Morality Exists Beneath China's Hardened Exterior

By: Alex D'Agostino

November 18, 2011

We arrived in Guangdong on the overnight train from Xiamen at 6:00 a.m. in order to see the one hundred and tenth world-famous Canton Import Export Fair. The fair attracts over 200,000 overseas buyers from over 120 countries and is one of the burgeoning expressions of the dramatic results of China’s economic reforms. This was the end of the supply chain, and the next step was retail. These products would be those that were shipped to Target, or Wal-Mart, or even Saks.

As we browsed aisle upon aisle of consumer goods, we had no idea of the atrocity that had happened a few days earlier in the very same province. I later found out that in a neighboring town, a two-year-old named Wang Yue was run over by a delivery van. This was no ordinary hit-and-run: television footage of the accident shows 18 passers-by walking past her body, ignoring the plight of the young girl as she got run over and bled out into the street.

She died on October 21 in a Guangdong hospital, eight days after the incident. The story ignited a major identity crisis among the Chinese people and provoked outrage around the world.

As an American, I ask myself, how can something like this happen? How do you walk by a suffering child? The question that needs to be answered, however, is why something like this happened in the first place, and what does it say about Chinese society more generally. Are there no Good Samaritans? Have the Chinese people lost all sense of concern for their fellow man in the midst of the struggle for wealth that has emerged after China's economic reforms? Has the Chinese flavor of capitalism left no room for compassion?

Apparently, some of the people who walked past her body claimed that they did not see her, while others said they had been too scared to help her. The public's lack of a sense of trust is no secret. The media has published countless stories emphasizing the hesitation people feel before coming to someone else's aid.

Several sensational lawsuits have also have made many Chinese citizens more reticent to help strangers in need. Those who have helped in the past have turned around only to be sued by the victim for allegedly causing the accident in the first place. Many people point to this trend as an excuse for the lack of action taken. But the undercurrent of personal fear that is attached to what should be an instinctive act of compassion is perhaps the most disturbing part of the tragedy.

It’s true that sometimes in China, especially in a city like Shanghai, I find myself becoming eerily separated from my sense of humanity. As I hug my purse to my body on the subway, I wonder whether it’s a product of the urban lifestyle, or the rampant rate of petty crimes here.

As I walk down the street, I sometimes notice that no one really pays attention to each other. I’m not sure if this phenomenon is due to the sheer volume of people, or the fact that they simply don’t care to look at one another in the eye like fellow human beings. I’m always wary of fake cabs and fake hospitality, because there are too many scams and Americans are often the easiest targets. I had been warned that Shanghai steals your soul. The fierce reaction from the Chinese public, however, has demonstrated a strong desire for a clearer morality. This particular incident provoked a torrent of media introspection, both among cyber-blog spaces and state-run media outlets. The girl’s death was one of the most remarked topics on Weibo, the Chinese version of Twitter, as people expressed their anger and disappointment. "Farewell to little Wang Yue. There are no cars in heaven," wrote one micro-blogger. Statements like this one, of course, imply that the Chinese people believe in heaven, yet another example of how the public’s sentiments often do not match the materialistic façade of Chinese society.

I believe that this kind of soul-searching is symptomatic of a deep longing among the Chinese people for clearer moral direction. One area in which China’s moral grappling is most clearly manifested is the country’s rampant corruption.

In 2007, one study reported that approximately "10 percent of government spending, contracts, and transactions is estimated to be used as kickbacks and bribes, or simply stolen." The situation has probably only gotten worse since this study was conducted.

When talking about the differences between the American and Chinese market with a fellow alumnus who currently works in China, he gave an interesting and earnest response. "When you’re investigating a company in China, a lot of the times you’ll find instances of bribery or corruption, and in America, after uncovering a history like that, you’d forget doing anything with that company. But here in China, if you did that there would be no one left to work with. Instead, you look closer to see how many instances they’ve had, with whom they were involved […] was it excessive because they were trying to overcompensate for something else, or was it just to deal with the circumstances of the business environment in which they exist."

From a macroeconomic perspective, high levels of corruption are a compelling disincentive for foreign direct investment. If corruption keeps growing in China, many believe that the negative risks involved in international business may start cancelling out the benefits of lower labor costs.

More and more, we see that Chinese markets are moving beyond cheap labor, utilizing remarkable infrastructure, and investing in research and development. But the ethical predicaments corroding China’s economy continue to become increasingly important as China develops various industries and maintains staggering economic growth.

The moral issues go beyond everyday corruption and touch on China's willingness to tell the truth about the realities of its economy. Concerns are constantly raised over the veracity of China’s growth figures. In 2010, for instance, Wikileaks revealed that China's Vice Premier Li Keqiang had admitted that he doubted his own country's GDP numbers during a conversation in 2007 with an American ambassador.

As we walked around Guangzhou’s Import Export Fair, through warehouse after warehouse of small little shops where every item is sold by the 100,000, it seemed as though China’s economic might was staring us in the face. As much as the fair functions as a fantastic business enterprise, it is also a display that speaks to China’s capacity as an international business partner. Row after row of desk lamps, artisan jewelry, ceramic vases, and fake Christmas trees overwhelm the consumer’s senses as he or she experiences the massive productive capability of the country.

This is the hallmark of economic ambition, but there also appears to be something rotting underneath the façade. In China, money is now the indisputable marker of success. At the same time, however, there are Chinese citizens who regard the accumulation of money and power with some suspicion. Perhaps the Chinese system fosters a flavor of capitalism in which wealth and power accrue only to the bold, innovative, and somewhat selfish.

Although some believe that these self-interested tendencies stem from age-old realities of Chinese culture, I believe that there is an implicit desire for compassion and selflessness rooted deep within Chinese society.

Day to day, Chinese people manage to combat moral ambiguity in their everyday acts of kindness and decency. Although people push each other on the subway, they’ll usually still mutter “duibuqi” (“I’m sorry”) from the corner of their mouths. When I’ve asked for directions, strangers have gone as far as to bring me to the correct street, or to write the address in characters for me. Although I’ve been scammed by the occasional cab driver, I’ve also had long conversations about American politics with some who are far friendlier. There are undeniable gaping holes that need to be addressed, but there are also reasons to believe that true compassion is alive and well in China.

The parents of Wang Yue serve as reassurance that morality persists despite Chinese society’s unfeeling exterior. Even in the face of his great loss, Mr. Wang said, "There are still more good people than bad in the world."

Opens in a new window