New blog posts and other writings can now be found on martacooper.com. I will not be using …in Shanghai for future posts.
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New blog posts and other writings can now be found on martacooper.com. I will not be using …in Shanghai for future posts.
Thanks for migrating to the other side!
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Thousands of mourners gathered today at the site of last week’s deadly fire in Shanghai, which claimed 58 lives and injured more than 70.
The 28-storey apartment block in Shanghai’s Jing’an district was undergoing renovations when welding sparks caused the scaffolding to catch fire on Monday afternoon. Flames quickly engulfed the building, and rescue teams said much of the construction material was also highly flammable, hindering efforts to contain the blaze.
Four unlicensed welders who, according to Shanghai police, were illegally welding on the 10th floor of the high-rise, have been detained, with public security minister Meng Jianzhu calling for a full inquiry into the reasons for the tragedy. Illegal sub-contracting and poor government supervision have already been blamed.
I went along to the scene this afternoon. As I exited Changping Lu metro station, not known for being one of Shanghai’s busier stops, the atmosphere was almost one of excitement: something was happening. I was met by a crowd of hundreds laying flowers and writing on posters to commemorate those who had perished seven days ago.
I followed the endless crowd and hit Jiaozhou Lu, the street the high-rise is located on. Police calmly managed the mourners, who could only enter the cordoned-off street with the commemorative items, such as flowers and golden ribbons, that were being handed out. Scattered throughout the sea of people were yellow and lavender chrysanthemums, and monochrome bilingual posters that read, ‘Don’t Cry Shanghai’.
The crowd visibly thickened as it continued down the street and approached the building. People stopped in their thousands to pay respects and photograph the blackened remains of the apartment block. A charred, haunting smell penetrated throughout the damp autumn air.
At the crossroads with Yuyao Lu the police presence was larger, with authorities cordoning off one side of the street for a lengthy crowd to lead what seemed like a procession. There was no queue jumping (…yet), everyone did as they were told: they continued walking down the street and joined the line at its eventual end.
I carried on following the crowd, which swelled up as the afternoon progressed. By around 3.30pm, more policemen arrived to manage mourners. Authorities seemed on-edge: a uniform look of fear marked their faces as they anticipated unrest or disorder. But, bar the odd person jumping the queue, nothing untoward happened.
I spoke to a few people at the site, and the sentiment – albeit gained from a purely random sample – was unanimous: this was an event to commemorate the dead. A 24-year-old photographer told me it was peaceful, there was no danger; it was simply a Sunday afternoon remembering those who had perished. This was certainly the vibe that rippled throughout the dense crowd.
A local journalist I spoke to added that everyone was united here, regardless of age, gender or class. But as I meandered through the sea of people, 90% of whom were speaking Shanghainese, it became very clear that this was a local tragedy and a local memorial. I, as one of the very few Westerners around, felt as though I was intruding.
As I made my way back towards the metro station, the river of mourners showed few signs of easing, as more and more arrived to pay their respects.
I bumped into some friends who were headed to the site. One of them later said that, in almost a decade in Shanghai, he had never witnessed an event of this kind.
Note: this post has been amended. The original version included a paragraph towards the end in which I stated, “I was left wondering why so much was doled out on constructing a pavilion that legally cannot be eclipsed by any other, which could have otherwise gone to more pressing demands of healthcare or education.” While I still stand by that assertion, a commenter pointed out the statement was misplaced in the context of the post. I agreed with him, and it’s been removed.
Despite its name, this blog has produced next to no coverage of the event that, it could be argued, defined Shanghai this year: the 2010 World Expo. Why? For one, I was out of the city during the height of the event and, by the time I had returned, it was obvious that two good gentlemen had it brilliantly covered: Shanghai Scrap’s Adam Minter and DeluxZilla’s Zachary Franklin provided news from inside the pavilions, details of the length of the queues and what visiting European dignitaries had to say, and everything else in between, from behind-the-scenes nepotism at the construction of the US Pavilion, to where to take a good nap in the scorching summer heat. So, I decided my two cents would take the form of these parting thoughts, and here they are.
Hot off the heels of the 2008 Beijing Olympics, which aimed to bring China to the global stage, the extravagant Expo sought to bring the global stage to China. Over the past six months, official figures estimated that over 70 million visitors flocked to the 5.28 square kilometre area housing national, corporate and theme-inspired pavilions, split into two and strewn across the banks of the Huangpu River. That’s the entire population of the UK plus an extra 10 million, in an area more or less the size of New York’s Central Park. Last Sunday alone, 1.3 million people crammed themselves in to the national pavilion side, slamming Osaka’s daily record of 836,000 visitors in 1970.
And not for nothing, either. An estimated $55 billion – double the amount dished out on the Olympics – has been spent on the Expo and immense sprucing up of Shanghai: we have seen the lightning-speed expansion of the city’s subway system (complete with guards and x-ray machines to maintain ‘public security’), the repaving of just about every potholed street, and a brand-spanking new walkway on the Bund. A media campaign pushing for more ‘civilised’ behaviour and government-led programmes clamping down on wearing pyjamas outside, smoking and spitting in public, all day-to-day fare in the city, have also been set up. Perhaps more bitterly, Shanghai has also seen the demolition of several of its quaint, historical neighbourhoods.
It was during this time (September 2009) that I landed in town: the city’s clean up was my introduction to the Expo. As the infamous food street Wujiang Lu faced deconstruction to show a more sanitised Shanghai complete with glitzy malls instead, I became cynical about the price being paid for this World’s Fair. Given that the pavilions (except China’s) were also due to be torn down once the event finished, I wondered what the point of the whole thing was, without a legacy to preserve the efforts that have gone into creating it.
That lingering air of skepticism stayed with me on my few trips to the Expo. As I walked through the Italian pavilion one evening, surrounded by a display of pasta, a multitude of wine bottles, a giant high-heel plastered with other footwear, and all the while surrounded by model Renaissance architecture, I wondered where I was. This isn’t the Italy I come from or know, I thought to myself. Wandering through the Brazil pavilion, I waltzed under a football net. Hmmm. Brazil = football. I then walked beneath passing shots of Rio’s lush skyline. How big is Brazil? How much of the country looks like this? Whether or not North Korea is a “paradise for the people”, as its pavilion suggests, is also open to debate.
The entire event felt like one enormous cliche of regurgitated stereotypes. Adding to the surreal nature of it all was, for instance, the exorbitant prices charged by some pavilions’ restaurants (a set menu in the Italian pavilion’s eatery went well into the 100s of yuan range). Could the average Chinese visitor afford the food they have seen displayed on the walls of the room they have spent the last fifteen minutes circling? Probably not. They get teased but don’t get to taste.
The idea of a “World’s Fair” was understandably appealing in the 1800s, when it served as an important exchange point for technology, and its appeal continued in the twentieth century because of the peerless opportunity it provided to get a glimpse of lots of other cultures all in one place. Unfortunately, in the twentieth century, we have the internet for that. Many countries seem to be treating the Expo as a soft-power branding opportunity, and some countries are just phoning it in. But what seems to be missing from all this is why any regular person would really want to go. I’ve read far more coverage of the Expo than any average foreigner would be willing to, and it still seems like a collection of overly-stylized buildings containing vaguely interactive tourism advertisements. Why would I want to stand in line for hours for that?
Although I’m unsure of what he means by “any regular person”, Custer’s final sentence summed up my sentiments as my uber-enthusiastic flatmate dragged me, the poster child for a moaning Briton, around Zones B and C one balmy September evening. I strolled past the Russia pavilion at around 7pm: the estimated waiting time was still around 3 hours long. Uninspired by the prospect of waiting 3+ hours just to gaze at what I could only expect would be a cut-out of St Basil’s cathedral, I moved on.
But as the evening went on, my cynicism wore off. I realised, yes, the Expo is pure, unadulterated nation-branding. And yes, that entails re-hashing stereotypes, which, as a privileged and reasonably well-travelled foreigner, I am able to spot. But for the millions of Chinese who have travelled far and wide and spent hours trudging across the Expo site, I doubt the issue of stereotypes is of great concern. In the words of Minter,
Could it be, just possibly, that all of those people are curious to know something about a country capable of spending (reportedly) well over $100 million on a pavilion, and lacking the opportunity to travel there themselves (unlike most Expo critics in the foreign media), are taking the only route available to them?
An Expo sympathiser, Minter has lamented the patchy coverage of the event given by China’s community of foreign correspondents. What motivated the Chinese, in their millions, to keep returning to the site, was a missed opportunity for a story, he argues. Earlier this week, he posted an interview with Malcolm Moore, the Daily Telegraph‘s Shanghai correspondent and undeterred Expo critic. Minter asked him whether Telegraph readers and editors back in the UK were interested in the event, to which Moore responded:
There was no interest. We had a senior editor come over, but he was pretty bored by it all. It was a distinctly unimaginative, uncreative, uninteresting event. Let’s face it, everyone loves sport, so everyone loves the Olympics. But what excitement was there at the Expo over the six months it ran? I must have asked fifty people who paid for tickets and queued up what their impression of it was, and around 95 per cent of them simply shrugged their shoulders and said it was “alright”.
While demand in the West for all things Expo may have been low, it seems the Shanghainese can’t get enough of it. Xinhua reported that surveys conducted by Shanghai-based Touchmedia through touch-screens installed in the backs of taxi headrests, around 60 percent of passengers among the 130,000 surveyed expect another Expo in the Middle Kingdom.
For all its quirky stereotypes, insane crowds (complete with sly folk jumping queues), overpriced refreshments and hasty demolition of some of Shanghai’s more beautiful spots, it’s undeniable that the Expo has been a defining feature in the city’s development and China’s growth more widely. It has seen the Middle Kingdom reach out to the rest of the world far more, and bring those nations, albeit in limited terms, to its own people. It set out to be the victory lap for 2008’s coming out party, and some are optimistic that it achieved this goal. Speaking to Adam Minter, Zachary Franklin said,
You’re not going to find a single pavilion at this Expo walk away saying they failed. Every pavilion had some measure of success. Some pavilions wanted visitors going home knowing where the country was located on the map, other pavilions created extensive cultural and business programs for six months.
So it is goodbye to the Expo, a farewell I am saying from the comfort of my flat, rather than among the millions of visitors who beat me to the punch in securing tickets for the final day. Thank Christ the sun’s out.
According to freelance writer Kapil Komireddi, writing on the Guardian’s Comment is Free site, the West needs to promptly stand up to the monolith that is China, rather than sit back and let it expand and continue its oppressive regime.
Erasing its own history, massacring its own people, shielding genocidal dictatorships abroad, bullying its neighbours, China is an expansionist power without a conscience. There is much that is wrong with the west – and liberal democracies elsewhere – but imagine a world in which China can no longer be held to account. That future is not very far. But if the west continues to cower, it will be here sooner than we think.
Indeed, China’s expansion has not been a peaceful one. The Great Leap Forward and the Cultural Revolution, to cite the two most obvious examples of Mao’s dictatorial quest for a communist society, took the lives of millions. The student and worker protests in Tiananmen Square in June 1989 ended fatally, with precise figures of those killed by Deng Xiaoping’s troops still unknown. The People’s Republic continues to crack down on those who criticise the legitimacy of the Communist Party: case in point, Charter 08 co-author and Nobel Peace Prize winner Liu Xiaobo, who is almost one year into his 11-year sentence for inciting subversion.
China is also quick to show its obstinate side out on the diplomatic stage. The recent spat with Japan over a Chinese fisherman who collided with Japanese coastguards in disputed waters produced no winners: China cut diplomatic communications with Japan when they refused to release the fisherman, and promptly demanded an apology and compensation once the fisherman was handed back to the Middle Kingdom. Last year’s Copenhagen climate summit saw similar head banging: the West called on China to abide by legally binding cuts; China said no. China’s role in Africa is also notoriously controversial, with China known for having supplied war-torn Sudan with arms, for example.
So it seems that the Middle Kingdom could benefit from the West taking it down a peg or two. We have seen this happen of late: by the Nobel Committee awarding Liu Xiaobo with this year’s Nobel Peace Prize, China’s poor human rights record has been brought into question, and the work of a relentless and brave dissident has received wider circulation. The West essentially told China it is wrong in continuing cracking down on dissent.
But my issue with Komireddi’s piece is that it is endemic of a simplified, black-and-white vision of China that does no justice to the complexity of the country. Komireddi writes that “China is not a substantially freer country today than it was a decade ago.” But what he means by ‘free’ is unclear, as he fails to consider what such a wide-ranging term could mean to the average Chinese person. It might be the freedom to feed your family comfortably or buy a house; yet Komireddi overlooks how Chinese citizens might take pride in the country’s intense economic strengthening more so than Western notions of ‘freedom’.
He adds that new media, used by more and more disgruntled citizens to voice their concerns of the state, is used just as quickly by the government to monitor and crack down on contentious actors. This is true, the piece’s next paragraph raises an issue:
Liu’s [Xiaobo] plight casts light also on the fundamental uselessness of the so-called “social networking” sites. If Facebook could foment revolutions, Liu’s Charter 08 would have attracted many more signatories than the 8,000 it managed.
It is puzzling that Komireddi did not mention another, more significant reason Charter 08 did not receive overwhelming support within China: because so few of the nation’s 1.3 billion people could in fact relate to the ideals of democracy, multi-party elections and freedom of expression that Liu was calling for. Blogger Han Han alluded to this theme some months ago, in response to Google’s dramatic exit from China:
Perhaps Google thought that freedom, truth, justice, and other such things would mean a lot to a large portion of Chinese netizens. But in reality, these things are nothing compared to a finding a 100 RMB bill on the street.
He also fails to place China’s rise in an appropriate and critical historical context that accounts for why China behaves the way it does with the rest of the global cast. No doubt about it, China is stubborn, but this is in large part due to the ‘century of humiliation’ the country endured at the hands of foreign powers. For example, Japan’s second invasion of China, during World War Two, saw the infamous massacre and rape of hundreds of thousands in Nanjing. With China unable to truly forgive and forget, relations still remain strained between the two.
None of this is to say the West should “cower” to China. Indeed, if China wants to be respected as a global player, it must banish the idea that it can play by its own rules, a’ la the Copenhagen climate summit.
But by at least understanding and acknowledging the country’s complexities, both past and present, the West’s discourse on China can move beyond antagonism. Journalism such as Komireddi’s will only end up serving the opposite purpose.
Less than a week has passed since Liu Xiaobo was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for his “long and non-violent struggle for fundamental human rights in China.” The fallout since then has been heated, and few China-related tweets go by without a mention of Liu or what his prize will mean for the prospect of political reform in China. Tiananmen veteran Wu’er Kaixi has argued that Liu’s win will give the West a much-needed chance to engage better with China and place pressure on it to improve its human rights record, while Kerry Brown has drawn parallels between Beijing’s knee-jerk response and China’s internal weakness.
The points below are a summary of the events that followed news of Liu’s win.
Unbeknown to him, Liu Xiaobo was this afternoon awarded the Nobel Peace Prize.
The Nobel Committee chose Liu for his “long and non-violent struggle for fundamental human rights in China.”
The Twittersphere exploded; from widespread news of the announcement’s transmission being cut in China to netizens’ celebratory meetups being organised (and, in some cases, cancelled for fear of police reprisals). Beijing responded furiously to the news, calling Liu’s win a “blasphemy to the peace prize.”
Quoted in The Guardian, outspoken writer Liao Yiwu said:
As Liu’s best friend, I am so happy I can’t describe what I feel. This is a big moment in Chinese history. It will greatly promote democratic developments in China and it is a huge encouragement to us and our friends.
There has been an influx of reactions to the news, with more likely to seep in. Full reports from The Guardian can be found here and here. At Forbes, Gady Epstein discusses what the prize, Liu himself and China’s other dissidents stand for, while more personal accounts of Liu have been penned by Evan Osnos at the New Yorker, and Channel 4’s Lindsey Hilsum. Over at the Christian Science Monitor, meanwhile, Peter Ford weighs up the possible harm today’s win could cause to China’s other human rights activists.
Charter 08, the pro-democracy manifesto that landed Liu in jail last December, is available to read here.