John Chinaman

L. Ron Hubbard was undoubtedly familiar with the term John Chinaman, which was in use in the 18th and 19th centuries, and into the early part of the 20th century after which it faded from the vernacular. It first appeared as a derogatory stereotype, personifying Western views of Chinese as "stupid and outlandish … objects of curiosity and contempt". Its underlying meaning moderated somewhat over time, becoming more of a short-hand reference in the 20th century, in a similar way that "John Q. Public" is used to refer to any member of the general population. Still racially insensitive, as it put a single face on all Chinese without regard to individual differences (the classic definition of stereotype), it was not necessarily intended to be negative.

Examples of John Chinaman in publications:

  • 1857 political cartoon "A Lesson to John Chinaman [offsite]" in Punch

  • 1883 political cartoon "A Matter of Taste [offsite]" by Thomas Nast featuring a John Chinaman caricature

  • 1886 children's book John Chinaman's Bamboo Tree

  • 1900 article "Americanizing John Chinaman" in Metropolitan Magazine

  • 1912 John Chinaman at Home by E.J. Hardy

  • 1913 Letters from John Chinaman by G. Lowes Dickinson

  • 1918 article "John Chinaman Breaks Through" in Sunset Magazine

Mark Twain wrote a short essay in 1870 called "John Chinaman in New York":

As I passed along by one of those monster American tea stores in New York, I found a Chinaman sitting before it acting in the capacity of a sign. Everybody that passed by gave him a steady stare as long as their heads would twist over their shoulders without dislocating their necks, and a group had stopped to stare deliberately.

Is it not a shame that we, who prate so much about civilization and humanity, are content to degrade a fellow-being to such an office as this? Is it not time for reflection when we find ourselves willing to see in such a being matter for frivolous curiosity instead of regret and grave reflection? Here was a poor creature whom hard fortune had exiled from his natural home beyond the seas, and whose troubles ought to have touched these idle strangers that thronged about him; but did it? Apparently not. Men calling themselves the superior race, the race of culture and of gentle blood, scanned his quaint Chinese hat, with peaked roof and ball on top, and his long queue dangling down his back; his short silken blouse, curiously frogged and figured (and, like the rest of his raiment, rusty, dilapidated, and awkwardly put on); his blue cotton, tight-legged pants, tied close around the ankles; and his clumsy blunt-toed shoes with thick cork soles; and having so scanned him from head to foot, cracked some unseemly joke about his outlandish attire or his melancholy face, and passed on. In my heart I pitied the friendless Mongol. I wondered what was passing behind his sad face, and what distant scene his vacant eye was dreaming of. Were his thoughts with his heart, ten thousand miles away, beyond the billowy wastes of the Pacific? among the ricefields and the plumy palms of China? under the shadows of remembered mountain peaks, or in groves of bloomy shrubs and strange forest trees unknown to climes like ours? And now and then, rippling among his visions and his dreams, did he hear familiar laughter and half-forgotten voices, and did he catch fitful glimpses of the friendly faces of a bygone time? A cruel fate it is, I said, that is befallen this bronzed wanderer. In order that the group of idlers might be touched at least by the words of the poor fellow, since the appeal of his pauper dress and his dreary exile was lost upon them, I touched him on the shoulder and said:

"Cheer up—don't be downhearted. It is not America that treats you in this way, it is merely one citizen, whose greed of gain has eaten the humanity out of his heart. America has a broader hospitality for the exiled and oppressed. America and Americans are always ready to help the unfortunate. Money shall be raised—you shall go back to China you shall see your friends again. What wages do they pay you here?"

"Divil a cint but four dollars a week and find meself; but it's aisy, barrin' the troublesome furrin clothes that's so expinsive."

The exile remains at his post. The New York tea merchants who need picturesque signs are not likely to run out of Chinamen.

Contrast that rather benign use of the term with the racist lyrics of this popular miner's song [offsite] class= from the California Gold Rush period:

John Chinaman, John Chinaman, but five short years ago,
I welcomed you from Canton,
and I wish I hadn't so.
I imagined that the truth, John,
you'd speak while under oath.
But I find you lie and steal and cheat.
Yes, John, you're up to boat.

I thought of rats and puppies, John,
you'd eaten your last fill;
But on such slimy pot pies
I'm told you dinner still.
Yes, John, I've been deceived by you,
and all your thieving clan,
for our gold is all your after, John,
to get it as you can.