Gates, Barriers, and Walls

~ A Letter from China ~

There’s something deep within the Chinese psyche that loves gates, barriers and walls. I’m not saying this is a bad thing, just that it’s very pronounced. It’s curious and it’s worthy of some contemplation.

Gates and barriers are literally everywhere, and must be passed through whether you’re in a vehicle or on foot. Whenever you encounter a sizeable structure of any kind there will be a lift gate, a turnstile, a rolling barrier, or a tollgate. In short, a staffed and monitored checkpoint of some description to be navigated.

This is not just some nefarious plot by the government to exercise control, although there may be an element of this at times. No, this is what the people here choose and want.

The history of this cultural norm goes back many centuries. Wikipedia tells me that ancient Chinese states started building lengthy territorial walls as early as the 7th century BC. We all know about the Great Wall that was built centuries ago during the Ming dynasty to keep out the Mongol hordes. Not only did it solve their Mongol horde problem, the wall enabled the “imposition of duties on goods transported along the Silk Road”—i.e., tax collection. It also allowed for the regulation of trade and control of the movements of people. Does any of this sound familiar?

Traditional Chinese house design—basically unchanged for centuries—was based around a courtyard. The main gateway entrance, two imposing red doors, opened into a courtyard enclosed by walls. Large houses had courtyards nested within courtyards, all of them surrounded by walls. So the modern Chinese, with their walls and barriers, are simply following with a way of life that’s been established over centuries.

My own apartment complex, twenty tall buildings scattered in smart rows like soldiers on parade, is encircled by an 8-foot high barrier. This low concrete wall topped by stout steel fencing would not exist in Canada. There are guardhouse entrances at each of the compass points with lift gates that are permanently left open. No one’s being barred from entry, but nonetheless the barrier is topped, prison-like, by wires—not barbed—to prevent anyone from climbing over it. So no, don’t try to climb over—just walk through.

In many places, the walls and barriers are indeed there to bar entry. The higher-class residential complex behind the school where I teach has not only the ubiquitous apartment towers but also a clutch of single-family townhouses that are a luxury here in China. At this complex the lift gate is lowered and you have to be known to the guard or explain your business in order to be allowed in.

I’m quite intrigued by the steel accordion-like rolling barriers on wheels that I see at the entrance to many places. I don’t recall ever having seen their like in my own country. I guess we could use them in Canada to control crowd movements at big sporting events and concerts. Roll them out when you need them, then roll them back when you don’t. (But perhaps Canadians don’t need them at all; we’re a docile bunch. A simple strap on a light stanchion is sufficient to herd us in the right direction.)

And we’re talking lots of jobs for people too, of course. At what I assume are government buildings I sometimes see uniformed guardsmen on duty whose mind-numbing job it is to stand rigidly at attention without moving a muscle. I do hope this is a rotating duty for them and they don’t have to do it every day! Each little guardhouse or toll booth has to be manned by its complement of people. Heaven help them when many of their jobs eventually become robotized, because they’ll be thrown out of work.

Down the street from me there’s a high old wall encircling an industrial area that’s now being re-developed. The wall is covered with slogans and rustic scenes from times past that are painted crudely but quite skillfully, and it’s very attractive. I spent a good deal of time taking pictures of these scenes because I thought they were impressive—but then I decided that you really do have to be here in order to appreciate them.

Even the sidewalks have barriers to them, and I can see why they do it. The curbs are set at least twice as high as they are in Toronto, designed no doubt to prevent cars from climbing right up and parking on the sidewalk. (—It doesn’t always work, though. People park wherever they please.) In addition there’s a row of heavy round stone bollards in many places at the transition points from street to walking spaces. These are set close to each other—often just a few inches apart—so that people can walk between them but the scooters are prevented from barging in. (They barge in anyway, of course.)

The bottom line in regard to all of these barriers and walls, whether big or small, is surely to control people and their movements. This kind of control is completely expected by the population here, as far as I can tell; it’s just a part of life. But this brings to mind that there are some angry people on the streets in Hong Kong now—right here in China—who are protesting for a lot less of this kind of control over their lives. They’re scaling the barriers in front of them and they’re climbing over.