In Memoriam: Stefan Landsberger (1955-2024)
My colleagues and I have been devastated to learn that our good colleague and friend Stefan Landsberger (born 1955) passed away unexpectedly, on 26 September 2024. Stefan had been a fixture of China Studies in the Netherlands, where he had been Associate Professor of contemporary Chinese History and Society at Leiden University, and Emeritus Olfert Dapper Professor of Contemporary Chinese Culture at the University of Amsterdam.
Text by Florian Schneider
I first encountered Stefan in 1999, though not in person. His beautiful book Chinese Propaganda Posters: From Revolution to Modernization (The Pepin Press, 1995) was a constant feature at the street book stalls outside Hamburg Uni where I studied, and it became one of the first books about China that made it onto my student shelf. My teachers would also mention him frequently, as an example of what good hermeneutic research about contemporary China looked like. Much of my own fascination with propaganda and political communication was shaped by these early impressions of Stefan's work.
My second encounter with Stefan was twenty years later, when I found myself sitting across from him during my job interview in Leiden. I must admit I was awestruck, not to mention a bit intimidated, to be asked sharp questions by this famous scholar of Chinese iconography. And it was only much later that I learned how instrumental Stefan had been in hiring me that day: fortunately for me, the idiosyncratic ways in which my background combined traditional philology and contemporary interests spoke to Stefan, who was a staunch defender of the humanities and area studies ethos. For Stefan, scholarship deserved to be societally relevant, but it also needed to keep sight of the complex, deep cultural and linguistic contexts in which people do things with media and communication, in diverse places around the world.
Stefan's own work was rooted in this understanding. He had a vast knowledge of Chinese politics, communication, and culture that ranged beyond any single discipline. This made his teaching extremely popular with students: seats in his courses were coveted, especially in his seminar about Chinese consumer society, which he had irreverently titled 'Shop till you Drop'. In settings such as this, Stefan demonstrated his skills as an educator, guiding hundreds of students through their thesis projects.
Many of the people whose lives Stefan touched have reached out to me, after learning of his passing, and the outpouring of sympathy and fond memories has been truly moving. Some recalled how Stefan could come across as gruff, on first impression. Here was this tall, moustached man, who would not suffer fools, and who would not mince words. He was as outspoken about current affairs in China (and: about foreign reporting about those affairs) as he was about the university system and what he saw as a decline in quality standards. Indeed, when it came to quality, he expected as much from his students as he expected from himself. His candid feedback could sting, and one of my colleagues recounted how tearful students would sometimes arrive at her office after having received a poor grade from the professor. But Stefan was never unfair, and he was never unkind. One former student recalled how he was not just candid in his criticism, but also in his praise, and she pointed out how enthused Stefan became if he spotted that spark of genuine curiosity in his students that also motivated his own work. Numerous alumni have shared memories of discussing Chinese politics and culture in his office, over copious amounts of coffee, and surrounded by hordes of books, pieces of Chinese art, and kitschy propaganda paraphernalia. And they recalled fondly Stefan's humour: witty, sometimes scathing, but always delivered with a wink and a smile.
And so his colleagues, students, and friends then also knew an important truth about Stefan: that beyond his sometimes-grouchy exterior lay depths of compassion, warmth, and sensitivity. Stefan cared passionately about the people around him and about his work. I recall a day when I found him in a dark mood after receiving unkind peer-review feedback on a project. We joked about the notorious 'third reviewer' (as all academics know, it is always the same third reviewer who makes our lives miserable…), but it was clear that the coldness of the remarks had cut deep. Stefan's vulnerability stuck with me. As a young scholar at the start of my career, it was a revelation that a giant like Stefan Landsberger would still feel just as hurt by the casual dismissal of his passion projects. It was a testament to Stefan's humility, to his dedication to his craft. It has remained with me as a reminder that it is possible, and crucial, not to let academia's frequent negativity push us to become jaded.
Stefan retired from Leiden University in 2019. When I last spoke to him, in the spring of 2024, he was happy with post-retirement life. He laughed about how relieved he was to have left behind the struggles with university administration and bureaucratic fiat, and how he was not looking back. And yet he remained involved: when our student association SVS organised its annual symposium, Stefan was there to share his knowledge. I like to believe he was a little bit proud to see the next generation of young scholars come together this way, led by the very same organization he himself had help found, some fifty years earlier.
Stefan Landsberger will be remembered as a leading scholar of modern Chinese political communication, and a passionate collector of propaganda art, whose famous poster collection (https://chineseposters.net) continues to inspire and educate. But more than this, to many of us in the China Studies community, Stefan was a trusted friend and mentor, and an ally on our diverse journeys of scholarly discovery. We will miss him dearly.
Memories of Stefan from his colleagues, his students, his friends
I started my first full-time job in Leiden in 2014, as the lecturer of Chinese economy. I was put in an office next to Stefan’s in Arsenaal and I met him on my first day at work. Once I figured out that there was an interesting and compassionate soul underneath that stern and moustachey appearance, which didn’t take very long at all, I started to have many nice chats with him in his office, filled with posters, in the corridor, and in front of the pantry that often ended in laughter. I am glad I have met him.
I believe he is now in heaven, sitting somewhere tranquil and sunny, rolling a cigarette, waiting for the coffee to cool down a bit, and ready to read a nice book. He is still wearing that trench coat with sand colour.
— Jue Wang
The first time I met Stefan was on the day of my job interview. He completely intimidated me. Before meeting him, I knew him as Stefan Landsberger the authority on Chinese propaganda posters. When I was first introduced to him, he shook my hand sternly and barely smile (maybe he did but the moustache hid it). After I presented my research, he asked the first question and also the most difficult one. This proved the turning point. I absolutely loved his willingness to challenge me. His question pushed me to rethink—and later rewrite—a key part of the chapter I presented. The day turned out better than expected. I thoroughly enjoyed Stefan’s company. His sternness disappeared over lunch as we compared our identical wingtip shoes and discussed bargain-hunting for shoes. At one point, someone mentioned the possibility of smoking coffee and his eyes lit up and he had the widest smile. For the next five years, I had the honor of working with Stefan and the pleasure of getting to know him. I discovered the moustache hid a lot of his generosity, kindness, humility, and goofiness. While packing for the job interview, my partner asked me to bring her copy of Chinese Propaganda Posters for him to autograph in case I did not get the job. But I was worried about the fangirling would cost me the interview. I regret not asking Stefan for his autograph. What I most regret is not telling Stefan how wonderful it was to work with him.
— Limin Teh
An imperturbable presence in the Leiden Chinese studies community and ever ready to offer guided tours down memory lane, Stefan Landsberger would remind his audience that V in SVS, the acronym of the Chinese studies student organization, was originally for Vakbond = union — not the harmless Vereniging = association. Thus, nostalgia for the founding of the Student Union (!) of Sinology was duly anchored in the sociopolitical climate of the 1970s. His work at the erstwhile Documentation Centre for Contemporary China — an ahead-of-the-curve initiative by a department that used to be a bastion of traditional European sinology — was a perfect fit for someone so interested in what was happening in present-day China. His teaching and research made plenty of room for the everyday lives of PRC citizens, with his pioneering work on propaganda posters as the most prominent case in point, and he naturally extended this fascination into the digital era. Stefan was into matters of style and combined irony and professional purpose, such as in the visual references to model soldier Lei Feng pinned to the notice board outside his office. He blended solid erudition and hot-off-the-press knowledge in courses and projects with catchy names — like the legendary “Shop Till You Drop”, on consumer society in the Reform era — at a time when most of our course names were rather more well behaved (and boring). Students flocked to him for thesis supervision in large numbers, which he handled with a grin, and with effective ways of keeping them on track and on schedule. As a teacher, a colleague, and a friend, he was warm, full of good cheer, smilingly provocative and healthily skeptical of institutional agendas; and great company for a coffee or a beer. A dedicated scholar and a gregarious spirit, Stefan was a colleague of the kind that carries a community.
— Maghiel van Crevel
It was during one of Prof. Landsberger's seminars in my Bachelor's Chinese Studies at Leiden University (+- 2008) that I was first introduced to the field of queer studies. I wrote a short comparative analysis between historical and contemporary representations of queer identity in Chinese culture, and fondly remember Prof. Landsberger's enthusiasm, encouragement, and constructive comments. For a young person who was coming to terms with his own sexuality and identity, it was an incredibly transformative experience for me to see someone of Prof. Landsberger's stature be so supportive of my interests and take serious queerness as a critical field of social, cultural, and academic inquiry. After graduating from Leiden University, Prof. Landsberger continued his support. I once interviewed for a PhD position where Prof. Landsberger was on the selection committee and while I did not get the position, he made sure to reach out to me with concrete feedback and encouraged me in my academic pursuits thereafter. It was heartwarming to receive his congratulations when, after many years and detours, I became assistant professor and to know that in a way he had kept on eye on my pursuits ever since I wrote that short paper some 15 years ago about a topic which has now become a cornerstone of my own research. Stefan, thank you for seeing me and understanding me when I did not feel seen or understand myself, for acknowledging and critically encouraging my work for all those years after - I will do my best to pass on the lessons and kindness you have shown me and many others.
—Tjalling Valdés Olmos
One of my fondest memories of Professor Landsberger is the thoughtful discussions we had about my thesis on intimacy in Chinese culture. During my internship in Wuxi, I also conducted field research and shared my findings with him, which led to some insightful conversations. Recently, I revisited our email exchanges and was reminded of his genuine interest in my work. He even followed my online diary during that time, and I remember sparking his curiosity about a Yunnan restaurant in Beijing that I recommended in my blog.
— Ling-Ming Fan
Beste professor Landsberger – of mag ik tien jaar later eindelijk Stefan zeggen?
Bedankt voor de inspiratie. Bedankt voor je gepassioneerde lessen. En bedankt voor je eeuwig ongezouten mening – of het nou was over een (mijn) bachelor scriptie, een boek van een collega Sinoloog of de koffie in het Arsenaal. Je combinatie van scherp uit de hoek komen, maar ook warmte, empathie en liefde voor onderwijs, maakte het een voorrecht om les van je te krijgen. “Tiananmen was initieel niet een democratische opstand!” en “Wist je dat er economische groei was tijdens de Culturele Revolutie?” staan in m’n geheugen gegrift, beloofd.
Als enige docent uit Leiden die ik op WeChat heb, stuurden we elkaar telkens nog Chinees nieuwjaarwensen. Ik zal je in januari weer een appje sturen.
Rust zacht,
— Laura van Megen
In sinology circles, Landsberger was a well-known leading authority on Chinese propaganda. Even those unfamiliar with his name would likely have encountered his work, as he spent decades collecting an extensive array of posters and conducting thorough research in the field. It's admirable and inspiring how his collection grew to become one of the largest private collections of Chinese propaganda posters in the world.
Dr. Landsberger taught me Chinese Modern History when I was an undergraduate in China Studies at Leiden University. He was a dedicated teacher—often critical, which made him intimidating to some students—but deeply appreciated by most for his brutal honesty and immense passion for Chinese history and modern Sinology.
One memory from 2018 stands out. I was in China as a postgraduate student and took a taxi on a cold and rainy January night in Beijing. During the ride, I struck up a conversation with the driver, who asked me where I was from. When I told him I was Dutch, he proudly shared that he had a Dutch friend—one of his dearest, he said, whom he'd known since the early 1980s. That intrigued me, as I'd never heard anything like that from a Beijing taxi driver before. As we continued talking, he mentioned that his friend was a teacher and then showed me a photo on his phone of them together. I was surprised to see that the man in the picture, smiling warmly beside the taxi driver, was none other than my own teacher, Stefan Landsberger.
In a city of 21 million people, I had somehow hailed a cab driven by one of Landsberger's oldest friends, whom he had known since his student days in Beijing. I shared this story with Dr. Landsberger later through WeChat—it made him laugh.
This chance encounter left a lasting impression on me, not just because of the coincidence, but because it spoke volumes about Landsberger's enduring love for China and his ability to cultivate deep, lasting friendships. It showed his loyalty, not just to his work and research but to the people and connections he built over decades.
Landsberger will be greatly missed. His contributions to the growing body of work on Chinese propaganda are invaluable. This ever-evolving phenomenon can only be fully understood by examining both its current trends and its historical roots—and Landsberger's work will forever be foundational in that effort.
— Manya Koetse
Ik ben in 2014 begonnen als eerstejaars student China studies en ik heb professor Landsberger altijd gezien als een van de gezichten van de opleiding. Niet alleen zette hij zich altijd in voor de studenten, maar ik herinner me dat hij altijd openstond voor een gesprek, of je nu ergens hulp bij nodig had of gewoon iets wilde bespreken. Zijn uitgebreide onderzoek naar Chinese propaganda posters is me met name altijd bijgebleven en heeft me geïnspireerd om dit onderwerp te kiezen voor zowel mijn bachelor als master thesis. Ik heb menige uren doorgebracht met zijn boeken en website. Ik zal me professor Landsberger altijd blijven herinneren als een vriendelijke en eerlijke man. Heel veel sterkte bij dit grote verlies.
— Demi Smeets
When I think of Stefan, I am always really grateful for his encouragement. Once I met him around the coffee corner, I told him that I was a bit stuck with my writing progress and also anxious in general about where my life is heading to. He said to me, "Don't worry so much. For the PhD progress, as long as you are reading and thinking about your research, even if you are not writing, you need to believe that something is working in the back of your head and things will eventually work out." He also said, "Why worry about life? We can't know what will happen in five years, not even in two years. Society can be scary sometimes, but don't join the rat race..."
In 2016, I went on my fieldwork trip in China, and before I left from the Netherlands, Stefan kindly introduced me to one of his journalist contacts in Beijing for my research. He also told me, "Please come back in one piece from China." During the three months in China, I would sometimes think about what he said. After I got back to Leiden, I asked him what he meant by "coming back in one piece." He told me, "For us foreigners, foreign scholars, we would be touring in China and it is okay if we step out of the line a little. But for you, you are from China and that is your hometown and where you families are. If you are touching upon something sensitive in your research, we wouldn't know what that bottom line is. In fact, no one knows, and that is worrying. I am glad that you come back with fruitful results." His words really made me feel that he cared for his students not only for their research roles, but as individuals.
Of course, I remember many more words from him that are reassuring, but I also remember his sharp humor.
In 2019, I was going to through several job interviews. Stefan supported me and agreed to provide me references. After I received an offer, he was happy for me and also joked, "Now you are going to join us in the trench of teaching, and you are going to work for the man!"
— Yuxi Nie