China as an Overbearing Parent

A few residential compounds have started to open up in Shanghai, and there’s hope that this represents the beginning of the end of this harsh city lockdown. In our case, one of our neighbours has been entrusted with the key to the lock on our gate, and she has started to leave it unlocked at random times of the day. We have no idea how this seemingly arbitrary decision got made, or by whom. But we’re in no mood to enquire; we just want to take a walk around the block.

There’s no thought of celebrating yet, while so many of our friends remain behind closed doors. Besides, the streets remain empty; shops remain closed; and everyone is nervous that the slightest uptick in positive COVID cases may put us all back to square one. And square one is where most of the city still languishes, just by luck of the lockdown lottery.

The two questions we’ve recently been asked the most are: 1) Why is China doing this? And 2) Why would anyone now wish to remain in Shanghai? To answer the first question, I would need to explain how China works, and only an idiot would try to suggest one unifying theory. So here’s mine.

China seriously cares for its people. That’s a fact. But it cares for them as a 1.4 billion collective, not as 1.4 billion individuals. China is an overbearing parent looking after their single child. They only want the best for it. They let it play, albeit under very tight supervision. They tell it what to do, and scold it when it steps out of line. No nuance; no negotiation. Does an overbearing parent always know what’s best for their child? And when other parents offer them unsolicited advice or criticism, does an overbearing parent get offended?

It’s an only child: the child is one; the child is indivisible. The parent does not need to understand each of the 1.4 billion individual cells that constitutes their child. Why would the concept of a cell even occur to them? The same goes for certain clusters of cells, certain organs and systems. If the parent feels that they’re keeping the child in general good health, does it matter to them what a tonsil does? Or a gallbladder, or an endocrine system? So long as China feels that it’s keeping 1.4 billion people in indivisible harmony, then what do the needs of a specific minority group matter? Or a city? Or a functioning system of public discourse? There’s a fundamental disconnect between the pure parental love of the child, and the complicated tangle of biology beneath its skin.

Most people outside of China (and some of us within!) just view the situation from the perspective of the cell. But in making this entirely accurate assessment, we’re also missing half the picture. The cells are also the child is also the cells. So an average individual in China feels both loved and unloved at the same time. Hugged too tight, and heedlessly ignored. Schrödinger was late to the game, the Chinese have understood the paradox of yin and yang for centuries. Today’s China is a mixture of Confucius, Han Feizi and Mao. While from the outside, we only see it through the prism of Beckett, Kafka, and Orwell.

So having lived through China’s recent metaphorical heart attack in Shanghai, we need to turn to the second question: why would anyone who has a choice decide to remain in China?

This is a question that every person must answer individually, so I can only speak for myself. My answer is that cross-cultural experience isn’t just about traveling the world comparing delicious desserts. You can learn more from panic attacks than you can from patisseries. Would I prefer to be eating pear tarts in Paris right now? Oui. But do I also value being able to think like I do, and view the world like I do? And at exactly what point does that privilege come at a price that I’m no longer willing to pay?

Making the decision to stay or leave one place or another is always a question of principle and practicality. When the effects of COVID-19 were ravaging your city, did you break your lease, quit your job, cut ties with your community, and relocate? It would be understandable if you had, but just as understandable if you hadn’t. We won’t stay in China forever; at some point the winds of fate that blew us here will also blow us away. Until then, we’re going to continue making the most out of our time in this land of paradox.


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