Alan Li no longer sees any future for his family in China after harsh COVID rules decimated his business, upended his son’s education and left his country out of step with the rest of the world.
He has given up hope of a return to normal after months of lockdowns in Shanghai, and now plans to close his firm and move to Hungary, where he sees better opportunities and his 13-year-old son can attend an international school.
“Our losses this year mean that it’s over for us,” he said wearily, asking to withhold his real name.
Photo: AFP
“We have been using our own cash savings to pay 400 workers (during the lockdown). What if it happens again this winter?”
Shanghai’s long shutdown, which brought food shortages and protests, has driven some to reconsider staying in a country where livelihoods and lifestyles can vanish at the whim of the state.
Schools have been closed and exams called off, including assessments for applying to American universities.
Photo: AFP
Li is frustrated that his son’s expensive bilingual schooling has been mostly online for two years, and he is anxious about the way Beijing has tightened oversight of the curriculum.
“This is a waste of our children’s youth,” Li said.
Being fairly well off, he has been able to take advantage of a European investment scheme that grants him and his family residency in Budapest.
“Many people know that if they sold all their assets they could ‘lie flat’ in a European country,” he said, using a slang phrase meaning to take it easy.
Beijing-based immigration consultant Guo Shize said his company has seen an explosion of inquiries since March, including a threefold increase in Shanghai clients.
Even after the lockdown eased, requests continued flooding in at more than double the usual level.
“Once that spark has been lit in people’s minds, it doesn’t die down quickly,” he said.
EXIT BAN
Censors have sought to suppress discussion of emigration, prompting nimble internet users to adopt the term “run” instead.
Searches for the term on messaging app WeChat peaked during Shanghai’s shutdown.
But as more people consider ways to leave, Beijing has doubled down on strict exit policies for Chinese citizens.
All “unnecessary” travel out of the country has been banned. Passport renewals have been all but halted, with authorities blaming the risk of COVID being carried into the country.
In the first half of last year, immigration authorities issued only two percent of the passports given out in the same period in 2019.
One woman who emigrated to Germany said she receives dozens of messages from Chinese people looking for tips on escaping.
Emily, who did not want to use her real name, tried to help a relative obtain a new passport to take up a job in Europe, but the application was denied.
“It’s like being a child who wants to go to their friend’s house to play but their parents won’t let them leave,” she said, adding that she has heard of passports being sold for up to 30,000 yuan (US$4,500) on the black market.
‘ABSOLUTELY INSANE’
A Chinese freelancer said he was turned back by immigration officers while attempting to fly to Turkey for work last October, despite having already checked in.
“My itinerary sounded too suspicious to them. They took my passport into an office and 15 minutes later told me I do not meet the requirements” for leaving, he said on condition of anonymity. “It was absolutely insane.”
He managed to leave weeks later by entering semi-autonomous Macau on a different travel document, before catching an onward flight.
Some are disillusioned with Beijing’s growing controls, which have been ramped up during the pandemic.
“I just want to live in a country where the government won’t crudely interfere in my personal life,” said Lucy, a 20-year-old student at an elite Beijing university involved in LGBTQ and Marxist activism.
The virus policies had “allowed the government to control and monitor everything”, she said.
“Perhaps rather than accepting and adapting to this system, we must go elsewhere and create a new life.”
The canonical shot of an East Asian city is a night skyline studded with towering apartment and office buildings, bright with neon and plastic signage, a landscape of energy and modernity. Another classic image is the same city seen from above, in which identical apartment towers march across the city, spilling out over nearby geography, like stylized soldiers colonizing new territory in a board game. Densely populated dynamic conurbations of money, technological innovation and convenience, it is hard to see the cities of East Asia as what they truly are: necropolises. Why is this? The East Asian development model, with
June 16 to June 22 The following flyer appeared on the streets of Hsinchu on June 12, 1895: “Taipei has already fallen to the Japanese barbarians, who have brought great misery to our land and people. We heard that the Japanese occupiers will tax our gardens, our houses, our bodies, and even our chickens, dogs, cows and pigs. They wear their hair wild, carve their teeth, tattoo their foreheads, wear strange clothes and speak a strange language. How can we be ruled by such people?” Posted by civilian militia leader Wu Tang-hsing (吳湯興), it was a call to arms to retake
This is a deeply unsettling period in Taiwan. Uncertainties are everywhere while everyone waits for a small army of other shoes to drop on nearly every front. During challenging times, interesting political changes can happen, yet all three major political parties are beset with scandals, strife and self-inflicted wounds. As the ruling party, the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) is held accountable for not only the challenges to the party, but also the nation. Taiwan is geopolitically and economically under threat. Domestically, the administration is under siege by the opposition-controlled legislature and growing discontent with what opponents characterize as arrogant, autocratic
When Lisa, 20, laces into her ultra-high heels for her shift at a strip club in Ukraine’s Kharkiv, she knows that aside from dancing, she will have to comfort traumatized soldiers. Since Russia’s 2022 invasion, exhausted troops are the main clientele of the Flash Dancers club in the center of the northeastern city, just 20 kilometers from Russian forces. For some customers, it provides an “escape” from the war, said Valerya Zavatska — a 25-year-old law graduate who runs the club with her mother, an ex-dancer. But many are not there just for the show. They “want to talk about what hurts,” she