China's Final Solution to the Black Question

China has an irrational fear of "black devils" bringing drugs, crime, and interracial marriage

By Joanna Chiu

Feeling it in Guangzhou. 

Beijing -- Earlier this month in Beijing, amid the pomp of China’s annual rubber-stamp parliament meetings, a politician proudly shared with reporters his proposal on how to “solve the problem of the black population in Guangdong.” 

The latter province is widely known in China to have many African migrants.
“Africans bring many security risks,” Pan Qinglin told local media (link in Chinese). 

As a member of the Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference, the nation’s top political advisory body, he urged the government to “strictly control the African people living in Guangdong and other places.”
Pan, who lives in Tianjin near Beijing—and nowhere near Guangdong—held his proposal aloft for reporters to see. 

It read in part (links in Chinese):
“Blacks often travel in droves; they are out at night out on the streets, nightclubs, and remote areas. They engage in drug trafficking, harassment of women, and fighting, which seriously disturbs law and order in Guangzhou… 

Africans have a high rate of AIDS and the Ebola virus that can be transmitted via body fluids… 

If their population [keeps growing], China will change from a nation-state to an immigration country, from a yellow country to a black-and-yellow country.”
On social media, the Chinese response has been overwhelmingly supportive, with many commenters echoing Pan’s fears. 

In a forum dedicated to discussions about black people in Guangdong on Baidu Tieba—an online community focused on internet search results—many participants agreed that China was facing a “black invasion.” 

Han racial purity

One commenter called on Chinese people (link in Chinese) not to let “thousands of years of Chinese blood become polluted.”
The stream of racist vitriol online makes the infamous Chinese TV ad for Qiaobi laundry detergent, which went viral last year, seem mild in comparison. 

The ad featured a Asian woman stuffing a black man into a washing machine to turn him into a pale-skinned Asian man.

While a growing number of Africans work and study in China—the African continent’s largest trading partner—the notion that black people are “taking over” the world’s most populous nation is nonsense. 

Estimates for the number of sub-Saharan Africans in Guangzhou (nicknamed “Chocolate City” in Chinese) range from 150,000 long-term residents, according to 2014 government statistics, to as high as 300,000—figures complicated by the number of Africans coming in and out of the country as well as those who overstay their visas.
Many of them partner with Chinese firms to run factories, warehouses, and export operations. 

Others are leaving China and telling their compatriots not to go due to financial challenges and racism.
“Guangdong has come to be imagined to embody this racial crisis of some kind of ‘black invasion,'” said Kevin Carrico, a lecturer at Macquarie University in Australia who studies race and nationalism in China. 

“But this is not about actually existing realities.” 

He continued: “It isn’t so much that they dislike black residents as they dislike what they imagine about black residents. The types of discourses you see on social media sites are quite repetitive—black men raping Chinese women, black men having consensual sex with Chinese women and then leaving them, blacks as drug users and thieves destroying Chinese neighborhoods. People are living in a society that is changing rapidly. ‘The blacks’ has become a projection point for all these anxieties in society.”
The past year or so has seen heated debate among black people living in China about what locals think of them. 

In interviews with Quartz, black residents referred to online comments and racist ads as more extreme examples, but said they are symptomatic of broader underlying attitudes.

Madeleine Thiam and Christelle Mbaya, Senegalese journalists at a Chinese international radio broadcaster in Beijing, said they are saddened when they are discriminated against in China.
“Sometimes people pinch their noses as I walk by, as if they think I smell. On the subway, people often leave empty seats next to me or change seats when I sit down,” said Thiam. 

“Women have come up to rub my skin, asking if it is ‘dirt’ and if I’ve had a shower.”

Racism or ignorance?
Such experiences speak to the duality of life for black people in China. 

They may be athletes, entrepreneurs, traders, designers, or graduate students. 

Some are married to locals and speak fluent Chinese. 

Yet despite positive experiences and economic opportunities, many are questioning why they live in a place where they often feel unwelcome.
They grapple with the question: Is it racism or ignorance? 

And how do you distinguish the two?
Paolo Cesar, an African-Brazilian who has worked as a musician in Shanghai for 18 years and has a Chinese wife, said music has been a great way for him to connect with audiences and make local friends. 

However, his mixed-race son often comes home unhappy because of bullying at school. 

Despite speaking fluent Mandarin, his classmates do not accept him as Chinese. 

They like to shout out, “He’s so dark!”
The global success of black public figures, such as politicians, actors, and athletes, appears to have a limited effect on Chinese attitudes.

Looking deeper into history, evidence suggests a preference for slaves from East Africa in ancient China. 

African slavery in the country peaked during the Tang (618 to 907) and Song (960 to 1279) dynasties.
More recently, violence broke out after the Chinese government started providing scholarships allowing African students to study in the country in the 1960s. 

Many Chinese students resented the stipends Africans received, with tensions culminating in riots in Nanjing in the late 1980s. 

The riots began with angry Chinese students surrounding African students’ dormitories in Hehai University and pelting them with rocks and bottles for seven hours, with crowds later marching through the streets shouting anti-African slogans.
In the past few years, loathing among some Chinese toward foreign men who date local women has led to a recent rise in violent attacks against foreigners.

Staying optimistic
Yet most respondents Quartz interviewed remain optimistic. 

Vladimir Emilien, a 26-year-old African-American actor and former varsity athlete, said that for him, learning Chinese was crucial to better interactions with locals. 

Emilien volunteered last year as a coach teaching Beijing youth the finer points of American football. He said that once he was able to have more complex conversations in Chinese, he was struck by the thoughtful questions locals would ask.

“They’d say, What do you think about Chinese perception of black people? How does that make you feel?’ So they are aware that there is a lot of negativity around blacks and against Africa as a very poor place.”
Emilien hopes that more interactions between Chinese and black individuals will smooth out misunderstandings. 

But others say that improving relations requires more than black people learning the language, since that shifts responsibility away from the Chinese.
“The government has never done anything serious to clean up racist ideas created and populated by the [turn-of-the-20th-century] intellectuals and politicians that constructed a global racial hierarchy in which the whites were on the top, Chinese the second, and blacks the bottom,” said Cheng Yinghong, a history professor at Delaware State University who researches nationalism and discourse of race in China.
Instead of addressing discrimination, the Chinese government has focused on promoting cultural exchanges while pursuing economic partnerships with African countries. 

However, many have pointed out that relationships appear unbalanced, with China taking Africa’s limited natural resources in exchange for infrastructure investment.
“Racism is racism, period, and although some people would say that in different places it is more explicit, nuanced, or implicit, as long as there are victims we have to call it racism and deal with it,” said Adams Bodomo, a professor of African studies focused on cross-cultural communication at the University of Vienna. 

“China can’t be the second-largest economy in the world and not expect to deal with these issues.”

Big in China: Murder Villages and Scam Towns

In some rural areas, crime has become a cottage industry.
By Robert Foyle Hunwick

Many Chinese towns have grown fat off of single industries. 

Much of the world’s hosiery, for example, comes from the village of Datang, also known as “Sock City.” 

Songxia is dedicated to umbrellas. 

Jinjiang is all about zippers.
And Shisun, for a time, made a killing off of killing. 

Last year, Chinese prosecutors indicted 40 of the village’s residents for arranging 17 murders. 

At least 35 more deaths are under investigation; dozens more victims may never be known. 

News of Shisun’s killing ring provoked dismay in Hunan province, but not shock; similar gangs have been caught in Hebei, Henan, and Sichuan provinces. 

Indeed, the type of murder conspiracy seen in Shisun is so common that it has its own nickname: Mangjingshi Fanzui, after the film Mang Jing (“Blind Shaft”), which details a similar scheme. 

Like the movie’s characters, Shisun’s plotters killed migrant miners—staging each man’s death as a mining accident—then posed as grieving family members. 

Corrupt mine bosses in turn paid these impostor “families” hush money, rather than risk any investigation into working conditions. 

The scam was grisly but profitable—each death could net as much as $120,000, an unimaginable sum in a country where the average rural family’s annual income is $1,800. 

The new concrete houses that line the mud-brick village’s main street are a testament to the windfall.
Remote and difficult to access, many villages in China’s interior have developed a criminal cottage industry, involving anything from drugs to internet fraud to counterfeiting. (In fact, shanzhai, the slang for counterfeit, literally means “mountain village.”) 

In coastal Boshe, a village of 14,000 people, 20 percent of the population—including pensioners, police officers, and politicians—helped produce a third of China’s methamphetamine. 

Shutting down Boshe’s meth labs three years ago required 3,000 tactical officers backed by helicopters.

Many observers blame crime villages on the widening gap between China’s urbanized population and its left-behind agrarian one. 

Minimal policing, neglected infrastructure, and grinding poverty have isolated whole communities not just from society, but from traditional morality. 

Crime offers villagers a way to make a living, but beyond that, it provides essential revenue for cash-strapped local officials. 

In a report on “gangsterized” villages in Hunan province, Yu Jianrong, a scholar at the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences, writes that thugs are used to keep public order and collect taxes. 

In peasant communities, notes Feng Qingyang, a prominent blogger and social critic, clan loyalty to feudal chiefs supersedes deference to government authority. 

“People, rather than laws or government, rule,” he wrote on his blog. 

And when most of a village is implicated to some degree in a crime, notes Zheng Guihong, a Beijing-based political commentator, the prevailing view is that “the law cannot punish the majority.”
Authorities claim that poverty-relief efforts will consign crime villages to the past—provided local officials don’t embezzle the funds, of course. 

In the meantime, catching perpetrators is a game of Whac-a-Mole, with the criminals forever ahead of the cops. 

Rewards for crime are high, penalties are low, and living conditions are often dire. 

Tales of peasants who have prospered in the city inspire many to dream of overnight riches, according to Feng. 

But few can make a fortune without crime. 

The lucky strike gold alone; for others, it takes a village.