Why Don't Chinese People Have Personal Space?

1. A Scene: Rush Hour on Shanghai Metro Line 1

It was autumn 2018. I was back in Shanghai on business.

A German friend — Hans, in his early forties, from Cologne, in mechanical engineering — was visiting China for the first time. I took him to experience the Shanghai metro.

We stood at People's Square Station, waiting for Line 1. The moment the train doors opened, I felt Hans's body stiffen.

"Liu," he whispered, "it's already full inside."

"It's fine," I said. "There's still room."

"Impossible." His expression was like watching a physics disaster unfold. "This violates the laws of physics."

"On the Chinese metro," I said, "the laws of physics need to be relearned."

I gave him a push, and we squeezed in. When the doors closed, Hans's face was pressed against a middle-aged man's back, his left hand pinned by an auntie's shopping bag, his right hand raised in the air — because that was the only place with any space left.

He looked at me, a plea for rescue in his eyes.

"Relax," I said. "Just three more stops."

"This isn't about relaxing," he said. "This is a stranger less than two centimeters away from me. I can feel his body heat."

"In China," I said, "this is called 'lively and bustling' (热闹)."

"This is called 'violation,'" Hans said.

"No," I said. "In China, this is called 'everyone living life together.'"

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2. A Lighthearted Misunderstanding: Why Do Strangers Touch My Arm?

"Hans, have you ever had this experience — in China, a complete stranger talking to you will touch your arm?"

He thought about it. "Yes! I asked for directions at the Bund. A lady pointed the way for me, patting my arm as she spoke. She patted three times. I thought it was some kind of signal."

"What signal?"

"Like 'follow me' or 'be careful.' I was even wondering if there was some danger at the Bund, and she was warning me."

I laughed: "She wasn't warning you. She was being 'close' to you."

"Close?" Hans's eyes widened. "She didn't know me."

"True. But in China, the distance between strangers is completely different from what you Germans understand."

"Many foreigners feel this confusion when they first come to China."

"You're walking on the street, and the person behind you follows right at your heels, almost stepping on them."

"You're queuing at a restaurant, and the person behind you is less than thirty centimeters away — you can hear his breathing."

"You're in an elevator, seven or eight people squeezed together, and no one feels the need to apologize."

"Hans, do you know what shocks my foreign friends the most?"

"What?"

"The massage at Chinese hair salons."

Hans laughed: "I've experienced it. The hairdresser put his hands on my head while washing it, pressing so hard I thought he was examining my skull."

"Exactly. And he won't ask you 'is this okay?' He won't say 'tell me if it's too much.' He just presses."

"Why?"

"Because in his logic, touch is part of the service. Touch is not violation — it's care."

"In China, when a stranger touches you, he's not violating your boundaries — he's saying 'I'm here, I notice you, we're people in the same space.'"

"This is hard for foreigners to understand, because in your cultures, touch is a privilege of intimate relationships."

"In China, touch is the norm of public life."

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3. The Chinese Explanation: Why Don't We Have the Concept of "Personal Space"?

"Hans," I said, "have you ever wondered why China doesn't have the concept of 'personal space'?"

"Because there are too many people?" he said.

"That's one reason, but not the whole reason."

"China's population density is indeed high. 1.4 billion people live in a country about the same size as the U.S. You can't have half a meter of personal space on the metro."

"But that's not a cultural reason. That's a physical one."

"The real reason is: Chinese people have never used space to define relationships."

"In Europe, you use distance to express relationships."

"You keep more than a meter from strangers, half a meter to a meter from friends, and close enough to hug family."

"Space = relationship."

"In China, we don't do that."

"Chinese people use 'attitude' to express relationships, not 'distance.'"

"A stranger can be ten centimeters from you, but if he speaks to you politely, that's 'polite distance.'"

"A friend can be two meters from you, but if he shouts at you, that's 'intimate attitude.'"

"So in China, space doesn't define relationships. Attitude defines relationships."

Hans thought about it: "But doesn't that mean Chinese people don't need privacy?"

"They do, but in a different way."

"Chinese privacy is not 'physical space' — it's 'psychological space.'"

"You can squeeze next to me, but you can't ask about my salary."

"You can press against me on the metro, but you can't look at my phone."

"Chinese privacy is an 'information boundary,' not a 'physical boundary.'"

"That's why Chinese people can be packed like sardines on the metro, but won't chat with strangers in elevators."

"Because bodies can be close, but information cannot."

"This is a very different sense of boundaries."

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4. The Deeper Cultural Logic: Crowding Is a Way of Life

"Hans, let me tell you a story of my own."

"In 2000, I first arrived in Germany. I took the train in Düsseldorf. There were about fifteen people in the carriage."

"I habitually walked over to a seat, wanting to sit down. But I noticed that the three people already seated glanced at me simultaneously, then each pulled their bags a little closer to themselves."

"Their movements were small, but I felt it."

"It was a silent defense: don't come near me."

"I was confused. In China, if there's a seat on the train, you sit. The person next to you might shift a bit to make room for you."

"But in Germany, as I sat there, I felt a pressure of 'being allowed in' — as if I needed permission to occupy that space."

"That was the first time I understood: European space is 'territory,' to be defended."

"Chinese space is a 'river,' where everyone flows together."

"But this contrast isn't absolute," I said. "Do you know which country actually sits in the middle?"

"Italy?" Hans said.

"Yes, Italy."

"After living in Italy for twenty-five years, I've found Italians are actually a fascinating middle ground."

"Italians also value personal space — they won't squeeze together like Chinese people, but they won't draw a clear 'territory' like Germans either."

"On Italian buses, people try to spread out as much as possible. But if the bus gets crowded, Italians will shrug and accept the crowding."

"And Italians have one characteristic — they like to touch."

"Your Italian friends, when they talk to you, don't they also pat your shoulder, touch your arm?"

"Yes," Hans said. "When I was on a business trip in Milan, my Italian colleague kept his hand on my shoulder the whole time he was talking to me."

"So you see, Italy is actually a great bridge culture."

"Italians have both European spatial awareness and Mediterranean physical warmth."

"That's why I can run a restaurant in Florence and understand both European and Chinese guests at the same time."

"European guests come to Giào Giào and feel 'this restaurant is very Chinese' — because it's lively, noisy, everyone is talking."

"Chinese guests come to Giào Giào and feel 'this restaurant is very European' — because there's still distance between tables, and the waiter won't stand next to you listening to your conversation."

"I'm in the middle."

"It took me twenty-five years to understand the difference between these two senses of space."

"European spatial awareness comes from 'individualism' — every person is an independent island, needing an ocean to keep them separate."

"Chinese spatial awareness comes from 'collectivism' — every person is a drop of water in a river. Being close is normal; separation is what's strange."

"Crowded is not a kind of pain."

"Crowded is a kind of confirmation: I exist among people. I am with others."

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5. Learn a Chinese Word: Why Is It Called 亲 (Qīn)?

"Speaking of the Chinese attitude toward 'closeness," I said, "let's learn a Chinese word today."

I wrote a character on paper: 亲.

"The top of this character is '立' (stand), and the bottom is '木' (tree)."

"Wait," Hans said, "this looks like 'a standing tree.'"

"Your intuition is good. The original meaning of 亲 indeed has something to do with trees."

"In ancient China, 亲 originally referred to parents — the people who gave birth to and raised me, standing like a tree, giving me shade."

"Later, the meaning of 亲 expanded."

"亲 = the people closest by blood."

"Then it expanded further."

"亲 = anyone who makes me feel 'close.'"

"Hans, do you know? On the Chinese internet, strangers call each other 亲."

"For example, when you shop on Taobao, the customer service agent will say: '亲, what help do you need?'"

"You Germans would find this strange — why would a seller call me '亲'?"

"But in Chinese logic, 亲 isn't saying we're relatives."

"亲 is saying: although we don't know each other, in this transaction, we are 'close' — not in distance, but in relationship."

"Let me tell you an even deeper meaning."

"In Chinese, there's a word '亲近' (qīnjìn) — meaning close, intimate."

"But do you know? In ancient China, 亲 had another layer of meaning: personally, in person."

"For example, '亲历' (qīnlì) — personally experienced. '亲为' (qīnwéi) — personally did it."

"So the character 亲, at its core, is about 'removing distance.'"

"The distance of blood, the distance of status, the distance of space — 亲 removes all these distances."

"That's why Chinese people can say 亲 to strangers."

"Because in Chinese culture, 'closeness' is not a privilege, but an invitation."

"We invite you into our space, not because we're relatives, but because we're in the same world."

"This character 亲 is Chinese culture's best rebuttal to the concept of 'personal space.'"

"We don't guard space. We invite closeness."

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6. One-Sentence Summary: What It Took Me 25 Years to Understand

Hans walked out of the metro station and took a deep breath.

"Liu," he said, "I now understand why Chinese people don't have personal space."

"Why?"

"Because you don't need it."

"Your 'closeness' is not violation. It's an invitation."

"That person pressing against me on the metro wasn't grabbing my space — he was saying 'we're taking this journey together.'"

"That lady patting my arm wasn't offending me — she was saying 'I'm helping you because we're people of the same land.'"

I smiled.

"You understand."

"In China, crowding is not a lack of civilization."

"Crowding is a form of civilization — a civilization that believes 'we are together.'"

"Of course, this has its costs."

"Chinese people have less privacy than Europeans. Chinese boundaries are blurrier than European ones."

"But what you get in return is: Chinese people's sense of 'us' is stronger than that of any other people."

"When you understand this, you'll realize:"

"On the Chinese metro, that person pressing against you is not violating you."

"He's using his own way to tell you: you are not alone."

"In this country of 1.4 billion people, no one is alone."

> Chinese people don't lack personal space because they don't understand respect. It's because Chinese people use "closeness" to express respect — closeness in space is closeness in heart.

> It took me 25 years to understand: when I was squeezed, touched, and surrounded on the Shanghai metro, I wasn't being violated — I was being accepted. Accepted into a world that believes "we are together."

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