A catchphrase, while it can be oversimplifying, and even insulting, is a handy way to interpret the seemingly nonsensical sights and occurrences while living abroad. I would be very curious to know how visitors to America summarize our bizarre ways, but I’m not in a position to surmise. In Spain we relied on the “it’s all f***ed up here” explanation, but I now I realize it’s a moot point. It all f***ed up everywhere. A more appropriate motto for what I’ve seen of China could be “anything goes”.

The Law:

Every show of force I’ve seen in China has been more along the lines of hall monitors with sashes than the riot squad. In this case, anything goes unless it halts flow. Hindrances sure. Distractions fine. As long as the rest of us can go about our business, anything goes.

If you’re like me, you prefer conflict managers to the “take names and ask questions later” approach of our dear old American piece-packing porkers. In one of my run-ins with the law, last Christmas my friend Brian and I decided to dole out holiday cheer in the form of carols. Dressed in holiday colors and hearts beating with mild stage fright, we stood in the subway interchange at People’s Square, pulled out our lyrics and began a jolly version of Jingle Bells.

More than a slight logistical oversight. This interchange is possibly the highest-trafficked pedestrian location in Shanghai. By the time we started The Twelve Days of Christmas, we had created a spectator bottleneck that was increasing two fold for every partridge in a pear tree. By nine maids-a-milking we had a mob scene and a roller.

After escorting the criminal carolers to the station, older cop handed us over to younger cop who could speak English, and the awkward conversation ensued:

“Where are you from? You know, in America you can sing, but this is China. China is different. China has…many people.”

So, where can we sing?

“In your home is okay.”

Not oblivious to the absurdity of his official statement, as he let us go he whispered to Brian in Chinese that we could sing outside in a less conspicuous location. Anything goes, carolers!

Most other instances with five-o involve traffic accidents, and in each case the cop seems more concerned with paternalistic reprimand than the letter of the law. I’ve seen motorists honk, high beam, then roar past cop cars driving the speed limit. I’ve seen motorists yelling, gesticulating, and even laying their hands on law enforcement officers. When I went to the F1 race last weekend, local entrepreneurs sold everything you could possibly need from the parking lot through the fence. With a cop standing right beside us, we passed Mao-faces through the fence and the lucky hustler tossed us a 6-pack. I suppose the licensed venders lost out, but hey, anything goes, F1!

Fashion:

Would you believe what topped the list of neighborly complaints in a recent article on manners? Pajamas! Not loogies, car horns, loud voices, cell phone ring tones, strange smells, litter, pushing, shoving, line cutting, or smoking. Pet droppings took second to pajamas. A quarter of those polled admitted to wearing pajamas in public, and most of those polled complained about the pajama people. But why? Doesn’t anything go, fashion police?

Pajamas hit the scene decades ago when Shanghainese began to express their individuality and leisure class by doffing peejays instead of commie suits. And it persists to this day, especially among couples as they stroll before and after dinner. And why not? Are pajamas really in bad taste? If they are, then what about the mullets, boots, furs, pleather, sequins, leggings, dyes, spikes, chains, and a hodgepodge of other Chinese fashion faux pas whose names I don’t even know?

The desire to be “cool” in America has gone far enough, hasn’t it? Chinese cliques are refreshing in that respect. I’ll never forget my student Simon. Simon couldn’t be more uncool if he tried. Studious, overweight and uncoordinated, with dandruff, bedhead, thick glasses, suspenders, acne, puddlehoppers, coochiecutters, and halitosis. And because we tracked students, he found himself the only male in the highest level class. But did any of the girls ever giggle or ridicule? Of course not. Anything goes, Simon!

Public space:

“Anything goes” really strikes laowai in crowds. Whether it’s the subway, the train station, the bus station, or McDonald’s, there is bound to be some frustration. The initial feeling is anger, because when we were kids, our moms told us that only bad kids cut in line. Drilled into us even before we can remember, we scowl on shovers and line jumpers like they were pimps or pushers. All it takes is one push, one cut, and the moral fabric of society crumbles like Caligulan Rome.

Then a new feeling sets in. One of dilemma, for we find ourselves having to resort to the same boorish tactics. Do we do what mama said, and miss the bus? Or do we sink into moral depravity and make it home on time?

And finally, we feel amusement. For once we separate ourselves from the intensity of the moment, it’s just a seat after all. We chuckle inside how anything goes, from big to small. And it seems a game. A game like Calvinball, whose rules are rewritten every time.

Many foreigners never make it past the anger stage, and are destined for a life of whining, winching, and bitching with their expat cohorts. Others reach stage two, and start to take on the demeanor of the surliest Chinese. Those who can hack it laugh it up and jump into the fray. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. On any given day I might be any one of the three because hey, anything goes!

I don’t want to sound like anything goes is strictly a Chinese way, or that it is the only catchphrase of relevance. In fact, a foreigner in America might even justify the same summary of my hometown, for all I know. Nor do I want to qualify this philosophy as right or wrong. I do believe some situations necessitate the drawing of lines, which is why I am careful not to criticize religion as opposed to the institutional interpretation of religion.

If there were a deep point here, it relates more to passivity, responsibility, and the class system. I will always forgive the unaware granny for cutting in front of me at KFC. I will never hold it against the clueless migrant laborer for barking into his cell phone a few feet from my ear. But nothing irks me more than seeing how black Audi wielding cadres live above the law, or how theft and corruption seem to transpire unopposed right under people’s noses for fear of rocking the boat, or how security guards, ticket takers and other people in positions of authority neglect to take action in plain view of ignorant opportunists. Anything goes is a two-way street, which gives the rest of us the right to draw the line as we see fit.