Mr Zhu may be exaggerating, but he isn't far off when he says that the atmosphere in China is a lot freer than many people in the world believe. By contrast, on my frequent business trips to Singapore I have seldom been able to engage locals in discussions that criticize the government or get them to talk openly about misgivings about the Lee family dynasty.

On the October 1 national holiday celebrating the 52nd anniversary of the founding of the People's Republic, my friends and I sat in a restaurant in Beijing's China World Hotel, the ritziest establishment in town, and openly talked about the Communist Party. In our group was a senior member of the China Democracy Party who loudly blasted officials for their refusal to allow greater democracy. "The current leaders are very stubborn," said Mr He, raising his voice right as he bit into a cha shao bun. "But I believe that once younger leaders rise, China will loosen up for the better." While Mr He spoke his mind, waiters and waitresses busied themselves serving us more hot buns and Cantonese dimsum. Even five years ago, they would probably have felt obliged to report us to state security officials. I asked Mr He if he shouldn't be more cautious. "Oh, it's okay," he assured me. "As long as I don't get my views officially into a news publication, it's fine. Just don't quote me by full name, okay?"

Though China remains in many ways a police state, it is a country that is constantly changing. On the one hand, the party continues to crack down on the Falungong religious movement. On the other, President Jiang Zemin recently advocated allowing entrepreneurs to join the party and changing its constitution so that it represents all "classes" of people, instead of only peasants and workers. China is a truly complex nation of contrasts, and its complexities are so deep that it can perplex Westerners. Foreigners are right in their criticism of the crackdown on the Falungong. Yet they overlook the large numbers of people attending church on Sundays or offering prayers at Buddhist or Taoist temples during the weekends.

A good friend of mine, Zhang Jian, 28, is a Buddhist and a professional feng shui master and fortune-teller. With only a smattering education from dirt-poor Anhui province, Zhang makes a good living reading people's palms and faces. His best customers include some of Beijing's richest men and women, who often invite him to their homes and offices to help them with the best feng shui layouts so that their fortunes will continue to rise. "We in China have suffered negative yuen [luck or destiny] for far too long," Zhang told me as we sat in the New York Kitchen Restaurant, across the street from the Foreign Ministry. "Now, though, despite the sometimes drastic acts of the government, we Buddhists strongly believe that this nation has entered a period of peace and prosperity. We encourage this positive karma by praying for this in our daily chants."

First-time visitors to urban China are always surprised by the huge number of hip young people wearing Levi jeans and carrying expensive mobile phones. China has 120 million such consumers, the No. 1 mobile market in the world. But go just a few kilometers outside the major cities and you'll still find young men and women toiling up to their elbows in the rice padis and living in 19th-century conditions.

It has so much hope and yet such a long way to go to reach parity with the West. Whatever the future holds, one thing is for sure: This is not a country that can be explained in terms of black and white. We foreign journalists should not write about the Falungong crackdowns without recognizing the resurgence of the freedom of religion and speech. Nor should we write about the human-rights violations without mentioning the growing freedoms of choice that many young Chinese are enjoying. It is our ethical duty to be fair. Only by doing that will we be fair to our readers.

Home