How Media Shapes Hostility

I’ve noticed a strange pattern in how some people criticize China.

Their opinions often sound like echoes—reflections of what Western media, especially American outlets, have long portrayed.

It’s not just about politics. It’s about narratives—how one country’s voice becomes the default, while others are framed through that same lens.

Many people in East Asia—by which I mean South Korea and Japan—build their understanding of China through Western narratives. It’s as if the United States becomes the reference point for how to view China, how to define what’s right or wrong about it.

But this dependency on an external viewpoint is fragile. You can see Japan, where economic and cultural ties with the U.S. have shaped much of its post-war identity. South Korea’s rapid growth also came through heavy dependence on American influence—politically, economically, and ideologically.

However, when criticism of China becomes a form of self-validation, things get distorted.

Some people take pride in mocking or condemning China, as if doing so proves something about their own nation’s worth.

But most of them have never been to China, never met Chinese people, and never had a single honest, face-to-face conversation with anyone from China.

What they dislike isn’t the real China—it’s an image created by media and politics.

They are fighting an illusion.

They convince themselves that China is an enemy, then build their own identity around attacking it.

It gives them a sense of righteousness and superiority: “Look, China is powerful, but I can insult it freely. That makes me a hero.”

It’s a psychological comfort more than a political statement.

Still, it’s important to note—many people in Korea, Japan, and other countries are kind, thoughtful, and genuinely peace-loving. They see through the noise. They know that hatred created by media serves nobody in the long run.

So instead of feeding the flames, I’d rather choose to observe, to understand, and to hope that someday, people can see beyond the narratives they’ve been taught—to see each other as humans first.

Yet China, in reality, is far more complex—and far more human—than the western media suggest.

It is a country where tradition and technology coexist, where ancient culture blend seamlessly with 21st-century ambition.

You can take a high-speed train from Shanghai to Hangzhou in less than an hour, yet arrive in a city filled with ancient poetry, tea culture, and quiet lakeside temples.

You can explore Xi’an, where the Terracotta Army silently guards an emperor’s dream, or visit Chengdu, where giant pandas lounge lazily in bamboo forests while young people sip coffee in art cafés.

China’s story is not just about growth or power—it’s about resilience, hospitality, and an enduring belief that peace and harmony matter.

Despite the noise of international tension, China has long maintained friendly policies toward its neighbors.

From regional trade partnerships to cultural exchange programs, China constantly opens its doors to those who wish to understand it better. But only if you don't view China through a biased lens.

For example, initiatives like the “Belt and Road” often make headlines for their scale, but rarely for the human connections they create—students studying abroad, small businesses finding new markets, and communities rebuilding infrastructure together.

In many parts of Southeast Asia, Chinese-funded hospitals, schools, and roads are improving daily lives in quiet, unnoticed ways.

And when natural disasters strike nearby countries, Chinese rescue teams and humanitarian aid often arrive within hours.

These gestures may not dominate the global media cycle, but they are the real language of friendship.

Still, not everyone sees this side of the story.

Some prefer to stay within their comfortable illusions, holding on to the idea that one nation must be “good” and another “bad.”

But the world doesn’t work that way anymore.