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 Four)
← Chapter Three: We Are All Minorities - The Cultural Revolution
Chapter 4: “The World is Flat”
When most Americans think of Richard Nixon, Watergate comes to mind. But to the Chinese, Nixon is more fondly remembered for being the first American president to set foot in China. In 1972, amidst deteriorating Sino-Soviet relations post Stalin, China and the US found a common strategic reason to embrace each other. Formal diplomatic relations were established in 1978, and the US shifted the recognition of China from Taiwan to mainland China. Then in 1979, Deng Xiaoping visited the United States with a heavy emphasis on economic developments, touring companies such as Coca-Cola and Boeing (both had recently entered the Chinese market), and concluded a colorful visit that included Deng donning a cowboy hat and an assassination attempt by a KKK member. The following year, Deng launched a series of economic reforms that would usher China into a new era, arming millions of Chinese dads with their favorite flex: “You don’t know what hardship is!”
Agriculture was one of the first industries slated for reform. The government granted private plots to farmers, who welcomed the newfound freedom to manage the land as they saw fit. While a portion of the crops remained contracted to the state, surpluses could be sold for profit. As it turned out, money was a wonderful motivator, shifting minds of men from schemes against each other to plans improving productivity. The land plots became fertile ground for Chinese ingenuity, and local agrarian success stories were promoted and encouraged for replication elsewhere.
On the strength of this bottom-up market approach, agricultural outputs grew 25% annually, eventually giving rise to the bustling farmers markets where my family bought our daily groceries. On weekends, I sometimes joined my grandmother for a field trip to the crowded hutong overflowing with vendor stands and customers, who haggled over vegetables, meat, and even live animals like eels and fish. The abundance of food, along with my grandmother’s irresistible cooking, would expand my width disproportionately to my height—a new phenomenon in China.
Galvanized by the progress in rural areas, urban reforms soon followed. A dual-price system exposed state-owned enterprises to free market. Moreover, private businesses received operational approval for the first time since the Communist takeover. The concept of privatization would gradually trickle down into common households. I remember my grandparents holding a discussion to buy the home that we lived in, echoing similar conversations across China—all housing had previously been owned by the government and assigned by work units. The creation of a real estate market would lead to the construction frenzy that took off just as I departed for America. The movement consisting of textured bricks, steel rods, hard hats, massive cranes, and sprawling compounds is still going strong as of 2022—a refresh of buildings and landscape each time I returned to China. My grandparents’ home, once a giant amongst dwarfs, has been left behind by the new high-rises competing for proximity to heaven, one of my few remaining links to the past.
The fundamental shifts in policies introduced a new way of life. In contrast to the ubiquity of the Mao suit in prior decades, hints of individualism began emerging in the distinct styles of clothing people wore. As residents modernized their own homes, communal showers disappeared over time. Food vendors and restaurants replaced food stamps and state-run cafeterias, eventually leading to the arrival of the first KFC in Nanjing. Traffic jams formed on streets as automobiles increasingly became a symbol of wealth. However, for my family, the changes did not come without a price.
During the kindergarten years of my childhood, I had grown up in a Everybody Loves Raymond environment. My parents, grandparents, uncle’s family essentially lived together, occupying the two apartment units facing each other on the top floor of our building. But when my uncle’s family migrated to the US, and my parents and I first moved out and then later to the US in the span of a few years, it was an exchange of community for the chance to chase dreams. For all the privileges I enjoy as an American today, I’m often reminded of the cost—“the leisurely lifestyle” that my grandparents spoke of through a light smile that masked their sacrifices.
On the heels of domestic reforms, next came the opening up of China to the world—a departure from the self-isolation policies that had dominated China for much of the past century. The reversal not only created an additional distribution channel in the form of exports, but more importantly, it also allowed, in fact, welcomed foreign businesses to invest and set up shop in China, injecting much needed capital and expertise. Emulating the success of Singapore, Deng set up four Special Economic Zones with business-friendly conditions. The city of Shenzhen, in particular, became a huge manufacturing hub.
When it came to manufacturing, Shenzhen enjoyed several advantages. Prior to Hong Kong’s return to China in 1997, Shenzhen’s close proximity to Hong Kong made it a great candidate for both foreign investments. In addition to low taxes and minimal regulations, Shenzhen also had abundant access to cheap labor from China’s immense population and lower cost of living. Moreover, the Chinese people exhibited two traits that were especially productive.
First, the people were motivated and hardworking; the spirit of “chi-ku”—literal translation “eat bitterness”—had always been admired in Chinese culture. Second, the people were particularly adept at learning from others. As I experienced in elementary school, being yourself was not a thing, whereas emulating the behaviors of students who were better at school was widely encouraged. Combining these two traits together, you had people who worked hard to copy others’ success. In the case of manufacturing in Shenzhen, the factories scrambled to produce copycat versions of brand products, propelled by their workers’ seasoned ability to reverse-engineer.
Immersed in these favorable conditions, factories popped up in Shenzhen just as tech startups popped up in Silicon Valley. The ability to rapidly turn mold into product and then scale for mass production was a perfect match for American consumers’ propensity to shop. Despite language and culture barriers, American businessmen found their ways to remote factories often located on the outskirts of Shenzhen, and Chinese entrepreneurs ventured into a wide range of consumer goods, including toys, clothing, beauty products, etc., chasing the latest trend and demand from overseas.
Cheap production costs translated into cheap final products. Once the partnership had been established—often through a consummation involving alcohol—American businessmen were able to import these goods from the port of Shenzhen, ship them across the Pacific Ocean, and still sell them for a significantly larger profit than if the goods had been produced in the US. And so, when I first visited retail stores such as Walmart and Kmart in the late 1990s, their shelves were filled with products Made in China.
To accommodate its rapidly growing outputs, Shenzhen invested in modern infrastructures that facilitated transportation and streamlined the supply chain. The ecosystem improvements, in turn, attracted an even larger influx of foreign businessmen, providing Chinese factory owners with valuable experiences in cross-border trade. This virtuous cycle transformed the local region that had been just a network of fishing villages in the 1970s. Shenzhen gained renown in China for its business prospects just as Silicon Valley became known in the US for its tech opportunities. Internationally, Shenzhen earned the reputation as “the world’s factory.”
Following two decades of stunning growth, Shenzhen began to evolve in the early 2000s, shifting from low-end industries toward more advanced industries, particularly in electronics. Profit-hungry multinational corporations such as Apple saw the cost advantage of relocating its manufacturing to China and focusing instead on research, designs, and services—a global efficiency trend that became known as outsourcing. Today, Foxconn, Apple’s manufacturing partner, employs over 300,000 workers in Shenzhen, incessantly pumping out iPhones and iPads to a voracious global demand. Besides China, India, another developing nation with a large population, is the popular destination for IT support, call center, and customer services, fulfilling the roles that China could not due to shortage of English speakers.
The macro trend had several implications for developed countries. While consumers benefited from lower prices of goods such as iPhones, TVs, and automobiles, factory workers felt the squeeze of capitalism on a global scale. As businesses increasingly turned to overseas labor willing to work longer hours, under worse conditions, and for lower pay, domestic economies shifted from manufacturing toward services, leading to large-scale layoffs that fueled a growing backlash against globalization.
Economists may describe this as transition pains—inevitable realignment in the pursuit of global efficiency—and not something to worry about in the grand scheme of things. However, for people who had established the same daily routine, lived in the same house, surrounded by the same furniture that hadn’t moved in decades, it's difficult to imagine the shock caused by this disruption—the loss of pride associated with work and supporting the household, and the fear of uncertainty. It explained the America First movement. It explained, at least in part, the support for Trump.
The hard truth is that capitalism has always left people behind. After all, the end goals of its fierce and often heartless competitions are growth and profit—not ordinary people’s wellbeing. In the lens of capitalism, it’s fitting that jobs go to those willing to work longer hours, under worse conditions, and for lower pay. While free market, as seen in China, has proven to be the most effective economic system during a nation’s development phase, I believe it’s the government’s task to help the people left behind—to add some heart—in this case, provide guidance to those who can transition with the job market, and assistance to those who can’t.
One might ask, if the challenges America faces are due to global competition, can it simply shut the borders and confine capitalism to the 50 states? My answer is no. Having studied what China experienced during its self-imposed isolation prior to the Opium Wars, I believe it would only lead to the US falling behind on innovations versus the rest of the world. Others have also suggested that the government can provide subsidies to the affected industries. To me, this would not be all that different from welfare, except it’s welfare with special interests. I believe government subsidies should be reserved for industries that hold long-term strategic importance, for example, solar power or artificial intelligence, where investments may lead to innovations that could determine future competitiveness. Granted, fresh off the various supply shortages experienced during the COVID-19 pandemic, there is an argument to be made for supporting manufacturing industries of life essentials, so we are not at the mercy of other nations for masks that stem the spread of deadly diseases or a ship delay away from losing the comfort of toilet paper.
I believe a better response to outsourcing and global competition would be increased investments in education and infrastructure, and a shift toward a more education-reverent culture. The current sports-driven culture doesn’t help the masses as only the most elite athletes make it based on athletic prowess. A greater emphasis on education would equip more Americans to better compete on a global scale. And this is not to diminish sports, which have become a big part of my life, especially those on land, but rather to apply the same passion to education and lifelong learning.
Chinese culture, influenced by Confucian thoughts, inherently associates education with upward mobility. As a result, parents are often on top of their kids’ education to a fault. The after-school programs force-developing interests in the parents’ un-pursued regrets, the entrance exams that peg a student’s abilities way too early, and the all-consuming conversations of grades, leave too little room for an actual childhood. I was lucky that when my parents were focused on applying to American universities for graduate studies, I experienced “freedom” for a couple years roaming around what seemed like a big park (my dad worked for a forestry research institution), developing a streak of rebelliousness as a “bad student.”
When my parents relocated to the US and I moved back in with my grandparents near the city center, I became more studious, persuaded by my grandmother’s encouragement, a more confined urban environment, and the larger current of Chinese culture. I can look back fondly now on the long hours in the windows-conditioned classrooms during the frigid winter and the melting summer, and the stacks of homework that lasted well into the night, testing physical fortitude as much as mental aptitude. It was not a pleasant experience then as a 10-year-old, but it did build the fundamental knowledge blocks necessary to participate in more advanced studies later as well as the “chi-ku” work ethics instrumental in any life pursuits.
When I moved from China to the US for sixth grade, I experienced American freedom in the form of a significant reduction in homework. Even with the added challenge of a new language, I found myself biking aimlessly around the apartment community with a group of other kids after most school days. I was way ahead in math subjects, and it formed my first impression of the tradeoffs of a Chinese education—tough love (perhaps too tough) but effective, although I noticed my classmates were often more imaginative when it came to more abstract assignments. What I failed to perceive at the time was the value of collaboration projects, presentations, science fairs, debate teams, and class elections—all foreign concepts then, but what I now wish I had been more involved in. The one extracurricular activity I’m glad that I had picked up was sports, initially prompted by popular culture, but eventually resulted in the unexpected byproduct of richer life experiences. It was on the basketball court where I learned the values of teamwork and leadership, and formed some of my closest friendships.
I believe there’s a balance that can be struck between the Chinese and American education systems—the best of both nations. The US can learn from China when it comes to building fundamental knowledge through repetition, discipline, and effort, and China can learn from the US when it comes to fostering extracurricular interests and stimulating creativity through encouragement, flexibility, and individuality.
Individuality is potentially a double-edged sword for China. Given its autocratic political system, formulating one’s own voice and speaking out isn’t exactly encouraged. However, as a key ingredient to innovation and a meaningful life, individuality seems the logical next step of China’s development for both its economy and people (why chi-ku, if not for survival).
For the past 40 years, China has been mostly playing catch-up to Western technologies, but if China has ambition in surpassing the West, then it must innovate. I’m also curious about the secret formula for innovation—specifically the balance between perspiration and inspiration. From everything I have seen, China has perspiration covered. But for a political system that currently demands homogeneity and consistently stamps out any distinct voices, is there room for inspiration? Without freedom of expression, will Chinese students voluntarily enroll in liberal art classes such as calligraphy—a visual art originating in China—and if they do take the class, will they experience the strokes and shapes as Steve Jobs experienced them, or will they merely go through the motions? Perhaps there will always be exceptions like Jack Ma, whose life story is the stuff of legend, and I suppose the Communist Party can always rev up its censor machine when the exceptions go rogue. But can China sufficiently compete with the US if its incubation environment is fundamentally weaker, and for every Jack Ma in China, there’s a cohort of Jobs, Gates, Bezos, Musk, and Zuckerberg in the US?
Perhaps that’s why over a decade ago Shenzhen began shifting its focus from manufacturing to R&D, and in the past few years, it has placed greater emphasis on art and culture, actively investing in an atmosphere more conducive to spontaneity. Today, as a global metropolis with over 17 million in population, Shenzhen continues to reinvent itself at a breakneck pace, evolving from humble fishing villages in the 1970s to the world’s factory in the 1990s, and now acquiring a new nickname in China’s Silicon Valley. Its journey has progressed from copying others’ success to developing its own cutting-edge technologies.
While Shenzhen’s meteoric rise is symbolic of China’s larger transformation, it is also somewhat of an exception. As a designated Special Economic Zone, Shenzhen has always enjoyed greater freedom, economic as well as political, to test the water and let the results speak for themselves—almost an alternate version of “one country, two systems.” It has led to innovative companies such as Tencent and Huawei that can rival American companies in mobile app and 5g spaces respectively, raising the question, sometimes alarmingly (depending on who’s asking), whether China will soon overtake the US.
I’m not interested in the answer. I’m only interested in whether the US and China will push each other to be better through competition or sabotage each other out of fear. The biggest mistake in sports is a team playing not to lose, and the best games transpire when both teams compete fearlessly to win, giving all fans something to aspire to. Personally, I believe the biggest threats to both nations are internal.
For China, the real estate bubble, aging population, censorship, recent crackdowns in Hong Kong, the inability of the Communist Party to admit mistakes—not to the international community but to its own people—and the removal of term limits all represent potential flashing points. For America, the 2024 election poses an immediate risk. It baffles me why a segment of America insists on supporting someone whose associates can’t seem to stay out of legal troubles, and whose own administration members have labeled a danger to society. Perhaps it’s a more extreme manifestation of the polarization engulfing Washington—a chronic ailment that increasingly challenges every aspect of governance. The prioritization of tribal loyalty over national interests has led to institutional decays such as gerrymandering, filibuster, and electoral college, issues that remain unaddressed even though they are against common sense. It’s led to a government reluctant to compromise on healthcare, infrastructure, or even just keeping the government open. And it’s led to politicians purposely dividing their constituents on a wide range of issues just to gain the upper hand in the next election. China could easily become one of these dividers, except at the moment, both political parties are more afraid of appearing weak on China than not acting in America’s best long-term interest.
In the growing storyline of the competition between the US and China, what’s frequently overlooked is how interconnected our economies have become. The flip side of China exporting cheaper goods to developed nations is the US selling more expensive, higher margin brand products such as Apple, Nike, and Polo worldwide. Moreover, globalization has enabled the US to export its culture—pop music, hip hop / rap, Hollywood movies, Disney, coca cola, NBA—and extend its soft power to just about every nation on Earth, achieving true global influence like never before.
Because of its large population and expanding wealth, China is one of the most popular destinations for American goods. When COVID-19 first hit China, one of the first companies impacted was Apple due to lower iPhone sales from temporary closures of its local stores. Similarly, the US is China’s most important market. When the 2008 Financial Crisis shook American consumer confidence, it translated to significantly lower Chinese exports. The integrated nature of the banking system also meant global exposure to the storm that originated from Wall Street. The stock market is another highly correlated system, where a significant change in the Dow Jones usually reverberates in similar shocks to other indexes around the world. Furthermore, stock diversification, a popular strategy to hedge against risks, likely means that many American citizens will have a piece of Chinese stocks through ETFs in their retirement funds. Correspondingly, many wealthy Chinese citizens had bought properties in the US to hedge against their livelihoods in China. Speaking of investment links, an intricate effect of Chinese exports to the US is a buildup of the Chinese government’s USD reserve. In order to keep its currency exchange rate low, the Chinese government has invested large amount ($1.1 trillion as of 2020) of its USD reserve in American government bonds, and so technically, a portion of China’s wellbeing is directly tied to the stability of the US, or the ability of the US to repay debts. Conversely, the American government has been able to keep its debt interest payments extremely low, in part thanks to the consistent demand from the Chinese government. Or put it in a different way, China is funding US growth…
Beyond interdependent economies, globalization has also contributed to the increased movements and assimilations of people. When two ping pong players unexpectedly followed their impulses during a tournament in Japan, it paved the way for Kissinger and Zhou to establish initial contacts that eventually culminated in Nixon’s landmark visit to China. The formal recognition of diplomatic relations laid the foundation for future generations of Americans and Chinese people to build deeper connections. Like fiber internet cables stretching across oceans and lands, the journeys of immigrants introduce new paths in the vast network of human bonds.
Chapter Five: Globalization, I’m its Product →
Thanks for reading! Click on the like button if you want to support my content. Share with others and I’m forever in your debt.
Chapter Four End Notes + 2025 Commentaries:
It’s been quite a few years since I read The World is Flat by Thomas Friedman, but I can still feel its influence behind this chapter. Several other earlier reading also helped to patch together the details—books such as Poorly Made in China by Paul Midler on manufacturing in Shenzhen or Little Soldiers by Lenora Chu on early education in China, and articles from The Economists covering a wide range of economic topics.
For Chinese government holding of US Treasury Bonds, I relied on CEIC Data’s website (https://www.ceicdata.com/en/blog/china%27s-holdings-us-treasury-securities-dropped-further-june).
Further reading: The World is Flat by Thomas Friedman
2025 Commentaries:
While writing, I set a hard cutoff date to avoid the pitfall of updating the book based on how things played out in reality. Nevertheless, re-reading this chapter, I found myself wanting to remove Elon Musk from the list of American innovators and add Sam Altman instead.
On the one hand, the desire for the change is rooted in the fact that AI has completely taken off, providing a new arena for US-China competition. While OpenAI / US were the first-mover, China has quickly caught up, with DeepSeek even introducing several followup innovations of its own. It makes me wonder if I was too harsh on China’s technological ability to lead. After all, Microsoft, known for its disposition to learn from others, has been the most valuable company at some point in each of the last three decades—the only company that can claim such achievement.
On the other hand, the desire reflects what transpired since the election. I originally thought Musk embraced Trump because he knew Trump was going to win in the aftermath of the first assassination attempt, and it was a simple exchange of money for the opportunity to influence policies. But after the Sieg Heil salutes at the inauguration and the fraternization with extreme-right parties in Europe, I’m not sure if it’s a reckless facade / joke on the kind of people who used to bully him, or if it’s just his true nature.
Interesting read! I like how you framed US-China competition and the internal challenges each nation faces
This reads like a mix of a general history of the PRC and someone having potential identity issues in the USA, especially if they live in a not-diverse part of the country. Also kindly suggest you make your chapter the actual post title and your headline as the book title. Otherwise, all posts look the same especially when you are using the same cover image.