There is a tale about Soviet diplomats in China in the 1950s: they refused to ride in rickshaws, since to them the rickshaw seemed the very embodiment of the exploitation of man by man, even though giving up this transport meant endless lateness

There is a tale about Soviet diplomats in China in the 1950s: they refused to ride in rickshaws, since to them the rickshaw seemed the very embodiment of the exploitation of man by man, even though giving up this transport meant endless lateness. In those years China still suffered from an enormous problem of poverty, so the culture of the pedestrian cab-driver, which had spread exclusively from the European quarters of Shanghai and Hong Kong, provided many with work and a livelihood. Once a conversation took place between two young diplomats and a rickshaw man. The rickshaw man said: what good is this, you are taking away my work and my bread? To which our diplomats could think of no more sensible reply than to give the “coachman” some money and to haul the fellow himself about in his own cart. A naive story, yes, but one that truly fits the spirit of Sino-Soviet friendship in the post-war decades.