China Calling

20 years after Tiananmen: Understanding Chinese Youth

2009-06-02T07:09:15Z

As the anniversary of the June 4 bloodshed looms, Newsweek's Duncan Hewitt explains why China's younger generation doesn't fit the usual stereotypes. Hewitt, who is author of "Getting Rich First: Life in a Changing China", argues that understanding Chinese youth remains a complex challenge for the outside world. Here's why:

In 1989 it all seemed so simple – student protesters wanted western style multi-party democracy. In fact it wasn’t quite as simple as that. There were many different demands and concerns. Corruption, poor studying and working conditions, a simple desire for more personal space -- all played a part. A multi-party system wasn’t everyone’s top priority, but as a concept it was easy for the outside world to digest.

These days the common cliché is almost the polar opposite: China’s young people have been immersed in patriotic education. They are so proud of their nation’s economic rise, and so obsessed with their own careers and the need to find a job and earn money, that they have no interest in political or social issues. Didn’t angry protests by young people about unfair western media coverage last year -- when millions signed up to a website called Anti-CNN -- prove that any idealistic admiration of Western values has evaporated?

The financial crisis has intensified such perceptions. Many in China criticize the way the world’s major powers ran their financial systems. Some, including the young-ish authors of the recently published book “Unhappy China”, argue that it was all a plot to destabilize China’s economy and undermine China’s rise.

There’s no question that attitudes among China’s citizens – and the young in particular – have shifted since 1989. This is partly the result of real economic change, which has brought a renewal of confidence and pride among many Chinese people.

But it’s also a result of the management of information – and of education – which has become far more sophisticated in the past two decades. In terms of news management, the Chinese government knows that, in the internet age, it can no longer blot out all negative stories, or ban access to all foreign media sites.

But a combination of selective blocking and filtering on key issues (Taiwan, Tibet, Tiananmen and Falun Gong among them) -- while allowing China’s domestic media to be sufficiently lively and colorful that most people don’t bother to go elsewhere for information -- means that on certain key issues most people more or less accept the government line.

The result is that generally extremely well-informed people have gaps in their knowledge. It’s not just obvious things, like the fact that most young Chinese wouldn’t recognize the picture of the so-called “Tank Man”, carrying a bag and blocking the line of tanks – to many in the west the iconic image of 1989 in Beijing.

The phenomenon also applies to things like the Democracy Wall movement of the late 70s, a brief flowering of free expression first tolerated and later suppressed by Deng Xiaoping. This movement saw the emergence of some of China’s first radical writers, artists and political dissidents, and is agreed by most foreign historians to have been a key moment in the nation’s recent history. When, without thinking, I referred to this in a conversation with some Chinese university students not long ago, they looked at me blankly and said they’d never heard of Democracy Wall. When I then told this story to a highly educated graduate in his thirties, he looked at me with equal incomprehension.

The patriotic education campaign introduced in all schools and colleges in the aftermath of Tiananmen has certainly also had its impact. It emphasized the official line on some of the key issues mentioned above – and also, by its focus on the history of China’s oppression by Western powers from the 19^th century on. That makes it natural for many young people to view contemporary Western criticism of China as part of a tradition of arrogance and bullying – something which serves the government’s purposes of using nationalism to unite the country very nicely.

Many in the West were shocked by the angry response of Chinese students to foreign criticisms of China’s policy in Tibet last year (following the riots in Lhasa and the disruption of the Olympic Torch relay in Paris). Yet in the context of both the education system and the growing confidence of China’s young generation it should not have been a surprise. Not only do most people accept the government’s basic historical line on such issues, but even those Chinese people who are often critical of their leaders don’t like being told what to do – or think – by foreigners. (Given what people in China have been taught about history, it’s as if a group of well-meaning Germans had begun criticizing the U.K. government over its Northern Ireland policy in the 1970s – an intervention which would have been unlikely to find a warm welcome in the British tabloid press…)

Understanding such perceptions is important for the outside world. We can dismiss it all as Chinese government propaganda. But the perception of Western arrogance and thoughtlessness remains damaging in countries like China – and enables the government to activate nationalism easily, almost at the flick of a switch, when it suits.

Nor has the West helped its case by appearing uninterested in addressing the legacy of its own failings – and its colonial history. One of the few Western leaders who did seek to address such Chinese concerns was Bill Clinton, during his visit to Beijing in 1998, when, in a speech at Peking University, he was frank about the US’ own failings in terms of slavery, racism and power politics. But did Britain ever make any kind of apology for its gunboat diplomacy in the Opium Wars, and its seizure of Chinese territory through what are still known in China as the “unequal treaties”?

All this means that, on key issues, even those young people who are exposed to foreign versions of historical events which differ from those taught by their own government are sometimes inclined to be suspicious – however correct the Western reports may actually be. This was confirmed by the Chinese government’s increasing confidence last year to allow its media to report – and denounce – Western criticisms of China, something it would not have dared to do in the past.

Yet at the same time – and equally importantly – this doesn’t mean members of China’s young generation are completely uninterested in political or social issues. Meeting young people, I am often struck by the fact that many have questions about how political systems function abroad and about the role of the media in the west – particularly how critical it can be of its own government.

And there’s no doubt that many young people, not only students but the new middle classes too – are concerned about China’s environmental problems and its divided society. More and more Chinese university students, for example, are involved in voluntary work and the NGO sector, something which, despite all manner of controls, has grown exponentially in the past decade. This is, in fact, one of the big differences between China today and in 1989: these days there are practical channels which allow those who feel they want to change or improve their society to actually do something about it – up to a point – without necessarily becoming political dissidents or adversaries of the government.

The other major difference is undoubtedly the Internet: in 1989 people who were angry about corruption went on the streets. These days many of them go online – the number of cases of corrupt officials being revealed or denounced in internet forums has increased rapidly in the past couple years. Since most people in China now know that the consequences for real direct action – organizing street protests and so on – are severe – virtual protest on the internet is generally seen as safer (though of course people have also been jailed for things they have posted online.)

As a social space and an outlet for grievances, the internet is arguably more important in China than in any Western society. So much news in China now spreads through the internet before the country’s conventional or official media dares to touch it.

Witness the recent furor over the case of Deng Yujiao, the bathhouse waitress in Hubei province who stabbed a local official to death, allegedly to stop him from raping her. When the police glibly announced that she was to be charged with murder, an outburst of online opinion in her favor led other Chinese media to investigate the case further, and young volunteers to go to Hubei to try to offer their support. The controversy also appears to have resulted in the police toning down the charges, and another official whom Deng also stabbed but who survived is now under investigation.

The internet is also frequently a forum for complaints about the excesses of officials such as the ‘chengguan’, a kind of urban management SWAT squad introduced in Chinese cities in recent years, whose aggressive behavior, particularly to migrant workers and unlicensed street vendors, has aroused growing public anger. An incident involving chengguan and vendors outside a university in Nanjing recently led to students protesting in sympathy with the migrant workers. Hackers (presumably young and angry!) subsequently attacked and defaced the website of the chengguan in another city in the same province.

Clearly greater space for expression on the internet does not represent political democracy – indeed some have argued that the lack of other channels for expressing views leaves the internet in China particularly vulnerable to rumor, distortion, and uninformed anger. Well-known Chinese publisher Lu Jinbo recently warned that the Chinese internet was increasingly filled with “Nationalism. Hatred. Bigotry. Violence”.

Moreover when internet activists have pooled their resources to seek out information on certain stories or issues – a phenomenon known in Chinese as the ‘human flesh search engine’ – the result has sometimes been witch-hunts against certain individuals by an online mob. The internet can also be a channel for outpourings of virulent nationalism. But the net is undoubtedly also a forum for voices seeking social change – and exchanging views which could not have been expressed publicly in China 20 years ago.

Young people in China are also strikingly protective of openness on the internet, which many seem to regard as their personal space - after all they’ve more or less grown up with it. I have often heard young people complaining bitterly about the authorities blocking access to foreign sites they want to use – though they’re more likely to be concerned about access to sites like Flickr, YouTube or Wikipedia, than to the websites of mainstream western media organizations.

Indeed, today’s young generation -- with their far improved access to education and information on most subjects,not to mention better material conditions -- generally tend to be more aware of their worth as individuals. This undoubtedly does include a growing rebellious streak, which can be targeted at authority. The fashion for rebellious heroes in comics, computer games and TV series in recent years is evidence of this.

The Chinese government is increasingly aware of such developments, hence its dive into the world of trendy animation and youth culture. It has encouraged computer games and cosplay (animation role play games), but often seeks to use these as modern vehicles to convey traditional patriotic messages. Thus there are computer games featuring Chinese soldiers fighting the Japanese, manga-style animations about heroic communist soldiers on the Long March of the 1930s, and so forth.

There’s little doubt that the Chinese government’s growing understanding – and tolerance – of young people’s desire to be different enabled it to channel their sense of rebellion into anger directed against Western ‘bullying’ over Tibet and the Olympics last year. But just because young people are patriotic on certain issues at certain times does not mean they will agree with the government on everything, or that they will never criticize it.

With the limits to education and information which continue to apply, and the legacy of continuing suspicion of the West, the opinions of China’s young generation today are undoubtedly fragile. They are more confident about China’s position in the world– but they are also sensitive about it, and can be easily alienated by anything which can be perceived as arrogant, patronizing or stereotyping behavior from abroad. At the same time, many are concerned about China’s shortcomings, and retain a keen interest in the world (Indeed, for all the talk of cultural difference, the ability of Chinese people to fit in with foreign societies when they go abroad is striking.) For the outside world to see them simply as self–obsessed and simplistic nationalists does not help. It’s our turn to try to understand them, and to catch up with their increasingly complex reality.

Traditional Culture from a Modern Artist

2009-05-20T09:09:45Z

Jennifer Conrad reports on a new kind of martial arts studio:

I'm sitting in an upstairs loft, watching a student practice tai chi
in the open studio below. In the back loft, Feng Zhongyun works on a
large ink painting destined to hang in Beijing's Hilton Wangfujing.
Opposite me, there's a space for practicing calligraphy. Traditional
instruments are scattered throughout the space.

Built based on feng-shui principles, the Zhong Martial Arts Space
couldn't be more different from the area in which it sits: dusty Hei Qiao Cun
in Beijing's northeast, where cars scream by and vendors sell sickly
sugar-dipped fruit on sticks. Inside the space, natural light filters
in through skylights. The gray stone floor is cut by a small built-in
waterway, with carp living in one end.

...

Feng, a prominent local artist who combines traditional ink paintings
with more modern techniques, built the center because of his lifelong
passion for traditional Chinese arts. Along with commissions for
hotels and other clients, his work is often on display at his wife's
XYZ Gallery in Beijing. In addition to offering classes, the center,
which opened to the public this month, hosts monthly events and houses
a small guest room for visitors who want a more immersive experience.

"When I was young, China was very poor. We didn't have entertainment
like TV or toys, and it was normal for young boys to practice martial
arts," he recalls. "And I was lucky to meet several martial arts
masters who taught me the real practice."

He studied traditional painting at Beijing's Central Academy of Fine
Arts, explaining that he picked the major because at the time it was
the cheapest—studying modern art was too expensive.

When he graduated in 1991, it was difficult to make money from art, so
he began working in construction and interior design, spending a
decade working on the gleaming office towers and shopping malls that
were springing up all over Beijing.

"I didn't enjoy it at all," he says. In 2001, he left Beijing to study
Buddhism, visiting small temples in Shandong, Hebei, Gansu, and
Jiangsu provinces. "These are places tourists don't visit," he
explains. "I would be introduced to one temple by monks in another."

Eventually he designed and built a small temple halfway up a mountain
in Yantai, Shandong province, which monks still use today.

The Beijing he returned to in 2004 felt familiar, but vastly changed.
The art market was sky-rocketing, and his paintings began to sell.
"Many people said that setting up the temple brought me good luck," he
says. "I also think so."

In 2007, with money from his paintings, he decided he wanted promote
martial arts. So far, the center has attracted a handful of young and
artsy types who are interested in learning about traditional culture.
On my first visit, a group of students showed me tai chi moves. One
was a freelance graphic designer who visits on her days off. Another,
an aspiring filmmaker, compared my early attempts at arm circles to
the dance in Pulp Fiction.

"They have a better-off life," he says, referring to the young people
who've flocked to his center. "In the past few years, the economy has
grown bigger, but people are also becoming more interested in
promoting tradition. For a very long time after the Cultural
Revolution, we thought we had to get rid of very old things. Nobody
was interested in the kind of center except foreigners."

Li Hang, who had been studying tai chi informally since he was 8, was
introduced to the center by friends about a year ago. Initially, he
just wanted to take a look, but Li stayed on and became one of the
first instructors. "I think we have the same goals about practicing
and promoting martial arts," Li tells me. "What's in movies is all
about performing, which gets you farther and farther from a sense of a
healthy body and soul."

Feng, who mostly practices a forceful form of martial arts called
dacheng quan, also hopes to counter some of the stereotypes he sees
about Chinese martial arts.

"There's a trend of making the traditional arts look very Eastern and
magical. People think they can learn kung fu and hit 100 people," he
says. "I want to teach martial arts that are very true and genuine."

When I remark that he appears calm, despite the violent form of
martial arts he prefers, he produces a Chinese magazine and shows me a
photo of Bruce Lee's teacher, Yip Man, who also had a placid bearing.
Yip is his favorite martial arts master because he wasn't detached
from the world, but wanted to teach martial arts to others. "After
World War II, he taught everyone in his city martial arts to protect
them and help them bring out the soul again," Feng explains.

Feng, too, sees his center as a place to bring back the soul in an
increasingly modern city.

"As the city gets more and more modern, we think more of natural
things and the soul," he says. "It's just like how people in more
developed places want to go farther and farther from cities when they
go on vacation. They go to very clean, natural places."

China's Smallest Hero, One Year Later

2009-05-14T18:13:12Z

Lauren Hilgers reports on how fame has affected the life of a child whose heroics during the Sichuan quake made him a celebrity:

Like most people around the world, I first saw Lin Hao on television, gripping Yao Ming’s hand as the Chinese Olympic team marched into the stadium on the opening night of the August 2008 Games. He was nine, at the time, and next to the basketball-playing giant, Lin looked tiny and slightly bewildered. He waved a small Chinese flag that had slipped on its pole and turned upside down. Lin looked out at the crowd and wrinkled his forehead seriously.

While the Olympics may have introduced Lin to the world, China had been talking about him for months--the tiniest hero of the Sichuan earthquake. In a disaster that was well-recorded and televised nationwide, Lin was a star from the moment he was first captured on film.

When the earthquake hit on May 12 last year, Lin was in school in the town of Yingxiu in Wenchuan county, the epicenter of the disaster. When the ground started bucking, the Yuzixi Primary School -- like many throughout the province -- began to collapse, debris falling around Lin and his classmates as they ran for the exit. Lin pulled himself out of the rubble only to go running back to rescue two of his classmates, helping carry them to safety.

Later, famously, Lin explained his heroics: "I was the hall monitor," he told a television reporter. "It was my job."

Answers like these, simple and direct, propelled Lin to national stardom. He embodied China's heroics during the disaster (and provided a counter-example to "Runner Fan," the teacher that panicked and bolted out of his classroom as soon as the earthquake started, leaving his students behind).

In the West, Lin's explanation of his actions was taken in a different light. Washington Post columnist Harold Meyerson held up Lin as an example of collectivism in China. "That answer may tell us more than we want to know," Meyerson wrote in an August 13th Op-Ed. "He could have gone back because his friends were still inside. Instead, he went back because he was a responsible little part of a well-ordered hierarchy."

But Lin became more than just a tiny cog in a monolithic machine. What some Western analysts missed was how Lin's story made him the nation's darling, due partly to the fact that he was such great TV. He wasn't the only child to act heroically that day. When the Chinese government recognized student heroes, 19 other children received medals. Still, nine-year-old Lin -- with a bald patch on the side of his head, a memento of slight injuries he sustained during the calamity -- stood out. He charmed talk-show hosts and stared down television personalities, telling them he hoped one day to go to Harvard and that his greatest wish was to get rid of the bald patch in his scalp. At nine, the kid was a great interview.

Meyerson's take on Lin wasn't totally off the mark, though. The communist party in China has a long history of celebrating child heroes. The story of the "Little Soldier Zhang Ga" has inspired three movies documenting the heroics of a little boy caught up in the Japanese invasion and occupation of China before and during WWII. Another little boy, Lai Ning, was part of a propaganda campaign launched by the government to distract from Beijing's negative image after the crackdown on Tiananmen Square pro-democracy protests in 1989. (Lai had died helping to save his village from a forest fire in 1988.) This is the kind of patriotism Beijing wants Chinese citizens to emulate.

Surviving as a living hero, however, can be complicated. I met Lin Hao in Chengdu at his primary school on a recent spring afternoon. I arrived as kids poured out of the gates, running into a thick crowd of waiting parents. Lin, however, was being interviewed by the state-run China Central Television, a school security guard explained. I would have to wait. "I don't think he'll be in there much longer," the guard said. "They've already been interviewing him for an hour."

After the Olympics, Lin had been offered free school tuition at an elite school in Shanghai, so his family moved there. In Shanghai, the child celebrity acquired his own following of Chinese paparazzi. His mother, a round-faced and serious woman named Chen Li, said the city proved too much for the family. "We're from the country," she said, sitting in the guard's booth, waiting to take her son home. "Everyone in Shanghai was very nice to us, but we weren't comfortable."

Despite Lin's fame, the challenges that his family faced in Shanghai reflect some of the challenges facing other grassroots citizens displaced by the earthquake in Sichuan. His parents, whose previous job experience was mainly in farming, had difficulties finding work in Shanghai, and rent was expensive. They had made the transition to the new city at the start of the financial crisis. Lin's older sister also had difficulty adjusting to her new school. All of them found themselves troubled by the memories of the earthquake. "We still can't talk about it," said Chen. "If we talk about it, we just start crying." After six months in Shanghai, the family moved back to Sichuan.

Back at the primary school in Chengdu, CCTV finished with Lin and he emerged from his interview ready to go home, a red bandana tied neatly around his neck. The school guard introduced me as a friend and I told him I was a writer. Lin looked at me, nearly exasperated, and asked, "What do you want to ask me?"

The media has been very nice to him, Lin insisted. But they can sometimes bother him. He told me his favorite school subjects were math and athletics, and that in the future he hoped to be an architect. His father, he explained, worked outside of the city on a construction site. "I'm just a normal person," he said, when I asked about all the attention he had gotten over the last year. The child ended the interview on his own, when he asked politely if we could be done so he could go buy a snack.

"Don't tell him you're a reporter next time," his mother advised me. "He talks a lot more if he thinks you're just a friend." Lin returned with a packet of dried fish and ripped me off a piece. "You should take more," he said, and then handed some to the guard, to his mother, and to another man who happened to be sitting nearby. "I'm going to play," he announced. "When you want to leave, come get me."

Chen admits that her son's fame has helped the family. They rent a flat in Chengdu while most of their family and friends still live in temporary housing outside of Yingxiu. They're not sure when they'll be able to move into permanent housing, she said.

She said Lin has always been single-minded, and at ten years of age he doesn't seem much interested in fame. Offers have poured in asking him to do commercials -- one promoting chocolate bars, she remembered -- but the family tries not to accept anything that might sidetrack Lin from regular schooling. "He's cute now," Chen Li said. "But what about when he's 50? He is just like anyone else--school is the most important thing."

Biofuels: The Dane who Made his Mark

2009-05-13T00:11:45Z

Ever met a cool Dane? Read on. This item is from Nick Mackie, who was the first -- and currently is the only -- Western reporter to be based in post-1949 Chongqing, deep in China’s interior. This area is China’s “Wild West” and Mackie often hits the road in a jeep to find fresh stories; he’s blogged for us on everything from rural microcredit to sporting scandals. Here he profiles a dapper Dane with great expectations:

Steen Riisgaard makes an impression. With a steely eye and convincing pitch, he promises to slash China's hydrocarbons consumption - if he gets the chance.

The President & CEO of Novozymes -- a biotech company with a billion-dollar annual turnover -- has both a product and a plan to cut China's annual gasoline consumption by 10 percent by 2020. That translates into tens of millions of tons of CO2 emissions.

We're talking about second-generation biofuel - cellulosic bioethanol to be precise - which would be blended with hydrocarbon fuel to power standard motor vehicle engines.

This second-generation product initially relies on crop waste, such as corn cobs, which is usually burned off. That contrasts with bio-processing in place today which, some argue, competes with the food chain for raw supplies -- notably sugar cane, corn, wheat and barley. Once the project is up and running, other non-food energy crops like switchgrass and hybrid poplars could be introduced.

Actually, the biotech industry had its first crack at developing fuel from waste products some 34 years ago, after the 1974 oil embargo when crude prices “leapt” to US$ 10 per barrel. But the research back then remained theoretical due to comparatively high production costs.

With crude hitting US$ 142 a barrel in June 2008 -- albeit now hovering around US$ 50 -- times have changed. “This is no longer a dream,” says Riisgaard, “This is a technology ready for development, one year down the road.”

Meticulous in his language and appearance, Riisgaard is a man on a mission. Back in the mid 1970’s, he was a young research microbiologist in Denmark before joining Novo Nordisk -- famous for insulin production –- in 1979 to focus on enzyme development. Simply put, these are complex proteins which speed up biochemical reactions, and are commonly used in manufacturing medicines, detergents, textiles, and even food.

In 1982 Riisgaard set up the company’s enzymes R&D unit in Tokyo. He was then 32; within eight years he was promoted to executive v.p and effectively become Novo Nordisk’s Mr. Enzyme, with responsibilities for China as well. In 2000, he became CEO when the newly formed Novozymes demerged with the insulin division.

He's a man committed both to the science and to his company, which incidentally occupies 47 percent of the global market in industrial enzymes. (I can’t help but note this is no geek in a white lab coat: Riisgaard selects his attire with formulaic though seemingly effortless precision.)

...

His firm produces the key tech, enzymes, that make the chemistry financially viable. The company has a plant in Tianjin plus a joint venture at Taicang, near Suzhou, which Riisgaard calls “the biggest enzyme producer in the world”. But it also needs corporate and production synergies. The complete cycle requires input from two huge, state owned, Chinese partners: COFCO and Sinopec.

COFCO, China’s largest grain and foodstuffs importing and exporting group, is already involved in processing first generation biofuels. Therefore it has the logistics capability to collect raw materials in the hinterland, as well as experience in factory crop-to-fuel conversion. Meanwhile the oil refining and distribution giant Sinopec brings its engineering and distribution expertise to the partnership.

The three firms signed a joint development agreement in February to develop 2G biofuel, and their new project is now awaiting a green light from the country’s strategic economic planning bureaucracy, the National Development and Reform Commission before it can proceed. “There is some hesitation at this point in time,” acknowledges Riisgaard. The Chinese government is very careful before approving high-profile projects that are, as yet, untested in its marketplace.

But the proposed development of 2G biofuels comes at a time when Beijing wants to boost domestic consumption, especially in the countryside, and to develop alternative energy sources. With 250 bioethanol factories planned -- and US$ 13 billion to be invested over 10 years, delivering an estimated 6 million new jobs -- the mandarins are listening.

In the early days, 2G biofuel production would cost US$ 2.7 per gallon, which is higher than traditional gasoline, but then could drop to US$ 1.3 by 2015. It should be noted, however, that the viability of second-generation biofuels is based on a crude oil price of at least US$ 60 per barrel.

Novozymes is engaged other projects worldwide, too. It has pilot and demonstration facilities in the U.S. states of North Carolina and Nebraska, with an output target of 25 million gallons in 2011. But, because of the mainland's low collection costs, China is an especially promising prospect. “This is a new market opportunity,” promises Mr. Riisgaard. The dapper Dane with the steely eye has his sights firmly focused on the Middle Kingdom as the target.

A Year After the Quake, Tourism Takes Off

2009-05-11T13:58:25Z

For the May 12 anniversary of the devastating earthquake in Sichuan province, Lauren Hilgers took a tour near Ground Zero. Her report on "quake tourism":

Xiao Li is a dealer in disaster. A skinny, twitchy, 25-year-old, he expertly negotiates the tragedies of the past and struggles of the present from his cell-phone in Chengdu, feverishly setting up tours to some of the worst-hit areas of the Sichuan earthquake. To potential tourists, he rattles off the names of devastated towns like a barker at an auction—Beichuan, Hanwang, Yingxiu. “Yingxiu is the most popular, definitely,” he said to an interested customer on Saturday. “But Hanwang is less crowded and you see mostly the same things. It’s all rubble and empty buildings."

“It’s all earthquake,” he said.

...

A year after the 7.9 magnitude earthquake hit -- displacing 5 million and taking lives of nearly 90,000 people -- the business of earthquake tourism is booming. Touring the devastated areas may not be the safest nor most sensitive endeavor, but the demand is undeniable. In late January alone, during the seven-day Spring Festival holiday, Sichuan’s tourism bureau estimates that 7 million tourists visited earthquake sites, generating around $263 million (or 1.87 billion yuan) in revenues.

On Xiao Li’s Saturday tour it wasn’t hard to see why so many tourists visit these sites. The deserted streets of what used to be Hanwang town look like the end of the world. Doors are flung open; buildings lean ominously. Remnants of people’s past lives—backpacks, books, clothing and old stereos—are mixed into the rubble. Moss and trees are starting to reclaim the abandoned, broken-down buildings. Imagine uncovering Pompeii a year after the volcano erupted.

The original inhabitants of Hanwang have all been cleared out and reside in endless rows of temporary housing down the road. Aside from a few soldiers and policemen -- there to block off the most dangerous parts of the town -- plus a handful of kiosks selling DVDs of earthquake footage, the population of Hanwang town is comprised entirely of Chinese tourists.

Peng Yueguan, a distinguished-looking retiree visiting from Beijing, tried his best to explain the impulse to visit the earthquake sites as tour buses began rolling into the deserted streets, depositing a large group of travelers wearing matching white hats. "When the earthquake happened, it touched everyone in China,” he said. “Everyone in China felt it and we want to come see for ourselves what happened here.”

Zao Fengqin, a manufacturer from Jiangxi Province, said he just barely missed experiencing the quake firsthand last year. After finishing a business trip to Chengdu he flew out less than 24 hours before the earthquake struck. “You might come here to see the power of nature,” he said. “But I came here to remember that this is how life is—when it’s done it’s done.”

In Hanwang town, the tour stopped in front of a collapsed elementary school for a moment of silence. A wreath of flowers stood in front of the pile of rubble where the school once sat. Many of the students here didn’t make it out, Xiao Li explained matter-of-factly. He took the same tone when we stopped to look at a group of temporary houses, the rows of blue roofs stretching out along the highway. “Hot in the summer; cold in the winter,” he said.

Tourism is a valuable industry in Sichuan and local officials have done their best to promote the province’s most famous sites, including the Wolong Panda Reserve, the Leshan Buddha and Dujiangyan’s ancient irrigation system. Chengdu is issuing 20 million tourist discount cards to help attract more visitors and on the anniversary of the earthquake, all these attractions will be open for free. When it comes to the earthquake sites, however, most are trying to limit the number of visitors. Tours are no longer allowed to visit Beichuan, although small groups in private cars are still allowed through. Parts of Hanwang have been blocked off to prevent visitors from wandering in the rubble. Some of these spots simply don’t have the roads or infrastructure to support the number of visitors arriving daily.

Some areas, on the other hand, have been welcoming tours. In Qingchuan County in northern Sichuan, a quake-hit city called Donghekou has set up the area’s first earthquake park. In Beichuan, where the entire town was buried in a landslide, a controversial USD $336 million (RMB 2.3 billion) museum is planned, complete with a cable car to transport tourists to the Tangjiashan earthquake lake, formed when rubble deposited by the catastrophe dammed up existing waterways.

While the majority of tourists on Saturday approached earthquake-hit areas respectfully, certain aspects of earthquake tourism seemed less than sensitive. DVD vendors played earthquake videos on loop, and recorded screams occasionally echoed through the crowd. The highway overpass looking down on temporary housing is also a popular spot for tourists to stop and look as displaced locals go about their business.

Despite such intrusions, Peng maintained that it's important for China to remember that earthquake-hit areas are still struggling. Xiao Li’s tour group talked openly about the schools that collapsed during the earthquake and questioned whether the government would look into shoddy construction. It is also important to remember, Peng said, that the Chinese people reacted heroically to the earthquake. “The Chinese people came together to face this challenge,” he said.

The strength of the Chinese people in overcoming the earthquake is a continuing theme on the tours. Billboards featuring photos of Chinese soldier proclaim “No hardship can overcome the heroes of the Chinese people.”

One of the famous heroes of the earthquake is housed in a privately-owned museum complex in Dayi County about an hour outside of Chengdu. Strong-Willed Pig, a huge animal famous for surviving under rubble for 37 days before being rescued, lives in a back corner of the complex, sharing her space with the “Unyielding War Prisoners Hall” and the “Chinese Hero Statue Square.” Her legs are a little unsteady after her experience, but she is looked after carefully. A Wenzhou Earthquake Museum is scheduled to open on the earthquake anniversary, and Strong-Willed Pig is one of the attractions.

“This is a good pig,” commented Wang Fuqi, her keeper, who is extremely proud of his ward. He crouched down to rub her belly and Strong Willed Pig rolled over happily. “Many people are interested in her,” said Wang. “They all know her name and want to come see her.”

HIV and China

2009-05-05T10:26:47Z

Is the pressure on gay men to marry hastening the spread of HIV? Jennifer Conrad reports:

Clad in white dresses and tuxedos, same-sex couples posed for portraits on Beijing's touristy Qianmen thoroughfare on Valentine's Day. Although the event was staged, the organizers and actors meant to send a message about the need for increased tolerance for gay lifestyles.

The stunt drew mixed reviews from spectators according to the Wall Street Journal, which reported from the scene. But the need for more acceptance is clear. Qingdao University professor Zhang Beichuan surveyed 2,250 gay or bisexual men in nine major Chinese cities in 2006. According to his research on gay men, which hasn't been published yet but was reported by the state-run news agency Xinhua, 94.8 percent of respondents had had sex with other men in the past six months while 20.7 were already married to women.

"For most homosexual and bisexual men, traditional values are the dominant reason for maintaining marriage with their wives," Zhang said in an email. He estimates that 70 to 80 percent of gay men in China are either married or considering getting married. More than half of the married men in his survey say that "if society was more accepting of homosexuals, they would not have married."

Condom use is relatively low, while HIV rates are rising. According to government numbers, HIV transmissions through sex have surpassed those through other means such as intravenous drug use and blood transfusions. An assessment by the Chinese Ministry of Health, the United Nations Joint Programme on HIV/AIDS (UNAIDS), and the World Health Organization (WHO), estimates there were 700,000 HIV cases and 85,000 AIDS cases in China at the end of 2007, the last year for which numbers are available.

Experts I spoke to explained that the overall prevalence of HIV is low, but there's the potential for a much bigger crisis. The WHO considers an HIV epidemic low-prevalence if, in a given location, the percentage of pregnant women testing positive for HIV is consistently less than one percent, as it is in most of China. In about eight provinces, the epidemic is considered concentrated, since the prevalence is at least five percent in one of the most at-risk populations.

In a few Chinese counties, the WHO regards the epidemic generalized, since more than one percent of pregnant women test positive for HIV. The biggest risk comes from what Connie Osborne, M.D., the WHO's team leader for HIV/AIDS in China, characterizes as "bridging populations"—groups like clients of sex workers and men who have sex with men as well as women who connect high-risk populations to the general public. An estimated 30 to 50 million Chinese are currently at significant risk for HIV infection, meaning that either they belong to one of the most at-risk populations -- injecting drug users, men who have sex with men (MSM), or sex workers -- or their sexual partners belong to one of those groups.

"The biggest challenge now is not the government but society and culture," she explains, adding that the government has been actively fighting HIV since 2003. The central government committed 854 million RMB in 2006 and 944 million RMB in 2007 to AIDS prevention and care.

There are 6,000 voluntary testing and counseling sites, and initiatives to reach out to MSM. "We developed a national plan for controling HIV among MSM, jointly by the China Center for Disease Control and Prevention and MSM communities in 2007, and we developed technical guidelines for prevention of HIV among MSM for both MSM communities and health workers," wrote Zunyou Wu, M.D., Ph.D., the director of the National Center for AIDS/STD Control and Prevention at the Chinese CDC in an email.

"When an epidemic is underground, when there is a lot of stigma, this is a scenario for a disease moving into the general population," says Dr. Osborne. "If you don't know your status, it's very easy to pass HIV on."

Considerable stigma is attached to the topic of HIV/AIDS. According to a study completed last year by the China AIDS Media project, 48 percent of the more than 6,000 respondents wouldn't eat with a person with HIV, and 30 percent think HIV-positive children shouldn't attend the same schools as kids who aren't infected. Moreover, prejudice against those who are HIV-postive prevents a lot of people from being tested.

But some groups are working to change things: Back in March, I went to a danceathon fundraiser -- girls in aerobics-style outfits, a guy on roller skates, 80s music -- to send gay marathoner Popo Fan to this summer's Outgames in Copenhagen. When I walked in and scanned the crowd for my friend, one of the dancers, someone thrust condoms supplied by Aizhixing ("Love, Knowledge, Action"), a local AIDS-awareness organization, into my hands.

The group was founded in 1994 by Wan Yanhai, who used to work for the National Health Education Institute under the Ministry of Health but left because his work on HIV/AIDS prevention was banned. His group provides legal assistance and outreach, documents human rights abuses, and opened a gay and lesbian cultural center in Beijing.

While the rapid social changes in China over the past two decades have brought many positive changes, there are also more opportunities for HIV to spread. "For the older generation in the countryside, life was more difficult for gay men, but there wasn't as great a risk because it was difficult for men to find partners," says Wan. "In recent years, gay men have tended to move to urban cities because they want to be around friends and find love. Even then, it's complicated. Some of them get married, but they may not live with their wives, who are back in the countryside."

And as disposable income rises, so does the number of people who patronize sex workers, explains Bernhard Schwartländer, M.D., China country coordinator for UNAIDS.

But the new-found freedom in society hasn't led to openness in talking about these issues, making prevention efforts challenging. "A lot of wives don't know that their husbands are gay and having sex with men. If these men can't talk about it, how are you supposed to get into that situation?" says Dr. Schwartlander. "And nobody wants to admit that they're a client of a sex worker. It's a very tricky issue. Clearly, outreach needs to increase."

With talk of Shanghai hosting its first Gay Pride day in June and the government and independent groups working to educate people on these issues, one can hope more awareness and tolerance are on the horizon.

China's Now the World's Largest Car Market: Leaner, Greener Detroit?

2009-04-29T07:23:47Z

by Melinda Liu.

American tastes dominated the world's automotive market for a century, but all that's changing now. Today it's the increasingly well-to-do Chinese car-buyer that industry wants to woo and win, thanks to this incredible fact—China has, over the last three months running, surpassed the U.S. in terms of volume sales of automobiles. Ever wonder why Ford's new Fiesta has an instrument panel that looks like a cell phone? Because that's what's familiar to its target audience of

20- and 30-something Chinese. It's also why Chinese versions of the Fiesta come in sedan size, with four doors, rather than as hatchbacks, which are anathema in the Middle Kingdom.

The future of auto design was on display last week at the Shanghai Auto Show, where, in 30 football fields worth of space, international and domestic carmakers vied for the attention of Chinese consumers. The timing of the biennial event, China's oldest international auto show, was fortuitous. No one expected the Middle Kingdom to nab first place in the global auto market from America for at least another decade, but the financial crisis has had a sharp dampening effect on U.S. sales. The Chinese, meanwhile, spurred on by their government's enormous stimulus package, have kept spending. Beijing's 2009 auto sales target is 10 million units, an increase of 10 percent from 2008, and a figure that would cement its position, with an estimated 1 million more unit sales than the U.S. "No one expected China to emerge as the leading volume market this fast," says William Russo, a Beijing-based business consultant who specializes in the automotive sector. "This will give China a huge say in setting the standards and architecture for the entire industry."

If Beijing gets its way, the future will be small, green and—of course—made in China. The shock of the global financial crisis, and the resulting need to stimulate the auto sector has persuaded Beijing to dig deep into government coffers with more than $733 million to promote the rural sales of small cars and trucks (which domestic makers specialize in) and $220 million to fund and upgrade new green automotive technologies that many consider to be the wave of the future for the industry. Ultimately, Chinese planners want to create a new Detroit—a leaner, meaner, cleaner global automotive hub.

It won't be an easy road. The five top-selling brands in the country are still familiar foreign names—Volkswagen, Hyundai, Toyota, Honda and Nissan, in that order—though the top four are all joint ventures between these foreign giants and old Chinese-state run companies, like Shanghai Automotive Industry Corp. or SAIC, a behemoth that has joint ventures with both Volkswagen and GM. But muscling their way onto the scene are some brash, local rising stars—including private carmakers Chery Automobile Co., Geely Automobile Holdings and BYD Auto Co.—that have been ramping up production and sales. While most are still beginners when it comes to things like brand development, marketing and quality control, together they already represent one third of domestic sales—and Beijing's policymakers think it's time for local players to lift their profile.

The first big push toward that goal will come via stimulus-package money. In late January, domestic carmakers were thrilled to discover they would reap the lion's share of benefits from official stimulus efforts simply because they specialize in small, inexpensive cars popular in second-tier cities and towns. Government initiatives included the halving of retail taxes (from 10 to 5 percent) on vehicles with less than 1.6-liter engine displacements, and $700 million in government subsidies to entice farmers into trading their tractors and rural clunkers in for new small cars and trucks.

Local players immediately began reaping the benefits. China's fifth-biggest manufacturer, Chery, saw sales in January and February shoot up 25 percent; it's aiming for 18 percent growth in 2009. By shifting its policy support to smaller cars Beijing has upped the pressure on China's biggest manufacturers, both foreign and domestic, to scale down in vehicle size. Just by coincidence, Ford started selling its new Fiesta—with an engine displacement of 1.5 liters—in China a little more than a month after the new tax cut. Customers bought more than 4,000 in six weeks of presales transactions.

Yet smaller cars are only the first part of the government's master plan. China's stimulus package also includes $220 million for upgrading automotive technologies, especially in alternative-energy vehicles. To help offset the high cost of buying clean-energy vehicles, subsidies of nearly $8,800 are being offered to local government agencies and taxi fleets in 13 cities for each hybrid vehicle purchased. The rebate will also reportedly be offered to private car-buyers to soften sticker shock.

Such incentives helped make Shanghai's auto extravaganza last week the greenest A-list car show in history. Although none of them represent cutting-edge technologies, China's homegrown electric and hybrid vehicles were visible at every turn. Chery, China's top-selling local brand, exhibited four alternative-energy cars. The private Lifan Group, based in Chongqing, unveiled its hybrid 320 EV. And BYD Auto, a Shenzhen-based firm best known for putting batteries in one fourth of the world's cell phones, had on display its much-touted F3DM, a plug-in electric car with a backup gasoline engine, that started selling last December for around $22,000.

The company leveraged its famous battery expertise to create what it says is a safer and more environmentally friendly lithium-ion phosphate battery for the new plug-in. BYD has now leaped ahead of more established international models such as Toyota's Prius and GM's Volt to bring an affordable plug-in car to the market—BYD's model is nearly half the expected cost of the Chevy Volt.

But despite the hype, officials and consumers alike acknowledge that smaller, greener homegrown vehicles are still in their infancy. It's perhaps telling that at the Shanghai show, BYD Auto officials decided to exhibit their plug-in with genuine license plates, rather than mock-ups as is typical. "The technology is so new that some Chinese worry such cars would never even get licensed," says marketing representative Jasmine Huang. "This will reassure them." Despite the reassurances, only a few dozen F3DM's have been sold, and even then, not to individuals but to government units and banks. Private purchases are expected to begin only in June. Meanwhile BYD's target date to start selling in the U.S. market has slipped from 2010 to 2011, due to the ongoing economic crisis, says export manager Henry Li.

This underscores the many challenges facing China's domestic players. At present their ability to penetrate export markets is insignificant, partly because Chinese safety standards lag behind those in Europe and the U.S. Even at home, for example, Chery's popular QQ compact suffers from a perception of being too flimsy to be safe—especially after a photo circulated on the Internet, showing a QQ wedged between two buses, squashed like a soft-drink can.

Marketing and consumer research also remain alien concepts to domestic players. At the Shanghai Auto Show, Geely unveiled nearly two dozen new models—including a blatant clone of a Rolls-Royce Phantom, down to the winged hood ornament. Company chief Li Shufu then invited visitors to fill out suggestion forms to record their reactions to the bewildering proliferation of new products. "We're trying to get opinions from all walks of life," says Li, whose firm had to delay its entry into the U.S. market due to quality-control issues.

By contrast, Ford, for example, intensively researched China's under-30 consumers who are the new Fiesta's target audience. Its findings encouraged Ford to team up with Microsoft to develop SYNC technology so that drivers can connect their cars to their MP3 players. "We spent a lot of time talking with 25-year-old Chinese women about their tastes," says John Parker, Ford's executive VP for Asia-Pacific and Africa. "They wanted styling, fuel economy—and Internet connectivity."

Chinese auto companies still have a key competitive advantage—the fact that most are run by (and favored by) China's command-and-control government. The state can tweak policy and macroeconomic levers that virtually change the game overnight—witness Beijing's swift and successful response to the financial crisis. Compared to democratic countries where policymaking can be protracted and messy (just look at America's efforts to revamp the automotive industry), Beijing has a major leg up. They can simply decide what the future will look like, and state-owned enterprises must toe the line.

Already, Chinese leaders have signaled their determination to consolidate the country's chaotic and overcrowded auto sector, and drag it up the value chain. Of 150 entities licensed to produce vehicles, just 20 of them account for 95 percent of the market. Beijing has decided that of these 20, a globally competitive "Top Ten" will emerge (a decree which will inevitably be helped along by the fact that Beijing has less pesky unions and local and regional politicians to deal with). "We even know who eight of those 10 are," says Russo, who cites industry sources saying such numbers are guidelines only.

To speed up the process, Beijing has taken the unusual step of warning Chinese auto firms to focus on getting their own affairs in order before rushing off to buy foreign automotive assets at fire-sale prices. With prestigious names such as Volvo and Hummer on the block, "the world is for sale and looking for Chinese partners," says Eduardo Morcillo, an M&A specialist with InterChina Consulting in Shanghai. But government officials have spread the word that, as tempting as distressed foreign assets might be, they're hard to digest. "Chinese buyers [would] need to learn to deal with different management techniques, labor unions and whole new ways of thinking," warned senior planning official Chen Bin in a widely quoted interview with local media. "That can be difficult." Indeed—when China's biggest carmaker SAIC bought a 49 percent share of South Korea's Ssangyong Motor back in 2004, the venture ended in tears when Korean unions resisted Chinese cost-cutting.

These days, of course, cost-cutting is the mandate in Detroit, Seoul and Shanghai, which is the closest thing to a nerve center that China's far-flung automotive industry has, thanks to SAIC's overshadowing presence. And no one does fiscal prudence better than the Chinese, who have managed to keep growing amid the recession thanks to their $2 trillion in reserves and the ability of their autocratic system to turn on a dime to deal with whatever new economic challenge is presented. Re-creating a cleaner, leaner, meaner Detroit in the Middle Kingdom is a lofty goal indeed, but if anyone can do it, it's the Chinese.

(This first appeared in the issue cover dated May 4, 2009)

URL: http://www.newsweek.com/id/195095.

Schools for Scandal: Another Sports Scam

2009-04-23T22:18:25Z

Hat’s off to China’s media – both the orthodox and online community – for trashing a sporting success story that seemed too good to be true -- and was! No, I'm not talking about those baby-faced Chinese gymnasts’ birth certificates; that was last year. Rather, this is a tale about a high school girls soccer team and the education-com-sporting fraternity that corrupted kids in a scheme to win an international tournament in a foreign land through cheating and lying. Nick Mackie reports.

“It has damaged the image of the nation and Chongqing,” said a remorseful Zhang Jianling, headmaster of Chongqing Da Ping Middle School. “We are so sorry.” On Wednesday morning, in time honoured fashion, Chongqing’s Yuzhong District authority wheeled-out its fall guy – well, of sorts.

That’s because Zhang still has his job as the school’s chief guardian of rectitude – though he took an administrative slap on the knuckles, with a warning to refrain from teaching trickery in future. And it’s my guess that the government hopes that this story is now buried.

If critical voices in the media get their way, however, this tale should just be the start of an ongoing debate and expose about the moral vacuum in China, about how even those supposed to teach by example are leading the nation's youth into dishonesty and fraud -- and, hopefully, about those responsible getting their just punishment.

For it was simply not possible for a school head to act alone.

COOL COMPOSURE

You can’t take a bunch of students out of China without approval from various levels of the educational establishment. And these bureaucrats are very careful. They want to know all the fine details of such a trip. In the case of this story, those in charge of sport at a national level would normally also be in the know – because it involved a high-profile event abroad and two rows full of young national-level athletes on a jumbo jet flying overseas.

And, incidentally, the chief coach of the national youth team, Zhao Lichun, was with the Da Ping squad on their foreign adventure, registered as the school’s assistant coach!

So what happened ?

Chongqing’s Da Ping Middle School won the recent “Schools World Cup”, or by its official title, the International School Sport Federation’s tournament in Turkey on April 13^th.

The Chongqing Daily initially praised the players for their, “cool composure (that) finally brought them a well-deserved victory”. Reporters were somewhat startled by the news, however, as Da Ping was ranked a lowly No.7 in the national standings.

A CUNNING PLAN

The biggest surprise-surprise came when the media turned up to speak with the victors. For some reason, school security personnel were under strict instructions to bar entry to journalists. The Chongqing press were later issued with an edict: no reporting on the school’s soccer story.

Now, in a country that goes totally overboard when any athlete is victorious against foreign opposition, this is really weird! By this time, reporters from around the country were also curious.

One persistent soul managed to speak with the school’s coach. And, according to reports on the popular internet news site Sina.com , the coach came clean.

All but three of the 18 players don’t even live in Chongqing. The lion’s share of the team are part of the state-funded national youth squad.

According to the Sina.com report – which the censors have not removed - some senior official in the Ministry of Education had told the school coach that his team must finish in the top three. So, fearing that his girls wouldn’t deliver, the coach hatched a scheme to recruit ringers from the national squad.

The state-run news agency and government mouthpiece, Xinhua, does not acknowledge this claim. But it’s calling on a thorough investigation to reveal the plotters - adding that it should be transparent, involving the public and online community at large.

CCTV Sport – the website of the state broadcaster – writes that government departments related to the soccer trip have told the school to shut up, for fear that additional officials are implicated.

As for Zhao, the national youth coach, he says the Chinese Football Association was not a party to this tournament – and so he knew nothing about the rules reguiring that all participating players must be enrolled full time in the schools for which they played.

Another critical news portal, Sohu, clearly doesn’t believe the Chinese Football Association – arguing that the arm of government that controls soccer has a say in any representation abroad by a Chinese team.

Moreover, Sohu bemoans the sad fact that faking is commonplace in China’s sporting world: from referees and players throwing games for gambling wins, to parents, players, team coaches faking ages for competitive advantage. Usually this happens in professional sport, though universities are also tarnished.

Now, cheating is part and parcel of school sports.

YOU THINK WE’RE ALL IDIOTS

In the blogosphere, scribes are angry – especially towards the Chinese Football Association and its “my hands are clean” stance. “You think we’re all idiots?” screams one of Sina.com’s 2400 comments to date.

Others call on the local and national education authorities to stand up and take responsibility. They appreciate the Da Ping school’s apology – but add that everyone knows the school alone was not able to organize a team full of national players to go abroad.

Bloggers on Tianya have been quick to point out that the Chongqing district authority is now acting as the judge -- having presented the school’s headmaster to reporters on Wednesday to take the rap. Some conclude, however, that this reeks of the poacher turning game warden.

As for me, the main Chongqing Municipality Education Department refused an interview to explain its involvement in the cheating fiasco, while the related district authority has yet to respond. With bated breath, I look forward to a call, or an email, from the Belgium-based International School Sport Federation: will it strip China of the title, will there be fines, will China be barred from future tournaments? For that matter, will anyone but headmaster Zhang take the blame for this widening, and shameful, scandal?

Earth Day: Beijing's Green Scene

2009-04-22T10:09:26Z

Jennifer Conrad reports on Earth Day plans in Beijing:

Tomorrow night, for Earth Day, eco-conscious Beijingers will gather on
the roof deck of a local bar for an organic BBQ and screening of a
documentary about young environmentalists.

"Despite China being one of the world's largest polluters, I've always
found most Chinese people to be extremely concerned and committed to a
clean and healthy environment," says American expat Carissa Welton,
who founded the group Greening the Beige, an "eco-minded art
collective" (their term) that's putting on the Earth Day event.

In Beijing alone, the number of events and groups, especially those
aimed at getting young people in their teens and 20s involved, is kind
of staggering.

"We're in an economic crisis where greed and over-consumption caused a
breakdown in the financial infrastructure," says Frances
Fremont-Smith, executive director of Future Generations China, an
American-founded group that's been working in China since 1992. "Young
people are beginning to see the way the world is going isn't
sustainable."

Along with foreign-backed initiatives, there are countless home-grown
groups, such as the Center for Legal Assistant to Pollution Victims,
51 SIM (which encourages sustainable innovation by funding different
projects), Global Village (which promotes green living and has
produced several environmental TV programs), and Friends of Nature
(which works to save endangered species). The China Youth Climate
Action Network brings together seven student groups.

There's a green event in town almost every week—sometimes several.
Last Tuesday, I stopped by Beijing's Green Drinks, a networking event
held in cities around the world for people who are interested in
environmental issues. The local chapter was founded by foreigner Jenny
Chu, and more than half the attendees were expats. Several people who
work in carbon emissions trading (a system in which groups or
governments that are required to reduce their CO2 emissions buy
credits from groups that have reduced their emissions) circulated, a
few Greenpeace employees made rounds, and a contingent from Future
Generations shared a small table.

"When I started Green Drinks in 2007, I had no idea who would show
up," she remembers. "Over 100 people came the first time, and it was a
diverse range from students to media to people who work for NGOs."

Greenpeace hosts events like their "Make Some Noise" concert series,
where local bands play and talk about topics like global warming.
"Students come to our information desk to ask questions about what
we're doing and what can be done," says the group's public engagement
officer Fish Yu Xin. "We don't want to do too much teaching. It's a
good combination of sharing information and hearing what people are
thinking."

John Romankiewicz, who runs the China's Green Beat bilingual video
blog with Chinese and Chinese-Canadian partners, says green events on
college campuses are packed.

"We work with a lot of Chinese student groups because that's where the
environmental movement is rooted," he says. Describing the students,
he says, "they're not hippies. Most of them are overachievers and
really career-focused. There are lots of job opportunities in the
field, so they can focus on their career while also feeding their
desire to work on a socially important issue."

"China's Green Beat is also developing eco-rap—it's a new genre to
make green more hip," continues Romankiewicz, whose videos also
sometimes include rap. "I'm looking for Chinese talent."

A Greening the Beige fashion show included two pieces by designer Lin
Cuicui, who made the outfits out of 500 used plastic bags.

Plastic bag frocks? Rapping? It all seems kind of silly to me.

"If they like the green message you're spreading, they will want to
share it with others because it's a fun means," Romankiewicz says. "If
they don't like it, well at least it's still entering the arena, and
likely to cause some discussion."

Others agree the more people talk, the better. "My personal view is
that the Chinese government is very sensitive to the feelings of the
people," says Julian Wong, an expat who founded the Beijing Energy
Network, which hosts Beijing Energy and Environmental Roundtable
(BEER) networking events for people interested in energy issues. "You
don't even have to do anything concrete. The more white noise that you
get, the more activity that occurs in this grassroots space, the more
the government is forced to act on environmental issues."

Still, I want to believe people were doing more than awareness-raising
and trading business cards.

Green Long March is an annual campaign started by Future Generations
and the Beijing Forestry University in 2007. Young people hike along
different routes, talking to peasants, learning about native
environmental solutions, and conducting field research in rural China.
They also run educational activities in places like public squares.
According to their estimates, last year more than 5,000 young people
took part (including those who went on the trek and those who attended
events), and they impacted more than 20 million people.

Maggie Fan, who works in finance for Future Generations and took a
southern route of the Green Long March last year, talks about how
participation changed her life. "I'm not a very talkative girl, but I
feel like on the march I changed into a different person," she says,
remembering the days of walking up to 30 kilometers. "I felt like I
not only represented myself, but all of the Green Long March."

She's also been inspired to pass on what she's learned to friends and
family. Her parents own a small grocery store in Fujian province, and
she's urged them to give out fewer free plastic bags. And based on
what she learned in rural areas, she told family members who raise
pigs how to build a small biogas system (a system that turns organic
waste into energy).

Her excitement is real and contagious. I know she wants to help the
environment and get her friends on board as well. But after a few days
of skies that are a sickly shade of gray, I wonder: is it enough?

The Sayings of Premier Wen and Jackie Chan

2009-04-19T01:35:03Z

By Melinda Liu and Nick Mackie.

Chinese Premier Wen Jiabao is tantamount to a rock star in this gathering of financial-policy wonks. His speech to the plenary session of the Boao Forum for Asia -- focused on the theme "Managing Beyond Crisis" -- was meant to encourage the audience, and the world, by underscoring signs of China's embryonic economic recovery. Promising signs there were, with increases in investment and domestic consumption suggesting that stimulus funds and a banking system now awash with credit are beginning to work their magic.

But Wen didn't hit his stride until he got the part about how China was proactively working to pull everyone out of the crisis. The cadence and pitch of his speech rose as Wen ticked off five proposals to help re-structure the international trade and financial system; they ranged from warnings against protectionist tendencies and his promotion of free-trade agreements to some specific plans to internationalize the Chinese currency and set up a China-ASEAN fund to promote regional infrastructure construction.

Truth be told, an earlier chunk of Wen's speech seems to have been lifted from his March work report to the Chinese parliament. But the last segment was cited later by some of the assembled CEO's and leaders -- including Kazakhstan president Nursultan Nazarbayev and Pakistan President Asif Ali Zardari -- as the bit that caught their attention. "I used to say that confidence is more important than currency or gold. Today I want to say that hope is also important. Hope is like a beacon," said Wen, "It gives direction and permanent faith." All in all, it was a pretty good performance for the Chinese leader, whose speech was interpreted by Nazarbayev as a call for a new Asian-focused Bretton-Woods-style system with its headquarters in Shanghai.

Wen's statements also underscored the fact that, in a system where government controls alot of macroeconomic levers, when top leaders say "we will show the way" it tends to have credibility. The speech also suggested that Wen's brand of technocratic charisma can inspire foreign audiences, at least for a moment, almost as well as it moves grassroots Chinese who have made "Uncle Wen" their media darling.

By contrast, China's premier kick-ass icon, film celebrity and philanthropist Jackie Chan, admits he isn't comfortable on the bully pulpit. At a panel at Boao, he described public speaking as "much scarier than performing stunts." Still, his comments hot-wired a somewhat sober seminar that was emitting a lot less buzz and zip than it's title implied: "Tapping into Asia's Creative Industry Potential".

The 55-year-old kung fu action man's moment was an unscripted one. Chan -- who happens to be Vice Chairman of the China Film Association -- staunchly defended the need for Beijing to carefully regulate artistic and cultural expression. He was responding to a journalist's question on film-making restrictions, but Chan broadened his answer to embrace society in general.

Apparently, the star of numerous big-screen hits fears a more liberal China. "With too much freedom, it can get very chaotic...We could end up like in Taiwan," said Chan. His controversial comments set off a a wild round of applause from the 200-strong audience, many of them Chinese business leaders. His fans also included a star-struck Chinese press pack which all but blocked the actor's exit some minutes later after Chan completed a rant on liberalism and its shortcomings, which even flicked at Singapore's ban on chewing gum.

Media wanted to hear more, specifically a clarification of his comments on Taiwan, from the Thoughts of Vice Chairman Chan. (A phalanx of Taiwanese media were in Boao to report on a number of Taiwan authorities and other luminaries present at the forum; they included former senior Taipei official Dr. Frederick Chien, now a senior advisor to the Cross-Strait Common Market Foundation, who spent much of the weekend talking with mainland officials about expanding transport and trade links across the Taiwan Strait.)

Pleading that he had a plane to catch, Chan quickly explained away the Taiwan reference as an off-the-cuff remark. "I mean politics, it's a bit better now," he remarked. The implication being that President Ma Ying jeou's leadership of the island is an improvement compared to the days when his predecessor Chen Shui-bian held office. (Chen's party espoused independence for Taiwan -- which Chinese leaders consider a maverick province that must ultimately be reunited with the mainland, by force if necessary -- and his tenure marked a number of tense crises between Taipei and Beijing.

Chan is hugely popular in China - admired for his patriotism, his determination to rise from humble beginnings to stardom and his achievements -- both professionally and in charitable work. While encouraging support for the Chinese government, Chan also deftly maintains immense popularity among mainland grassroots citizens. While his publicly stated views on liberalism and artistic controls may not square with many in Hollywood, Chan is certainly at one with much of China's new middle class -- people like the local bank manager or export sales executive who represent the country's more assertive and even nationalistic younger generation.

For Chinese climbing up the economic ladder -- typically earning more than US$ 1500 per month -- greater freedom of expression, or Western-style democracy, don't feature on their list of top priorities. For them, political upheaval could sabotage or encumber their economic endeavors. Despite the economic downturn, many still trust that the ruling communist party will continue to deliver the goods in terms of rising living standards. And if that means some restrictions on creative expression, many Chinese would say it is legitimate and cite the destructive impact of pornography and graphic violence.

Chan's comments are not unusual, therefore, in the context of Chinese society -- though they'd raise eyebrows among Western movie stars who are traditionally thought to embrace liberal politics. "I'm gradually beginning to feel that we Chinese need to be controlled. If we're not being controlled, we'll just do what we want," says the superstar -- which may come over a tad strange at a panel that's devoted to unleashing creative energy. Here's another ironic twist: what Chan didn't mention is the fact that a recent film of his was not released on the mainland, apparently due to its excessive violence.

Lord Brittan of UBS on the Financial Crisis, China

2009-04-18T08:26:30Z

Among the financial bigshots at this weekend's Boao forum is Lord Brittan -- Leon to friends -- who goes way back with Chinese authorities. During the 1990's, on behalf of the EU, then Sir Leon negotiated much of Beijing's WTO entry terms. Now he's non-executive director of Unilever and Vice Chairman of the Swiss giant UBS Investment Bank, which is battling to restore its image following multi-billion dollar write-downs and a banking secrecy feud with the U.S. Lord Brittan spoke with reporter Nick Mackie about China's rise and the financial crisis. Excerpts:

Newsweek: You've said you never imagined China's economy could grow so fast back when you were negotiating with Beijing officials in the 90's.

Brittan: I was fortunate enough to do 90 percent of the negotiating [during China's WTO accession]. I'm not going to pretend that I thought [then] the result of it and the result of Chinese development would be anything like what we have today. The scale of it and the speed of it... has been astonishing.

Q: Today, China is ramping up control of key resources. Is this a surprise to you as well?

A: I think you're slightly exaggerating to call it, "ramping up control of resources" - I don't think it's doing that... But it is seeking to acquire resources which is what you would expect. I don't think that any of the things that are happening are that surprising. What is surprising is the scale and the speed of it. One thing that's interesting also is that, towards the end of my negotiation with the Chinese, I said to them: you now need to start thinking about what you're going to do when you're members of the WTO, not in terms of using the openings you have but [in terms of] the way the world is going to develop in trade terms. It took them a long time before...they were prepared to be active. And it was really very significant that in the G20 meeting, for the first time, China played a really active role. The other interesting thing is that where some people were afraid of China just as 20 years ago they were afraid of Japan, now everybody welcomed the fact that China played a positive role. The reason for that is that you can't have a decent world arrangement without the major players being major players. You stand a better chance of getting things right, if the major players play a major role. And that's now happening.

Brittan: I'm no fortuneteller

Q: Many executives say they can't make money in the West anymore; they see their financial futures in Asia, particularly in China. Do you agree?

A: There's no doubt that the region -- China most of all but other Asian countries as well -- provides opportunities. Whether you're talking about financial services or other products...a larger proportion of the business, and a faster-growing proportion of the business comes from this part of the globe. And I'm sure we are no exception; I just happen to be involved with two companies where that's true.

Q: When did it become clear to you that a financial meltdown was inevitable?

A: There are people who try and say, "I foresaw [it] before it all started happening." I didn't. I'm not going to pretend I did. I saw it it when it came. Of course there were warning signals. Of course there were things that you could point to which were a bit risky. But if you did you tended to be discounted. People would say,"Why do you not want to join the party? Why do you want to be left behind?" And that was a risky thing to do in terms of shares and shareholders and everything else. So I'm not going to be wise after the event and say, "I saw it all coming; no one would listen to me." There will be people who can genuinely claim that. I'm not one of them.

Q: And when you did realise the meltdown would happen very quickly?

A: Yes, it happened quickly, but not as quickly as all that...People talk about when Lehman's collapsed, that things accelerated downwards since then - that's true. But then why did Lehman's collapse? Before then things were pretty rough already. So it happened quickly -- but not like a thunderstorm.

Q: Are we talking about June 2007?

A: About then, yes. Certainly by the autumn of 2007 it was not looking very good.

Q: You've had a rough ride. With the benefit of hindsight, what mistakes were made ?

A: We made mistakes primarily to get involved in what's now known as the sub-prime market and it's many manifestations and complexities. That was a mistake. And we did it because everyone else was doing it and we wanted to catch up...We just joined the club. We were in a hurry. We made bad mistakes. And we're taking very serious action to put it all right.

Q: What were the lessons learned?

A: The lessons are - not so much UBS but the banking industry generally -- don't be too clever. Don't be too clever to think that the newest fancy products, complicated products - some of which people don't fully understand - are the way to the future. The banking industry is going to go back to a more classic role of traditional banking. More caution, less taking of risks. That's the lesson for the future which UBS is taking. I'm sure we're not alone.

Q: UBS has been in trouble recently with U.S. authorities over banking secrecy. We also had the recent G20 meeting of government leaders focusing on tax havens. To what extent does this impact UBS investment banking?

A: When everybody's making a lot of noise, some people get worried about it. Some people even take their money away. But the truth of the matter is, the Swiss government and UBS, fully in support, have said, "We're ready to move." We're not ready simply to disclose all the secrets of our clients to any government that just asks for it. We're not going to do that. But if a government has reason to believe that a particular client is guilty of evading taxes then we're prepared to disclose the information on a reasonable notice, on a reasonable basis. That has to be negotiated country by country through double taxation agreements. But we're ready to do that. And I don't think that's going to be a disaster for UBS at all.

Despite Recession, Domestic Tourists Flock to "China's Hawaii"

2009-04-16T05:12:16Z

Welcome to Hainan, a tropical island where hundreds of CEO's, bankers, ministers, consultants and journalists are converging for the Boao Forum for Asia, an annual gathering with ambitions to become Asia's Davos. The crowd is eager for signs of a Chinese recovery that will in turn help lift the rest of the world out of crisis. Optimists need look no further than Hainan's own burgeoning travel industry. Promoted as a tourist paradise, the island province attracted 20.6 million tourist vists last year, about triple the province's total population. With its languid beaches and balmy climate, the southern city of Sanya had mroe than 300,000 visits during the weeklong 2009 Lunar New Year holiday alone. The crush left Sanya's 180-plus hotels fully booked, and prices at some of the skyrocketed as much as six or seven times the normal rates.

The city is aggressively courting the holiday crowd -- a relatively new trend in a country where the concept of spending big while on vacation was considered decadent less than three decades ago, back when Hainan was an undeveloped malarial backwater. Travellers, most of them domestic, now spend more than USD 200 daily when vacationing in Sanya. Accommodations run the gamut from comparatively pricey five-star regulars such as Marriott to A-frame honeymoon cottages and beachside tents (less than USD 50 a night at one new seaside resort). A dozen more hotel are slated to open within five years. In 2008 Sanya received six million visits by domestic Chinese travellers, and another half a million by foreign tourists, especially Russians. That works out to the highest number of tourist visits per capita of any Chinese city, though the ration "still has a gap compared to that in Hawaii,l" says vice mayor Li Baiqing.

Lured by Hainan's reputation as the "Hawaii of China," more and more domestic tourists are flocking to seaside cities such as Sanya. (Some are so enamored that they buy holiday homes; 85 percent of Sanya's real estate sales are to outsiders.) Last year the domestic tourism numbers more than compensated for a 30 percent drop in visits by foreign travellers. Coming attractions under construction include an aviation park to attract well-to-do visitors with private aircraft -- as well as a rocket launch base "that will be like the Kennedy Space Center in Florida," says Prof. Zhu Huayou, of the National Institute for South China Sea Studies, "This will also promote the tourism industry." With domestic consumers filling the vacuum left by shrinking foreign demand, Hainan's tourism sector is hoping for lift-off.

Facebook for China's Farmers

2009-04-01T10:21:45Z

Take a couple of tech-savvy American college grads, 200 million poverty-stricken Chinese, the internet, a digital camera, and a healthy dose of altruism. What have you got? Nick Mackie reports from rural Sichuan on an innovative scheme to lend money to poor farmers:

Two Chinese rural loan officers –- plus 25-year-old American Casey Wilson, who’s splattered with mud after slipping on a rutted track – arrive by foot at a remote hamlet in Sichuan's Yilong County. There farmer Xu Guiqiong, who at one point pulls up vegetables for pig fodder, explains she needs about USD $450 to feed her animals.

Xu, 36, has four sows. Two have just had litters; the other two are pregnant. She now needs a micro-loan in order to fatten the piglets up over the next five months and, hopefully, sell them for a handsome profit. The two officers, from the county’s micro-credit association, feel that Xu is a safe bet to lend to.

But they still aim to do their homework. “We will visit neighbours in the area to get a general feeling about the borrower,” explains Chen Lin of the Association for Rural Development of Yilong (ARDY). “For sure, some will speak well and some will speak badly about [the candidate]. Then we can make our own opinions. Basically, in every village we can find someone who knows everybody.”

Xu is one of tens of millions of Chinese who used work away from home -- a rural-born migrant worker. But she and her husband returned to their village of Shenxi in 2007 to care for their parents (now in their 60's) and their two kids. Now they need to break out of the poverty trap. Their plan is to use a loan to develop her animal husbandry venture -- then keep buying more pigs with their profits in order to grow a small breeding business.

So long as market prices don't work against her, the math make sense. “Keep investing! Bank interest is so low, nearly zero,” cries Xu. “But if I invest RMB 10,000 next year, I might double it.” She’s a textbook micro-credit client in a village where the alternative is to borrow from local loan sharks, who typically charge 20 percent interest daily and drag borrowers into a debt trap.

Stifled by Restrictions

The country’s Postal Savings and other rural banks proclaim unsecured loan facilities –- heeding the government’s call to help kickstart countryside enterprises. But, in reality, villagers say these institutions are not interested in amounts much under US$ 3,000. Moreover local managers want loans to be guaranteed.

Compared with rural India and Bangladesh, it's more difficult for China's villagers to procure affordable, legitimate, unsecured, small loans. The micro-credit industry here is both underdeveloped and stifled by restrictive regulations. First and foremost, micro-lenders can only work with donations; they’re not allowed to take deposits.

The ARDY association in Yilong County, manages a US$ 900,000 fund. In the course of 12 months, the money is loaned out and repaid up to 2.5 times .There’s a one percent bad debt default rate. “The majority of our funds come from projects of international organizations and government donations,” says Li Shibing, ARDY’s Vice General Secretary, “When the farmer pays backs a loan, we’ll lend it out again, immediately, either to someone else or to the same person.” ARDY’s own overheads are financed from interest payments of between 16 and 20 percent per year.

With tens of millions of unemployed city factory workers returning to the townships, demand for small loans is growing. But because of current legislation, micro-credit can only expand in China if there are more donations. The trouble is, in this global economic crisis, donor fatigue abounds as do concerns about misused pledged cash.

Facebook for Farmers

So China needs innovative and nimble ways round the funding roadblocks. One promising solution is offered by Wokai -– which translates as “I open". It’s the brainchild of Wilson and her college chum Courtney McColgan. Both studied development economics in the U.S. and met during an intensive Chinese course at Tsinghua University in Beijing.

Like not a few great ideas, Wokai came to fruition after several bottles of Guinness on St. Patrick’s Day. “Wokai acts kind of like a Facebook for farmers in rural China," says Wilson, Wokai's CEO and Co-Founder. “We post their pictures, their stories and their loan requests online and contributors from all over the world can browse their stories and select someone to contribute to,

Wokai links mainly small donors from all over the world with the people who actually use their money. The website has details of each project, its repayment performance, plus the names of those who've contributed. Launched in November 2008, the 40-plus borrowers to date are typically women earning less than US$ 1.25 per day who use the cash to raise pigs or run small shops and food stalls in nearby towns.

As for donors, many in the U.S. have some connection to China. Some are American-born Chinese, others parents who’ve adopted Chinese children.

Tight Budgets

While Wokai can act as a micro-credit conduit, it must work with local partners like ARDY that identify potential “clients” and administer the money. Wokai also needs sponsors and donors to cover its own operating costs, since 100 percent of all donations go to the borrowers and field partners keep the interest payments. To keep Wokai’s travel, website and staff expenses down, Wilson usually rides buses and trains -– and stays in the homes of field partners -- when she’s conducting a site visit. “It’s one thing to get people to go online and support our borrowers,” explains Wilson. “ It’s another thing to get funds to support our actual organization.” As a new non-profit organization, it’s a tough sell trying to get individuals and companies to make large donations.

With the help of around 100 fundraising volunteers - notably in the US - Wokai has ambitious plans to help more farmers like Xu Guiqiong. “Within the next three years, we hope to raise close to US$ 2.2 million from 17,000 users online – and that’ll fund over 6,000 recipients to start small businesses, “ predicts Wilson.

Trudging back with her to the nearby town of Zhouhe, I thought the Wokai model made sense –- so long as the organization gets sufficient support to hire good personnel as it grows. That may not be easy given the current state of world economies and rising unemployment in China. There’s certainly a disconnect between the government’s idealistic vision for the countryside and the rules governing the micro-credit sector.

Deep Roots of China's New Economic Nationalism

2009-03-30T10:44:44Z

The mood in china appears to be reaching a tipping point, as its normally bland leaders abandon cautious diplo-speak under the pressures of the global financial crisis. First, they blamed American capitalism for the crisis and Premier Wen Jiabao publicly pressed Washington to ensure the safety of some $2 trillion in U.S. debt held by Beijing. Then Central Bank governor Zhou Xiaochuan called for replacing the greenback with a new reserve currency controlled by the International Monetary Fund (IMF), a move that would assure the long-term decline of the dollar. All this signals an increasingly assertive economic nationalism, and it is only the tip of the iceberg.

Even harsher statements are coming from a rising group of nationalist intellectuals in China. One of the most prominent, Wang Xiaodong, says China should simply stop buying U.S. Treasuries and put more money into domestic infrastructure, defense and social security—a move that could quickly turn America's recession into a depression. And he rejects the Central Bank governor's idea of creating a new reserve currency run by the IMF as too advantageous to America. "Isn't the IMF also under the control of the United States?" he asks with a conspiratorial grin.

As the global economic crisis bites deeper, such provocative ideas strike a chord. Wang is one of five authors of a new book, "Unhappy China," which sold 100,000 copies in just 11 days after going on sale in mid-March. While heavily critical of the U.S., the new book also ratchets up the pressure on China's leaders, who have often scrambled to stay ahead of anti-Western nationalism. That's a big reason why Beijing is moving more forcefully than before—and not only on economic issues. Witness the recent South China Sea naval confrontation, in which the U.S. accused five Chinese ships of harassing an unarmed U.S. subchaser.

In fact, Wang and his cohorts say China needs a stronger navy for its resource supply lines, which now extend from Australia to Africa. "All those commercial contracts mean nothing unless we have aircraft carriers to back them up," says Wang. A new Pentagon report suggests China is already headed in that direction: Beijing's military budgets have doubled between 2000 and 2008, it says, and the Navy is venturing further afield to secure energy-transport routes and conduct antipiracy patrols near Somalia. China's navy has reportedly decided to train 50 pilots to operate planes from a refurbished ex-Soviet aircraft carrier purchased from Ukraine. In coming weeks, Chinese forces near Qingdao are scheduled to lay on a spectacular naval parade, the biggest since 1949. The sight should give the "Unhappy China" authors a little pick-me-up.

This first appeared in the magazine dated April 6, 2009

URL: http://www.newsweek.com/id/191516

Foot in Mouth: Keeping the Lid on Another Health Scare?

2009-03-27T13:36:47Z

Once again, it appears some bureaucrats in the Chinese Communist Party’s apparatus are bent on keeping a lid on facts and treating the public with contempt. Yet again, we’re talking about an illness that’s killing kids. Nick Mackie vents from Chongqing:

China’s state broadcaster, CCTV, has been running reports all day on an infectious illness – Hand, Foot and Mouth (HFMD) disease – that has sickened 41,000 people so far this year, killing 18. Yes, you read it right: 41,000 sick. Compare that to the state media's reported 27,000 cases in 2008 which killed an unspecified number nationwide.Twenty-six people died in Anhui province alone.

HFMD typically strikes people under 10 years of age..

According to the Mayo Clinic, this is a highly contagious viral infection that’s quite common in the under 10’s – “characterized by mouth sores and a rash on the hands and feet.” The vast majority of those sickened recover, but, sadly, some develop complications including meningitis, encephalitis, bleeding on the lungs or respiratory failure that can kill.

So, back to the 41,000. This is a big number. It reminds me that in 2003, there were 5327 cases of SARS in China – though, of course, with a death rate of around 1 in 15 infected, SARS was indeed much more serious.

Nonetheless, as the dad of a 3-year-old, the next thought that popped up in my head was: “And how many cases are there here, in Chongqing ?” I started calling around government offices to try to find out.

The infuriating answer is that nobody wanted to tell – or maybe those who decide on such measures of serious national security haven’t had enough committee meetings to decide on how to broach the statistics. That is, if they’ve been counting.

First, the local health department refused to give the numbers – implying that it indeed had the information - unless the Municipality’s Information Office approved. And then the Information Office said it didn’t have the authority to release such information. Excuse me – CCTV is warning mums and dads to expect many more HFMD cases as we enter the peak spring and summer infection season. We’re being advised to keep children away from crowded places, to only eat well cooked food. Parents here are thinking about taking their children out of kindergarden!

And yet, at a local level, no one is yet prepared – or allowed – to answer the most simple and obvious of questions: how many cases have there been in Chongqing? Apparently it’s still fashionable to employ the SARS-era keep-your-mouth-shut strategy –- as if essential public health information is too sensitive for the public; don’t worry, the Party will protect your children.

Sure, let them drink milk!

I gave the authorities’ good offices an hour or so to reconsider – or to get approval to release data – but the brick wall was still firmly in place. This time, the local health department said that approval was required from the Health Ministry in Beijing……but no-one picked up the phone there.

Now, I’m not suggesting that my boy’s kindergarden chums should stay at home tomorrow, that investors should get the next flight out of Chongqing or that the city’s 31 million people should be quarantined. There’s nothing obvious happening here to suggest that we’re in the midst of a crisis. Then again, there are no numbers or government statements as yet to suggest all is well either. The state-run China Central Television covered the story extensively on Friday. However there was no report on the popular 6.30 PM Chongqing TV evening news magazine.

So I “Googled” to see how the story was developing elsewhere in China. Henan popped-up on the search engine. Remember, Henan is the notorious province that several years ago covered-up the fact that large numbers of residents living in some poor villages had contracted AIDS due to unsafe blood-collection methods by illegal blood vendors. Lo and behold, according to state media, there’s been a cover-up of HFMD cases in Minquan County, Henan. “The investigation followed a news report last week by China National Radio that medical staff at the county's hospital had apparently falsified medical histories to hide a large number of cases in the area.”

The fact that this goes on doesn’t come as much of a surprise to my Chinese friends, let alone old hacks like yours truly.

But without wanting in any way to belittle the suffering of those who lost children in relation to such cases, this story also seems to illustrate a very special development in the complex world of the Chinese media. Something's been evolving for a couple of years, but it notched up a gear in the wake of the heinous "tainted milk" scandal last year in which toxic levels of melamine were discovered in a popular brand of milk. Six children have died.

At national-level newspapers, official online news, TV and radio coverage journalists now are being encouraged to take the initiative and go after stories with an edge – even expose and illuminate. That is, so long as they maintain self censorship with Chinese characteristics – in other words, stay clear of the top leadership, their families and the military. Oh, and maybe also skirt around events like setting fire to your own building.

There's a pecking order involved. A former Xinhua reporter gave me a simple, logical explanation: it’s all based on a hierarchical order. The national media can criticize entities and individuals below the central government; media at the provincial and municipality level can criticise lower-level cities and counties; media in those cities and counties can expose wrongdoing in the next level down, the villages. You don’t criticize those on your own level or above. Foreign firms are pretty much fair game for everyone. And, of course, some stories are stymied because interdependent personal or corporate relationships criss-cross this hierarchy.

Regarding HFMD -- or any other health and safety affair for that matter -- if we can’t rely on the local government and its media to reveal or clarify details, then maybe the national media can demand the facts and shed more light on important stories of public interest. Because there are many mums and dads out here – including this oddball – who are more than a tad concerned about the flow of information – or, rather, lack of it – when it comes to the welfare of their kids.