Some news from the quake zone: starting today, the Sichuan Foreign Affairs Office - or waiban - is asking that foreign journalists apply for reporting permits to cover the earthquake zone. It's not clear whether it's simply a routine process, or whether access might be restricted at some point. (UPDATE: I subsequently got my permit on the spot; the procedure seemed straightforward.) One team of foreign reporters was turned away from a crematorium this afternoon for not having these newly-required documents. It shows the state's bureaucratic reflexes are intact.
Perhaps things are tightening up now as the chance of finding survivors diminishes; there's little propaganda value in the grim body retrieval process once it's hopeless. Officials have made it clear that easy access to quake sites for foreign reporters has helped pull in international support for the relief effort. Some find it doubly disappointing, therefore, to hear of fresh red tape after a week in which China's government largely fulfilled it's pre-OIympic promises to allow media free access, and journalists were welcomed by rescue workers.
Things have been so open that I was even helped through an army camp by a solider with a flashlight who warned, "Be careful, it's slippy". On Thursday at the provincial government press conference the chairman said: "Thanks to the media for it's attention to this issue. You're welcome to keep reporting on this disaster relief." It's hardly a done job.
Premier Wen Jiabao's visit to Sichuan has genuinely heartened the quake victims, and may have saved the Communist Party's reputation among Chinese people, at least for now. Outside Sichuan though, compassion is being channeled into donations that are not always optional. A friend from Shandong province on China's east coast phoned yesterday to tell me how a retired middle-school teacher's ex-work unit ordered her to drop by and donate. And a (low-paid) television producer was told giving 100 RMB ($14.3) wouldn't be enough for his compulsory donation.
Television shows footage of people queuing up to give; the boxes they're dropping their money into are often transparent perspex, or have "Donations" written on them in English. There's a lot of effort going into the propaganda side of this rescue. But if the China's central bureaucrats don't improve the rescue effort soon, they could face a backlash of anger and cynicism. Right now, they're active, rather than pro-active.
What I've seen of the rescue effort is starting to look badly uncoordinated, and a little theatrical. Granted, the initial response was impressively swift. As the 130,000 troops and other rescue forces start pushing into remoter areas, however, they're becoming genuinely overstretched.
Even the biggest army in the world can't cope with this easily. However, that doesn't explain why so many resources are also being wasted. One photographer who was in the obliterated town of Hanwang on Friday described seeing ambulances heading into the mountains behind it. Despite piles of donated food and water in Hanwang, the convoy went out empty, and came back empty, even though mountain villagers desperately need such basics.
Army convoys can often be seen sitting around waiting for orders, parked up in the midst of destruction. Instead of sitting in trucks, often for hours, these soldiers could be digging. Those who are digging lack cranes and earth movers, though China has more cranes than any other country on earth, thanks to its frenzied construction boom. Why are the roads not jammed with these mechanical beasts moving into the quake zone?
Even if the central bureaucracy has yet to knock heads together hard enough to create a can-do spirit that overrides departmental divisions, ordinary citizens have responded with a wave of volunteering. Expressways are crowded with drivers ferrying thrown-together food aid: near Deyang, I met a convoy from the Chengdu Dibiao Sofa Factory who'd raised 50,000 RMB to fill a pickup truck with food and water.
With this kind of energy around, why are survivors still getting mostly small packets of biscuits, muffins and other junk food? People are grabbing what's readily available on supermarket shelves and piling it into their cars to bring to the disaster zone. With so many willing hands, it's surely possible to set up kitchen teams to cook healthy meals? Mao once famously said that communist troops should live among the people like a fish in water. Maybe it's time for the Chinese Communist Party to learn from the people again, and to trust them more.
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