1863), the “Wing King,” a title which always makes me think of spicy chicken in a basket, and who was the youngest of the lot. Shi Dakai was a preternaturally talented military leader often completely confused by the insanity which surrounded Hong’s court.
By 1854, Hong and his followers had overrun the Qing military and swept through Central China and occupied the city of Nanjing, which Hong renamed the Heavenly Capital “Tianjing” of his Taiping Heavenly Kingdom.
Hong’s authority rested, in large part, on his divine nature. He claimed — and his followers seemed to believe — that he was indeed the Son of God and the younger brother of Jesus Christ. That sounds like pretty strong bedrock on which to build a kingdom, but things started getting weird when Hong’s kings began receiving visions of their own.
First, the East King, Yang Xiuqing, not content with being just a king or being in charge of the Taiping troops, began speaking in the voice of God. Not wanting to be left out, the South King, Feng Yunshan, started channeling Jesus Christ. The problem with this was of course that Jesus and God technically outranked Hong. The problem resolved itself in the case of Feng Yunshan when Feng was killed by a sniper’s bullet while attacking the city of Quanzhou.
Yang Xiuqing continued to build his own power base both through his visions and through the less divine but perhaps more effective method of consolidating his influence over the army, talking shit about his fellow kings and doling out punishments like it was hell week for pledges at the Phi Kappa Taiping House.
In 1856, Yang had the North King, Wei Changhui, publicly flogged for some petty grievance. Then he had the father of the Wing King, Shi Dakai, whipped 300 times. Yang then switched into “I’m the Voice of God mode” and went to work on Hong Xiuquan. By the fall of that year, it was pretty clear that all of the other kings were sick of Yang’s shit and had ample evidence that the “East King” was planning a coup to depose the increasingly psychotic and unstable Heavenly King Hong Xiuquan.
Wanting to move a few stones off of the board, Yang coerced Hong Xiuquan into sending Yang’s main rivals, the North King, Wei Changhui, and the Wing King, Shi Dakai, out of the capital to “reinforce the Western regions.” But Hong soon changed his mind and secretly sent word to Wei and Shi that he wanted them to return to Tianjing and take out Yang Xiuqing.
Wei’s armies returned to the city on September 2, 1856, starting what became known as the Tianjing Incident. Thousands of Wei’s troops poured through gates opened by allies of Wei and enemies of Yang. Soldiers then stormed the palace where Yang Xiuqing was living with his family and killed Yang, his children, and his 54 wives and concubines. Some of Yang’s supporters rushed to defend the East King only to be overwhelmed and cut down by Wei’s forces.
The Wing King didn’t get back to the capital until a few weeks later and when he did, Shi Dakai was forced to give “Mixed Feedback” to North King Wei. On the one hand, Wei earned an attaboy from his fellow king and conspirator for having killed Yang Xiuqing and eliminated that particular problem. On the other hand, Shi was concerned that Wei’s troops had killed so many innocent people in the process at a time when the Taiping rulers couldn’t afford to lose the support of their base.
The North King, miffed at Shi Dakai’s Monday Morning Quarterbacking of his massacre, ordered the arrest of the Wing King, but Shi Dakai had already taken his troops and left the capital. The North King had to settle, as demented kings sometimes do, with massacring all of Shi Dakai’s family and servants who had been left behind at court.
The North King’s actions were so over the top, and Shi Dakai was so popular among the army, that Hong had no choice but to appease his Wing King by sending him the North King’s head gift-wrapped with a card. When you care enough, you send the very best.
Shi then became the head of Hong’s army but soon found out, (See: Priebus, Rience and Lannister, Jaime) how hard it is to work for a delusional paranoiac trying to take over the world. Within a year, Shi Dakai would be out as well, taking his army and leaving the capital never to return. Shi Dakai fought the Qing on his own for another six years, campaigning across Western China into Sichuan until he was finally captured by Qing forces in 1863 and executed by slow slicing at the age of 32.
A year later, in 1864, Hong Xiuquan would be dead and forces loyal to the Qing Empire would storm the Taiping capital, ending one of the bloodiest wars of the 19th century.
Xander Cage is left for dead after an incident, though he secretly returns to action for a new, tough assignment with his handler Augustus Gibbons.
Kris Wu was the second-highest-billed Chinese actor in this movie (after Donnie Yen), which made an estimated RMB 129.4 million ($20.3 million) on its opening night in January, nearly triple the amount of its North America opening. It continued to win over the hearts and wallets of young consumers well into February, grossing another RMB 152.6 million ($22.2 million) on Valentine’s day, outperforming the cleverly timed V-Day China opening of La La Land, a film that does not star Kris Wu.
Yin (音, “music”) is a weekly Radii feature that looks at Chinese songs spanning classical to folk to modern experimental, and everything in between. Drop us a line if you have a suggestion.
We kicked the work week off with some punk rock love to celebrate Chinese Valentine’s Day, and we’ll end it with more of the same. Radii is very excited to premiere the latest slab of snot from Beijing punks The Diders:
Like many of Beijing’s best punk bands today, The Diders formed in the shadow of Joyside. Their singer Wang Zilu got his start in the scene bartending at D-22, a now-closed venue in Beijing’s university district where Joyside and their ilk were regulars. I actually worked at D-22 when Wang started there and remember those days fondly. Whenever Joyside disciples like The Bedstars would take the stage, Wang would get thoroughly tanked and sing along to every song, which didn’t make him the greatest barback, but did establish his punk rock bona fides.
Wang picked up a guitar and started his own band in 2012 or so — he explained to me at the time that the band name is pronounced deeder deeder deeder, his vocal approximation of Johnny Thunders‘ guitar tone. Fast forward five years and Diders are one of Beijing’s best and most blistering acts, touring regularly and always sure to wash your soul in beer foam when they play at their home base, School Bar. They’re among my personal favorites in the Beijing punk scene right now, as I favor their fast-and-pissed hardcore aesthetic over the slightly more melodic-leaning output of some of their contemporaries.
The tracks above come from The Diders’ brand new split 7″ with legendary Vancouver hardcore act D.O.A., which was just released by Genjing Records. Cop that here, or at School Bar this Sunday if you happen to be in Beijing — D.O.A. is popping in to formally release the disk.
