Shanghai is a modern marvel. But there’s something sinister about China’s response to New York…

Nothing symbolizes modern China quite like a night out on the Bund – Shanghai’s sparkling waterfront where imperialist British-built hotels, banks and Custom House overlook the towering skyscrapers of Pudong across the Huangpu River.

At 10:59 p.m., the night sky is still dancing on a spectacular 360-degree neon light show over 100 buildings, celebrating the astonishing engineering and financial power of the new China. In lavish rooftop bars, the trendy-dressed enterprising glitterati – chief beneficiaries of Chinese-influenced socialism – sip expensive cocktails.

At the stroke of 11 p.m., the lights go out, as if a switch has been flipped. And the metro – of course the largest in the world – is closing. The authorities have decided it is time for bed.

Anyone who questions the idea that the 21st century will be China’s (as the 20th was the US’s) should first visit this powder keg city of vibrant, unbridled free enterprise.

Shanghai, China’s New York (with Beijing as Washington DC), is the youthful business capital of a 5,000-year-old culture, built to be the place where East and West meet.

During what the Chinese now describe as “the years of humiliation,” opium-pushing British merchants from Jardine Matheson developed Shanghai as an interface to the ailing Qing dynasty. There, after two opium wars in the mid-19th century, they consolidated Western power by creating the International Settlement and French Concession districts, where local Chinese were treated as second-class citizens.

Today, after being through the world’s strictest Covid lockdown, the city is reopening to tourism. Our Virgin Atlantic flight was packed to the gills and the airline is now running a daily service at near capacity.

Our little group was knocked aside by what we found. It began with the understated luxury of the Puli Hotel, a cutting-edge designer retreat from the bustle of the streets, populated by executives and Chinese digital natives in unstructured linen suits. A hotel that can rival, if not surpass, anything New York, Paris or Milan has to offer.

Outside, the busy avenues were spotless, the sidewalks and even some highways adorned with borders of blooming flowers, grass verges, or stands of well-arranged bamboo groves. In four days, the most trash I saw was a single cigarette butt.

Everything seemed as neat, clean and safe as a Volvo commercial. Even in the low-rise French Concession – boulevards shaded by the plane trees you might find in a French Provençal town, laid out by the old colonialists – the redevelopment was tasteful and respectful of the past. The old French Art Deco club is now a Japanese-owned hotel. And Tianzifang, a labyrinth of 1930s stone workshops, has been charmingly renovated into specialist boutiques, selling everything from razor-sharp kitchen knives to silk scarves and premium teas.

On our second day, we headed to Zhujiajiao, once a 400-year-old “water city,” built on a network of canals that feed the tributaries of the Yangtze River.

This was the ancient China of our imagination – a labyrinth of willow-patterned streets, merchant palaces, magical temples and tranquil water gardens; full of Zen sculptures, bonzai trees and languid carp.

Ivo visited Zhujiajiao, once a 400-year-old “water city,” built on a network of canals that feed the tributaries of the Yangtze River. “This was the ancient China of our imagination,” he writes

The narrow lanes were populated by Chinese tourists, browsing shops selling exotic herbal remedies, unspeakable-looking meats and, alas, still-chirping crickets trapped in tiny bamboo cages.

We found the same thing in Shanghai’s Old Town, where 17th-century teahouses – with dragons on their roofs to ward off demons – received throngs of gawking spectators.

History was also close by in the spectacular Yu Gardens, spoiled only by posing Instagrammers and that plinky-plonky music blaring from the speakers.

So what’s not to like about it?

Well, that’s where it gets complicated. In a curious way, it is not the presence of things, but the absence of them, that is initially a pleasure, but then becomes a source of slight anxiety. For modern China may differ – superficially – from its pre-war past mainly in its deep prosperity and deep, almost unnatural sense of order.

Ancient culture: a woman wearing the elegant Chinese national dress in Shanghai

The shady barmaid Shanghai was known for in the 1930s is now a remote, untouchable Chanel model. There is more begging in London. More crime in Stockholm. Aside from the gloomy clusters of tower blocks on the airport road, there’s none of the shabbiness of JFK’s Van Wyck Expressway. Moreover, the authoritarian gloom manifested in Moscow in the prowling Zils with dark windows or, in New York, with the screaming ‘Walk/Don’t Walk!’ street signage, is largely absent.

There is no clear bureaucracy. Good manners are everywhere. And yet something seems to be wrong. For example, why is it so difficult to get on the Internet even in a top hotel? Why do you have to show facial recognition to enter a museum? And why does every highway have clusters of flashing lights that could be speed cameras or something else?

And why do I feel especially morally obligated not to mention the names of my interviewees?

Breathtaking: Ivo says that in Shanghai’s Old Town, the 17th-century teahouses have dragons on their roofs to ward off demons. Above is the colorful Yuyuan Bazaar of the Old Town

“The fact is,” said one man, “the government says that with facial recognition technology they can find anyone in China in five minutes – no one doubts that it’s true.”

“Just say the letters VPN [the high-tech means of dodging internet eavesdropping] would activate microphones,” said another.

One woman told me she was a member of the Chinese Communist Party, but suggested that this was something her parents wanted for her – equivalent to going to a posh private school in the UK, a sensible career move. But another said the process of joining the CCP was quite arduous, with weekends away in camps, tests and ideology lectures.

That is not to say that there is evidence of a tidal wave of opposition to the government. Overwhelming is the impression of pride in China’s rise to the top of the global pecking order. Conformity and obedience equal prosperity, it seems. That’s the deal and the price is paid in political rights.

Our visit coincided with the meeting of the G7 in Japan, described in the government-run China Daily as wealthy nations “not hiding their … dwindling influence.” Meanwhile, President Xi addressed a meeting of the ten Central Asian republics in Astana, where Chinese influence is booming.

Government TV news featured a lively discussion celebrating the 10th anniversary of the Belt And Road Initiative – China’s outreach to developing countries. Nothing about Russia, Ukraine or Taiwan.

How long before Shanghai becomes the new Rome of the world, where all roads lead? Visit it and you may get a glimpse of the future. But you can be sure of one thing: they will see you coming.