When people ask what surprised me most during my five weeks in China, they're usually expecting stories about the food, bullet trains, ubiquitous mobile payments and the cashless economy.
But the two cultural differences that caught my attention most? Dogs and the near-absence of woke culture.
Subscribe free to get weekly insights that don’t make it into mainstream coverage. Paid members unlock deep dives + exclusive apps for exploring the data yourself
I realize the first sounds trivial, but both observations revealed something unexpected about how different societies shape everyday life in ways you don't anticipate until you're living them.
The Calmer Dogs
Chinese city dogs, in my experience, are remarkably calm. They bark less. They don't lunge at strangers or yank their owners toward every passing dog. In crowded streets, they weave between people like polite commuters. After years of dodging Italian bark-offs at street corners and stairwells, this felt almost eerie.
It's not that China is overall quieter or more rule-abiding. Far from it. Driving in China is a honk-happy sport. People overtake on the right without a second thought, rather than flashing to politely suggest you move to the slower lane like in Italy. On Chinese beaches, good luck taking a nap—there are kids screaming, vendors shouting prices into megaphones, and lifeguards broadcasting the same warning messages on repeat.
So this isn't about one country being more disciplined than the other. It's about very specific aspects of public life—and why they develop differently.
Policy creates behavior patterns
Chinese cities enforce strict dog regulations that shape what you see on the streets. Many have leash requirements, breed restrictions, and one-dog-per-household limits. Beijing caps dog height at 35 cm. Shanghai maintains similar size restrictions while banning "aggressive" breeds entirely. When violations occur, the consequences are real—fines and confiscation aren't empty threats.
Italy requires leashes under 1.5 meters and muzzle-carrying, but lacks size caps or household limits. More importantly, enforcement varies dramatically from city to city.
The breed difference
Walk through Chinese cities and you'll see a predictable parade: toy poodles (called "Teddy" bears locally), Bichon Frises, Corgis, and French Bulldogs, with the occasional Golden Retriever or Lab as exceptions. In smaller towns, you'll spot the native tǔgǒu—China's traditional village dog.
Italian streets tell a different story. German Shepherds, Labradors, Golden Retrievers, and English Setters dominate—breeds originally developed for work, guarding, and hunting. French Bulldogs are gaining ground, but the overall mix skews larger and more assertive.
The Absence of Woke Culture
The second difference was more profound: the near-complete absence of what we'd recognize as "woke" discourse in daily life. No land acknowledgments, no pronoun introductions, no corporate diversity statements plastered on storefronts. University campuses felt focused on academics rather than activism. Social media conversations—when I could access them—revolved around career advice, lifestyle content, and local issues rather than identity politics. Most importantly, talking about race differences or the propensity of some nationalities to commit more crime is not frowned upon.
The Great Firewall Effect
Two factors likely contribute to this difference. First, the Great Firewall creates a genuinely separate internet. Chinese social platforms like WeChat, Weibo, and Douyin operate independently from Twitter, Instagram, and TikTok. The viral spread of Western social justice terminology and frameworks simply doesn't happen the same way.
Second, language barriers matter more than we might assume. Over 90% of Chinese people don't speak English fluently or at all. Academic papers, social media debates, and cultural movements that drive discourse in the English-speaking world remain largely inaccessible. Ideas that feel omnipresent in Western universities and corporate environments never penetrate mainstream Chinese consciousness. This raises an intriguing research question: How much of this difference comes from the Great Firewall versus linguistic isolation? Countries like South Korea and Taiwan share similar cultural and genetic backgrounds with China but maintain open internet access. Do they show more adoption of Western social justice frameworks? A comparative study could help untangle these variables.
Different priorities, different conversations
What fills that conversational space instead? Economic mobility dominates. Career advancement, property ownership, and educational achievement for children drive most social media discussions I observed. Environmental concerns focus on immediate, tangible issues—air quality, food safety—rather than abstract global frameworks.
Gender conversations exist but center on traditional tensions: workplace discrimination, marriage pressures, and family expectations. The vocabulary and conceptual frameworks that shape Western gender discourse simply aren't part of the conversation.
My Takeaway
These observations aren't meant to idealize either system. China has its own complex social pressures and restrictions that create different problems. But spending time in a society with genuinely different information flows and cultural priorities offers perspective on assumptions we might not even realize we're making and it makes us realize how deranged our political discourse (and perhaps our dogs, or their owners) have become.