Most things in China can be summed up through idioms, four-character phrases that are a key part of the Chinese language and culture. The idiom “人山人海” (rén-shān-rén-hǎi) is one of the first that I learned when I began studying Chinese about 10 years ago. It describes crowded places, and the four characters literally translate to “people-mountains-people-oceans.” Living in China, which boasts a population of 1.35 billion people, has given me an entirely new perspective on the idiom—one that also connects back to various aspects of traditional and modern-day Chinese culture. It has offered me a window into both everyday life in a major Chinese city and the ways in which traditional cultural norms dating back to Confucius have impacted modern life.
Indeed, in the most populous country in the world, the word “crowded” reaches unprecedented proportions. Although I expected certain aspects of the culture shock that accompany study abroad, I thought I understood crowds because I often took the subway during rush hour. Needless to say, I was wrong. The amount of people in my surroundings on a regular basis is mind-boggling. Venture to a train station on a Friday evening for a weekend trip outside of Beijing, and you will encounter thousands of people crowding around ticket inspection counters, trying to enter the station. Take the subway during rush hour, where you will find yourself in a station exponentially larger than most New York subway stations, and it will be difficult to see where the pathway ends and the stairs to the platform begin. Even more mundane, venture to a Starbucks in a mall on a Sunday morning, and you might begin to find the line at Georgetown’s Corp services during a rush appealing. Nobody in these crowds will find it bothersome to push you out of the way if they need to get somewhere, nor will they be bothered to receive that same treatment.
Essentially, the crowds never dissipate, even at times when you might expect to find solitude. However, nobody in China truly minds the hordes of people—the crowds fit neatly into conventional Chinese values. Chinese culture promotes the importance of collectivity, especially in the context of the family, over individualism and the notion of the self. Traditionally, children respect their elders and the institution of the family. This respect is not limited to people’s youth: when elderly family members become unable to live independently, for example, they often move into their adult children’s homes. Personal spaces that prioritize the self are a foreign concept. This is true both in the long-standing reality of traditional Chinese culture and in the everyday, crowded lives of Chinese people. Finding personal space can be difficult not only in public places, but even in living spaces; for example, university students often live in eight-person dorm rooms.
Although China’s crowds allow limited personal space, modern life has also eroded the limits traditionally imposed on the self. Many Chinese people blame the government’s one-child policy, which was repealed in 2015, for creating a generation of only children who are thought to be spoiled, selfish, and distant. The phenomenon has become such a modern-day cultural concern that it is often the subject of lessons in Chinese textbooks, alongside issues of marriage and politics. Because parents place all of their hopes on their one child, and because grandparents have only one grandchild to spoil (as grandparents do), China’s only children, or “独生子女” (dú-shēng-zǐ-nǚ), are often considered oblivious to traditional Chinese values, which emphasize family and respect for elders.
Ultimately, China’s crowds have shown me that lessons about traditional and modern culture can be found in any place—public or private, crowded or empty. All you have to do is find enough space to see what’s in front of you.
Opens in a new window