Shanghai Scrap

If you spend time in the Chinese countryside you’ll eventually run into factories filled with entire farming villages now displaced by industrial development. I’m not one to romanticize an agrarian lifestyle that I wouldn’t to live, myself, but I’d be dishonest if I didn’t admit that I find the disconnect from the land – and the skills to maintain it – occasionally disheartening. Thus, I present the photo below. It was taken a few weeks ago in northern China, in an area where plastics recycling has completely supplanted an agricultural economy and lifestyle that must have lasted for millennia. And yet, at least at the odd little factory where I took the photo below, it seems that certain instincts and skills haven’t quite disappeared. So, despite the fact that it looks as if the farmer in the photo is plowing dirt, he’s actually “plowing” wet shredded wire insulation to help it dry more quickly (for eventual reprocessing). Click for an enlargement.

After the jump, a closer look at the ‘crop’ … (more…)

In April I blogged about a Shanghai (Xujiahui-area) highrise cluster that had undertaken a very public protest against a neighboring real estate development threatening to take away their views, sunlight and – presumably – property values. Hoping to inflict maximum face-loss, the affluent residents hung large, inflammatory banners from the sides of their buildings, calling for the developer – Shanghai Film Group President Ren Zhonglun – to obey the law, “stop tarnishing the party,” and, well, stop building the new high-rise cluster. This would be notable anywhere in China, but particularly so for the location of these banners: they hang in busy Xujiahui, and look out upon some of the most heavily trafficked intersections in all of Shanghai.

April wasn’t the only instance of indignant banner-hanging in Xujiahui. I know of at least three others (in one case, the residents promised to exact a “blood-price” to preserve their views). And Sunday, I came across the most recent. I post this time mostly to give visual context to the earlier images. Here, for posterity’s sake, is the view from the construction site’s gate, facing the buildings – and banners – owned by the indignant property owners (click for enlargement):

Representative banner messages:

“Hoping Government Does Right and Enables the People to Live in Peace and Prosper.”

“The Only Correct Way Out is for Shanghai Film to Reduce the Floors” [That is, we're gonna keep hanging banners until you turn your highrises into low-rises]

As of yesterday evening, when I was down there yet again, the banners were still hanging and construction was continuing [UPDATE: still hanging at noon on Tuesday].

[I should mention that my interest in this protest was sparked by Ren Zhonglun's decision to demolish a 19th century Carmelite convent - until recently, one of Shanghai's oldest buildings - on the site of his sunlight-blocking highrises. Click here, and especially here, for more on that unnecessary tragedy.]

[Thanks to an admirer of General Grant for help with the translations.]

[Apologies if you've arrived at this post expecting news on the troubled US Expo 2010 pavilion. My ongoing posts on that subject can be found here.]

I’m not sure when, exactly, Shanghai officially started polishing its main thoroughfares for visitors to next year’s Expo 2010 (World’s Fair). Me, I began to notice the renovations in late Spring, when the boulevard that runs in front of my building was suddenly torn up in the dark of the night. Soon after, the sidewalks disappeared, and for several dusty, then muddy, weeks, my usually quaint French Concession neighborhood was transformed into a major construction zone. Fortunately, for the most part, the worst is over: the streets look great, the sidewalks are now cobblestones (of sorts), and even the dowdy subway station has a spiffy new coat of paint.

But there still remains one glaring eyesore. Namely, my faded brown brick twenty-five story apartment building, and its identical twin across the way. No way to sugar-coat this: they’re ugly. So, I must admit, I wasn’t entirely surprised to find this outside of my window today (click for an enlargement):

According to the notice pasted to the wall beside the elevator, starting today, building exterior work will be ongoing from 6:30 AM to 6:30 PM, until completed. No sense yet as to whether the crew is going to erect bamboo up both of the twenty-five story buildings (based upon this photo, it would require a forest of the stuff), much less how they plan to improve the exterior. And goodness knows who or how this is all being paid for (presumably from the same pot of US$45 billion that the NYT claims is being spent on Expo-related developments). But rest assured, Shanghai Scrap is on the scene, camera in hand, ready to document every last chisel hit (especially the ones next to my windows) belonging to this most personal (and welcome!) of Expo 2010 improvement projects.

Typically, I don’t post links to articles that I write for my hometown media (back in Minnesota), lest I come off as the provincial rube that – frankly – I am. That, and I think interest is fairly limited for things Minnesotan among my readers – the vast, vast majority of whom have no interest in the Land of 10,000 Lakes. But once in a while an exception is in order, and so I hope interested readers will enjoy having a look at “In Japan, a Minnesota monastic community thrives,” my account of Trinity, a small Benedictine monastery in the mountains west of Tokyo with roots in St. John’s Abbey, a much, much larger Benedictine community in Collegeville, Minnesota (I’ve had some positive feedback from non-Minnesotans who read it via a link off my twitter feed – thus, this post). Below, the view just past the monastery’s driveway:

Quite a bit of thanks is due to the very kind, very hospitable brothers at Trinity. I had the privilege of spending a long weekend with them (and doing the reporting for this story) in the midst of a long, totally unrelated reporting trip in late May and early June.

Over the last couple of weeks I’ve received a serious uptick in visitors in search of information on the (still non-existent) US pavilion for Expo 2010, and the sorry fiasco that has tarnished it. So, to make these searches a bit easier, I’ve just added a new ‘Expo 2010 – US Pavilion‘ category. Click there (or here) for a chronological listing of posts that I’ve done on the subject. More to come soon …

Unless you trade in non-ferrous scrap metals, you probably weren’t aware that this was a problem. But let me assure you that it is a big problem, indeed, and if you have any interest in how business works in south China, the origins of this mess should interest you.

First,  a bit of background.

Ever since China began importing scrap metal in the mid-1980s, south China has been the preferred port of entry for a broad class of low-grade loads of mixed scrap recyclables. These range from electric motors, to insulated cables, and loads of – yes – mixed metals. Why? Taxes. For twenty years (with a few interruptions) Guangzhou Customs has accepted lower declarations on the value of imported mixed metals than other ports in China. Let me explain how this works.

Say you have 5 kg of aluminum ball bearings, and 5 kg of steel ball bearings. To make this simple, let’s say that the aluminum bearings cost $1/kg, and the steel bearings cost $.10/kg. The correct value declaration on the two loads of bearings would then be $5.50. But say you take those bearings, mix them together in a bucket, and then present them to a customs agent with a declared value of, say $2.80 (claiming two kg of aluminum and eight kg of steel) – what are the chances that the Customs agent is going to pay someone to sort through that mixed pile in order to determine whether or not your declaration is true? (more…)

Generally, I never turn down the opportunity to visit a factory. At a minimum, they’re invariably interesting, especially if – like me – you’re at all interested in how the things that one takes for granted are created. At best (in my case, at least), factory visits might lead to new stories. So I was more than happy when told that – as part of something else I was doing – I would have the opportunity to visit a very large plywood factory in a northern Chinese city that manufactures several types of wood products (for various reasons I won’t go into now, I can’t and won’t reveal the name or location of this factory). Over the years, I’ve visited facilities where safety and environmental conditions were abominable; but I can say, I’ve never left any of them feeling as physically and emotionally upended as I felt after exiting this plywood plant.

Some background. The facility manufactures unfinished plywood, and coated plywood. Its markets are Chinese and – increasingly – Africa and Eastern Europe (that is, places that value cheap building materials and don’t have very tight requirements on quality or safety). It does not export to North America or Europe. At some point, in the past, it exported to Japan, but for reasons that weren’t revealed, that relationship ended. It employs 100+ people, almost all of whom are migrants. This latter fact surprised me: the factory is located in a relatively small town of the sort that one expects people to migrate from. But the economy of this town is quite unusual, and most of the locals prefer to work in the other major industry (which I won’t name). Like the manufacture of plywood, the other major industry utilizes hazardous chemicals with well-known negative health effects. Even so, despite two bad choices, the locals know that the more fatal choice is plywood. According to two knowledgeable people with whom I spoke about the issue (one of whom was very local), locals expect employees of the plywood plant to contract a terminal illness within two to three years of employment. I suppose it’s no accident, then, that few of the non-management employees that I saw at this plant appeared to be older than 25. (more…)

I spent the weekend in a part of Northern China that I can’t reveal, but suffice it to say that they recycle a whole lot of plastic there. Anyway, a quick photo to share before I get back to multiple looming deadlines. When I first came across this couple in the early afternoon the pile of shredded plastic was waist high and maybe two meters in diameter. This photo was taken at sunset (click for an enlargement).

Nearby, there was a stack of red plastic fruit baskets – perhaps two stories high, and ten meters in all directions – awaiting their attentions. The shredded plastic is dried and packaged directly for shipment to a company that re-melts it for re-use. I’m going to hold off making any judgments (for now). But I will remind myself, and my readers, that if you are viewing this image on a computer screen during the work day, you undoubtedly have a more pleassant life than the folks pictured here. It’s worth recalling once in a while, and – over the weekend – I recalled (and confronted) it a whole lot.

There are several China blogs concerned with explaining the unique facets of Chinese factories. But as useful as these resources are, I’ve yet to come across one that’s has anything to say about what I consider THE distinguishing characteristic of Chinese factories: namely, the large dreamy Chinese landscapes (waterfalls and mountains, preferably combined) typically found near the factory front gate or the largest spare wall of the production floor. Below, a highly representative example of this unusual art, taken on Saturday behind the front gate of a plastics plant in rural northern China (click for an enlargement).

In my travels I’ve found that factory landscapes are not restricted to acrylics, only; quite often they’re executed as re-touched photographs (typically faded in the sun) or even done in tile. And, more often than not, they are utterly out-of-place. For example, the image above is located in a polluting facility in one of the most environmentally damaged regions that I’ve encountered in any country; the only thing that this painting has in common with the surrounding landscape is the past. Anyway, I’m going to make a point of starting to post these factory landscapes. At the same time, if my readers have any that they’d like to share, I’d be happy and honored to post them, as well [update 6/22: I think it was less than clear that I made this request somewhat facetiously. So, on the off-chance that anybody has such photos (very off chance), I'd be interested in seeing them, but I'm unlikely to post them. Good reminder not to try to be subtle when exhausted.] I’ll take just about anything, but preference is for shots – like the one above – that place the landscape in the context of the actual manufacturing facility.

Yesterday Shanghai Scrap reported that Shanghai Expo 2010, Inc., the group authorized by the US State Deparment to fund, design, and build a US pavilion for Expo 2010, had issued a press release claiming – falsely – that the US Congress had adopted a resolution in support of their efforts. The key quote in the undated release – “We are grateful that the US Congress has adopted this resolution …” – was made by Shanghai Expo 2010, Inc. co-chair Frank Lavin – who also served as an ambassador to Singapore and an Undersecretary of Commerce in the most recent Bush Administration. Lavin couldn’t have been more wrong: not only has the resolution not been adopted by Congress, it has only three co-sponsors, hasn’t left committee, and was introduced by impeached former federal judge Alcee Hastings. In other words: Congress is not supporting Shanghai Expo 2010, Inc. Not even close.

In any case, overnight (in Shanghai), the press release mysteriously disappeared from the official Shanghai Expo 2010, Inc. website – without any explanation or apology (to Congress). No doubt, Lavin and his colleagues are hoping that the matter will be forgotten. But fear not, dear readers: while preparing yesterday’s post, I made a screen capture of Ambassador/Undersecretary Lavin’s false claims of Congressional support, and – for posterity’s sake – I am posting them below (click for an enlargement):

Unfortunately, this is hardly an isolated incident. Over the last several months, several other members of Shanghai Expo 2010 Inc have made similarly misleading statements to bolster their effort, and then backtracked when those statements were either disproven or no longer in their interests (for the most notable example, see the fourth paragraph of this recent blog post). And, as I’ve noted before, it is precisely this pattern – this duplicitous pattern – that has so damaged the pavilion’s prospects among Shanghai expats and businesses.

[Personal Addendum: A promise to my readers: never again will you confront three Expo-related posts in a row.]

We are now less than two weeks away from the deadline for the US to begin construction on a stand-alone pavilion for Expo 2010. And, according to Shanghai Expo 2010, Inc., the group authorized to finance, design, and build the US national pavilion, things are looking up. Reportedly, Hillary Clinton has made supportive phone calls to potential corporate donors, and KFC/Pizza Hut has responded with a significant financial commitment.

But even with these relative successes, the pavilion effort still appears to be in trouble. The authorized group has been less than forthcoming about its fund-raising efforts, but according to what they’ve told other media outlets, they’re currently sitting on roughly 10% of the US$61 million that their proposal requires.

A few weeks ago I wrote a primer on the authorized US pavilion group’s failure to raise money. Of the four areas that I outlined, perhaps the most consequential remains the inexplicable veil of secrecy that the authorized US pavilion group, and the US State Department, have thrown over the process to fund the US pavilion. Specifically, both parties have declined offers to reveal the “Action Plan” that governs the fundraising and other activities of the authorized pavilion group. Why does this matter? By any measure, the US Expo 2010 pavilion effort has been – so far – a financial and diplomatic failure of the first order, alienating US corporations, key members of the Shanghai government and – reportedly – angering high-levels of the Chinese government. Presumably, the “Action Plan” has governed the actions of the State Department officials, and private authorized-pavilion organization, that have placed the US in this awkward position. Making it public might not fix the situation, but it surely would go a long way toward explaining it.

Thus, back in January, an interested US citizen filed a Freedom of Information Act request to obtain the action plan, and the Letter of Intent [LOI] authorizing the US pavilion group to begin work on the national pavilion (there remain many unanswered questions about the murky circumstances under which that LOI was obtained, as well – some background, here). Below, an image of the request (click for an enlargement).

Since then, a State Department official personally turned over the LOI to the requesting citizen. However, the “Action Plan” remains hidden from public view; the State Department and the authorized group will not release it (I’ve also made separate requests from both parties). Late last week, the citizen who made the FOIA request contacted State for an update. On June 11, he was told that “it takes an average of 333 days for a case to be processed.” Which means, if the request is approved, we might know by Thanksgiving (late November) the rules under which the authorized US pavilion group are/were operating. (more…)

[UPDATE: Make sure to take a look at comment #1, below, left by Rich Brubaker of the All Roads Lead to China blog, in which he witnesses what appeared to be two US State Dept employees soliciting contributions for the US pavilion in a hotel restaurant.]

In the next couple of days I’ll have much more to say about the current status of the US Expo 2010 Pavilion effort. For now, though: a brief but telling example of why Shanghai Expo 2010, Inc, the US State Department-authorized non-profit in charge of funding, designing, and building a US national pavilion, suffers such a credibility gap among some key business leaders and media in Shanghai (for more on this topic, see my Primer on why Shanghai Expo 2010 can’t raise $61 million, as well as this Expo-related post).

On June 4, US Representative Alcee Hastings of Florida (an impeached former federal judge) introduced H.R. 509 into the US House of Representatives. Entitled, “Encouraging the United States to fully participate in the Shanghai Expo in 2010″ the non-binding resolution calls upon the US government and relevant stakeholders to support the US Expo 2010 pavilion effort. The resoltion was then promptly referred to the House Committee on Foreign Affairs, where it currently languishes with – according to the Library of Congress’s bill-tracking system – exactly three co-sponsors. In other words: the resolution has little support and almost no momentum.

Now move over to the official Shanghai Expo 2010, Inc., website (again, the authorized US pavilion group), and the undated press release concerning the Hastings Resolution. The pertinent passage, for the purpose of this post, reads:

[UPDATE 6/19: Predictably, Shanghai Expo 2010, Inc. has since removed the offending press release from its website. Fortunately, I made a screen capture of it before publishing this post. You can view it by clicking the thumbnail, below.]

Commenting on the Resolution, Frank Lavin, Chairman of the Steering Committee for the USAP stated, “We are delighted with the strong support from the U.S. House of Representatives. This resolution reminds us that as Americans learn more about the Shanghai Expo, they tend to support it. We are grateful that the U.S. Congress has adopted this resolution and we believe it will be an important boost to our efforts.”

Of course, the US Congress has done no such thing! (more…)

Chinese authorities have been conducting temperature checks on incoming international flights for almost two months now. So last night, when I boarded a Shanghai-bound flight in Tokyo, I wasn’t in the least bit surprised to be informed that the plane’s arrival would be delayed for a few minutes by a temperature check of all passengers. It goes something like this: the flight lands, taxis, and stops at the gate. Along the way, passengers are told to remain in their seats and not . A moment or two later, in a scene reminiscent of the opening moments of Star Wars (when stormtroopers burst into the rebel craft, firing lasers, followed by Darth Vader), teams in biohazard suits emerge at the front of the plane, and work the aisles, firing laser thermometers at the foreheads of seated passengers.

So what happens when this very efficient, mostly innocuous process finds a fever?

Last night, I was seated in 13G. Next to me, in 13F, was a thirty-ish Chinese man. A woman in a biohazard suit fired her laser at my forehead (normal), and then his. “Thirty-seven-point-three,” she announced to the person in the biohazard suit behind her (that’s 99.14° F). She then fired the laser again, confirmed the result, and the biohazard suit behind her wrapped a sterile sheath around an oral digital thermometer, and jammed it into 13F’s mouth. Sure enough: 37.3°. At this, the two biohazard suits waved at a taller biohazrd suit in the other aisle, and the three parties retreated to the front of the plane. Sensing a story, or at least a blog post, I turned to 13F. Before I could ask the obvious question, he answered it:

“I’m fine,” he said with a nervous smile. “Nothing to worry about. Don’t worry.” (more…)

After dinner, the daylong rain stopped and I decided to enjoy what remains of my time here by taking a random stroll through the downtown. Along the way, I came across this:

The sign out front of the building includes some interesting history:

The “Tokedai” [clock tower] was originally built as a drill hall for the Sapporo Agricultural College, which was established in 1876 as the first agricultural institute in Japan. The building was erected in 1878  in the style of wooden architecture used in frontier lands of the United States in those days. The large clock, manufactured in the U.S.A., has kept telling time since it was installed in 1881.

Back with good ol’ China blogging come Monday. Until then, signing off from here.