Inside Shenzhen: Must You Drink Water to Enter the Station? Shenzhen Metro's 'Strictest Security Check Ever' – Why Is Safety Holding Millions of Commuters Hostage?

Shenzhen, a city long celebrated as a symbol of China's reform and opening-up and a hub of technological innovation, has once again sparked debate over China's 'security governance' model—this time over a seemingly ordinary metro entrance. Starting July 20, Shenzhen Metro rolled out 'full-coverage security screening' at all stations, mandating that every passenger, regardless of identity, have their belongings scanned via X-ray and undergo handheld body checks. On the first day—coinciding with Monday morning rush hour—queues stretched far beyond station entrances. Some commuters waited nearly 30 minutes to enter, with lines exceeding 100 meters at certain stations, sparking widespread complaints. The announcement was only made the night before, catching many off guard.

Facing public backlash, Shenzhen Metro quickly announced the next day that it would increase staffing and accelerate the deployment of smart security equipment, leading to slight improvements in peak-hour order. However, the real debate isn't just about heightened security—it's about the 'security normal' that has gradually taken root across Chinese society.

Chinese authorities have long claimed that China is one of the world's safest countries. Yet, in recent years, incidents such as campus attacks, random stabbings, and public violence have raised growing doubts about this official narrative. Ironically, in the aftermath of each social incident, what rapidly increases is not systemic governance reform, but more and stricter security checks.

As a result, a unique phenomenon has emerged across Chinese cities: what citizens directly experience is not improved public safety, but an ever-growing number of security inspections.

If Shenzhen is the latest example, Beijing has long established a highly sophisticated security management system. Residents in Beijing are accustomed to carrying ID cards or passports at all times. Especially during politically sensitive periods—such as the National People's Congress, Party Congress, or National Day—random ID checks by police have become routine, affecting both Chinese citizens and foreigners alike.

Even more emblematic are the 'entry checkpoints into Beijing' that have existed for years around the capital. All vehicles entering Beijing from Hebei, Tianjin, and other directions may be subject to personnel, vehicle, and document inspections. This system, in place for decades, is consistently framed around 'political security' and 'capital security'.

Globally, such常态化 urban entry checks are typically seen only in countries facing persistent terrorism or armed conflict. Yet in China, where the government consistently claims high social stability, this has become an accepted part of daily life.

Even everyday items like power banks and bottled water are now subject to inspection. Reporters in Guangzhou have observed that not only must luggage go through scanners, but power banks must also be individually checked—visually inspected and verified for capacity, with oversized units sometimes banned from stations.

Another practice that leaves a strong impression on foreign travelers is the inspection of bottled water. At many train stations, metro stations, and major transport hubs, passengers are required to place bottled water on dedicated detection devices. In some cases, they are even asked to take a sip on the spot to prove the contents are safe.

For Chinese citizens, these procedures are now routine. For foreign visitors, they often serve as the first direct encounter with China's security governance culture.

After the 'July 5 Incident' in Xinjiang, security checks became mandatory before entering malls and indoor venues across the region. In Urumqi, special police officers are stationed every 500 to 600 meters, a scene now normalized in the city.

The core controversy in Shenzhen isn't the security check itself. The real criticism is that while 'everyone must be checked,' sufficient staffing, equipment, and entry lanes were not simultaneously added. As a result, security measures have become a bottleneck for efficiency. Large crowds gather at narrow entrances, sacrificing commute efficiency and creating new public safety risks. Even state media commentary pointed out that without adequate scientific foresight, even well-intentioned policies can backfire.

Is this an early security rehearsal ahead of APEC? Undoubtedly, these upgraded measures are linked to the upcoming APEC summit. China must ensure the safety of all attendees—and also prevent wronged citizens from staging public protests or petitioning.

On Tuesday, state media reported that netizens posted videos showing passengers 'rushing the gate' at Bihaiwan Station in Shenzhen due to long queues, resulting in a security officer being knocked down.

Similar measures were fully visible during Trump's visit to Beijing in April, when petitioners near the National Letters and Visits Office by Temple of Heaven were preemptively intercepted by provincial stability teams.

This aligns with China's consistent pattern before major political events—from Beijing to the G20 in Hangzhou, to the Shanghai Expo—where cities tighten social control ahead of high-profile gatherings.

But when temporary measures become permanent, exceptions turn into systems. Does real safety come from more checks—or from greater trust?

On Xiaohongshu, many Shenzhen residents have expressed strong dissatisfaction with the 'excessive security checks.' The lines at Shenzhen Metro stations are not just queues for inspection—they reflect a deeper, more paradoxical contradiction in contemporary China: a government that claims to have the world's safest society, yet subjects its people to increasingly intrusive security checks every day.