Not Zero-Sum: Perspective of an Ordinary Chinese American
In the era of Trump/Putin/Xi, an ordinary Chinese American's hope for solidarity (Chapter Ten)
← Chapter Nine: Citizens of the World - The Ukraine War
Chapter 10: Ensembling
Ensembling (AI): combining the outputs of multiple models to achieve a better overall performance than any individual model.
When the US gained independence in 1776, there were no records of any Chinese person in the land of the free. By the time the CCP came into power in 1949 though, roughly 150,000 Chinese had relocated to America. With the Qing Dynasty in decline, the first wave of immigrants came during the California Gold Rush, and many labored in mines and railroad constructions. A smaller group sought to learn from the US, a trend that would grow in the late 20th century. Seeking life improvements and higher education, Chinese immigrants were later joined by those escaping persecutions, such as after the Tiananmen Square massacre in 1989 and the Falun Gong crackdown in 1999. More recently, emigrating to the US has also become a form of personal investment by the more affluent families in China.
Today, the number of Chinese Americans has climbed to approximately 5,000,000. That’s not including hybrids—born and unborn—with the union of white male and Asian female the fastest-growing interracial pairing in America. Despite the cycles of governments, the bond between the Chinese and American people has steadily strengthened, evolving from complete strangers to acquaintances with millions of mutual connections.
During the latest downturn of governments then, millions find themselves caught in the crossfire. Whether they support the US, China, both, or specific issues, each tries to make sense of what the conflict of nations means to them. But regardless of your inner compass, you can’t sew the patterns of logic or don your inclinations in that split second before eye contact. Rather, it’s up to the strangers whether they want to judge a book by its cover or participate in this exercise of national tribalism. For the younger bystanders, they are drawn into a world they have yet to fully grasp, unaware of its man-made madness.
As the anti-China wave surged in America, an influx of men volunteered themselves as experts. Seeking to stake their own claims, they broke away from the traditional competition and collaboration models of their predecessors; they are blown away by the Thucydides Trap. 75% chance of war they say, that’s basically inevitable.
“It was the rise of Athens, and the fear that this inspired in Sparta, that made war inevitable.” 2,400 years later, the Athenian general turned historian finds himself soaring on Google Trends, raised from the dead by a Harvard scholar. His insights on the Peloponnesian War illuminate 16 modern-ish cases of rising power meets ruling power from the past 500 years, 12 of which ended in war.
US-China is dubbed the latest study. The Harvard scholar traces the milestones of China’s ascent and makes his case: without significant change and persistent engagement at the highest level in both countries, the US and China are destined for war.
Alarms sound, heads spin, the Trump administration escalates, the global pandemic exacerbates, and newly minted experts take to the cameras: it’s time to decouple; we are fighting a new Cold War; make our military great again—thus fulfilling half of Thucydides’s prophecy.
While the outcome of the Cold War has been cheered in the West, 30 years later, as Russia falls back into an autocratic state and the Ukraine War rages, it is not nearly as favorable as initially thought. With military spending set to further increase for both the US and China, despite a combined defense budget of roughly a trillion dollars in 2022 ($753B US, $230B China), I’m reminded that neither nation has fought a defensive war in recent decades. Instead, both have lost thousands, if not millions of lives, and billions of dollars in property, due to hurricanes, typhoons, flooding, wildfires, winter storms, heat waves, and a pandemic.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not suggesting that we shouldn’t invest in the military. As long as China is increasing its military budget, the US will need to keep up. As the saying of a Chinese proverb goes: “one should never intend to do harms to others, but one should always guard against harms others might do.” From studying China’s downfall during the Opium Wars, it’s evident that only economic prowess falls short; a nation must also have the military might to protect its prosperity. Granted, an over-investment in the military could trigger an economic collapse too, as the demise of the Soviet Union during the Cold War had illustrated.
What I do recommend though is that we revisit the logic that led to our current hostile stance vs. China—whether it has not been driven by the outsized influence of one man’s personal agenda. America can also gauge China’s interest in a bilateral agreement that reduces military spending. The extra resources could be redirected to combat climate change and enhance pandemic preparedness—two areas of potential dangers that likely outweigh any conflict that may arise between the US and China (and two areas where I believe the US will find China a willing partner).
Listening to the arguments of nations reduced to military capabilities, infrastructure vulnerabilities, and historic probabilities, I don’t believe the new clan of experts is speaking to me. While many of them may have spent years studying China, and some may even enjoy access to insider information, I consistently worry that their views lack the element of real interactions with ordinary people. When they are predicting the future, they are not thinking about what it would mean for a kid growing up in Hangzhou, or a kid growing up in San Francisco for that matter, and certainly not for a kid moving from Hangzhou to San Francisco. In an era where the overwhelming majority of people on both sides prefer peace, the self-interest of politicians and the insertion of fatalism by the media are necessary ingredients to the start of a crisis.
While I believe in the value of studying the past and appreciate the gentleman from Harvard’s intention to raise awareness, I want to offer a different interpretation of the same 16 cases supporting the Thucydides Trap—if we reframe the lens from the past 500 years to the last 50 years, then we are left with 3 cases, all of which managed to preserve peace, whereas 12 out of 13 cases in the previous 450 years had ended in war. Similarly, if we reframe to the past 100 years, 4 out of 7 cases maintained peace, whereas all 9 cases from the prior 400 years had resulted in conflict.
What interests me, then, is not the 75% chance of war over the past 500 years, but what has changed in the last 100 years, the last 50 years, to drastically increase the likelihood of peace? The existence of nuclear weapons certainly plays a role; “we live in Oppenheimer’s world.” But I would like to think it also has something to do with the progress in our shared values, the same emotions that linked the Chinese people moved by the 2008 Beijing Olympics and the American people inspired by the election of an African American president for the first time in 56 tries. In an interconnected world, the US and China have more to offer each other.
As a young teen, grown-ups would often ask if I liked the US or China more—if I had a choice, which one would I pick? Unlike my trained responses to discourage other paternal probes, I’d answer this question more thoughtfully, expanding on what I believed to be the merits and flaws of each society. At the end, rather than tally up the scores, I would conclude that a combination of the preferred features from each society would be best. Over the next few decades, as I lived and breathed the intricacies of both cultures and people, my understanding and attachments steadily grew deeper. Today, I remain convinced that our best version lies in some form of combination of American and Chinese societies—of all nations’ societies.
Language & Education
When I first relocated to the US, speaking English was one challenge, but soon, remembering how to write in Chinese became another. Compared to the 26 letters, Chinese characters comprised 214 radicals, their limbs twisting and turning, patterns transposing and rearranging, constantly coaxing my memory lapses. But while languages were a struggle, I had the upper hand in math. At the time, I was convinced that China’s rigorous practices had given me the edge. It was years later that I realized my advantage also derived from Chinese numbers 0 - 9 all having single syllables, such that I find myself unconsciously discriminating against English when memorizing phone numbers or performing mental math. If the world ever considers adopting a common language, the combination of English alphabetic arrangements and Chinese numbering system would make a good candidate.
Once the English language becomes more familiar, most younger Chinese immigrants find American K-12 rather easy. China’s cultural emphasis on education, coupled with heavy homework load, can be quite effective reinforcing fundamental knowledge. However, the inflexible system doesn’t offer much when it comes to cultivating personal interests, whereas the American system excels at fostering budding passions that eventually blur the line between working hard because it’s a responsibility and working hard because you want to. It’s somewhat telling that Jack Ma, one of China’s most extraordinary stories of upward mobility, was not a very good student.
If I could build an ideal education system then, I would marry American extracurricular activities to Chinese diligence, compromise on homework load during the school year, and replace homework altogether with optional extracurricular programs during summer and winter breaks. Additionally, I would remove Chinese entrance exams for both junior high and high school, because it’s too early to determine a young person’s path. It’s also too much pressure—quite a few of my Chinese classmates have shared that their nightmares as adults are almost exclusively associated with exams: being late to an exam, performing poorly on an exam, not having enough time to study for an exam…
Lastly, I would invest in online education, a platform that could empower the top teachers to reach a higher number of students at cheaper tuition, since access is no longer restricted by the physical boundaries of classrooms and school districts. While both China and the US boast relatively robust rates for higher education today, the common goal should be to deliver the best education—critical thinking skills that shape individual judgment and thus the health of a nation—to anyone who seeks it. Technology can bridge this gap.
Beyond encouraging personal interests, extracurricular activities also build ownership. By offering the flexibility to choose your own path, the American system plants the seed of independence. The social norm of getting a job in the latter years of high school further cultivates personal growth such that by the time to apply to colleges, many American students are prepared to make their own choices. In contrast, Chinese students generally follow a rigid routine with much oversights from both parents and teachers throughout K-12, and most college-related decisions are a family affair dominated by the parents. While this collective process usually leads to safer results, it sometimes leads to regrets years later too—from not following one’s heart.
Though I had a late start in the American system, I was urged by my parents to be self-reliant—“learn to be independent from the American kids” as they would tell me in Chinese. When I got a taste of what it felt like to earn a paycheck through my own efforts (the freedom to purchase the basketball sneakers I wanted helped too), I grew appreciative of my parents’ nudge. However, later, when my parents tried to dictate my career path—to pursue a safer route—I reminded them that they couldn’t have it both ways. Because they taught me independence, they had forfeited their rights to choose for me. I would be happy to listen to their advice, but the ultimate decision was mine.
The independent spirit of American upbringing and the collective decision-making style of the Chinese families reflect the characteristics of larger societies. Comparing the effects of these traits sets the stage for a debate between individualism and common good.
Individualism & Common Good
While I lean toward individualism based on my own experiences, I believe more in finding the right balance depending on the particular circumstances. For example, When it came to social-distancing and mask mandates during the pandemic, I thought the Chinese people were more sensible collectively, although neighborhood associations putting locks on people’s doors to force quarantine was too much. When evaluating candidates for public office, I also value a commitment to the common good. It is, after all, part of the job description. And on the issue of gun control, I find myself more aligned with China’s approach in banning firearms for ordinary individuals. In addition to random mass shootings, the existence of guns in America raises the stakes for everyone in any dispute—the idiom “lift a rock only to drop it on your own foot” in China shifts to “shoot yourself in the foot” in America. Say what you will about the lack of rights and rule of law in China, but most people feel safer living in China than in the US, granted a sizable portion of Americans would probably prefer to live dangerously but with gun rights.
In many cases though, I do find the pursuit of individual aspirations to be more practical than the expectation of individuals unconditionally deferring to the interests of a larger entity. Moreover, the pursuit of individuals doesn’t necessarily translate to a neglect of the common good. In instances such as the invention of the iPhone or the innovations of the Amazon e-commerce platform, the interests of the individual are intertwined with the benefits for larger society. Furthermore, when society provides an environment that empowers individuals to achieve their personal goals, they are more likely to acquire the motivation to give back. I find it insightful that the US currently far outpaces China in philanthropy.
Although American individualism is a relatively new concept, it has already made profound impacts per its disposition toward democracy, free market, and the set of inalienable rights for every person. However, despite the positive reception of American values around the world, part of China’s reluctance to adopt American views is because they are so fresh, like a young, cocky Steph Curry transforming the game with the three-point shot, having experienced only successes and few stumbles. Whereas Chinese collectivism has been molded by thousands of years of historic lessons—the ups and downs that included the rise and fall of 13 dynasties, millions of casualties, a war lasting as long as America’s history as a nation—that led to an increasingly more modest society, it remains to be seen how time will mold American individualism.
The thinking is that if America eventually goes through a few crises of its own, then perhaps it will understand China’s fixation on stability rather than insist for China to change. After all, the Great Depression led to Social Security, an essential safety net program that doesn’t seem all that different from policies that a collectivist China might pursue, and Trump’s attempts to upend democracy may just draw some knowing looks from the more cynical Chinese politicians.
Having lived in both Chinese and American societies, I believe democracy and individual rights are as exceptional as the Founding Fathers imagined, and they will endure as we will continue to progress. But at the same time, I believe China’s concern with crises that pop up periodically is valid. History moves in cycles even as progress zigzags forward—the Thucydides Trap is not a unicorn.
During the most devastating crisis of the 20th century, the US was fortunate that the World Wars largely spared its native soil. In contrast, China suffered severe resource constraints in the aftermath of WWII. It is in times of struggle that Chinese collective approach earns its keeping. The interdependence among people reduces the range of outcomes and staves off desperation through more intimate safety nets.
Although China is doing much better on resources today, an example of how collectivism provides stability can be found in real estate, which happens to be in the midst of a multi-decade housing bubble*. As a result, the majority of young Chinese couples can’t afford to purchase a home on their own. Instead, their parents and grandparents will often help alleviate pressure by bridging any financial gaps. As parents grow older, they can count on the young couple to take care of them, often moving in together under one roof. This generational commitment is rooted in virtues found in various Chinese philosophies: the virtue of maternal affection, which is familiar to Americans, and the virtue of filial piety, or respect for elders, less familiar to Americans, though it’s exactly as it should be.
Morality & Spirituality
Despite the Chinese government’s skepticism toward American ideas, the one exception has been free market. After falling drastically behind Japan and South Korea in its recovery from WWII, China voluntarily embarked on the economic transformation that has lifted 800 million people out of poverty, marking the ultimate success story for learning from others.
However, while this shift has increased Chinese wealth, it has also been linked to a decline in morals. For example, when news scandals broke out of restaurants using gutter oil to gain greater profit but increased health risks including cancer, or milk powder manufacturers adding a chemical that reduced the cost of meeting regulation requirements but resulted in kidney stones in babies, it invoked nostalgia for an earlier era in China when people didn’t even have to lock their front doors.
When the Communist Party took over in 1949, it instated China as an atheist nation. However, communism had essentially served as China’s religion, its call for a harmonious society altruistically working toward the greater good the de-facto spiritual backbone. But when this ideology proved counterintuitive to human nature, it left a vacuum, compounded by rapid industrialization that adversely impacted the natural environment. In addition to greed—that dark side of capitalism—I believe it's the lack of spirituality that led to the abominable acts which have shaken the Chinese people’s faith.
Although America has spirituality covered through freedom of religion, it’s grappling with its own complications and reconciliations. Since I haven’t poured over the Bible or the sacred texts of other religions, I’m not qualified to dig into the details. But at a surface level, I do find the gap between science and religion in America astounding. When scientists are researching concepts like dark matter, antimatter, time crystal—modern physics that make Einstein’s relativity theory seem ancient—America’s explicit interpretation of religion has hardly changed.
Unsurprisingly, this gap has impacted policy priorities—where the American government invests its resources—whereas the Chinese government would have little trouble persuading the public on its scientific investments (e.g. climate change), granted the Chinese government is also only partially bounded by public opinion. More unexpectedly, this gap has also hindered the progress of equality. Though we no longer find human sacrifices reasonable in modern society, we haven’t yet reached the consensus that something with holy intentions could not possibly deny people for the sexual orientations they were born with.
While China may have a shortage in contemporary spirituality, it does have deep roots of cultural wisdom that can fill some of the void. Of all the Chinese historic works, perhaps the best known to Americans is The Art of War by Sun Tzu, a short, timeless book written more than 2,000 years ago covering military strategies, with the premise that war should always be the last option: “heading into battle is already admitting a kind of defeat.” It has attracted endorsements from American military leaders such as General Douglas MacArthur and Colin Powell, as well as NFL Patriots coach Bill Belichick, and it’s being taught to students in the classrooms of West Point.
Lesser known to Americans, however, are a wide range of philosophical works that continue to modulate China’s moral conscience today: Confucianism and Daoism from 2,500 years ago, and Buddhism imported from India about 1,500 years ago.
One of the first virtues my mom taught me was “do not unto others what you do not want done for yourself”—known as the Golden Rule to Americans. This idea, originating from Confucianism, can be found as a cornerstone in just about all religions and philosophies today. Despite being one of the most ancient philosophies, Confucianism remains very much alive in modern Chinese society. The tradition of upward mobility through education, the proclivity for lifelong-learning, the emphasis on morality and meritocracy, and the unity of family all find their roots in Confucianism. I would argue that favorable disposition toward learning has been one of China’s key competitive advantages.
Daoism (or Taoism), another influential philosophy hailing from the same era as Confucianism, shares many similar virtues. The main focus of Daoist teaching is living in harmony through virtues of compassion, modesty, and humility. The concept of Yin Yang (close cousin of American artists the Ying Yang Twins), a form of harmony based on the interconnectedness of opposing forces, can also be traced to Daoism. Combine Yin Yang with “qi,” or life force, from Daoist cosmology, we have the intriguing premise of Star Wars. Another guest appearance of Daoism in American popular culture is the formidable Pai Mei, the Daoist master in Kill Bill 2, who curiously did not exhibit any of the laudable virtues of Daoism…
Buddhism was brought to China partly due to Confucianism’s influence on the pursuit of continuous learning. Around the first century, Buddhist monks began to reach China via the Silk Road, but language barriers and different interpretations slowed Buddhism’s assimilation. It wasn’t until the Tang Dynasty (7th - 9th century), considered the golden age of Chinese arts and culture, when the Chinese monk Xuanzang ventured west to India and brought back with him some 657 authentic Sanskrit texts—a pilgrimage that spanned 17 years—that Buddhism began to blossom in China. The journey of Xuanzang has since been romanticized in the famous Chinese novel, Journey to the West, a tale of deities and demons and a monkey king somewhere in between that had been my childhood favorite. Today, the Buddhist concept of karmic retribution and reincarnation, dependent on the deeds of the current life, continues to enlighten moral behaviors in China. Meanwhile, across the Pacific, the practice of Zen through meditation finds a growing audience in America.
Beyond philosophical works, cheng-yu, a large collection of idiomatic expressions usually consisting of four characters, is a treasured accumulation of Chinese culture. Like President Lincoln’s renowned ability to find the perfect story for any situation, not just to entertain, but also impart or reinforce a message, cheng-yu serves a similar purpose in Chinese culture, storing previous knowledge in the form of stories condensed to just four Chinese characters. For example, the movie title Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon is a cheng-yu describing a seemingly common place where masters (tiger and dragon) are hidden in plain sight, and it’s used to remind people not to underestimate anyone.
To me, the cultural philosophies and cheng-yu represent some of the brightest spots of China. It was only a couple hundred years ago when China had been regarded as the epitome of civilization. Although the corrupt Qing government and the Opium Wars have since altered this perception, the cultural sophistication underneath hasn’t changed. Just as I hope the Chinese people will explore America’s greatest hits—democracy and diversity—continuing to follow the Confucian tradition of a lifetime of learning, I hope Americans will find it worthwhile to dig deeper into Chinese culture too.
Together, we can discover how to best live our shared values.
* The Chinese real-estate bubble has since bursted in 2023. However, the economic pains it has caused likely means that housing purchase for young couples remains a collective (multi-generation) endeavor
Chapter Eleven: On Democracy →
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Chapter Ten End Notes:
“The Thucydides Trap: Are the U.S. and China Headed for War?” by Graham Allison, The Atlantic (https://www.theatlantic.com/international/archive/2015/09/united-states-china-war-thucydides-trap/406756/)
combined defense budget of roughly a trillion dollars in 2022 ($753B US, $230B China): https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Military_budget_of_China; https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Military_budget_of_the_United_States
It has attracted endorsements from (American) military leaders such as General Douglas MacArthur and Colin Powell, as well as NFL Patriots coach Bill Bilichick: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Art_of_War; “For Patriots' Coach, WarIs Decided Before Game” by Damon Hack, The New York Times (https://www.nytimes.com/2005/02/03/sports/football/for-patriots-coach-waris-decided-before-game.html)
the Chinese monk Xuanzang ventured west to India and brought back with him some 657 authentic Sanskrit texts: Xuanzang (1996). The great Tang dynasty record of the western regions. Translated by Li, Rongxi. Berkeley, CA: Numata Center for Buddhist Translation & Research
Further reading: The Poppy War by R. F. Kuang, a creative way to gain exposure to Chinese culture and contemporary history, esp. for the younger readers
https://www.nps.gov/manz/index.htm - If there is a hot war with China, expect a good number of Asian-Americans to be interned. Maybe they will avoid the Koreans and Taiwanese at first, but it is all the same to ICE and their deputized militias in the end.