Ever since I went abroad, my mom keeps asking me over the phone, "I heard there's been major flooding in the UK. Are you okay over there?" I'm often baffled by the question, but my mom is clearly worried. She tells me she saw on the news that houses in the UK are submerged in water, with everything in shambles.I had no idea what she was talking about, so I just reassured her it must be isolated incidents and that everything was fine where I was. Of course, I know my mom cares deeply about me. Whenever something happens in the UK, she worries I might be affected, as if I were everywhere in the country. After being asked so many times, I started wondering: how does someone who doesn't even use the internet know more about trivial matters in the UK than I do? Where does she get her information?
Around this time last year, I saw the Beijing Flood Map on Weibo. When I called home over the weekend, my mom asked again, "I heard there's flooding in the UK. Are you okay?" I laughed and told her, "I haven't seen any floods here, but did you know Beijing was flooded?" My mom was shocked: "What?! I haven't heard anything about that.""Beijing is less than 600 kilometers from my home—one-twentieth the distance from my home to Britain. This shows that for ordinary Chinese people like my mother, the suffering of foreigners resonates far more deeply than the hardships of those close at hand. A disaster in the capital, less than 600 kilometers away, often fails to shock many Chinese as much as a flood or volcanic eruption in some remote corner of the world.This certainly involves concern for their sons, but more likely stems from those final five minutes of the daily news broadcast. Those truly divine five minutes, where producers with rare patience feed disaster reports from every corner of the world to 99% of citizens who have zero connection to those places.
After moving abroad, I often wondered whether Chinese people and others inhabit the same world. The new Great Wall forged by Principal Fang (Green Dam) blocks not just Facebook and Twitter, but also the flow of information and understanding of the world. For instance, some of my friends see Britain, mired in economic crisis, as teetering on collapse with its people suffering terribly.I had to repeatedly explain that society here remains stable, public order is good, and while prices have risen, there's no "Bean You Play" or "Garlic You Scare" phenomenon. Basic necessities like milk, bread, coffee, and butter haven't increased in price over the past three years. Even as a low-income worker earning less than a janitor, I still don't need to scrimp on food, clothing, housing, or transportation. More amusing was when youth riots broke out, and someone asked me, "Has the British people revolted?"I've also seen people back home getting excited over the internet: "Looks like Marx was right after all. This capitalist society has an economic crisis every few years, and whenever there's a crisis, the common folk back home start revolting."
Like a frog at the bottom of a well, glimpsing a bird fleetingly pass overhead, it assumes others' lives are but that brief instant. Then it gloats over living longer than anyone else, blissfully unaware that while it dwells in a warm, cozy family, it is actually trapped in a prison.
One virtue of the frog at the bottom of the well is its fondness for defending the one who imprisoned it there.A few days ago, a sudden downpour in Beijing claimed many lives inexplicably. Before the government could declare victory, some began arguing that the slow response was understandable given various adverse factors. That night, I kept refreshing my Weibo feed. At first, people were joking about Beijing being flooded again. Soon after, I saw posts about people trapped in floodwaters, stranded at airports, and left homeless.Then the mood on Weibo turned somber and tense. I realized lives might be lost. Next, I saw people in Wangjing organizing private cars to pick up stranded travelers at Capital Airport. More and more offered to open their offices to shelter neighbors temporarily unable to return home. I kept scrolling through Weibo but saw no official government announcements, no organized rescue efforts—even as ordinary citizens launched spontaneous relief operations.That night, many grassroots civil servants spontaneously upheld their professional ethics, while ordinary citizens demonstrated remarkably high moral standards. In a country where even NGOs are routinely labeled illegal organizations, such grassroots actions profoundly prove that our nation and people possess the innate soil for a civil society.Whether it was private cars ferrying people to safety or offices opening their doors to strangers, such acts would make headline-worthy, heartwarming stories in any developed nation. Yet our government failed to demonstrate the caliber befitting its people. For an entire night, they remained bystanders while Beijing residents rescued themselves.What's even more tragic is that these exemplary Beijing citizens were immediately labeled as destabilizing elements by the government after the disaster. If good people need to be "stabilized," then what kind of people are those doing the stabilizing?
I imagine if the Belgian people faced a disaster in a state of anarchy, they would probably react in much the same way.Of course, it's said that Beijing's leading comrades worked tirelessly on the front lines all night, with the municipal party secretary even eating a bowl of instant noodles. But truly, throughout the entire night, there was no organized government rescue effort for the stranded citizens—not even a public statement. This cannot be compensated for by instant noodles. Some say we shouldn't be too harsh on the government, that it was after hours and a slow response is understandable.By the time residents in Wangjing had organized private cars via Weibo to evacuate people, the government—with its superior information access and resources—still hadn't mobilized. Numerous high-performance government vehicles, military trucks, police cars, cargo trucks, and buses remained idle, failing to transport stranded citizens home. Government-owned buildings with superior facilities also remained closed to the public, offering no shelter.These are duties that should fall squarely on the government, yet they fell to scattered private citizens. This is not a matter that can be excused. If a government's response is slower than spontaneous citizen action, why should the people waste money maintaining such a government? Alright, maybe I'm being too harsh.But at the very least, you should apologize. Whether it's building drainage systems or issuing early warnings, these are your responsibilities. People died, citizens suffered inconvenience—your negligence is evident. How can you not apologize? When a guest calls a hotel to book a room and it's fully booked, even the front desk clerk says "I'm sorry."In this world, whether it's the U.S. government, the Japanese government, or even the Republic of China government that reveres traditional Chinese virtues—when their citizens feel dissatisfied, someone from their government steps forward to take responsibility. They not only apologize but sometimes bow and even offer formal apologies. No matter how arrogant or hegemonic these governments may appear externally, they don't see anything shameful in being humble toward their own people.In contrast, governments—much like the many losers among us—endure humiliation externally yet return home to bully their wives and children, acting like big shots while never admitting fault. I suddenly realized: aren't the worst losers the ones who never apologize?
Whenever disasters strike, the moment accountability is demanded, someone inevitably emerges tearfully urging understanding for the government.When others have already declared victory, if you don't pursue accountability but instead offer understanding and praise, aren't you just laying the groundwork for their next "victory"? The fewer such victories declared—based on not enough people dying—the better. From free lunches to Beijing residents using their private cars to pick up people, the Chinese public has shouldered far too many obligations for the government. Yet the tax pie hasn't shrunk, and accountability hasn't become a right.Sometimes, it is precisely this kind of well-meaning populace—doing good deeds without demanding accountability—that has enabled such a government. As citizens, we can never be too critical of a government we fund with our tax dollars. If the government feels wronged, it can always resign and find another job. Taxpayers needn't fret over its plight or fight its battles.
In late 2010, I visited a professor in London. On my first night, watching BBC News in my hotel room, the opening report covered a Scottish ice storm: endless rows of cars stranded on highways, many stuck for over ten hours, freezing, starving, running out of fuel, and finally abandoning their vehicles to walk away.The entire report was accompanied by somber music and a low voiceover, heightening the public's sympathy to the extreme. Then the camera cut back to the studio, where the host was interviewing Scotland's Transport Minister live. The host's first question was a direct challenge: "Before winter began, you publicly stated that the Scottish government was fully prepared this year and that snow and ice would never disrupt transportation. So why did this situation occur?"In such moments, it seems as if all officials worldwide were taught by the same mentor. The minister's response mirrored that of his Chinese counterpart: "This was a once-in-a-century disaster. We underestimated it, but we've done our utmost to remedy the situation," and so on. When I returned to my hotel the next day and watched the news again, the headline read: "Scotland's Transport Minister Resigns."