The Schizophrenia That Is China

The Schizophrenia That Is China

When Mao Zedong and his Red Guards implemented their cultural revolution in 1966 I was a spotty faced schoolboy. The TV newscasts of Chinese diplomats reading Chairman Mao's thoughts outside their London embassy were a source of entertainment. Something to laugh about at school the following day. Even the copies of Mao's little red book that one of our more enterprising classmates obtained under the guise of a school project did not speak to us.

What we did not appreciate was the devastation and suffering that Mao's revolution was causing. Destruction of ancient buildings, relocation of intellectuals to work in the fields, families split as relatives allied to Mao's rivals were taken away for questioning, re-education or public ridicule. But in spite of the damage he did to China and its people, Mao is still revered as someone who was nevertheless a great leader, whose mistakes produced important lessons for subsequent generations.

The current President of China, Jiang Zemin, takes a far more liberal view of how his country should be governed. However, whilst the Chinese no longer have to fear persecution or re-education, the modern society they are creating is producing a chronic national schizophrenia.

On the ride from Beijing airport to the city centre the fumes from vehicles crawling along the congested road system produce a lung burning pollution that does no service to the cyclists who weave between buses and cars, defying death at every intersection. No concept of lane discipline or pedestrian priority exists on China's roads, the red light of traffic signals is merely a suggestion that the driver might like to slow up if it is not too inconvenient.

Cars and the other trappings of western life such as the cell phone and designer labels are so ingrained within Chinese society that commuters would sooner take over an hour to reach their workplace by car than cycle there in twenty minutes. With no laws about switching off cell phones while driving, mobile conversations provide a dangerous distraction during the daily joust with peak time traffic.

In Xi'an, the ancient walled city of Shaanxi province and home to the Terracotta Warriors, modern shops co-exist alongside a 14th century bell tower. The star attraction of the neighbouring seven storey shopping mall which sits beside the golden arches of McDonalds is the cell phone department. Locals, mostly in their teens and twenties, crowd the counters looking for the latest in mobile technology. Giggling clusters of school boys and girls exchange secret text messages with each other as they try out the exciting features of their shiny new purchases.

Yet only a couple of hundred metres away, in the narrow side streets that form the ribs of Xi'an's main high street, the homeless sit against walls begging for money and street traders hard hit by the SARS scare pounce on anyone who shows even half an interest in their wares. Protestations of no interest do not work here, any such negatives are interpreted as a negotiation ploy and the price drops from the low to the ridiculous as cash flow becomes more important than profit.

But isn't this a communist country that once prevented tourists from seeing anything but the success of its policies and the shining example of socialist philosophies? Where are the government guides who would carefully steer you away from anything that did not fit official policy or public image? Where is the equality that communism is supposed to bring about, where everyone shares in the prosperity of the nation and no one has more than their neighbour?

In its frantic desire to become a world economic power, China has become a country where Hong Kong is struggling to keep its independence from Beijing's clutches yet Shanghai looks like more like New York than New York. Where the 'haves' clearly do in their shiny air conditioned cars, and the 'have nots', crowded into tiny tower block apartments, must hang their wet clothes out of the window on bamboo poles to dry. Where the concept of rural sanitation is a hose connected to a standpipe in the backyard as a colour television flickers in a corner of the single living room.

So whilst China's economy growth - 9.7 per cent last quarter - may be the envy of the western world, the serious fragmentation of their social infrastructure needs to be corrected now before the schism between rich and poor creates yet another devastating cultural revolution.



	When Mao Zedong and his Red Guards implemented their cultural revolution in 1966 I was a spotty faced schoolboy. The TV newscasts of Chinese diplomats reading Chairman Mao's thoughts outside their London embassy were a source of entertainment. Something to laugh about at school the following day. Even the copies of Mao's little red book that one of our more enterprising classmates obtained under the guise of a school project did not speak to us. What we did not appreciate was the devastation and suffering that Mao's revolution was causing. Destruction of ancient buildings, relocation of intellectuals to work in the fields, families split as relatives allied to Mao's rivals were taken away for questioning, re-education or public ridicule. But in spite of the damage he did to China and its people, Mao is still revered as someone who was nevertheless a great leader, whose mistakes produced important lessons for subsequent generations. The current President of China, Jiang Zemin, takes a far more liberal view of how his country should be governed. However, whilst the Chinese no longer have to fear persecution or re-education, the modern society they are creating is producing a chronic national schizophrenia. On the ride from Beijing airport to the city centre the fumes from vehicles crawling along the congested road system produce a lung burning pollution that does no service to the cyclists who weave between buses and cars, defying death at every intersection. No concept of lane discipline or pedestrian priority exists on China's roads, the red light of traffic signals is merely a suggestion that the driver might like to slow up if it is not too inconvenient. Cars and the other trappings of western life such as the cell phone and designer labels are so ingrained within Chinese society that commuters would sooner take over an hour to reach their workplace by car than cycle there in twenty minutes. With no laws about switching off cell phones while driving, mobile conversations provide a dangerous distraction during the daily joust with peak time traffic. In Xi'an, the ancient walled city of Shaanxi province and home to the Terracotta Warriors, modern shops co-exist alongside a 14th century bell tower. The star attraction of the neighbouring seven storey shopping mall which sits beside the golden arches of McDonalds is the cell phone department. Locals, mostly in their teens and twenties, crowd the counters looking for the latest in mobile technology. Giggling clusters of school boys and girls exchange secret text messages with each other as they try out the exciting features of their shiny new purchases. Yet only a couple of hundred metres away, in the narrow side streets that form the ribs of Xi'an's main high street, the homeless sit against walls begging for money and street traders hard hit by the SARS scare pounce on anyone who shows even half an interest in their wares. Protestations of no interest do not work here, any such negatives are interpreted as a negotiation ploy and the price drops from the low to the ridiculous as cash flow becomes more important than profit. But isn't this a communist country that once prevented tourists from seeing anything but the success of its policies and the shining example of socialist philosophies? Where are the government guides who would carefully steer you away from anything that did not fit official policy or public image? Where is the equality that communism is supposed to bring about, where everyone shares in the prosperity of the nation and no one has more than their neighbour? In its frantic desire to become a world economic power, China has become a country where Hong Kong is struggling to keep its independence from Beijing's clutches yet Shanghai looks like more like New York than New York. Where the 'haves' clearly do in their shiny air conditioned cars, and the 'have nots', crowded into tiny tower block apartments, must hang their wet clothes out of the window on bamboo poles to dry. Where the concept of rural sanitation is a hose connected to a standpipe in the backyard as a colour television flickers in a corner of the single living room. So whilst China's economy growth - 9.7 per cent last quarter - may be the envy of the western world, the serious fragmentation of their social infrastructure needs to be corrected now before the schism between rich and poor creates yet another devastating cultural revolution.