Texts for Translation 2008:
  Quentin Somerville

Ice and Thaw

It's not unusual for China's most senior leaders to meet the Chinese people, but it is rare for them to do so, with an apology on their lips.

As China froze, and its electricity and transport lines failed, and millions huddled and shivered in train-stations, China's leaders rushed to calm and reassure their people. And not only did they apologize: they empathized!

At Guangzhou railway station in the south - where hundreds of thousands were stuck, Prime minister Wen Jiaobao addressed the crowd...

"Comrades, I'm  Wen Jiabao", he shouted through a loudspeaker. "I am here to comfort you. You have suffered a lot and I feel your pain."

Wen Jiaobao often plays what one blogger friend describes as the warm and fuzzy man-of-the people, to president Hu Jinatao's lofty technocrat-in-chief but "i feel your pain" takes this role to new levels. He was beginning to sound like an american chat show host.

But Wen's approach worked - standing in freezing stations, or clambering up snowy hillsides, he was a genuinely inspiring presence to those who saw him, and those who heard about his visits.

His message resonated with the miserable souls stranded across the country: to people like Zhang Dongshen.

I met him and his friends outside Guangzhou zoo. It was new years day and they were stranded far from their home in Sichuan province, looking for something to do.  At a little over a pound, at a little over two dollars, the zoo's entrance fee was too much for them - "you could buy new clothes for that kind of money", he said. 

He works in construction earning far more in Guangzhou than he would in his province. For the first time every he wouldn't be making the two-day journey back to see his family at Chinese New year.

I joined Zhang Dongshen and his friends for dinner that evening, we ate spicy sichuan food, a special fish was ordered. His friend explained to me, it you eat this you're belly will be full all year! Everyone it seemed, was making the best of it.

In all the cities and train stations i visited  recently, there has been  frustration at the delays, but there was little anger towards the government. This has caused incredulity among colleges back in London, used to their own milder, commuting nightmares, they asked why the Chinese weren't revolting.

Perhaps it was because Chinese people, especially those from the countryside have an extraordinary capacity for stoicism - at least, up to a point. Here they call it eating bitterness. Traveling home at this time of year, even without the bad weather, is a gruelling ordeal. Packed trains, standing room only, and journeys that last for days. Too much for people back in Britain to swallow, but not for tens of millions of Chinese who put up with it every year without much complaint.

And time and time again at the railway stations, people told me, "what could the government do, the weather is really bad".

This message was echoed by the Chinese media. Which as always, gave it's full support of the government's efforts.

There were extraordinary pictures and descriptions of tanks being used to clear the snow, soldiers machine-gunning ice from from frozen power lines.

>From the newspapers, one memorable photograph sticks in my mind: heroic troops attacking the snow with shovels, their line disappearing into the thickness of a blizzard, a red banner flying above.

But why were they using shovels, was this the best that a modern China could offer ? Of course the weather is unpredicatable - to an extent - but surely it is the job of emergency services to be prepared for the worst?

Early in the crisis the weather brought chaos to some of China's far off provinces, but it took weeks for the leadership in sunny Beijing to declare an emergency.

And as someone in the state media told me, there were three guiding principles for the coverage. Don't dwell on the damage done, but emphasize the efforts of the authorities. Instead of focusing on suffering, report the people's high morale. And don't ask questions about why China was so quickly overwhelmed.

"Only when the masses are reassured, can the country be at peace. Only when the country is at peace, can the leaders be relieved," Wen told reporters.  

And for many in China, there is a belief that borders on mysticism, that despite all the inequities of society, if the leaders, smiling Wen, and wise Hu hear about your troubles, they will fix the problem.

One commentator has compared Wen to the "good official" of chinese lore, who safeguards people's interest, when local warlords or distant emperors ignore them.

And of course when millions of your people are suffering, packed in their thousands, cold and wet - and when, because you're an unelected communist, none of them voted for you - it makes sense to be as warm and fuzzy as possible.

Sunflower seeds on the trading floor

Anyone who thinks the Chinese are still finding their feet when it comes to global capitalism, haven't met Huang Mei Ying. In her early fifties, this formidable Shanghai lady, has been playing the stock market for over a decade.

She works at a decorators,  her husband is a bus driver. They live in a modern apartment in the edge of Shanghai - two bedrooms, but nothing fancy. They are the epitome of what we journalists call, China's "rising middle class".

When i visited them, It was snowing outside. We sat drinking our green tea, but kept our coats on, like most Shanghai homes, the only heated room was the kitchen.

"The value of shares go down, as well as up," she explained, sounding like some expert financial advisor. How right she was. In the previous two days, Shanghai's stockmarket had lost 12% of its value - and Huang Mei Ying had said goodbye to 20,000 renminbi, or about 1,400 pounds (or about 2,700 dollars).

Not a huge amount to some, but in China, the annual salary for many. But Huang Mei Ying, sipped her tea, smoothed her warm Burberry jacket, and told me that for them, it meant only missing out on their second-ever foreign holiday.

Share-dealing has taken hold in China. Young and old, rich and poor, maybe as many as 100m investors.  Unlike the stockmarkets in London and New York, most of the country's shares are held privately, rather than by big corporations and insurance companies. As much as 80% held by ordinary investors, like Huang Mei Ying.

China's main cities are dotted with local share trading rooms. They are grotty places, with plastic chairs and the nibbled remnants of sunflower seeds on the floor. There people exchange share tips noisily, others doze quietly, and some knit, while they trade.

In a country where gambling is illegal on the mainland, the Chinese have found an outlet for their speculative gene. Stocks are traded in the most irrational way - does the share code have a lucky number eight in it? Is the share price heading towards a price that contains an eight?

Balance sheets and company profitability are often secondary considerations. A few people have told me, as if in possession of some insider information, that now is a good time to buy, because the Chinese government wouldn't let the stock market collapse before the Olympics.

The games of course, start of the 8th day of the 8th month of 2008.

Some of these market superstitions are self fulfilling: if enough people believe it, then they'll force up prices. And as daft as it sounds, i wonder if the stockmarkets here are any more irrational than others around the world.

I'm always being told that given their tumultous history,  Chinese people are terrified of risk and crave stability,  hence the popularity of the unifiying communist party. But most of the investors i've met are capable of the kind of  gambles that make my pale western knees quiver.

As the Shanghai exchange was sinking the other day, I was, once again, thrown out of a share trading room. Few people wanted to talk about how much money they'd lost. In the past they've complained that foreigners bring bad luck - they may have a point - i only visit them when the market is falling.

Playing the market here is called stir frying stocks, and Huang Mei Ying has had her fingers burned in the past. Nowadays, she limits her spending. Just pocket money, she jokes. She checks her share prices every hour, and would never dream of letting a broker manage her stocks.

Communists, it seems, take very easily to capitalism. And China's growing army of investors have stronger stomachs that most. The falls in Shanghai this week were just as dramatic as anywhere else, but while others recorded their worst losses in seven years, for Shanghai it was barely seven month, since even deeper lows. The stockmarket here, run as it is by pensioners, teenagers and housewives is incredibly volatile. And people are used to it.

So despite the previous days losses, Huang Mei Ying, said she would be trading again. An American recession didn't bother her she said, China was strong.

And that's more than just her patriotism speaking.

According to some economists, even if America falters it won't hurt China as much as it once might have. Europe is now  a bigger customer for Chinese goods,  while africa, the middle east and latin america are the fastest growing markets for China.

And infact, exports only make up about 20% of the chinese economy now. Though most people don't realize it, China's growth comes mostly from China these days.

So, Huang Mei Ying and her husband might miss out on their holiday to Japan this year, but for as long as she keeps a close eye on her pocketmoney gambles, there will be plenty more trips to come.

Maglev

I've never met such well dressed and polite protestors before. The resident's of Shanghai's Pingyan neighbourhood, are up in arms about a new railway line being built by their homes. They greeted our arrival with a warm round of applause.

Wang Ming, not her real name,  was one of the ring leaders. Wearing a bright silk scarf, she stood in the pleasant square at the centre of the upmarket apartment complex."Protect our homes," she shouted along with a couple of hundred others, "Stop the maglev, save our children and the elderly".

The Maglev, or magnetic levitation train, to give it its full name, is no ordinary train. It's the kind of futuristic flash-gordon project that a city like Shanghai loves. The train runs from the international airport, and travels so fast it turns a forty-five minute car journey into a smooth seven minute ride into town.

Well, almost into town.

The maglev is a bit of a white elephant, costly to run, it doesn't make it to downtown shanghai, but terminates in a distant suburb. You have to complete your journey by taxi or metro. So the government want to extend it to the city's other airport, in the hope of making it more viable. The extension will run through Wang Ming?s backyard.

It won't be good for my health she told me.  Her fear is that the electro-magnetic waves caused by the train could harm the young and elderly. Whether these worries are scientifically justified is unclear - China?s compliant state media has been full of articles insiting the trains present no health worries.

But standing in the square, it became clear that for Wang Ming and her neighbours, wealth was as much of a concern as health.

She?s an entrepreneur, one of the growing ranks of  China?s first self-made generation, and the first to own their own homes. Things must be going pretty well for her, because she?s bought two apartments in the neighbrourhood, a one bedroom, and a three bedroom.

Blink, and you could almost miss the maglev. But you won?t miss the noise, Despite floating on magnets, the thing makes a racket. And who wants a 430km an hour rocket passing by their window. AND WHO WANTS A 286MPH ROCKET PASSING THEIR WINDOW Wang Ming and her neighbours claim their properties are now worthless.

China is just getting used to having a middle class; middle class protestors are something new entirely.

And though the Pingyang residents might not realize it, their dispute, goes to the very heart of the contradiction between capitalist China and communist China.

Protests are what happens when people with deepening economic interests try to protect them despite having few political and legal rights. In China there are no MPs to complain to, no free press to help make voices heard, and no independent courts to judge complaints.

The Pingyan residents are savvy protestors. We love our government, this isn?t about politics, one told me.

They don?t call their demonstrations ?protests?, but using the Chinese word Sanbu, which means going for a walk. A couple of weekends ago many hundreds of them went for a ?walk? to city hall, the seat of communist power in Shanghai. There, protestors were dragged and pushed into police vans, and some detained.

But at the same time the government set up helpline, and published an email address where residents could complain about the project.

And the Shanghai walkers aren?t the first to use the term Sanbu. In Xiamen, an island in a province to the south of Shanghai, thousands took to the streets last year to protest about the building of a new chemical plant near their homes.

They too were a fairly genteel lot, and like the Shanghai protestors, they used text messages and the internet to organize their demonstrations. The local government there appears to have relented, it looks likely the chemical plant will be built elsewhere.

The Xiamen case has been widely reported in the state media ? the island was even named city of the year by some papers, its crusading population held up as an example.

But an example of what: people power?

There is almost nothing like democracy in China. But political reform, in its own slow-moving consensus-driven Confucian way is on the agenda.

Wen Jiabao, China?s prime-minister, has spoken about the need for a deliberative style of  politics, not democracy, but were people are consulted, and their opinions are fed in to the state, a consensus reached.   He likely sees it as a useful way of combating China?s rampant corruption.

And China?s peasants regularly protest in large numbers, across the country. They?ve been largely containable, but a revolting middle class, in China?s cities, at the centres of poltical and financial control, would be a bigger problem altogether.

First China delivered us communist-led capitalism, perhaps next we?re in for Communism that Listens?

So it will be fascinating to see what happens in Wang Ming?s backyard, will the government take notice, will the maglev line be moved? It seems unlikely, but whatever the decision, it will have implications far beyond the pleasant apartments of  Pingyang.

 Quentin Somerville

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