At the end of the day, what has never been "regulated out" in China is not Christmas, nor New Year's Eve, but any happiness outside the control of authorities. They are not afraid of Western holidays, but of crowds; not of religious symbols, but of emotions; not of consumer behavior, but of people gathering, starting to laugh, and beginning to release pressure—things they can't predict, can't contain, and can't afford to take responsibility for.

Thus, we see an extremely absurd scene: the economy is in such poor shape, yet every day they shout "boost domestic demand," "promote consumption," "strengthen confidence," but at the most money-spending, most willing-to-go-out, most naturally lively moments, they reflexively slam on the brakes. Why? Because in their eyes—consumption is important, but stability is more important; stability is important, but avoiding responsibility is even more so; and whether ordinary people are happy or not is simply not important.

The so-called "security considerations" boil down to one sentence: better a city be dull and lifeless than have any uncontrollable incident. As long as you don’t gather, celebrate, or organize spontaneous emotions, the city remains as quiet as a morgue—this is the ideal state. Coupled with the tense international environment and hypersensitivity to "Western symbols," Christmas trees, countdowns, red hats are all treated as ideological landmines.

So an ordinary holiday that should belong to shopping malls, couples, friends, and nightlife is forcibly elevated into a "stance issue," "direction issue," or "attitude issue." Even happiness must first pass political scrutiny—that’s the most terrifying part.

What’s even more disgusting is that set of official logic—if something goes wrong, you are responsible; if nothing happens, no one remembers you; so the safest way is: prevent it from happening. Thus, layers of "advocacy," "reminders," "cooling down," and "civilized holiday" are pushed down step by step, eventually turning into de facto bans. Not outright prohibition, but a feigned gentle approach that suffocates the holiday little by little.

What they truly fear is the overwhelming emotions in society right now. Unemployment, pay cuts, mortgages, an uncertain future—all people are just holding on. And holidays, by nature, are legitimate, harmless, low-cost outlets for emotional release. But they are afraid to even let you turn this valve. Because once people gather, once emotions start flowing, once someone realizes "there are so many of us," it becomes something they cannot fully control.

So the safest way is: let you disperse, let you stay cold, let you hold it all in individually. But the problem is— the more they do this, the more people resist. Human society has proven countless times: when a harmless pleasure is deliberately deprived, moralized, or politicized, people's rebellious psychology skyrockets. The more you don’t let it happen, the more they want to do it; the more you control, the more they become sarcastic; the more you pretend "it's for your own good," the more people feel like fools.

Especially when control becomes so fragmented that it reaches the level of daily life—celebrating a holiday feels like doing something wrong, countdowns feel like underground activities, and a little liveliness seems to invite criticism. Adults are treated like children, and this humiliation itself fuels emotional unrest.

That’s why you see: on the surface, everything looks quiet; behind the scenes, it’s even crazier; officially cooling down, privately getting more intense; if you don’t let me celebrate on the street, I’ll do it in the corners, on social circles, through coded signals, or in sarcasm. This isn’t a cultural conflict; it’s a conflict manufactured by governance failure. True cultural confidence is when the Spring Festival is so strong that Christmas naturally fades into insignificance; not relying on documents, initiatives, criticism, or even threats to "hide" a holiday.

When a society needs to resort to administrative logic just to prevent young people from celebrating, it’s no longer about who erodes whom, but about a society that has even begun to fear "happiness." And the most ironic part— the more you fear it, the more they want to celebrate; the more you suppress, the more this holiday becomes a symbol of emotional release, identity, or even covert rebellion. That is the real failure.