The me, me, me world of China's Little Emperors

When Feng Jianmei refused to pay the fine, officials beat her and dragged her into a car. Her crime was that she was seven months pregnant with her second child in China – a nation where, for most families, multiple children are forbidden. The officials were family planning officers and when Feng said she was unable to pay the 40,000 RMB (about Dh23,000) penalty, she was taken to a clinic and her pregnancy was forcibly terminated.

Her case sparked global debate about what is arguably the largest and most controversial social engineering project ever undertaken: the one-child policy introduced in China in 1978. Feng’s story may never have come to light had her husband not posted a harrowing photograph on the internet of his 23-year-old wife lying on a hospital bed next to the body of her baby after the punishment.

In response to the outcry, the state’s family planning commission issued a warning to over-zealous officials, two of whom were then sacked.

“Even the slightest misstep in this work can lead to negative effects, damaging the image of the (Communist) Party and the nation. We must prevent the cruel enforcement of laws,” the commission stated.

Two sides of the coin

Feng’s treatment in June has reignited debate in China about whether it is time for the government to abandon the law, which was introduced to stave off an overpopulation disaster at a time when China was home to a quarter of the world’s population, but had just 7 per cent of the world’s arable land. He Yafu, a Chinese demographic expert, believes policy-makers may now be at a turning point.

“This news has enraged the general public and is a big blow to China’s family planning policy,” he said. “Previously, many people accepted that family planning benefits the nation, but now many aren’t so sure. It’s unusual that media has been able to report it this year. I think it’s a sign that the central government is changing its attitudes.”

The one-child law applies to urban couples but exempts rural families – which is why Feng believed she could have a second child as she lives in the country – and also parents who don’t have any siblings. In terms of population control it has done its job – the current population of 1.4 billion is a far cry from the two billion predicted before the rule was implemented. Official figures state that 35.9 per cent of China’s population is subject to the restriction and since its inception it is estimated that the policy has prevented about 400 million births.

A cultural bias towards male children means it has also been implicated in an increase in female infanticide, forced abortion and under-reporting of births. The gender imbalance means that 117 boys are born for every 100 girls.

It has also warped the social structure within China, creating a generation of only-children dubbed Little Emperors – derided by older generations, spoilt and doted on by their parents and grandparents. There are even stories of mothers attending school with their precious little ones, sitting in class with them to make sure no harm besets them.

As author Paul French explained: “It’s what we call the six-pocket syndrome. One child has mum, dad and two sets of grandparents and all of that money is being lavished on one little emperor to whom nobody can say ‘no’.”

Computer scientist Philip Jia Guo was born in 1983 in Zhongshan. In his memoir, On the Move: An Immigrant Child’s Global Journey, he describes what it was like being one of his homeland’s Little Emperors.

“I had everything that I wanted. Due to the bias of traditional Chinese culture towards male children, my extended family treated me like a pampered Little Emperor since I was not only the first-born son of my generation, but I was also the only son of my generation throughout my early childhood. They all spoiled me with special attention and preferential treatment, and my parents were not around to teach me about restraint. I enjoyed the privilege of always having plenty of toys, fancy clothes, good food to eat, people to drive me to amusement parks, and relatives always catering to my endless demands. Due to the one-child policy, few people of my generation in China had brothers or sisters.”

Some argue that the policy has led to the creation of an entire ‘me’ generation, where all family resources, both financial and emotional, have been concentrated on one child, turning that small human into a tyrant. As one blogger describes it: “Parents on a leash. Child in control.”

Paying the price

However, all that attention comes at a cost. A recent survey found that 58 per cent of one-child respondents admitted that having no siblings left them lonely and selfish. China’s only children also have to shoulder the burden of over-bearing parental expectations.

As Liu Yi, author of I Am Not Happy: The Declaration of an ‘80s Generation Only-Child explained: “We are the unfortunate ones because we are only children. Fate destined us with less happiness than other children from other generations. We are also the lucky ones – with attention from so many adults, we skip over childish ignorance and grow up fast.”

Now the first generation of children born under the draconian policy are reaching adulthood and looking for jobs and a future in a China unrecognisable from the nation they were born into. Increasingly it is becoming apparent that many Little Emperors are not well-equipped to cope with the demands of a hyper-competitive modern-day economy.

While China’s economy has been accelerated by market reforms meaning increased university enrolment, a move to urban living, fewer jobs, growth in the under-30 demographic and increased competition, Little Emperors are learning they can’t always get what they want.

Research in other countries has identified that parental hyper-anxiety, which curtails a child’s freedom, can slow growth in the part of the brain linked to mental illness including schizophrenia. China is now in the grip of a serious mental-health crisis with increasing rates of depression, anxiety and suicide.

The struggle to secure the best jobs and to attain the standard of living they have been led to believe they deserve means many young Chinese feel more pressure and are experiencing a competitive environment that feels totally alien to them given their cosseted upbringing.

At present, 45 per cent of the population in China is under 29, according to the National Bureau of Statistics. That figure is projected to rise 61 per cent by 2015 to 500 million people; more than the population of the European Union. In the face these frustrated expectations, discontent is growing. The young are voicing concern about soaring house prices and recent years have seen waves of strikes at car plants and other factories – events that would have been unheard of 20 years ago when many workers in city factories were migrants from the countryside working to send money home.

Industrial workers in China’s huge manufacturing industry today are more likely to view their factory jobs as the first rung on the career ladder. Internet access has made them more worldly and since labour laws were passed in 2008 they have a stronger sense of their rights.

As economist Andy Xie wrote: “Today’s young adults and their parents may as well be from different centuries. They want to settle down in big cities and have interesting, well-paying jobs – just like their counterparts in other countries.”

The same generational forces have been behind the discontent over the cost of housing, which has forced Beijing to deflate the market and risk an economic slowdown. For the tens of millions of young graduates, buying a flat is a central part of their plan to live a modern, middle-class life.

Most people in China agree that the population control experiment worked. If, throughout the Eighties, the populace rose to the levels expected before the policy was introduced, China’s GDP would have reduced considerably. The nation projected by the World Bank to have the third fastest growing economy over the next two years would not be the global player it is today. That success has come at a cost and people like Feng Jianmei have paid a heavy price.