In a smoke-filled room, a diminutive old man selects medicinal herbs with swift assurance from a tall cabinet of drawers, piling them together on a sheet of paper. In another room, an equally old man sticks thin needles into the body of a sickly young woman. Elaborate water clocks keep time while sages carefully track the movement of the stars in their eternal march across the sky. Monks in deep trances meditate on the mysteries for decades before emerging from their caves, enlightened. Orientalism is profoundly associated with harmony with nature and spiritual well-being. In China, however, xifang—Western—has equally profound connotations.

In the U.S., we often take technology for granted. We’re home to some of the largest and most advanced technology companies in the world. U.S. investments in research are the highest in the world. Most of the record-setting milestones of technology belong to the U.S., most notably the recent breaking of the petaflop barrier. It is sometimes difficult, then, for us to understand how other countries view the technologies that we take for granted. The West is seen as the source of xianjin, a word that means “advanced” on the surface, but carries a much deeper connotation. To different people it means different things—to the young, it’s fresh and hip, meaning that you’re connected to the worldwide community. Sporting an iPod, a laptop, and the latest cell phone are the most conspicuous signs of wealth and consumption for the young, aside from brand-name clothing. Though perhaps these goods are even more important, since they’re harder to counterfeit.

Take, for instance, the Apple iPhone. Sales of the iPhone in China have been fairly brisk. There’s only one issue: the iPhone is not officially available for sale in China. In fact, it must be hacked in order to install Chinese-language software and applications. Users are cautioned not to connect to the iTunes store, because it will immediately make the iPhone unusable in China. There is a burgeoning market here for people who bring the iPhone from overseas. Cell phones are a status symbol—especially phones that you can’t officially buy. Even simple things—such as central air conditioning—are seen as Western innovations that are far from being implemented in China.

For others, xianjin has a more industrial connotation. It means not just the latest technology, but the latest techniques. Companies strive to portray themselves as more xianjin, which is associated with safety, cleanliness, and profitability. “We have the most xianjin shebei (advanced equipment), all imported!” Everything from small boutique hair salons to immense mining companies try to make these claims. Domestic manufacture is dismissed “oh, that’s guochande (domestically made), but this is imported!”

Xianjin’s impact is felt more in two major areas: quality and labor-saving devices. The West is not the only place where China has a reputation for slipshod quality. Especially in the realm of technology, there is the wide perception that foreign brands of cars, makeup, computers, cameras, and other consumer electronics are of far better quality. Jinkou (imported) items, when converted to RMB and tariffs added, are exponentially more expensive than domestic things. For instance, Clinique skin care lotion can retail in China for as much as three times the price in the United States. I recall one memorable occasion when my father went to the dentist and had the choice between 4 different kinds of filling—including two imported brands!—which, of course, were the most expensive. “We have domestic made… or you could have the imported stuff.” This said in the same way we Americans talk about German engineering or French fashion.

Chinese traveling overseas are often surprised, bemused, and somewhat confused by the labor saving devices used in the West. I’ve recently had a chance to witness the chaos that resulted from the implementation of a new automatic subway ticketing system, including automatic ticket vendors, and a automated turnstile system. Since most Chinese haven’t encountered this kind of technology before, they were quite confused, standing in front of the ticketing machines with a bewildered expression on their face, or trying to enter through the wrong turnstile, or simply just waving their commuted passes, hoping that someone would tell them what to do. The Chinese agree—in theory—that modernization and automation make things smoother and more reliable in the end, but the steep learning curve often confounds them. Still, especially for industrial uses, the West is seen as having technology that can make large quantities of high-quality objects rapidly, with minimal labor required.

Xianjin is China’s vision of the future, a glorious mecca of high technology imported from the West. There is sense of optimism and a kind of covetous awe—“they have such nice things, and we will have them too, soon.” The West is eagerly looked to for advances in comfort and convenience, from daily household use (non-stick Teflon pots) to nuclear technology (planned pebble-bed nuclear reactors). Although the worship is not as starry-eyed as before, especially in the cities, Chinese will still pay a great deal more for just about anything that comes from the West.

The Myth of the West is a four-part series by Yulin Zhuang.