The Duality of Knowledge

Since the beginning of our existence, one of the key attributes separating humans from other organisms is our intelligence. With our enhanced capacity for thought, we explored the mysterious world around us, asking questions and solving them along the way, accumulating knowledge through the generations. That knowledge then led to the development of the global society we know today.

Yet, while human intelligence appears to be a blessing, enabling us to thrive in an otherwise hostile world, it also has its share of downsides. As thinking becomes more nuanced through exposure to greater knowledge, choices become harder to make. Many conflicts seem morally gray instead of a clear black or white, an obvious right or wrong. Villains start having backstories. Heroes begin to have flaws. Simply put, living with more knowledge exposes one to a harsher reality when blissful ignorance might have sufficed. Growing up and learning more about the world inevitably brings the challenge of deciding how to deal with that harsher reality.

However, some individuals at least have the luxury of choosing how to deal with this challenge. Many authoritarian governments around the world deny their citizens this choice. In an attempt to justify their ideology or reconcile their history, these regimes indoctrinate their inhabitants, using scapegoats to simplify morality back into black and white terms. How straightforward would life be if capitalism was the sole cause of all evil, no strings attached? But in their attempt to control knowledge they also partially strip humans away from what made us so unique in the first place: the freedom of knowledge and information. 

Fortunately, such plans don’t always work out. Through the vices of control, knowledge finds a way to seep through for those who, despite the ugly truths it reveals, still seek it. This article examines how Su Haidong fought for truth during his time in China, and how his discoveries ultimately led to a better, yet more conflicting life.

Su Haidong was born in Wenzhou in 1980, a city located in Zhejiang province on the eastern coast of China. At six, his parents divorced, so he returned to Jiangsu with his mom, where he lived for the next eight years. There, he lived with his maternal grandma who was one of the most influential figures in Haidong’s early life. It was through her he would first learn about the lies the Chinese government would tell.

“When I was young,” Haidong recalled, “my grandma told me stories about her life in the Great Cultural Revolution. She would tell me that during her time, people couldn’t even find enough food to eat, much less good food. Meat was considered a delicacy some could eat only once a year.” During the Great Cultural Revolution, food was available in spite of the famine. The peasants were even aware of its existence, as they were the ones who harvested it. However, they weren't given access to the food after the government took and stored it away.

An interesting point he added during the interview was that “[his] grandmother was indoctrinated, like every other commoner at that time.” She received the same altered education everyone else did. “But just by her conscience, she knew something was wrong–how could a country take food from the mouths of starving peasants and still proceed to blame it on capitalism, an ideology used in countries halfway across the world?”

However, around this time, Deng Xiaoping became leader of the Chinese Communist Party and started relations with the West again, ushering in economic prosperity to China, especially the regions by the Pacific where Haidong lived. The influx of wealth led to improved conditions for everyone–the citizens, at the very least, had enough food to be full. 

Nevertheless, despite the economic openness, the propaganda aspect (though toned down) was still present. “The government would still defend the Great Cultural Revolution, claiming it was necessary for the development of China,” Haidong explained. “They would brush over the deaths of tens of millions of people with a single line in the textbook.” And, just like before, “they would blame all the troubles in China on the West, capitalism, democracy, and America.” 

This inconspicuous, yet still existent manipulation, in tandem with his young age and China’s upward trend meant that Haidong didn’t give much thought to the stories his grandma told him. After all, he and many other citizens at that time were happy with the tangible progress China was making. The censorship and control of knowledge made making decisions easy again: anything to better China was good, anything related to America was bad. A life under the CCP, a life of blissful ignorance, a life without ever knowing the full, dangerous truth, was easy. Haidong’s sentiment towards life around then reflected this simplistic view on life. “When I was in high school, I didn’t have any grandiose dreams or dire needs to fulfill,” he said. “All I really thought about were which girls I liked and ways to become rich.” That said, Haidong still kept his grandma’s stories at the back of his mind, where it would eventually re-emerge some time later.

“It started around when I was in college,” he said, “when I started noticing and caring about the inconsistencies again. Even though the communist model stopped working and China switched to a capitalist economy, their stances on the West never changed. They would simply never stop insulting or using them as scapegoats.” These matters sparked an interest in him to explore and seek some Western perspectives on this matter, and as information control in the 2000s still wasn’t that tight, Haidong was still able to access many resources. One author in particular had a profound effect on Haidong.

“I read many books by Richard Allen Posner,” Haidong stated. “They touched on the ideas of the necessity of checks and balances and the dangers of unregulated power in a system as powerful as the government. When the peoples’ concerns have no actual effect, there’s no guarantee a government will stick to its promises of protecting the people.” And,

based on his past experiences, this corruption of power was exactly what occurred in China: “No one had the ability to stop the government’s systematic propaganda.” As a result, Haidong believed that “China needed democracy and a Western system of government,” something only America could provide. Unfortunately, China’s unchanging stance on the West didn’t make him too hopeful. This became the first of many red flags. 

However, as discussed in the beginning of this article, knowledge doesn’t come without a cost. Through exposure to the American perspective on government, Haidong became extremely dissatisfied with the current system in China. Yet, there was nothing he could do about it. As time passed, control on information grew tighter and action was taken against those who stood against the propaganda. “I’ve had friends who also spoke out against the CCP on social media get arrested and taken for questioning by the police.”

Heading into the 2010s, Haidong was close to his breaking point. By now, the government had an iron clasp over knowledge again. “On the outside, it looked like the country was doing well, but when you look from the inside, the Chinese government hasn’t changed,” he commented. “Their stance on controlling information and the population remained the same throughout the decades, regardless of how well the country was doing economically.” Even though the political situation had improved in the 80’s and 90’s, China was beginning to look more and more like its revolutionary-era self. “My grandma told me that in the past, they would physically divide people up in communes, stopping the flow of communication. People weren’t allowed to pass from one into another without explicit permission.” To him, the present-day control of information wasn’t any different from how they did it back then.

Additionally, living in China wasn’t just a decision that was affecting him personally anymore. He eventually became a father, and deciding to stay and raise a child in an environment without freedom in speech or education impacted his son, eliminating the possibility of staying. But leaving China and immigrating to another country also wasn’t easy either. However, seeing as he owned a hotel business in China at this point, he still tried to bide his time; at least, until quarantine started.

“Quarantine in China was like a prison,” Haidong reported. Even ignoring the bad business it brought, he believed it was a complete infringement on human rights. “Every city was boarded up,” similar to the communes of Mao’s era. “People weren’t even allowed to go outside. At most, one person in a family could leave every two days to buy groceries. What if an elderly person got sick? They still need to abide by these rules before going to the hospital.” For Haidong, China’s complete lockdown was the final nail in the coffin. As soon as the lockdown ended, partially for himself and partially for his family, he decided it was time to finally immigrate.

"America, Canada, or Britain were our family's first choices. They were the most advanced countries. However, getting residency there was hard; I couldn’t risk getting sent back to China if we weren’t approved. We eventually had to settle for Portugal, where obtaining residency and citizenship is very easy for immigrants,” he explained. “All you needed was no record of a criminal history.” As of now, Haidong and his family have successfully moved to Portugal. Later in the interview, he added, “As a parent, I just want to be able to live a happy life with a child set up for success. Moving to Portugal, in light of everything that was occurring in China, was the simplest solution.”

Additionally, Haidong commented that the whole process was difficult. “You at least need to know English and parts of Western culture,” he says. On top of that, “you need to be willing to leave your hometown behind. Luckily, I didn’t have much nostalgia, but admittedly many do, and many struggle with that fact.”

Finally, when asked to give advice for people who may be living under such indoctrination, he tells them one thing: “No matter whether you believe you’re being indoctrinated or not, try to just think. Or,” if that’s not even possible, “fall back on your human conscience. What does simple logic tell you? If you were told that tens of millions of people starved over the span of a few decades, all under the rule of a dictator, would you support that dictator? If you had known a decent individual for your whole life and one day they’re martyred simply because they were, for example, a landlord, would you support their execution?”

Knowledge can be tough to accept. For Su Haidong, it led him to the truth, but also required him to make a hard decision between staying in China or immigrating. Ultimately, it was his courage to confront these harsh realities that defined his path, proving that the pursuit of truth often demands the sacrifice of comfort and familiarity.