What I Remembered Immediately After Saying, "It's Not as If We're Chinese"

The other day, my wife and I were watching television and talking about manners in public.

She said, “Let’s make sure we never do anything like that outside,” and I replied jokingly.

“Come on, it’s not as if we’re Chinese. Of course we wouldn’t do that.”

The moment I said it, I froze.

The people living in the apartment above us were Chinese.

The Chinese Neighbors Who Brought Cookies

On the day they moved in, our upstairs neighbors came to introduce themselves.

“We look forward to being your neighbors.”

They even brought us cookies.

They were extremely polite and pleasant people.

And yet, at the time, I caught myself thinking, “They are remarkably polite for Chinese people.”

Wait a minute.

Wasn’t the phrase “for Chinese people” already insulting?

I had believed that I did not judge people solely by nationality. Apparently, however, the image of Chinese people as badly behaved was firmly lodged in my mind.

News reports and social media frequently highlight disruptive behavior and trouble involving Chinese tourists.

After seeing such stories repeatedly, I had unconsciously constructed a fixed idea of what Chinese people were like.

But the Chinese people standing in front of me had gone out of their way to bring cookies and introduce themselves.

The Chinese people in my head did not match the Chinese people in reality.

Apparently, my mind had divided Chinese people into two categories: “Chinese people I know” and “Chinese people I do not know.”

Laozi’s Ideal of a Small State with Few People

This experience reminded me of an idea I once studied from the ancient Chinese philosopher Laozi: “a small state with few people.”

It appears in the ancient Chinese text known as the Tao Te Ching. It describes an ideal in which the state is small, the population is limited, and people are content with the lives immediately around them.

Neighboring countries are close enough for people to hear one another’s chickens and dogs, yet no one visits the other during an entire lifetime.

It is the complete opposite of modern international exchange.

I think there is some truth in this idea.

Whenever people with different cultures and values interact, friction is inevitable.

Perhaps peace is easier when people maintain some distance instead of forcing themselves into a single community.

For an island country such as Japan, the sea forms a natural boundary. On a continent, there is no such separation. Countries share land borders, people cross them, and conflicts occur.

Laozi’s ideal of small communities also seems to express a desire to escape that reality.

But We Cannot Choose Our Neighbors

Of course, it is difficult to practice Laozi’s ideal in modern Japan.

Foreign residents already live in the same neighborhoods, including the apartment directly above mine.

And once I actually meet them, the stereotypes based on nationality that I have seen online are not very useful.

I am critical of some policies of the Chinese state. But that has nothing to do with whether my upstairs neighbors are polite.

We should not judge people by nationality.

I thought I had understood that for years.

Then one casual conversation with my wife exposed exactly what I really thought.

And the neighbor who came to mind was Chinese, while the philosopher I turned to next was also Chinese: Laozi.

To examine my prejudice against Chinese people, I ended up borrowing wisdom from a Chinese thinker.

I must admit, my mind can be remarkably convenient when it wants to be.