A Columban lay worker finds the China he visited is not everything outsiders expect.
By Michael O’Sullivan

I had the great opportunity in 2005 to spend 10 days with a group that visited different parts of China. Most of the locations had an historical or current connection to the work of Columbans.

Ten days is a short time to gain a coherent impression of such a large country with such a vast cultural heritage. It is probably presumptuous to make comments based on such a short visit.

Yet when I returned home to Ireland, I found that many of the questions I was asked about my trip were based upon certain assumptions about China that did not fit in with my experience, brief as it was.

There was a general sense in these inquiries that daily life in China must be dreary and oppressive with people weighed down by the restrictions of living under one of the last bastions of authoritarian Communist rule.

My experience, however, was totally different. When we arrived at our hotel in Beijing, which was situated close to one of the major shopping areas, I went out for a late-evening stroll. I turned the corner to find myself on a street with the most opulent shops I had ever seen. All the shops were open, and one long section of the street was devoted to an open-air car show.

In every city we went, the story was much the same: shopping areas of great wealth surrounded by much larger areas of noticeable poverty, but all marked by the hustle and bustle of the market. Everybody seemed to be buying or selling something. In short, it was much like a Western consumer society—except even more frantic.

In the midst of this, it was hard to gain a sense of China’s recent history. An alien landing in Beijing who relied on images in public places to learn about the society may come to the conclusion that the nation’s founding father was Colonel Sanders of Kentucky Fried Chicken—whose image is everywhere—rather than Chairman Mao Zedong.

It was in one of the Colonel’s establishments (the only place open serving coffee in the morning) that we got a glimpse of this recent past. As we sat sipping our coffee, a young woman came in accompanied by an elderly man and woman, both old enough to be her grandparents.

She was dressed in a fashionable business suit; her elders in those square-cut and grey Mao suits that once were the proud emblems of workers for the revolution. Once she had bought both of them tea, she rushed off, presumably to get to work. As they sat there drinking their tea, it was hard not to wonder what they made of all of this, and of what an extraordinary journey through history they and millions like them had made.

They had lived through times of war and revolution, of great leaps forward and the Cultural Revolution, and they were now drinking tea in an American fast-food restaurant.

In cities like Beijing, the cityscape reflects Western-style capitalism rather than Communist oppression.

Across the street, a large modern hospital stands on the site where Columban Sisters used to minister to the sick. On the grand gateway that marks the entrance to the new hospital, a plaque had been placed to mark the role the Columbans had played in the founding of the hospital. The inscription, in Latin, read “Hospitalium S. columbanus 1923.”

The plaque looked relatively new, and in its own way perhaps was a sign of new openness on the part of the authorities in acknowledging the past contributions of missionaries to the Chinese people.

It turned out that there was an even more-poignant link to the past. In the church, a small group of Sisters were singing psalms. While most of the group was comprised of young women in their early 20s, there were also two elderly Sisters among them. These turned out to be the last surviving members of a group of Sisters that had been founded by Bishop Galvin.

They had lived through war and revolution and had survived the Cultural Revolution by working in a factory. They were now part of a community, which although small in number, is a sign of alternative ways of life opening up in China.

Confidently & Cautiously
Standing at a major traffic intersection in Xian, a city of more than 7 million people, I watched as the cars negotiated the junction without any incident. The general rule seemed to be that drivers should proceed with enough speed to display their confidence that they had the right of way yet with enough caution to make adjustments if necessary. I soon learned that a similar approach was necessary to cross the road.

That theme of proceeding confidently and speedily with caution seems to be the path being followed by the Chinese government in terms of China’s economic development. Like traffic, the headlong rush to development seems at first sight to be destined for the certain disaster of a consumer capitalism of the worst kind.

And yet when you are there for a while, the energy, durability, skill and flexibility of the Chinese people make you think that they might be able to forge their way through this stage of their long history in the same way as the cars negotiated the junction in Xian, driving close to disaster but getting to their destination safely.

On our way back to Hong Kong, we traveled by train from Guanzhou, a journey of about one hour. The entire way was lined with a nearly unbroken succession of high-rise housing developments—so many we lost count.

There were also miles and miles of newly constructed factories, busily producing goods to keep the Chinese economy growing. It was a bleak and depressing landscape. It was hard not to be struck by the scale of the problems posed by such a density of population.

Away from the hustle and bustle of the street, the new China did not seem such a hopeful place.

Some time after coming home, I read two reports that echoed this dichotomy. The first was from the World Health Organization, which said that car accidents were the leading cause of death of young people in China. More proof, perhaps, that first impressions can be misleading.

The second report was from the World Food Program, which announced that China had progressed beyond the need for support from the program. For a country which for generations had failed in the basic requirement of adequately feeding its people, this was a significant milestone. Two reports: one a cause of great concern, one a source of real hope.

And that more or less sums up my short experience of China: a place where anxiety and hope seem to walk side by side.

Michael O’Sullivan is a laity member of the Columbans’ Mission Education team in Dalgan Park, Ireland.