Dear You is set primarily between the 1940s and the 1970s. Its central character, Zheng Mu-Sheng, flees his hometown in Chaozhou during the 1940s to escape war and forced conscription, eventually making his way to Nanyang – the "South Seas", which we now call Southeast Asia.
Through a multi-decade narrative, the film vividly portrays the unique culture of Qiaopi (侨批) – letters and remittances sent by overseas Chinese to their families back home. The emotional bonds and entanglements depicted in the story have struck a deep chord among overseas Chinese communities whose ancestral homeland is no longer truly theirs.
The film - in Teochew dialect - has already grossed hundreds of millions of yuan at the Chinese box office alone. It is now showing in Malaysia and Singapore, where it is also expected to perform strongly. (The version for Singapore is dubbed in Mandarin.)
Curiously, a journalist from Singapore's Lianhe Zaobao has written critically about the film's message. Sim Tze Wei (沈泽玮), the newspaper's Beijing correspondent, published an article on 21 May 2026 entitled The United Front Lessons of Dear You (给阿嬷的情书 - 统战启示). In it, she described the film as a masterclass in "non-coercive" united front propaganda.
Sim argued that the film serves as a subtle form of psychological warfare designed to evoke a sense of closeness to China among members of the Chinese diaspora. In her view, such emotional appeal amounts to a form of "emotional kidnapping" that could create identity confusion among Chinese Singaporeans and undermine Singapore's carefully cultivated national identity, which is not based on ethnicity.
Although I have not watched the film myself, the snippets I have seen through various podcasts help me understand why it has evoked such strong emotions. I come from a village in Muar, and my late father was generally acknowledged as the local "scholar". He often helped fellow villagers, many of whom were illiterate, write letters to their loved ones in China.
Sim is Singaporean and previously served as a correspondent in Taipei. Her writings for Lianhe Zaobao are shaped by perspectives that broadly align with Singapore's official national narrative. I therefore understand where she is coming from, especially her Taiwan stint.
I spend considerable time in Singapore and have had opportunities to interact with many younger Singaporeans. They are deeply proud of their Singaporean nationality. While many are familiar with and comfortable around China, few wish to define themselves as "Chinese" in the civilisational or ethnic sense of the term. (Older Singaporeans, however, harbour strong attachments to their Chinese heritage.)
The debate sparked by Sim's article has generated considerable discussion. Some people argue that a film's ability to resonate culturally does not necessarily amount to political manipulation, and that the criticism itself reveals underlying anxieties about Singapore's own national identity framework.
But in flesh and blood
This attitude is shaped largely by environment and circumstance. While successive Malaysian governments have generally treated Chinese citizens fairly, Malaysians still live within a policy framework that grants preferential treatment to the Bumiputera population in many aspects of life. Such realities inevitably shape perceptions and emotions. Similar sentiments can be found among many Chinese communities in Thailand and Indonesia.
I myself nearly became one.
During my formative years, I rejected my father's faith in spiritual Daoism. To me, it was little more than superstition. Yet I loved Chinese history and took immense pride in Chinese philosophy. I had no difficulty embracing a China led by Mao Zedong.
My outlook began to change after I entered the workforce. Japan was ascendant, while China was still struggling through the aftermath of the Cultural Revolution. At the Malaysian Industrial Development Authority (MIDA), I befriended an expert sent by the Japan External Trade Organization (JETRO). He possessed a deep understanding of Chinese history and philosophy and lived an exemplary life. And I liked him greatly.
Later, when I pursued graduate management studies, Japanese management practices were in vogue. Many Japanese industrial leaders became role models whose approaches I admired and sought to emulate.
I first visited China in the 1980s. Accompanying Prof Goh Sing Yau as a consultant on a Canadian-sponsored water-pump project, I travelled to Xinjiang and Beijing. I was taken aback by the prevalence of the mindset captured by the phrase 假公济私 (jiǎ gōng jì sī) – using public office or official duties for personal gain. The experiences planted the first seeds of doubt in my mind.
In the 1990s, I accompanied Tan Sri Lim Goh Tong to Fujian and Beijing to discuss the privatisation of two projects: the Fuzhou–Quanzhou Expressway and the Fujian Oil Refinery. These visits exposed me to aspects of officialdom that reinforced my scepticism.
At one government banquet, I was horrified to see a senior official spit directly onto the carpeted floor. We were also advised that certain officials preferred "Five Joss Stick" watches – a reference to Rolex watches, whose logo resembles five incense sticks fanned out before a deity.
I encountered a bed in the office of an executive at the refinery in Hui'an. Apparently, she had prepared herself a full bed to rest on during her lunch break. On another occasion, a mayor suggested that I buy him a piece of jewellery - in lieu or a souvenir - when he was visiting Kuala Lumpur. Incidents such as these strengthened my belief in the stereotype of the "silly mainland Chinese".
In the mid-2000s, Tan Sri Low Yow Chuan asked me to assess the viability of acquiring a hotel in Guangzhou. Although the property was clean and well run, I was struck by what I regarded as excessive "Chineseness" in its décor and operations. Imagine finding old toilet bowls stored on the roof because they were considered too valuable to discard.
My views began to change after Xi Jinping assumed leadership of China. I came to appreciate what I regarded as his vision and strategic direction for the country.
Yet
even then, when the COVID-19 outbreak first emerged and Wuhan's wet market was
initially identified as the source of the virus, my immediate reaction was:
"There you go again, these silly Chinese." During earlier visits to
Guangzhou, for I had personally witnessed wildlife being caged and sold in wet
markets, hence that swift reaction.
My two children were born in the 1970s. At the time, Chinese schools in Malaysia were not regarded as particularly strong academically. I therefore enrolled Shen-Yang and Monica in national-type schools where Chinese was not taught.
I hired a tutor to teach them Chinese at home, but they learned very little.
At the time, I saw nothing wrong with my decision. Only much later did I begin to question it.
Shen-Yang, Monica, and many of their peers represent a new Chinese identity in the making. They possess little knowledge of Chinese history or philosophy. Their saving grace is that they were still exposed to Chinese culture through festivals and traditions that I and my wife continue to cherish.
Both are accomplished professionals in their respective fields. Yet I sometimes find their ambivalence towards China's progress concerning. They visit China occasionally and had the opportunity to rub shoulder with experts there, but remain unconvinced that Chinese institutions and professionals are truly that world-class as held up by many today.
To be fair, I do not entirely blame them. Some of the people they encounter in China still exhibit behaviours shaped by decades of insularity and intense internal competition. Such experiences inevitably influence perceptions, especially their counterparts’ selfishness to share knowledge and data.
However, my purpose here is not to discuss Singapore’s paranoia or China's rise. Many describe China as the world's second-largest economy. That is in terms of nominal GDP measure. In reality, it is in fact the largest if you use a more appropriate measure – the purchasing power parity count,
Most of China's technological hurdles – especially on the military front – have largely been overcome. What is left in the West’s arsenal is the denial of ASML’s EUV machines to them. But I firmly these remaining challenges will eventually be overcome. Meanwhile, China's development in many sectors continues at vertical take-off speed. I believe this is something ethnic Chinese all over the world should be proud of. Unfortunately, many do not share this belief - they tend to confuse heritage with citizenship.
Most people of Chinese descent in countries such as the US and Australia are already third-generation immigrants or beyond. They know they are ethnically Chinese, but few feel any sense of belonging to China itself. Their understanding of China is often shaped by the narratives dominant in their own societies, many of which amount to a sustained campaign of China demonisation.
Similarly, many Taiwanese and Singaporeans who lack strong familial or emotional ties to China increasingly distance themselves from identifying as Chinese in a broader civilisational sense.
Nonetheless, Chinese culture remains deeply rooted in Taiwan. And Singapore does not discourage the preservation of Chinese culture either; indeed, its leaders have encouraged Chinese families to continue speaking Mandarin at home. Nevertheless, historical experience, geopolitical realities, and nation-building priorities have encouraged the emergence of a distinctly Singaporean Chinese identity that is increasingly separate from that of mainland China.
Why do I argue that new Chinese identities are evolving?
Because environment shapes people.
We often notice differences among people of similar ancestry who have grown up in different societies. I can frequently distinguish Australian-born or American-born Chinese from Malaysian Chinese through their facial looks alone, not to mention mannerisms, speech patterns, and outlook. Likewise, many discerning mainland Chinese can often identify Malaysians almost immediately.
The differences arise from how we live, speak, eat, behave, and interact with the world around us. Over generations, such influences may shape not only our habits and outlooks, but also physical characteristics. I would not be surprised if some of these adaptations eventually leave biological imprints as well. (I read a thesis somewhere that the way we eat and way speak can actually reshape our jawbones during our lifetime!)
I am not a scientist, and I do not pretend to understand all the complexities involved. But I am convinced that several generations from now, these distinctions will become even more pronounced.
Mainland Chinese identity may remain relatively cohesive because of China's size, connectivity, and shared institutions. Overseas Chinese communities, however, will likely continue to diverge in their own directions.
Perhaps I am wrong.
But it is an intriguing possibility.
End
PS: China has recently announced sanctions against the Philippine defence minister is Gilberto Teodoro Jr, his spouse and child, barring them from entering China, Hong ong and Macau and also prohibiting Chinese from doing any business with the family. Teodoro comes from the influential Teodoro–Cojuangco family of Tarlac. His mother was Mercedes Cojuangco-Teodoro, a member of the Cojuangco clan, while his father was Gilberto Teodoro Sr. The Cojuangco family is widely recognized as one of the Philippines' prominent Chinese-Filipino ("Tsinoy") business and political families. The surname "Cojuangco" itself traces to Fujianese (Jinjiang) Chinese ancestry that settled in the Philippines generations ago.
Teodoro has had extensive business interests in the Philippines, particularly in mining. He chaired Sagittarius Mines, Inc. before returning to government service. And the broader Cojuangco business network has historically been involved in Philippine banking, agriculture, food, and industrial sectors, many of which are China-related.
The surnames Teodoro and Cojuangco trace to Fujiannese Chinese ancetry that settled in the Philippines generations ago.
You can be fiecely anti-China, but to spew venoms and show no gratitude for the good deeds people have done you is strictly no-no to me.
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