The One-Gang Utopia: A Reckoning with China's Progress and Its Hidden Costs

If safety and efficiency are your priorities, only one gang can run the streets. The CCP (Chinese Communist Party) knows this.

The celebrated godfather of the nation, Mao Zedong, promised a socialist utopia but brought China to the brink of disaster. His campaigns, such as the Great Leap Forward (1958–1962) and the Cultural Revolution (1966–1976), caused poverty, famine, political fanaticism, and violence. Yet, he unified China after decades of civil war and ended what many Chinese view as a “century of humiliation” by foreign powers. They still refer to him as a saint—well, without the religious connotation, since communists don’t believe in God, but in “hard work.”

The nation’s current kingpin, Xi Jinping, is a strongman who came to power in 2012 with a mission for national greatness. At first glance, Xi seems to have succeeded. China’s kicking Western ass with technological innovation, electric vehicles, robotics, and arguably, artificial intelligence. The only thing the USA has recently done faster is weaken the liberal order and dismantle democracy.

China: A Seemingly Perfect Picture

Compared to the USA (and most of the West), China seems like a utopia. Unlike many Western cities, where alleyways smell of piss and broken dreams, Chinese alleys and streets smell of flowers, clean air, incense sticks, or sizzling garlic. This wasn’t the case ten years ago, but now most vehicles are electric, public toilets are everywhere, and the only nasty smells come from the barbaric backpacking Westerners who packed three t-shirts and two shorts—me. I thought China would be polluted and hectic. Instead, I walked along quiet, clean streets (thanks to all the electric cars) through immaculately maintained green parks to restaurants with some of the best food I’ve ever eaten.

The Food Utopia: You can easily find noodles, dumplings, or rice dishes for around 10–20 RMB (1.50–3.00 USD). Government-subsidized canteens (e.g., in factories or universities) offer meals for 5–15 RMB ($0.70–2.00). And if you want to eat like an emperor, requiring fresh ingredients and classy service, you might spend 20 USD per person, especially if you bring your own alcohol, which they usually let you do. Endless amounts of affordable, delicious food might be all that’s needed for a utopia to my primitive man-brain, but I understand some of you might have other paltry requirements, such as healthcare.

Healthcare for the Masses: China has established the world's largest basic medical insurance system, covering over 1.3 billion people (more than 95% of the population). Basic check-ups can cost as little as 50–200 RMB ($7–30 USD), and common surgeries may cost 3,000–10,000 RMB ($420–1,400 USD). And in the same way that you pay for a meal and shop, China uses its mega apps like WeChat and Alibaba to enable quick online consultations. The people I met book check-ups for the next day within minutes and never wait more than two weeks for surgery. All this would make you think that taxes in China would be as high as those in European social democracies. That’s not the case.

Surprisingly Low Taxes: Let’s ignore the government researchers who estimated that tax fraud cost the state ¥1 trillion (about $157 billion at the time) in 2011, and found that the largest culprits were state-owned enterprises—we can focus on utopia for a bit longer.Most middle-class workers earning 5,000–30,000 RMB/month (USD 700-4,100) pay 3–20% income tax. On top of that, child education, elderly care, mortgages, and rent are tax-deductible, so most of the people I spoke to pay close to nothing. On top of that, businesses get a bunch of tax exemptions, and the general Value-Added Tax (VAT) is 13% (reduced from 17% in recent years). There’s no nationwide property tax (only pilot reforms in select cities), no inheritance tax, and only 1–3% for home purchases. And, as always, everything is efficient because of the mega apps—there’s fully digital tax filing through WeChat and Alipay.

The "Feels" and the Fissures

But a utopia isn’t just a numbers game for our non-rational species. What about the feels?

Safety and Surveillance: China feels as safe as a gated-community daycare. The robocops are almost as cute as their real cops. Who needs a scary, racism-fueled police force when you have cameras pointing in all directions on every corner?

Whereas in the West, we’ve willingly signed away our privacy via our phones, we can still escape Big Brother by leaving our phones behind, paying for burgers in cash, hiking to the middle of nowhere to drop acid and shoot guns into the night sky with stars dancing on swimmable lakes, and organizing raves where we run around half-naked sharing our love and bodily fluids with strangers. This is not safe. In China, danger isn’t sexy.

Love and Practicality: A woman doesn’t need a man who rides his motorcycle while playing his guitar with his calloused hands. A woman needs a man who’s over 170 CM, makes over 15,000 RMB (2,000 USD/month), has a university degree, and is well-groomed. When it comes to marriage, men require a woman between 22 and 28. After 30, they may be labelled "leftover women" (剩女, shengnü). However, fewer young people in China are getting married. Love can be dangerous, or even worse, a distraction from your bottom line. Thanks to romance apps, sex has become transactional. Whereas older generations still hold rather conservative views on sex, the porn-brained, money-focused generation of the present is down to hop in a Didi (China’s Uber) for a quickie before using an app to order their next meal or groceries. Whereas I’m not sure if men always come wrapped up, meals sure do.

The Plastic Paradox: Cooking and grocery shopping in markets are becoming rarer among China's middle and upper-middle classes. People don’t have time. Instead, everything is ordered online and arrives in plastic. Although China has cleaned up its skies due to its affordable electric vehicles and incredible infrastructure that puts Western countries to shame, plastic is everywhere. Even at restaurants, reusable utensils will often come wrapped up.

You’d think Chinese people would be wary of using so much plastic, as it’s detrimental to our oceans and sea life. Fish and seafood are an integral part of their culture. Nowhere have I ever eaten such a rich variety of delicious fresh seafood. Yet, it comes at a high price—morally, not financially.

The Shadow Economy and Moral Costs

The United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime found that organized crime groups, including those from China, are deeply involved in illegal fishing operations targeting high-value species such as abalone and sea cucumber. These species are highly sought after in Chinese markets due to their perceived delicacy and medicinal properties. I had to ignore the Australian friend I made in Malaysia while enjoying abalone in China, but when I returned to Spain, his words, “My fishermen mates get threatened with guns these days,” kept creeping into my mind. Reports from Queensland detail how some illegal fishing activities (believed to be backed by Chinese gangs) have led to tense confrontations with local fishermen. Although this was in 2014, it hasn’t slowed down. In early 2025, Australian authorities reported an unprecedented increase in foreign fishing boats, especially near remote areas like the Kimberley coast.

I’m not saying the CCP has any stakes in this illegal activity, but like all powerful political parties/gangs, they’re tough on crime when you go against their policies, but have their own form of omertà (code of silence) when it benefits them.

Fentanyl and Money Laundering: Take fentanyl. Well, not literally. Anyway, China is the primary source of precursor chemicals used to manufacture this synthetic opioid, which continues to ravage communities, particularly in the U.S. and Hastings Street, Vancouver, where I once ended up painted as a radioactive fish at 4:00 AM. According to a report by the U.S. House Select Committee on the Chinese Communist Party, China provides subsidies in the form of value-added tax rebates to companies manufacturing fentanyl analogues and precursors, provided these substances are sold outside of China. These same companies reportedly received bonuses and awards from local officials for good "export performance." I’m not sure if performance is measured in overdoses, but the China’s gansta shit doesn’t stop at pharmaceuticals.

The global reach of Chinese Money Laundering Organizations (CMLOS) is expanding rapidly, especially in Latin America. These networks collaborate with Mexican drug cartels, using underground banking systems and cryptocurrency to bypass China’s rigid capital controls. These underground systems aren’t just for criminals. They also cater to wealthy Chinese nationals trying to dodge Beijing’s $50,000 overseas transfer limit, creating a black-market ecosystem where fentanyl money, cartel proceeds, and elite capital all come together in encrypted harmony.

Wildlife and Counterfeit Goods: The contradictions get even more surreal when you look at wildlife trafficking. While China builds eco-cities and flexes its renewable infrastructure, its demand for traditional medicine and luxury animal products fuels a $7 billion industry rooted in environmental collapse. Rhino horn, pangolin scales, and tiger bone wine are not just relics of outdated superstition, but a convenient front for laundering dirty money. Conservationists lose, criminals win, and somewhere, someone gets a government bonus.

And of course, we can’t forget counterfeit goods. According to Global Financial Integrity, from fake Nike shoes to knock-off cancer medication, China is responsible for a staggering 86% of global counterfeit production. This isn’t just about Gucci bags or Rolex knockoffs. It’s about intellectual property theft, international public health risks, and transnational criminal networks distributing everything from phony electronics to substandard pharmaceuticals. I guess 700 million surveillance cameras in China turn a blind lense when financial success props up local economies.

The Human Element: Beneath the Surface

As I was saying, China is a utopia. Make sure to visit. Really, most Chinese want you to come. They want to do business and show you their country's greatness. As a European and Canadian, it’s clear which of the two world superpowers (China and the USA) I trust more regarding commerce and forming loyal relationships. Mao may have considered tourism anti-socialist, but in China’s new communist model, the only anti-communist thing is anti-money.

Didn’t Marx preach anti-materialism and equality? Seems strange when China’s official Gini coefficient (a measure of inequality) is 0.474 (some estimates suggest .61). Either way, they’re in the same playing field as Suriname and Honduras. However, in China’s Utopia, you don’t see poverty or homelessness, especially as a tourist in the cities, because local authorities send the homeless to their hukou (registered hometown) areas. But let’s drop the cynicism. Another reason you don’t see homelessness is that local governments offer basic housing and food stipends. Most importantly, it’s culturally stigmatized to let family members “fall through the cracks,” especially among older generations. Families often support unemployed or struggling members, meaning people rarely end up on the street. And that’s what made my travel experience in China feel utopian—the people’s love and support.

Authenticity vs. Propaganda: Nowhere else in the world have I encountered such consistent humility, hospitality, and honesty. After a few simple questions, the immigration officer welcomed me into her country. From then on, I was picked up and dropped off at airports by families ready to show me everything they knew about their country, whether it was the BBQ restaurants where people drank and laughed late into the night or temples with 5000 years of history.

Yet, as I listened to what they said about China and its history, I felt something was missing. Their pride and knowledge seemed severed from deeper truths. The information and stories they shared often left out the traces of the pain and contradiction that China’s history is rich with. Nuanced history has been replaced with propaganda, thanks to the father of the nation.

Chairman Mao believed in “permanent revolution.” In 1966, he exhorted young Red Guards to “Smash the Four Olds” (old customs, old culture, old habits, and old ideas). Zealots denounced Confucius for fostering “bad elements, rightists, monsters, and freaks.” Mao’s lieutenants even let their men dig up his grave.

The real Confucius, the one who actually lived, was neither a sage nor a king … He had no power or status—only morality and learning—and dared to criticize the power elite of his day. He traveled around lobbying for his policies, racking his brains to help the rulers of his day with their problems, always trying to convince them to give up evil ways and be more righteous … He was tormented, obsessed, and driven to roam, pleading for his ideas, more like a homeless dog than a sage. — Li Ling, a Peking University professor.

The Didi Driver's Reality: Now, Confucius’s tormented spirit lives on in Didi drivers. These are the people I met in China who showed me traces of human pain. Although they have little power and status, they make it possible to get whatever food you want and go anywhere within minutes of touching a button on a mega app. They don’t roam freely, but work day and night—some are driven to suicide.

They are not what parents want for their children. Children attend school from 7:30 to 17:30 (sometimes 21:00 when night classes are needed), and between school hours, they get tutored and attend extracurriculars. If there’s a holiday during the week, they make up for it by going to school on the weekend. These children do not complain. Instead, they are happy and grateful for the opportunities to become engineers, doctors, professors, and to join the white-collar workforce. Few talk of becoming artists, actors, writers, or any other careers associated with dissidents. Of course, artists still exist, but the subversive ones society needs are rare. Mostly among the elite classes (those who didn’t need to study to become wealthy), you find people working in film and commercials. Even with the new middle class, some parents support their children’s artistic endeavours, but usually as hobbies for which children have less and less time. It was with Didi drivers that I found my favourite Chinese songs. Songs like 月亮照山川 (The Moon Shines on the Mountains and Rivers) by Wo Wo, 归途有风 (The Road Home Has Wind) by 海来阿木 (Hai Lai Amu), and 我要的不是雪 (What I Want Isn't Snow) by 李发发 (Li Fafa). Songs about love, sorrow, and hope. Some parts of the human experience are true across cultures and societies, but our values can be affected (and manipulated) by where we were raised.

The Western Contrast: In this consumerist-driven socialist utopia, hard work is valued above all else, but respect for elders, discipline, and filial piety remain cultural pillars. Children compete relentlessly and rarely rebel. They don’t speak of anxiety, depression, or needing to “find themselves.” Instead, they push forward. Even as their parents chase brand names and property portfolios, there’s still a quiet pride in self-sacrifice and collective progress.

Meanwhile, in the West, we’ve traded duty for dopamine. Many young people chase vague notions of "authenticity" while feeling more isolated than ever, scrolling through curated lives and medicating their way through existential fatigue. For all our talk of liberation, we’ve forgotten how to anchor ourselves to anything beyond the next novelty hit. Our healthcare systems involve more waiting, our food is too expensive, our cars still run on gas, it’s dangerous for women to go out at night alone, our shit will get jacked if we don’t keep an eye on it, and even with all this, I’d never trade our chaotic freedom for a “safe” surveillance state.

The Cost of Truth, The Price of Freedom

And that’s why I’d like to end this article with a lean, boney, chain-smoking hero.

Liu Xiaobo, a literary critic turned dissident, was arrested for co-authoring Charter 08, a manifesto calling for democratic reforms.

Freedom of expression is the foundation of human rights, the source of humanity, and the mother of truth. — Liu Xiaobo

In 2010, while serving an 11-year sentence for “inciting subversion,” he was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. The Chinese government blacked out the news, scrubbed his name from the internet, and made sure no one could attend the ceremony. Yet, he still managed to say:

I have no enemies and no hatred. None of the police who monitored, arrested, and interrogated me, none of the prosecutors who indicted me, and none of the judges who judged me are my enemies. — Liu Xiaobo

In 2017, he died of liver cancer while in custody under tight surveillance. His crime? Words. That’s why I do not fear piss-scented streets where political gangs clash. Show me the beautiful and ugly parts of humanity. Show me the marginalized, the criminals, the artists, and all who inspire. I fear a society where one gang controls all. I fear a society that pushes perfection and a clean image over messy truths.

Beware of those who think they can create a utopia. That’s the hubris of a godfather.

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