I have not been to China recently enough to judge these claims:

Behaviour is notoriously harder to engineer than buildings. A recent trip to the Fragrant Hills in western Beijing on a newly constructed metro line, had me marveling at the improved crowd-management. Despite massive groups of domestic tourists from around the country thronging the area, in what would not-so-long-ago have been a scenario for a potential stampede, the crowds moved in relative order. The park environs were spick and span with no litter in sight; not a single old codger sneaking a cigarette.

There was some amount of strident rule-announcing on loudspeakers: stay on the designated tracks, no smoking etc., but overall, it was possible to enjoy the natural beauty, notwithstanding the hordes of day-trippers. The toilets were not fragrant, despite the nomenclature of the spot itself, but they were clean, and the seats were free of the tell-tale footprints that indicate squatting rather than sitting. Barely anyone gave me, an obvious foreigner, a second glance. In contrast, there was a time in 2002 when a cyclist fell off his bike in his shock at having spotted dark-skinned me walking along a road in the outskirts of Beijing.

So how had the Chinese been pacified/disciplined/habituated to ways of behaviour that went so against their until-very-recent, loophole-finding, chaos-shuffling, phlegm-expectorating deportment in public spaces?

The answer, as answers to sociological questions invariably are, is multipronged.

Some of it is more money.

Here is more by Pallavi Aiyar.  Via Malinga Fernando.