The weather has turned from sunny to very chilly. It is the worst time of the year to visit China. But worst weather aside, it is still the most promising country in Asia by far. And while the government is busy preparing for the coming-out party called the Beijing Olympics 2008, little is attention is being given to a new revolution that has been going on for years.
In a cold winter month, a number of Chinese twenty-somethings are knocking at dorm rooms, asking students to spare some of their time to an important calling, frantically writing letters of invitation, checking whether an important email has reached the head of another organisation and setting meetings to ‘evangelise’ the new recruits. This is not a preparation for another Tiananmen Square demonstration but the usual activities of student volunteers who, during their spare time, busy themselves with socially relevant activities.
There is neither Nintendo Wii nor the latest iPod model in the conversation, but there are plenty of laughs about unusual and memorable experiences. There are no pesky clients or overprotective parents interrupting the lively conversation even if the table is only filled with glasses of water and instant coffee. No Starbucks coffee.
Volunteer Service Overseas
In a simple office of the Volunteer Service Overseas somewhere in Beijing, a group of students, most of them have only met each other for the first time, eagerly exchange ideas on how it is to become the chief beneficiary of China’s economic revolution. Although it was terribly hard for the older generation especially those who experienced Mao’s Cultural Revolution, life is also not easy for the twenty-something in China nowadays. There is greater pressure for the younger Chinese to get better and high-paying jobs, and fast.
“We are looking for our identity,” says Frida, a 26-year-old PhD student at Beijing Normal University.
For her, a volunteer job does not only help other people but also herself. “It’s not just about helping other people but also about reflections on ourselves.”
Lu Mengya, 24, a graduate student at the same university says young Chinese are faced with identity crisis coupled with pressure to be successful.
"In a society that has increasingly put more importance on job description and multiple-digit salary, some Chinese twenty-somethings are redefining the crudely applied ‘me generation’ tag on them."
“It’s easy to say that the young people want to have an easy life but the evaluation is how much you earn and what kind of job you have,” she says.
This group of Chinese twenty-something has been reaping the benefits of China’s coming-of-age but has also seen the effects of the economic boom on the less-fortunate and they are willing to share what they have to alleviate the lives of the others.
Wu Di, 22, left home to take a one-year volunteer job in a poor community. As a product of China’s one-child policy, he is used to being treated as the king of the house and doesn’t even know how to wash his socks until he came to the community that changed his life forever.
“That one year allowed me to experience the local life, the local situation. Only a few people have that kind of opportunity,” he narrates smiling.
His parents are happy to see him transform from a boy to a responsible young adult.
Wanghui, 25, a social work major at the Beijing Normal University has spent his time teaching children of migrant workers.
Curious to try many things, Wanghui says he is interested in taking marginalised issues in the city and helping those who don’t have access to equal rights.
“Migrant workers’ rights are often violated. Migrant workers are vulnerable and they don’t know their legal rights,” he says emphasising his willingness to help this group for as long as he can.
He adds that by educating people, they will clamour for change and they will aspire for their vested rights.
Passionate like Wanghui, 20-year-old Guo Ming sees teaching as a lifetime career. “Now I am a teacher in economic simulation class,” he says.
The economics and environmental science major is currently an intern at an environmental non-government organisation and heads the Youth Elevation Association. He is actively putting together an NGO fair for students in May.
When he graduates, Guo Ming intends to become a full-time NGO worker. Although he says he might join the corporate world along the way, he still commits himself to volunteer work.
Xu Jing, 23, who is preparing for graduate school, has several volunteer organisations such as the Red Cross and others that focus on HIV/AIDS.
“We cannot deny that we need to have a good life. But when you have material support in life, you can help others and give valuable support to the society.”
She says it is unfair to make a sweeping generalisation on what this generation can and cannot do.
“In America, 20 per cent of people volunteer, in China only 2 per cent volunteer but you have to consider the development stages of these two countries,” she says.
Joining the group is Kerr Bronwyn, a student from New Zealand, whose fascination with anything Chinese dates back to her school days back home.
“In my class at a university in New Zealand, sometimes, 70 per cent would be Chinese so I didn’t feel so strange when I came here,” she says.
Bronwyn, 23, who is pursuing a degree at the Peking University, says she is amazed at the level of enthusiasm Chinese students display especially in helping other people.
“Most people in China have positive attitude towards volunteering and volunteers. In New Zealand, people would square me off on the street if I ask for money for projects such as sponsoring a child,” she says.
She explains that it is not that people in her country do not want to help. There is just a lot of bad attitude towards helping people in New Zealand compared to, say, China.
'Me' Generation
The comparison leads to a perky and interesting conversation on China’s ‘me generation’—the twenty-somethings whose wish list tops iPhone or Nintendo Wii and whose travels abroad like diving in Phuket and skiing in the alps make the rounds of the blogosphere. In short, China’s ‘me’ generation is a genetic mutation of self-centred, narcissistic, self-indulgent, always-me, love-myself dudes who are cool with credit cards and fancy drinks in some fabulous bars. Forget societal responsibility. Forget other people. And most importantly, forget politics. Period.
But this is not an exclusive problem of China alone. As Bronwyn says “all around the world have the same pressure on young people”. “In the US or Europe, they have long been facing a problem of self-indulgent youths.”
But why the focus on China? Why all of a sudden the young Chinese become the centre of attention? Why are they getting negative attention for wanting the latest fad, for having a good life, for getting fat salaries and for wanting to travel abroad? Why are they being blamed for flaunting what they have?
The young Chinese are as worse as the young Koreans, Filipinos or Japanese in terms of pursuing a kind of lifestyle.
Is this a case of throwing stones at a tree that bears more fruit?
Somewhere in suburban Beijing, inside a dimly lit dormitory room at Tsinghua University, a small group of students are sorting used clothes, toys and second-hand computers. Every Sunday, when it is supposed to be time to relax or go downtown for window shopping and movies, these students make it the day to discuss organisation matters. Four months before, they sent 34,000 pieces of old clothes and 3,000 books to the needy and poor students.
For some strange reason, the association’s name is Commonweal. It would have been stranger to name it commonwealth in a country like China but Wong Jun Yua Ian, the chairperson, explains that the name suggests what they do. Aside from the regular collection of clothes, toys and books, they also give free lessons to rural migrants’ children in Beijing, train other volunteers and take care of the elderly. They regularly visit elderly homes and personally look after retired professors who do not have families around.
Near a small receiving table, there is an elderly woman talking to students, seeing to it that everyone has signed a little attendance or donation sheet.
Cultural Revolution
She is Yan, a retired economics professor who lives with her husband, a retired physics professor. She says she is happy to see enthusiastic young people doing acts of random kindness.
For Yan, no matter how people view the young Chinese today, the students are far better now than before.
“After the Cultural Revolution, Tsinghua students have become more self-centred. Their aim was to go overseas after university for further studies and for personal growth. But in the past two years, students think further,” she says.
Now, she adds, there are two groups of students: Those who prefer to go overseas to help China in the process of globalisation and to bring back their expertise and those who remain in China to contribute to nation-building.
But Yan’s husband disagrees. He says after China opened up, the economic situation has improved but in terms of public spirit, something is lacking.
“The traditional Chinese value was destroyed in the Cultural Revolution and there has been an emotional vacuum so people become more self-centred and do not care for the greater good,” he says.
“There is more to be done to address this—a sense of belonging and responsibility to the society. The fundamental values that are engrained in the Chinese culture have been eroded during the Cultural Revolution.”
A sensitive topic even in China today, the decade-long Cultural Revolution, launched on May 16, 1966, was a campaign to rid China of its ‘liberal bourgeoisie’ elements and to continue the revolutionary class struggle. The impact of the Cultural Revolution was severe to many especially to those who not only lost the prime of their lives but their families and friends as well.
Mr Yan, who lived in the era of Cultural Revolution, feels there is more to be done on the national level to propagate traditional values. An example of this, he cites, is the yearly sacrifices some Chinese do for Confucius. The great philosopher has written inspiring virtues that every Chinese should integrate in his daily life to fill the emotional and societal vacuum, he says.
The couple, who spent more than 50 years teaching, believes students and young people should engage in societal issues and politics to have a better understanding of the current situation in China. They think that at least with Tsinghua University students, China seems to be heading in the right direction.
Economics vs Politics
Somewhere in an international mall in Shanghai, a group of corporate armies known by their English names as Therese, Julie, Jeff and Sunshine talk about life in a fast-changing capitalist China.
At 22, Jeff talks confidently about his job at a leading financial institution. An only child, he still lives with his parents and enjoys a certain financial freedom although he longs for another kind of freedom.
“I can’t describe it but I can feel it,” he says. “Even in work, you cannot do this, you cannot do that.”
It’s not political. It is something else.
Therese says only a few Chinese care about politics. What they care about is financial security or the prices of commodities. These days, the Chinese do not feel good about the rising cost of meat.
“I don’t care about politics, I care about the price of pork,” Jeff says.
Even participating in elections is far from Jeff’s mind.
“We don’t need to vote, we don’t care about voting,” he says emphasising that the government is strong enough to elect a good leader. And whoever is there, Jeff reasons, he is just a representative of the government that works for the people.
Therese says there is no need to go out in the street and protest to ask for changes. “We don’t want to do that. We just want a stable life.”
Given the historical failures of mass action in China, it is understandable that resorting to this is meaningless.
Julie and Therese, both in their early 30s, believe there is so much optimism among the young Chinese generation. Unlike them who were born in the ‘70s, the ‘80s generation are not afraid to try new things and to challenge the unattainable. They may be individualistic but they are highly motivated and extremely talented.
“China will be better because of their (‘80s) generation. They are more aggressive, they are more confident,” Julie says.
Being over confident cost Jeff his supposed first job in an international audit agency. After hurdling the first and second round of tests, Jeff was told that he was too aggressive for the job. But that trait gave him a chance to prove himself in his current job. In one year, he got promoted to team leader, exceeding his market quotas every month. He calls it aggressive advantage.
While Therese and Julie are worried about their future because the country’s welfare system is lacking, Jeff and other young people like him do not seem to worry. He is enjoying Shanghai’s capitalism. He plans to stay longer in sales but probably not in the same financial institution. He also intends to study in Europe or US for his master’s degree. Some of his classmates, with the help of their parents, have already started their own businesses.
Back in Beijing, Tsinghua University special education gradute student Liu Fan rides her bike outside campus to accompany me to the train station. She is one of the few students from Guangdong province who passed Tsinghua’s stringent admission exams.
Liu Fan just feels lucky she is in university while many young people are not given the chance to get an education. For her, the Chinese culture places strong emphasis on individual responsibility to the nation and society so she feels partly responsible for it.
Minutes after, the tall and slim Liu Fan asks if I could ride on the back of her bike so we can reach the station faster. It won’t be an easy ride taking a much heavier passenger in freezing weather but Liu Fan just smiles and pedals the bike smoothly.
Outside the campus, the air is denser, more polluted, and the ageing train station is overflowing with aggressive Beijingers pushing their way in, as if reminding me that this is the real China—love it or hate it.
There is neither Nintendo Wii nor the latest iPod model in the conversation, but there are plenty of laughs about unusual and memorable experiences. There are no pesky clients or overprotective parents interrupting the lively conversation even if the table is only filled with glasses of water and instant coffee. No Starbucks coffee.
Volunteer Service Overseas
In a simple office of the Volunteer Service Overseas somewhere in Beijing, a group of students, most of them have only met each other for the first time, eagerly exchange ideas on how it is to become the chief beneficiary of China’s economic revolution. Although it was terribly hard for the older generation especially those who experienced Mao’s Cultural Revolution, life is also not easy for the twenty-something in China nowadays. There is greater pressure for the younger Chinese to get better and high-paying jobs, and fast.
“We are looking for our identity,” says Frida, a 26-year-old PhD student at Beijing Normal University.
For her, a volunteer job does not only help other people but also herself. “It’s not just about helping other people but also about reflections on ourselves.”
Lu Mengya, 24, a graduate student at the same university says young Chinese are faced with identity crisis coupled with pressure to be successful.
"In a society that has increasingly put more importance on job description and multiple-digit salary, some Chinese twenty-somethings are redefining the crudely applied ‘me generation’ tag on them."
“It’s easy to say that the young people want to have an easy life but the evaluation is how much you earn and what kind of job you have,” she says.
This group of Chinese twenty-something has been reaping the benefits of China’s coming-of-age but has also seen the effects of the economic boom on the less-fortunate and they are willing to share what they have to alleviate the lives of the others.
Wu Di, 22, left home to take a one-year volunteer job in a poor community. As a product of China’s one-child policy, he is used to being treated as the king of the house and doesn’t even know how to wash his socks until he came to the community that changed his life forever.
“That one year allowed me to experience the local life, the local situation. Only a few people have that kind of opportunity,” he narrates smiling.
His parents are happy to see him transform from a boy to a responsible young adult.
Wanghui, 25, a social work major at the Beijing Normal University has spent his time teaching children of migrant workers.
Curious to try many things, Wanghui says he is interested in taking marginalised issues in the city and helping those who don’t have access to equal rights.
“Migrant workers’ rights are often violated. Migrant workers are vulnerable and they don’t know their legal rights,” he says emphasising his willingness to help this group for as long as he can.
He adds that by educating people, they will clamour for change and they will aspire for their vested rights.
Passionate like Wanghui, 20-year-old Guo Ming sees teaching as a lifetime career. “Now I am a teacher in economic simulation class,” he says.
The economics and environmental science major is currently an intern at an environmental non-government organisation and heads the Youth Elevation Association. He is actively putting together an NGO fair for students in May.
When he graduates, Guo Ming intends to become a full-time NGO worker. Although he says he might join the corporate world along the way, he still commits himself to volunteer work.
Xu Jing, 23, who is preparing for graduate school, has several volunteer organisations such as the Red Cross and others that focus on HIV/AIDS.
“We cannot deny that we need to have a good life. But when you have material support in life, you can help others and give valuable support to the society.”
She says it is unfair to make a sweeping generalisation on what this generation can and cannot do.
“In America, 20 per cent of people volunteer, in China only 2 per cent volunteer but you have to consider the development stages of these two countries,” she says.
Joining the group is Kerr Bronwyn, a student from New Zealand, whose fascination with anything Chinese dates back to her school days back home.
“In my class at a university in New Zealand, sometimes, 70 per cent would be Chinese so I didn’t feel so strange when I came here,” she says.
Bronwyn, 23, who is pursuing a degree at the Peking University, says she is amazed at the level of enthusiasm Chinese students display especially in helping other people.
“Most people in China have positive attitude towards volunteering and volunteers. In New Zealand, people would square me off on the street if I ask for money for projects such as sponsoring a child,” she says.
She explains that it is not that people in her country do not want to help. There is just a lot of bad attitude towards helping people in New Zealand compared to, say, China.
'Me' Generation
The comparison leads to a perky and interesting conversation on China’s ‘me generation’—the twenty-somethings whose wish list tops iPhone or Nintendo Wii and whose travels abroad like diving in Phuket and skiing in the alps make the rounds of the blogosphere. In short, China’s ‘me’ generation is a genetic mutation of self-centred, narcissistic, self-indulgent, always-me, love-myself dudes who are cool with credit cards and fancy drinks in some fabulous bars. Forget societal responsibility. Forget other people. And most importantly, forget politics. Period.
But this is not an exclusive problem of China alone. As Bronwyn says “all around the world have the same pressure on young people”. “In the US or Europe, they have long been facing a problem of self-indulgent youths.”
But why the focus on China? Why all of a sudden the young Chinese become the centre of attention? Why are they getting negative attention for wanting the latest fad, for having a good life, for getting fat salaries and for wanting to travel abroad? Why are they being blamed for flaunting what they have?
The young Chinese are as worse as the young Koreans, Filipinos or Japanese in terms of pursuing a kind of lifestyle.
Is this a case of throwing stones at a tree that bears more fruit?
Somewhere in suburban Beijing, inside a dimly lit dormitory room at Tsinghua University, a small group of students are sorting used clothes, toys and second-hand computers. Every Sunday, when it is supposed to be time to relax or go downtown for window shopping and movies, these students make it the day to discuss organisation matters. Four months before, they sent 34,000 pieces of old clothes and 3,000 books to the needy and poor students.
For some strange reason, the association’s name is Commonweal. It would have been stranger to name it commonwealth in a country like China but Wong Jun Yua Ian, the chairperson, explains that the name suggests what they do. Aside from the regular collection of clothes, toys and books, they also give free lessons to rural migrants’ children in Beijing, train other volunteers and take care of the elderly. They regularly visit elderly homes and personally look after retired professors who do not have families around.
Near a small receiving table, there is an elderly woman talking to students, seeing to it that everyone has signed a little attendance or donation sheet.
Cultural Revolution
She is Yan, a retired economics professor who lives with her husband, a retired physics professor. She says she is happy to see enthusiastic young people doing acts of random kindness.
For Yan, no matter how people view the young Chinese today, the students are far better now than before.
“After the Cultural Revolution, Tsinghua students have become more self-centred. Their aim was to go overseas after university for further studies and for personal growth. But in the past two years, students think further,” she says.
Now, she adds, there are two groups of students: Those who prefer to go overseas to help China in the process of globalisation and to bring back their expertise and those who remain in China to contribute to nation-building.
But Yan’s husband disagrees. He says after China opened up, the economic situation has improved but in terms of public spirit, something is lacking.
“The traditional Chinese value was destroyed in the Cultural Revolution and there has been an emotional vacuum so people become more self-centred and do not care for the greater good,” he says.
“There is more to be done to address this—a sense of belonging and responsibility to the society. The fundamental values that are engrained in the Chinese culture have been eroded during the Cultural Revolution.”
A sensitive topic even in China today, the decade-long Cultural Revolution, launched on May 16, 1966, was a campaign to rid China of its ‘liberal bourgeoisie’ elements and to continue the revolutionary class struggle. The impact of the Cultural Revolution was severe to many especially to those who not only lost the prime of their lives but their families and friends as well.
Mr Yan, who lived in the era of Cultural Revolution, feels there is more to be done on the national level to propagate traditional values. An example of this, he cites, is the yearly sacrifices some Chinese do for Confucius. The great philosopher has written inspiring virtues that every Chinese should integrate in his daily life to fill the emotional and societal vacuum, he says.
The couple, who spent more than 50 years teaching, believes students and young people should engage in societal issues and politics to have a better understanding of the current situation in China. They think that at least with Tsinghua University students, China seems to be heading in the right direction.
Economics vs Politics
Somewhere in an international mall in Shanghai, a group of corporate armies known by their English names as Therese, Julie, Jeff and Sunshine talk about life in a fast-changing capitalist China.
At 22, Jeff talks confidently about his job at a leading financial institution. An only child, he still lives with his parents and enjoys a certain financial freedom although he longs for another kind of freedom.
“I can’t describe it but I can feel it,” he says. “Even in work, you cannot do this, you cannot do that.”
It’s not political. It is something else.
Therese says only a few Chinese care about politics. What they care about is financial security or the prices of commodities. These days, the Chinese do not feel good about the rising cost of meat.
“I don’t care about politics, I care about the price of pork,” Jeff says.
Even participating in elections is far from Jeff’s mind.
“We don’t need to vote, we don’t care about voting,” he says emphasising that the government is strong enough to elect a good leader. And whoever is there, Jeff reasons, he is just a representative of the government that works for the people.
Therese says there is no need to go out in the street and protest to ask for changes. “We don’t want to do that. We just want a stable life.”
Given the historical failures of mass action in China, it is understandable that resorting to this is meaningless.
Julie and Therese, both in their early 30s, believe there is so much optimism among the young Chinese generation. Unlike them who were born in the ‘70s, the ‘80s generation are not afraid to try new things and to challenge the unattainable. They may be individualistic but they are highly motivated and extremely talented.
“China will be better because of their (‘80s) generation. They are more aggressive, they are more confident,” Julie says.
Being over confident cost Jeff his supposed first job in an international audit agency. After hurdling the first and second round of tests, Jeff was told that he was too aggressive for the job. But that trait gave him a chance to prove himself in his current job. In one year, he got promoted to team leader, exceeding his market quotas every month. He calls it aggressive advantage.
While Therese and Julie are worried about their future because the country’s welfare system is lacking, Jeff and other young people like him do not seem to worry. He is enjoying Shanghai’s capitalism. He plans to stay longer in sales but probably not in the same financial institution. He also intends to study in Europe or US for his master’s degree. Some of his classmates, with the help of their parents, have already started their own businesses.
Back in Beijing, Tsinghua University special education gradute student Liu Fan rides her bike outside campus to accompany me to the train station. She is one of the few students from Guangdong province who passed Tsinghua’s stringent admission exams.
Liu Fan just feels lucky she is in university while many young people are not given the chance to get an education. For her, the Chinese culture places strong emphasis on individual responsibility to the nation and society so she feels partly responsible for it.
Minutes after, the tall and slim Liu Fan asks if I could ride on the back of her bike so we can reach the station faster. It won’t be an easy ride taking a much heavier passenger in freezing weather but Liu Fan just smiles and pedals the bike smoothly.
Outside the campus, the air is denser, more polluted, and the ageing train station is overflowing with aggressive Beijingers pushing their way in, as if reminding me that this is the real China—love it or hate it.
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