Land of the Little Emperors

China, 1992

One hundred of us wait for a plane that's already two hours late in the small airport in Xian, China. It's a square, stark building with gray walls and wooden benches. I notice a young Chinese woman gazing at the plump infant in her arms. She speaks to the man next to her. As if in one movement, a group of watchful adults contract around her.

It's a drama played out all over China: a mother, a father and a single baby in the center -- with grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins hovering on the perimeter. The Chinese call these only children "Little Emperors".

Chinese experts have studied the new generation of "Little Emperors" reporting that these single children are very different from their ancestors. They're inclined to do what they want, concerned only with their own needs rather than others. They tend to be uncooperative with peers. Although brighter than children with siblings, the little emperors generally dislike physical labor preferring occupations that are easy and comfortable. This is happening in a society based on socialist principles and group mentality. What will happen to the Chinese family?

The family has always been a central focus of Chinese culture. Since antiquity, the traditional family often included three or four generations living under the same roof. Religion, civil law and social custom -- including ancestor worship -- reinforced the power and durability of the family. The teaching of Confucius from the 5th century B.C.E. stressed the importance of maintaining the family -- particularly the raising of male children. A young wife's main duty was to produce a son. If that did not occur the husband could take a second wife or mistress to assure continuation of the family line.

Today 22 million babies are born each year in China. The People's Republic of China (PRC) has 22% of the world's population but only 7% of the planet's arable land. With a projected population of 1.9 billion by the early 21st century, birth control is a major economic issue that supercedes tradition and family needs. So in 1979 the government attempted to limit each family to one child. One-child families were given additional medical, housing, food, employment and retirement benefits. Income deductions, medical, economic and employment penalties were established. Hardships were imposed, including refusal of subsidies, food ration coupons and extra housing space. Parents were allowed to have a second child if the first one died or was severely disabled. Pregnancies were rationed and the legal marriage and childbearing ages were raised.

China's family planning policy met with widespread resistance. Many peasants simply ignored it, hiding second and third children to avoid penalties. The goals of the one-child family policy were unevenly met, with urban parents far more likely to cooperate than those in rural areas. The result was several family planning policies that depended on the region, the nature of the populations, the resistance of local people, and the inclination of party officials to enforce them.

Traditionally, Chinese women married into their husband's family and left their own biological family. Only sons were considered important. Until about a century ago, rural girls were not even named, often referred to as "eldest daughter" or "number two daughter." Sons grew up to help in the fields and provide for aging parents. The continued emphasis on sons creates an additional dilemma for one-child families: if the one child is female the mother is often seen as a failure and the family bereft of wealth. As a result, in rural areas the PRC family policy was viewed as a one-son rather than a one-child policy.

In 1993 the PRC cracked down. No one under the age of 24 could legally have children. Later that year Nicholas Kristof reported the story of Li Qiuliang in The New York Times. Living in Hunan Province, she had a legal "pregnancy permit". The problem was that Ms. Li was only 23 years old. She quickly became one of the first casualties of the crackdown. The officials formed an "early birth shock brigade" and forced her and other women to clinics where labor was induced. The baby lived for only nine hours. Li Qiuliang hemorrhaged, lost consciousness and almost died. She was left permanently disabled.

The Peng family, also described in The New York Times, lived in a small village about 1100 miles from Beijing. Four days after their second child was born a brigade of 10 men and women approached their hut. They smashed the family's home and flung straw and stone in all directions. Then they demanded that a $45 fine be paid. The per capita income in rural China at the time was roughly $135. When the Pengs couldn't pay, the brigade shattered the few pieces of furniture they owned. The brigade left with the family's cow. The baby's grandfather followed them begging for the return of the cow. He was ignored. Three months later two dozen officials came to the village and forced the new mother to undergo a tubal ligation. They promised her $3.50 but never gave her the money.

The abortions and physical forced used at the beginning of the crackdown have been replaced by a system of compulsory sterilization. Officials may go into a village and simply take all the women who have children to clinics where they are sterilized or fitted with IUDs. Women who flee are often fined hundreds, sometimes thousands of dollars.

Most attempts to sidestep the one-child policy reflect the traditional view that a family must produce male heirs. If the only legal baby is a girl, something must be done to get another chance to have a boy. That means getting rid of girls. The easiest way to dispose of a girl is not to report the birth to the authorities. Parents may give the girl away -- often to relatives who adopt her as their own daughter. Other girls are simply abandoned. Some parents instruct the midwife to place a bucket of water at the feet of the mother while she is giving birth. If the baby is a girl the midwife drowns the newborn and reports a stillbirth. If the baby is a boy the family celebrates. It's estimated that more than one million newborn girls are missing each year in China.

The most efficient way to eliminate the problem is with a piece of high-tech equipment that has spread across a country where modern technology is scarce: the ultrasound scanner. Even peasants in the most remote corners of China -- who can't read or write -- know about the amazing machine that reveals the sex of an unborn child. Although it's illegal to report the sex of a fetus, a bribe quickly loosens tongues. It costs about $35 to $50 to get a doctor to talk. A technician accepts less. Either way, it's an excellent investment. If the fetus is a boy, the parents rejoice. If it's a girl, the parents abort.

In one survey they found China's birth ratio was 100 girls to 118.5 boys. Experts speculate that the future will see villages of bachelors unable to find wives. Will females become sheltered, coveted possessions because of their scarcity? Will men, as often seen in settings devoid of females, such as the old American West and modern prisons, resort to more aggressive, violent behavior?

The gender balance is not the only problem faced by strict population control. Today China is young. Less than 5% of the people are over age 65. By the year 2030 it's predicted that nearly 25% of the population will be over age 65. Without children to support elderly parents, who will take care of the aged? Presently only 10 to 15 % of the entire Chinese workforce receives state pensions. In rural areas it falls to less than 1%. What can the PRC do? If they stop state family planning policies the population will grow out of control, suffocating China by the sheer weight of bodies. Is a nation of Little Emperors the best the Chinese can hope for?

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