Netflix’s popular new series has brought Chinese sci-fi to the world stage, pissed off the Chinese themselves—and raised questions about the worldview it puts forward.
Editor’s note: When there isn’t a big headline making news, we often pick a Big Story on a topic that we think will be interesting to you. We’d be just as happy to take requests from you. Do write to us at talktous@splainer.in. We’d also love to hear what you think of our leads on these kinds of less-newsy stories on the complicated truth about narcissism, ‘philanthropy’ of the very rich, and the problem with pandas.
I haven’t watched the series—or read the book…
Ok, let’s start with the novel. The first book of Beijing-born Cixin Liu’s trilogy was published in Chinese in 2006. The series is titled ‘Remembrance of Earth's Past’. ‘The Three Body Problem’ was translated into English in 2014—by well-known sci-fi author Ken Liu—and instantly gained global acclaim. The novel became the first work by an Asian author to win the Hugo Award for best sci-fi novel. It has been recommended by a great number of celebs from Barack Obama to Mark Zuckerberg. It’s the kind of bestseller that intellectual-types love to love.
The basic plot: Traumatised by the brutality of the Cultural Revolution, a Chinese scientist invites an alien race to conquer Earth. A fact the world discovers decades later. The fate of the world now lies in a group of scientists—each with their own baggage and views of the aliens. ‘Three Body Problem’ raises a simple yet powerful question: Are human beings worth saving as a species?
On to the series: Netflix bought the rights to the trilogy—despite pressure from Republican senators to drop the project. It picked Game of Thrones’ creators David Benioff and D.B. Weiss to take yet another ‘untranslatable’ work of literary genius. The ‘3 Body Problem’ is deliberately spelled differently from the novel—‘3’ not ‘three’—to signal breaks from the books. All of them have Liu’s blessings.
Some changes are small—like renaming the alien race that looms large as the threat to humanity. Others are typically Hollywood or should we say, ‘Games of Thrones’—as in, the addition of a hearty helping of gratuitous and nasty gore. Most importantly, many of the main characters are no longer Chinese—and the location has been shifted from Beijing to Oxford and London. In fact, the key characters are known as the Oxford Five.
Wait, what? That’s a seriously big change!
Yes, well, the series may be chalking up big numbers for Netflix—but it has also made many Chinese angry—for a number of reasons.
One: Not only are a number of characters Western, the villain who invites those scary aliens to Earth is a Chinese scientist. The fan favourite hero Da Shi is no longer a Chinese detective—but an immigrant Brit who works for the UK intelligence service. Some accused the “creators of ‘orientalising’ the Chinese background story and making a Hollywood story of western heroism instead.” Others called the Netflix version “General Tso’s chicken”—a tongue-in-cheek reference to the staple American-Chinese dish.
Two: A lot of the rage is about Chinese pride and nationalism. Some complain the key scientists couldn’t be Chinese because “Westerners fundamentally can't accept the idea of Chinese people inventing cutting-edge technology.”
Three: The biggest grouse is that Netflix erased the quintessentially Chinese themes and ideas embedded in the novels: “Netflix’s adaptation cut the story out of Chinese cultural context and moved it to London… It became a product of a western perspective.” Predictably, most commenters preferred a 2023 Chinese TV adaptation—set mostly in China with mostly Chinese actors.
The creators’ response: Benioff and Weiss say the decision to make the series ‘less Chinese’ was a conscious choice:
The series creators have defended the casting. Netflix described 3 Body Problem as “purposefully global in nature”, spanning continents, cultures and timelines. “We wanted people from all over the world,” Benioff said. “We tried to make this a very diverse, international cast to represent the idea that this isn’t just one country’s struggle—it’s a global struggle to survive.”
Hmm, and what’s so Chinese about this science fiction?
Well, each culture’s science fiction is shaped by its history. For example, in the 1950s, American sci-fi writers were anxious about the rapid advances in technology—air travel, A-bombs and television. During the Cold War, dangerous Communists were transfigured into nasty, conquering aliens. Chinese sci-fi is no different.
The Mao years: During the Cultural Revolution, scientists, writers and intellectuals of any kind were seen as a threat to society—sent to labour camps for "thought remoulding.” Science-fiction was most definitely taboo:
Party propaganda aside, little literature was published during this time – and for science fiction writers to navigate the tumultuous political situation was especially difficult. "A lot of common motifs were taboos," Hua says. "For example, in Mao's era, Marxist-Leninist doctrine made no provision for the possible existence of space aliens in the universe."
The Mao effect: This history is embedded within ‘The Three Body Problem’—whose main character is shaped by the lynching of her father by the Red Guards during the that era. It reflects Liu’s own childhood:
That upheaval, which tore families apart, traumatising a generation, also marked Liu Cixin’s early childhood. His father, a member of a mining institute cadre, was sent from Beijing to work in the mines of Shanxi province. Some of his earliest memories are of gunfire and the armbands worn by the Red Guards. As the city where they lived became a flashpoint, young Liu was sent to live with his grandparents in the countryside for several years.
A secret love affair: Liu’s first introduction to science fiction was a book hidden in a box that once belonged to his father—‘Journey to the Centre of the Earth’ by Jules Verne. He told a Chinese newspaper: “My persistence stems from the words of my father. Who had explained that this… creation based on science could only be read in private.” In fact, Liu’s first novel ‘China 2185’—“a cyberpunk fantasy concerning the resurrection of Mao in virtual reality”—could not be published in print even in 1989.
China’s brand ambassador: With the ascendance of Deng Xiaoping in 1977, science staged a comeback. The present-day Chinese citizen worships at its altar—as does their government—though in more ominous ways. China’s achievements span the entire spectrum—from a highly successful space program to a state-of-the-art surveillance system and devices that monitor worker productivity.
The official role of Chinese sci-fi today is to mark this moment—and market it to the world. None has done it better than Liu’s trilogy:
The translations were intended from the start as “a big cultural export from China to the world, something very highly visible,” says [translator] Joel Martinsen… Liu’s translations were also a political breakthrough for the genre: In two decades, it had gone from barely tolerated to a flagship export of China’s official cultural machine.
Celebration or commentary? So are Liu and his fellow sci-fi writers celebrating Chinese achievement—or critiquing it? Ken Liu—now the foremost translator of Chinese sci-fi—offers this charitable view:
In China, there’s this official propaganda position that science fiction is about imagination and this is what the future is all about… In reality, much of the most interesting science fiction is much more subversive… It is a kind of wry commentary on what is happening in society.
But he lives in the US—and has an American passport. The China-bound authors steer clear of any critique:
"China's dramatic transformation is futuristic in itself," says science fiction writer Han Song in his 2013 journal article Chinese Science Fiction: A Response to Modernisation, in which he describes "science fiction" as a term to describe China's economic miracle. "The realities… are the stuff of fiction."
As for Liu himself: The trilogy has been read as tribute to his country’s “striving in the face of Western dominance”—that advocates a Chinese form of realism: “Such readings have led some scholars to conclude that Liu’s image of potential conflict between the worlds falls on the side of statism or even a defence of totalitarianism.”
One clue to Liu’s own views: a New Yorker interview—where he defended the Chinese government’s treatment of the Uighur: “Would you rather they be hacking away at bodies at train stations and schools in terrorist attacks? If anything, the government is helping their economy and trying to lift them out of poverty.”
Point to note: In 2023, China hosted Worldcon—sci-fi’s biggest annual event—for the very first time. The venue—a fabulous Chengdu Science Fiction museum that took two years to build:
The futuristic, nebula-shaped structure was purpose-built for the event. Hopping robot dogs and drum-beating automatons fascinated children inside the cavernous halls, which were filled with artwork depicting other-worldly cities and cyborg dinosaurs.
As you can see from the aerial view below, the building itself looks like a starship waiting to take off. 
But, but, but: The lavish show ended in ugly allegations of vote-rigging when the prestigious Hugo awards were announced. “Politically active writers with family ties to China”—living in the West—appeared to have been snubbed. Chinese sci-fi is not just about China—it’s also always about Beijing.
The bottomline: To be fair, where some read Liu’s trilogy as a defence of authority, others see “an anti-colonial and/or environmentalist narrative, or a call for swifter technological advancement and greater collaboration among the nations of the earth.” The best fiction is like an ink-blot test—it tells us the most about ourselves.
Reading list
There is such a thing as a ‘three body problem’ in physics. Vox and BBC News explain what it is. Associated Press, BBC News and New York Times are best on the rise of Chinese science fiction. Straits Times reports on Beijing’s love for the genre as a PR weapon. Vox looks at the big question raised by the plot: Are humans worth saving? The Conversation has more on the Chinese themes. The Guardian and Reuters are best on the backlash in China.
