Strong on the outside, falling apart inside — the real China
Beijing wakes up every Monday to the sound of patriotism. The national anthem, carried by tinny loudspeakers from the elementary school across the street, drifts into my apartment window. On the carefully landscaped schoolyard, rows of children stand in perfect formation while the bright red flag rises above newly planted turf. The surrounding blocks are lined with identical galleries of state-approved optimism: flowerbeds, ginkgo trees, propaganda slogans celebrating national rejuvenation.
For years this ritual felt unnecessary. China’s confidence didn’t need staging. The economy was roaring, wages climbing, cities expanding at impossible speed, and ordinary people — myself included — looked at our country with a quiet pride that required no prompting. Patriotism wasn’t manufactured; it was ambient.
That pride is gone.
What remains beneath the orderly streets and manicured public displays is something like exhaustion. Online conversations and private whispers converge on a single mood: anxiety about work, shrinking incomes, and the slow unraveling of personal futures.
It is the paradox defining China in 2025.
A Global Power, a Demoralized Society
Abroad, China appears unshakably strong. In the geopolitical imagination, it is the United States’ singular rival — the only country with the industrial capability and strategic ambition to reshape global power. The recent “trade-war truce” announced by Donald Trump and Xi Jinping reinforced this impression of a resolute superpower standing its ground.
And this is the China the government insists on projecting: resilient, unified, ascendant.
But inside the country, that façade is developing cracks. In everyday conversations, people reach for a phrase used for brittle pottery: 外强中干 — strong on the outside, dried out and fragile on the inside.
The gap between China’s confident global posture and its deeply unsettled population has rarely felt this wide.
The Cost of Great-Power Politics
More and more Chinese citizens feel they are paying the price for Beijing’s fixation on global dominance. They see a government prioritizing industrial supremacy, military readiness, and export hegemony over household well-being.
The last several years of state crackdowns on the private sector — from tech to tutoring to finance — wiped out millions of jobs and common paths to middle-class security. Meanwhile, public resources have been poured into state-favored industries: electric vehicles, shipbuilding, solar manufacturing, and the rare-earth chain.
Rare-earths, one of Beijing’s proudest strategic assets, have turned parts of the country into environmental sacrifice zones. Contaminated soil, toxic runoff, and scarred landscapes are the unseen cost of China’s geopolitical leverage.
A viral comment on Chinese social media summarized the prevailing frustration:
“While the government boasts about winning trade wars, people are struggling to find jobs, buy food, and educate their kids. Victory means the people must suffer.”
Censors deleted it within hours. But the sentiment remains.
An Economy Losing Its Engine
Youth unemployment became so politically embarrassing last year that the government simply changed the formula. The “new” statistic is still painfully high. Nearly 200 million people now rely on unstable gig jobs — food delivery, rideshare, parcel sorting — to get by.
The property crash wiped out household wealth across the country. For millions of families, apartments were not just homes but retirement plans; now they are unsellable assets losing value monthly.
Consumers have reacted the only way they can: by cutting back.
China is sliding into a deflationary trap — prices falling because demand is collapsing, demand collapsing because people fear the future.
Marriage and birth rates, already low, are collapsing further. Few want to start families in a country where economic stability feels unattainable.
The Erosion of the Social Contract
China’s rise rested on a tacit deal:
obey politically, prosper economically.
That contract produced a generation willing to trade civic freedom for opportunity.
Now, many Chinese believe the ruling party is no longer delivering on its side of the bargain.
The frustration is increasingly directed not outward but inward — toward domestic governance choices that appear to privilege “national rejuvenation” over the daily lives of ordinary people.
When Beijing staged a lavish military parade in September to commemorate the 80th anniversary of WWII’s end, the reaction was the opposite of what the government intended. Instead of patriotic pride, many citizens openly questioned the cost:
Why not spend that money on people who are struggling?
Reflexive nationalism — long the CCP’s most reliable political glue — no longer sticks.
A Government Nervous About the Mood
The authorities have responded not with policy adjustments but with censorship.
In the past two months, platforms were ordered to remove “excessively pessimistic” content. Influencers who post about unemployment or depression have been quietly silenced. Even neutral economic commentary is now flagged as sensitive.
But suppressing the symptoms only deepens the sickness: it widens the gulf between official narratives and lived reality.
It also jeopardizes Beijing’s foreign-policy ambitions. A country cannot project confident superpower status abroad when its people feel trapped and unheard at home.
The Vanishing “China Dream”
When Xi Jinping took power in 2012, he promised a “China Dream” of national strength paired with shared prosperity. The slogan — plastered across cities for years — has faded from public messaging.
Its disappearance feels symbolic.
A dream is something people must believe in.
Today, few do.
The leadership may argue that much of the dream has already become reality. But for millions of ordinary Chinese, the dream has been replaced by tightening budgets, narrowing futures, and a sense that the country’s rising power has somehow left them behind.
China remains strong — but its people are tired.
Reader’s Verdict (What Western Readers Are Seeing)
(Summaries of highlighted NYT reader comments)
- Parallels to the U.S. : American readers see echoes of China’s problems in their own country — gig-work precarity, collapsing affordability, and political overreach.
- Some call this predictable : China’s shift from hyper-growth to stagnation is natural for a maturing economy.
- Others warn that Westerners romanticize China : True daily life, especially outside major cities, remains more repressive and fragile than outsiders believe.
- And some worry for the author’s safety : Speaking this candidly about domestic sentiment is risky in today’s China.
