Berkley Center

On October 1st, as news of the US government shutdown hit headlines, China’s government was in the midst of celebrating the country’s 64th National Holiday. Despite the rainy weather that morning, President Xi Jinping and top Chinese Communist Party (CCP) leaders were all present to pay their respects at the Monument of the People’s Heroes in the center of Tiananmen Square.

Having just returned to Beijing from a weekend trip to Inner Mongolia, I had missed the early morning celebrations. But after much urging, I finally convinced a friend to accompany me to the flag lowering ceremony later that evening. At exactly 5:57 p.m., we were standing in Tiananmen Square within the crowds of Chinese people, watching the red flag politely make its way down the flagpole.

To be honest, I almost missed it, even though I practically had front row seats. I had been chatting with the guard standing in front of me, and seeing if I could better understand what Chinese people were feeling on the day aimed to celebrate the birth of their country. Were they proud? Did they feel honored to be in the nation’s capital and center of culture on such a historic day? It seemed like my American friend and I were far more excited to wave our little Chinese flags around than the people around us were. (However, they were quite excited to take photos with my friend, which actually turned out to be a great opportunity to subtly interview them.)

Most people mentioned they were happy and in a good mood. Happy because National Holiday usually meant a week off from work and school. And in a good mood because National Holiday meant traveling. Indeed, those that I talked to were not from Beijing, but from smaller towns. For most of them, there was no particular reason for choosing to come to Beijing other than to be in big city Beijing.

Well, where was the national pride? Here it was, a day to celebrate the unique history, the incredible sacrifices, and the triumphant victories of one’s country, and yet, I just couldn’t see any national pride. One of the guards in the square had nonchalantly said he didn’t feel anything special. After all, this was his job. He was obligated to be there. Other than the the giant vase filled with fake flowers sitting in the center of the square and the large portrait of the country’s founding father Sun Yat-sen, Tiananmen Square on National Holiday was essentially just a large social gathering of people who showed up because they wanted to say they were there.

But then it occurred to me. Why am I trying to understand National Holiday through the lens of our Fourth of July holiday? What exactly is national pride to a country of 1.4 billion people and 56 ethnic groups?

After posing for the classic every-tourist-must-take photo in front of the Forbidden City, I spotted crowds of people in front of two large digital screens. The screens depicted videos of children smiling with grandparents, followed by photos of working-age folks surrounded by technology. As I walked in front of the Monument of the People’s Heroes, secretly hoping I was standing exactly where President Xi Jinping stood just hours before, I knew that the Chinese people were proud. Each individual with his eyes glued to the screen was proud of something different, but deep inside there was pride nonetheless. And this silent indescribable pride perhaps is the strongest pride of all.