From flip phones to smartphones: Growing up in China’s decade of tech transformation
Living in China through most of the 2010s, I look back at how far we’ve come
The funny thing about technology is how quickly innovation can become normal.
I went back to mainland China about a dozen times this year. I had my face scanned at airports, paid for things with my phone, and occasionally saw robot waiters bring food to my table.
Maybe the technologies behind all of those things weren't totally unfathomable in 2010. But the pace at which it’s all become just a routine part of daily life in China was hard to imagine just ten years ago.
Meet Baidu, China’s homegrown search engine
Having to post social media updates with PCs may seem weird now, but in 2010, smartphones weren’t popular yet. I certainly didn’t have one. I was only allowed a Philips 298 slider phone. It couldn’t do much, but it did have one advantage: The physical number pad made texting in class much easier. (I also liked sliding it up and down in my pocket, like a very expensive fidget spinner.)
It soon became clear why smartphones were essential.
In 2011, Tencent launched WeChat, a messaging app for smartphones. Of course, we didn’t know that it would turn out to be China’s most important app of the decade -- at the time, it was just like QQ on a smaller screen, and that was good enough.
Truth be told, the killer feature for me was something else: Voice messaging. I was watching the TV show Lost, and for some reason the show made me really want a walkie-talkie. Being able to send snippets of voice like that, but over the internet, fascinated me at the time.
But my college years changed my opinion. I was constantly amazed by all the new things made possible by the internet and smartphones. In my sophomore year, a new ride hailing startup called Didi was fighting a turf war with both domestic and foreign rivals, so they were putting their absolute best foot forward.
Didi Chuxing taking competition with nemesis Uber abroad
And for me, that meant hailing clean private cars with polite drivers for nearly half the price of a regular taxi, which usually comes with a grumpy driver and an unpleasant smell. The first time I rode in one with a friend, I turned to her excitedly and said I’d never take a regular taxi again!
It wasn’t just ride-hailing firms going above and beyond to attract customers. Meituan and Ele.me were in a battle to be the king of food delivery, and that meant even the little stalls at our campus canteens were delivering food to our dorm… without charging a delivery fee. During lunch and dinner hours, delivery bikes in yellow and blue would form messy lines outside our dorm gate, and my fellow schoolmates would come out in sleepwear and slippers to collect their orders. On their way back, they might also stop by the delivery vans nearby, which held what they were expecting from Taobao.
Meituan Dianping: Settle all your local needs on one app
(Abacus is a unit of the South China Morning Post, which is owned by Alibaba, which owns Ele.me and Taobao.)
I marveled at the convenience enabled by the internet, but even more so at the sea of information and content. WeChat’s public platform, launched in 2012, essentially let anyone become a publisher, setting off a whole new industry called “self-media.” I also liked how Q&A app Zhihu drew authentic answers from knowledgeable people, and how online movies and music had better quality and became more accessible than ever.
Zhihu, where people in China go to ask questions and get answers
But of course in China, that sea of information and content does not paint the whole picture. We’ve all sighed at popular WeChat and Weibo posts that had disappeared before we were able to see it, and I’ve been frustrated by the periodic slowdowns for VPNs. I also remember the chills I felt when discovering for the first time that certain messages I sent on WeChat did not get through to my friend.
But gradually, that became normal. Not being able to send Winnie the Pooh pictures on WeChat became less sinister and more of a joke that most of us casually brushed off.
And the growth of so many sites and services on this side of the Great Firewall meant fewer people felt the need to cross it. China’s homegrown tech ecosystem tried to replicate everything available outside, but with a local flavor. It’s no wonder then that one study claimed that, even if the Great Firewall were to come down, many would prefer to stick to local sites and services.
The story of China’s Great Firewall, the world’s most sophisticated censorship system
Being just on the outside (but still very close) to the mainland, it’s become clear that while the internet has empowered small businesses and users who otherwise wouldn’t be heard, it has also given much more power to corporations and the state.
For all the things technology has improved in my life, there’s a reason I end this decade by being more cautious about how I use the internet. For all the good things that have happened, I don’t necessarily think tech companies -- who have charged ahead in exploiting users for profit -- have changed things for the better.
During my visits back to mainland China on holidays, I hear some of my relatives complain about all the confusing things apps ask them to agree to, and I’m often dispirited to see them buried in Toutiao and Douyin for hours, only putting them down for cigarette breaks. Tech companies are harvesting our data and our attention spans, and we won’t understand the true impact of this for years to come.
TikTok, the viral short video sensation, has its roots in China
Despite my caution, I’d be lying if I said I missed life in 2010. I don’t. Things are definitely better now. But what I find so exciting about it is how unpredictable the future is. Sure, the seeds of today existed back then, but I didn’t know how it would pan out. And it just makes me excited to think about what we’ll be doing in 2030.