Few topics generate as much passion as parenting, how we rear our children to be the kinds of people that we, or society, wish them to be.
Daunting cultural barriers separate American and Chinese parenting methods. So forbidding are these barriers that only the most intrepid dare cross the divide and try to make themselves heard above the din surrounding the issue.
Amy Chua, a Chinese American and Yale University law professor, dared take on the heated East-West issue, which became roiled after her intervention.
She is not, as some might think, on the US, or Western, side of the parenting divide.
Chua created an uproar with publication in the Wall Street Journal on January 8 of an article (an excerpt from her new book, "Battle Hymn of the Tiger") in which she detailed the strict, sometimes autocratic, way she motivated her daughters and explained why Chinese parenting is superior to Western rearing. The article, and articles about it went everywhere.
Online reaction is by and large fierce, in a few cases verging on name-calling.
As New York Times columnist David Brooks wrote succinctly on January 17, "a large slice of educated America decided that Amy Chua is a menace to society." It appears that Chua has turned herself into an enemy to all the things Americans hold dear.
Indeed, which freedom-loving, dignity-valuing American would not be deeply annoyed by such a fifth column in their ranks as Chua, who has extolled the benefits of denying kids bathroom breaks to make them drill both hands separately for hours until they can put together a smooth piano piece?
Hurt pride?
Like many taken aback by Chua's stories, I bridle at some of the extreme measures she took to make her daughter Lulu obey her.
But I have no doubt that Chua's "tiger mother" style is exactly what it took to motivate bored children who are about to give up on something - if only she could leave out insults (such as calling her child "garbage") and bile.
Being stricter with children won't necessarily batter their self-esteem. On the contrary, it may well strengthen it.
My girlfriend is a piano ace, and she received many spankings over unlearned piano lessons during her childhood.
She had her share of distress at not being able to coordinate the movements of both hands, just as Lulu did. But under her mother's intense tutelage, she got it right in the end. This might sound like a parody. But too many such "parodies" reflect a pattern.
Feeling indebted, my girlfriend always mentions the possibility of imposing the same rigorous regimen on her kids. We disagree and I remember telling her I will not do to my children what her mother did to her.
But I have to admit that playing tough sometimes pays dividends, not because Chinese children are masochistic, but because it builds more than shatters self-esteem.
On the other hand, protecting a child's self esteem at the expense of the truth -- like lavishing praise on trifling or mediocre work - will not build a durable self-respect; it will disintegrate at the first hint of trouble.
It's always the exclamation of success, "I did it," that affords the most satisfaction after repeated failed attempts.
Rather than "destroying their love for music," as Brooks wrote in his column, Chua, and "tiger moms" like her, are actually unleashing what could be wasted potential. This, of course, is another reason Chua's critics find her narrative scary. She overrides her daughters' life, deciding what is best for them. That is anathema to what most Western parenting is based on, that children should be allowed to exercise their free will and express their individualism.
It's true that Chinese parents in general are paternalistic. And quite a few do have unrealistically high expectations of their children, hoping they will become another Yo-Yo Ma or Lang Lang.
Moreover, there is no denying that some parents, themselves writers or artists manque, expect children to realize their unfulfilled ambitions.
And intense competition in China's educational system and society in general forces parents to keep asking more of their children, rather than accepting and appreciating them for who they are, as some Western parents do. Of course, there are gradations and exceptions on both sides of this divide.
Chua wrote in her article that she and her husband disagreed over whether children should be permanently indebted to their parents.
Which should come first, filial piety or children's own passions and desires? This is a very Chinese dilemma to which I do not have the answer.
Parenting myths
But it certainly helps if many Chinese "tiger moms" realize that only a small fraction of people can make it to the top of the talent pyramid, while most will toil in obscurity.
That said, hands-on Chinese parenting is still necessary when children are too young to cope with big challenges, just as saplings sheltered by tall trees can better survive a storm.
Chua's detractors should know that Chinese children today have more freedom in making life decisions, such as choosing their own majors in university, an indication that many "tiger moms" are relaxing their grip.
I don't take issue with Brooks on the point that Chua is protecting her daughters from "intellectually demanding activities" like sleep-overs at friends', summer camps and having parts in school plays.
I just reserve my opinion on how demanding they really are. Sure, Chinese kids are less sociable and self-sufficient than Americans. But fewer of them are now reared exactly the way Chua outlines. Hers is the old-fashioned "tiger mom" parenting and a living specimen of the values that help immigrant families, like Chua's, succeed in the US.
'Eating bitterness'
And that's why I think Chua's words have been taken at face value and not considered carefully for their underlying meaning. Most critics consider her egocentric and far too driven in writing that damned guidebook on parenting, but speaking recently to an AP reporter, Chua said she doesn't consider Western parenting philosophy "better or worse, but more lax and undisciplined."
China's education system has long been said to stifle creativity, but this view is becoming an outdated caricature, even to some Western observers.
New York Times columnist Nicholas Kristof wrote on January 7 of his swift defeat at the hands of 16-year-old Hou Yifan in a chess match, when he interviewed the youngest women's world chess champion.
"Its (China's) citizens have shown a passion for education and self-improvement - along with remarkable capacity for discipline and hard work, what the Chinese call chi ku, or 'eating bitterness'," Kristof argues.
I'd like to see Brooks and Kristof debate the tiger mom issue, and I don't shy away from taking sides. Few American authors I've read are as open-minded as Kristof on the merits of Chinese education.
The debate on "tiger mom" parenting offers a rare glimpse into things beyond education.
As an immigrant country, America is always open to eclectic values. But it now exports far more ideas than it imports since the entire world is at its feet, in awe of its achievements. The increasingly ossified American value system now rejects "alien" voices like Chua's, although the hard work she advocated is hardly a uniquely Chinese trait.
When Shanghai students came in first last year in the PISA (Program for International Student Assessment) contest on math, science and reading proficiency, with American schoolchildren trailing far behind, some fear-mongering pundits asserted it was another of America's "Sputnik moments."
The real "Sputnik moment" today will come when Americans finally do see the value in others' ways, however unpalatable they find them to be.