The Chinese Dream and the Chained Woman

The Chinese Dream and the Chained Woman——Grand National Narratives and Fragile Individuals in the Absence of Democracy By Carl J Chan

Chinese President Xi Jinping’s articulation of the “Chinese Dream”—defined by national strength, ethnic rejuvenation, and the happiness of the people—was designed as a unifying vision for a rising China. Since its official introduction in 2013, this national slogan has saturated China’s media and public discourse. Internal reports from the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) confirm that the phrase achieved near-total dissemination through coordinated messaging on official government Weibo accounts, state-affiliated news platforms, universities, and even corporate channels.

Yet, while this grand narrative dominated online and offline public spheres, another image emerged in early 2022 that challenged the celebratory tone: a woman in rural Feng County, Xuzhou, chained by her neck in a cold shed, mentally distressed, bearing eight children. She became known as the “chained woman”—a living contradiction to the promise of the “Chinese Dream.” Her suffering exposed the fracture between the state’s triumphant national vision and the unprotected lives of those it leaves behind.

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I. The “Chinese Dream”: A Dream for Whom?

The spread of the “Chinese Dream” was not the result of organic public consensus but rather a top-down propaganda campaign. It represented a carefully engineered narrative pushed by the state to consolidate legitimacy and shape popular imagination. In a tightly censored media environment where independent journalism has been largely dismantled, this dream is not an expression of public aspiration, but a political command: Dream what we instruct; cheer when we tell you to cheer.

The absence of democracy transforms national discourse into a one-way communication model, where alternative visions, criticisms, or even tragic contradictions are systematically erased. The “Chinese Dream,” then, becomes less a vision of collective progress and more a projection of state power.

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II. The Chained Woman: A Nightmare Hidden Beneath the Dream

In January 2022, amid the global spotlight of the Beijing Winter Olympics, a disturbing video began circulating on Chinese social media. It showed a woman with a vacant gaze, chained to a wall, locked in an unheated brick hut. Her name was unknown. Her rights, long erased.

Later investigation revealed a tale of human trafficking, prolonged abuse, rape, forced childbirth, and bureaucratic indifference. Local authorities issued vague, inconsistent statements; official media remained silent. It was ordinary internet users, not professional journalists, who uncovered the details: examining property records, tracing her origins, and piecing together a picture of systemic abuse.

Many of these digital investigators were subsequently harassed, silenced, or even detained. The woman’s story threatened to overshadow the government’s tightly curated Olympic narrative, and for that reason, it had to be suppressed. What this incident revealed was not merely an isolated criminal case, but a systemic failure of governance and justice in the absence of democratic safeguards.

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III. Fragility Without Democracy

The tragedy of the chained woman illustrates a fundamental truth: in the absence of democratic institutions, the vulnerable are unprotected and the voiceless remain unheard. Where there is no freedom of expression, no press autonomy, and no independent judiciary, abuses are not aberrations—they are symptoms.

In democratic societies, such a case would have triggered immediate investigative journalism, legal accountability, and public inquiry. In China, responses to such violations are not determined by law but by political calculus. Justice is not guaranteed by rights, but by the perceived risk to state stability.

In this context:

• Truth is delayed until public anger fades.

• Victims are silenced rather than supported.

• Citizens are punished for seeking transparency.

Such a system, by design, renders individuals permanently vulnerable.

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IV. National Glory Built on Silence

The CCP’s national rejuvenation campaign demands public pride—but what kind of pride is built on silence? What strength is achieved by criminalizing inquiry? What happiness is possible when suffering is treated as a threat to the state?

The “Chinese Dream” insists on unity—but not on justice; it celebrates national strength—but not individual dignity. If the state cannot tolerate the image of one suffering woman, then its confidence is far more fragile than it appears.

True national dignity arises not from suppressing the weak, but from defending them. It is not achieved by enforcing uniformity of expression, but by allowing multiplicity of voices.

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V. Conclusion: A Dream or a Delusion?

In the absence of democracy, the “Chinese Dream” becomes a form of ideological performance, constructed to consolidate legitimacy rather than to reflect lived reality. It masks inequality, marginalization, and abuse behind the veneer of national progress.

The chained woman is not merely a victim; she is a symbol of those rendered invisible by authoritarian governance. Her silence, and the state’s attempt to enforce it, speaks volumes.

If a dream cannot accommodate the most vulnerable, it ceases to be a dream.

It becomes a delusion.