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"Red Heart Moon" a WEST MEETS EAST China Weblog -- by Kevin Hart
Cross-cultural musings about life straddling the Pacific.
last modified Jun 16, 2004 at 17:43
Yet another of the government ship-jumpers who has turned insider’s information and connections into a lucrative business of his own, Mr. Long is in a league of his own in playing the field of land development in the Shanghai area. With his understanding of zoning bylaws, construction, and labour laws, combined with his chummy relations with the local authorities (many of whom are his ex-colleagues and classmates), he has laid claim to a large section of land in the Pudong development zone on the road between the city and the new international airport. In a matter of 10 years, he has and has transformed it from what was once a featureless expanse of rice patties into what is now a major suburban mini-city, complete with western-style malls, high-rise apartment complexes with built-in broadband internet access, two and three story independent homes, each with two car garages, and office towers overlooking it all to boot. He told me he never thought his units would sell so well, and like a true developer, has funneled much of his profits into expansion. He, and others who have made the right moves at the right time, have been so successful that the biggest current challenge is the dwindling land resources for such projects. The government is clamping down big time on allocating new land.
So while the residential complex is seeing a bit of a slowdown for him, he is branching out into the hospitality industry with plans for two 3-star hotels and one 5-star hotel in the Shanghai suburbs. On top of this, he is planning a trip to North America shortly to investigate the possibility of opening Shanghai’s first “Auto Mall”. I am a little surprised Shanghai doesn’t have one yet, but would not be if Mr. Long was the first to bring that uniquely American phenomenon to Chinese shores. With so much success under his belt, it surely does seem that if he builds it, they will continue to come.
My favorite of the three business tycoons blogged here is Ms. Wei, a close personal family friend. How she has navigated all the land mines of doing business in her highly unregulated industry and maintain her ethics and sanity along the way is nothing short of astounding. She reminds me of the great developers of post war America, where opportunity, hard work, and perseverance created some of today’s most famous and lasting empires. What she is building in China now may be on par with some of the well-known business conglomerates in developed nations across the Pacific.
Her bread and butter is the “active carbon” producing facilities she owns in the suburbs in Chongqing and, as of this year, in the far northwest of China in Heilongjiang Province as well. She will soon assume market leader status for this product which is needed for everything from alcohol distillation to water filtration systems. Her husband often jokes that if he had as much money as her, he would “sit on it and eat it for the rest of his days”. She just laughs at him and with a healthy ambition, looks to pour more money and resources into this and new enterprises in order to continue expansion. As well as her carbon firm, she is starting to flex her money-making muscles in other areas, such as air conditioning systems for the automotive industry (many parts of which must be imported now), and walnut groves that she foresees making major inroads into domestic markets once the trees mature in 5 years time. Another advantage of growing walnuts for her is that the shell is perfect for burning and creating a high quality carbon for her established business niche. As in all of her endevours, I don’t doubt her one iota. She has the knowledge, drive, and experience to back her on her quest to blaze new business boulevards.
Mr. Fang’s story of poverty to posh is a relatively common one in China, but does entail an interesting twist. He began as a lowly bank clerk at one of the state-run financial institutions, and with skill and savvy, moved up to accounts manager, then eventually to a front office position. As his position rose, so did his network of contacts, and desire to strike out on his own. After a couple decades of eating out of the “iron rice bowl”, the quickly becoming outdated expression for steady, life-long employment at a government- owned enterprise, he began looking at ways to turn his knowledge of the real estate development sector into profits for his own new company.
Buoyed by the budding upscale housing market in Chengdu, he licked his chops some prime location property right downtown which had been the home of some old run down apartments and shops. I am not sure how he got them to move, but there likely was a small compensation package prepared for them. His dream project is a modern urban complex, a twin tower facility complete with a 5 star hotel, high-en shopping arcade, exclusive condominiums, and plush office units. He wasted no time seeking financing for the project from his former colleagues in banking, and architects for work on the design. His business proposal was well regarded by the local officials, and construction began. When you stroll past the glass monoliths now, there is a big sign in Chinese that it is “100% financed by Canadian investors”, and this seems to be a marketing ploy more than anything. Mr. Fang believes that businesses, boutiques, and private home owners would feel more assured of better quality and management if it was a Canadian enterprise. While Mr. Fang has been in and out of Canada for many years, he has yet to become even a landed immigrant. He has set up a small office for his interests in Ottawa, but it is obvious that various Chengdu banks are responsible for the vast majority, if not all, of the start up costs. And it is no small amount, well over $20 million US he claims. He told me his long term profit margin is $30 percent annually, and the value of the property will do nothing but appreciate over time.
I have not been up to see it yet, but his custom-built penthouse suite in Tower A I heard will be lavish, housing a large swimming pool with a sunroof, and over 300 sq. metres of living space. Not bad, especially when you don’t have to pay for it yourself! I will be following his exploits in the future, and will be very interested to see how things develop for him.
Many China watchers (myself included) maintain that China is in the process of reclaiming its place as a world power and major mercantile nation, as opposed to just coming on the scene now as most people believe. The Chinese have a very strong, almost inbred instinct for trade and commerce that was allowed to flourish in various dynasties like the Ming and the Tang, but was suppressed in the early days of the People’s Republic of China. Perhaps it is precisely because of the keen entrepreneurial spirit that communism proved to be such a bust. It did not take much more than a couple of decades of imposed communes and a socialist planned economy for people to wake up to the fact it goes completely against the cultural grain. The Chinese are a wheelers and dealers by nature, and just need the proper backdrop for them to make tremendous inroads on the path to a higher living standard and more prosperous tomorrow.
Canada, one of the most socialist states in the world along with some northern European countries, is quite a contrast. There is a prevalent welfare mentality that causes people to rely so heavily on government hand-outs. “They are cutting social programs, taxes are going up, jobs are hard to find”, etc. are common themes. Yet in Canada, like in many other “developed” nations, the more arduous jobs are yielded to recent immigrants who are hungry to work and willing to sacrifice for their long term goals. Then many third and fourth generation Canadians dare to complain that the country is being overrun by Asians. Wake up man, your ancestors went through the very same process generations ago! Except in the immigrant community, the entrepreneurial spirit has taken a beating in Canada. Granted, opportunities and room for growth in this developing nation are much more abundant than in post-modern Canada, but it is no reason to blame the government for all our problems.
In China, people know that they are going to get little help from the authorities, so it creates a self-reliance that many westerners would do well to learn from. Students understand that to get ahead, they have to WORK HARD in school and in life. Contrast that with the relatively slack western education system, where in many parts of North America some students graduate without even being totally literate. In China, there are over a billion people vying for the same resources and jobs, so competitiveness is a simple fact of life. The implicit reality of this makes for a sink-or-swim mentality which compels people to find ways to keep afloat. This work ethic, coupled with the necessary know-how and connections, also allows for a select few really rise above the turbulent waters of the masses, and soar into realms of stratospheric business success. Over the next couple of days, I plan to write about three such overachievers, all good friends of mine.
I just paid a visit to Jiu Hua Mountain in Anhui Province, one of the four famous Buddhist sanctuaries in the country. It is quite a charming and picturesque area, although a fair side trip off the regular beaten tourist path. A small, circularly built town with recreated Ming Dynasty style one and two story buildings has been built in the foothills beneath the mountain, and this is where the buses disgorge the steady flow of domestic tourists. Many Buddhist pilgrims also make the trip, and the parking lots I saw a number of long distance double-decker buses with sleepers that must have been bringing people on overnight trips from as far away as Shanghai, Hefei (capital of Anhui), and other urban centres further inland.
While I do know a fair bit about the Buddhist faith and the number of regional incarnations it has taken over the centuries, I had to chuckle at the commercialism it suffers from in this village. I don’t blame them for trying to make a living and maintain the facilities of the village, but can not avoid feeling some reproach about their blatant schemes. At each step along the way, there are ploys to earn money in the name of enlightenment. Several shops had display areas out front with plastic cartons full of turtles they said had been captured from the wild, and that for a small price (dependent on the size of the little fella) you could “set them free” into the man-made pond in front of their shop. This “good deed”, the reasoning goes, can win you positive karma and score you points in the spiritual world. Even the local Chinese I overheard were wondering if at the end of the day, the shopkeepers don’t scoop them up and put them up for “re-liberation” again the following day. At one temple, a nun was positioned near the entrance to read blessings from Buddhist scriptures in beautiful and poetic prose for a small donation. On the other side of the same temple, having your name engraved in stone on wide plaques of marble would ensure 10,000 years of blessings, 500 RMB for yourself or 3000 RMB for your entire family. I wondered to myself if anyone ever tried bargaining for it.
A funicular takes visitors to the south summit, and at the top, there is more of the same. A long chain stretches along the walkway, and vendors stalls are set up every 20 metres selling padlocks of various sizes that can be engraved with the names of couples. The reasoning is that the engraved lock, if fastened to the chain, will secure an everlasting bond between the couple. The finishing touch to this is to throw away the keys. In the “One Hundred Year Palace”, a diminutive and perfectly mummified monk looks out from inside a glass enclosure. He was boiled posthumously sitting in the lotus position, and then bathed in a fine gold gloss. 500 arhats, bodyguard-like disciples of the Buddhist deities, adorn the upper floor of the palace, each with unique physical characteristics that embody their unique spiritual attributes. For 10 yuan, visitors are invited to reflect on a question or problem, bow three times, and then choose at random a number that corresponds to one of the arhats. A divination card with a description of the arhat is then pulled from a filing cabinet, and a local monk gives an interpretation for the seeker.
Jiu Hua Mountain does retain much of its charm and religious significance in spite of the blatant capitalism at every corner. Most visitors, and perhaps the many devoted and pious monks and nuns, just regard the whole phenomenon with a grain of salt and perhaps as a necessity to maintain their livelihoods. I made a small personal donation in the main temple, but was not at all interested in securing blessings through good deeds paid for, or in fortune telling, and hope that other like-minded visitors do the same.
There are many expressions in both English and Chinese that revolve around anatomy to describe emotions and personality traits, especially the heart. In Chinese, if you say someone has a big heart, it means that person is very ambitious and greedy. Having a wild heart means much the same. To cave in emotionally or to be oversensitive is to have a soft heart in Chinese, similar to English. Evil has a black heart, but a grey heart signifies dejection. To be a “die-hard” is to have an iron heart, and to be totally uncompromising is to have a dead heart. To feel sympathy or pity is to have a sore heart. To feel remorse, regret, or suffer emotional pain is to have a sour heart. To say someone is narrow-minded, the expression is that their heart’s eye is very small. Someone with a flowery heart is promiscuous. Finally, a good-hearted person is exactly that in Chinese, “hao xin ren”.
My good friend in Nanjing, the “Southern Capital”, is an entrepreneurial news tycoon who has opened markets and built businesses for several large newspapers in the city. He is conscientious, considerate, diligent, and sensitive to political issues, a must in the finicky relationship the private media has with the government. Well connected in news circles all over the country and in Canada as well (we first met in Vancouver in 1999), he has created a wonderful life and career for himself, his wife and daughter, pursuing interests and a livelihood that would not have been imaginable as little as 15 years ago. He loves his hometown very much, and prefers it greatly to Shanghai, which for him is too big and too busy. It really is a lovely city, with plenty of trees, gardens, and even lawns (!) right in the downtown areas. It definitely does have a laid back feel to it compared to some of the larger urban centres, and I enjoy going there myself.
Befriending Mr. Yu and seeing modern Nanjing leads me to reflect on how different life must have been in the past. On my most recent visit to the city, I had an opportunity to visit the Memorial Exhibition Centre of the Nanjing Massacre which happened in late 1937. Over a six month period, over 300,000 innocent citizens were put to death by the invading Japanese army. Nanjing at that time was the capital of the Republic of China, and the imperialist forces thought they would “teach a lesson” to the rest that resistance was futile. Nowadays, for the most part, the Japanese are a very polite and unobtrusive people as I discovered during my days of teaching English there, so it is hard to comprehend how utterly brainwashed the soldiers were into believing that the Chinese were something less than human. The Exhibition Hall holds nothing back in its graphic and heartbreaking depiction of the atrocities that occurred. What was especially upsetting to me was to see the images of defenseless children suffering those unspeakable horrors.
A weird thing happened when I was there. A video was being played, recounting the six months of terror, and sitting in front of me in the first row were a group of six children, between 6 and 10 years old. They did not understand what was being presented on the screen, so were busying themselves by chatting a playing patty-cake with each other. Their parents told them repeatedly to be quiet so that others could hear the narration, and repeatedly they started acting up out of boredom. Finally, one of the adults yelled out, “If you don’t pipe down right now, I am going to beat you to death!” The other Chinese around me did not react, as it is a common expression that is used very lightly, but I was shocked and dismayed at how inappropriate it was to say something like that at that very moment.
Anyway, what a difference time makes. It is surely important to learn from history, to make sure those negative chapters never occur again, but also to build upon previous successes. In both counts, Nanjing seems to be getting it right.
When living in Vancouver, BC, I met a Taiwanese businessman who had immigrated there with his wife and two sons one year previous. They lived in a high rise apartment in Burnaby overlooking Metrotown, the biggest shopping complex in the area. I tutored their sons in English for over a year, and became fascinated by the dynamics of this jet-age family.
Mr. Liu owns several factories in eastern China that produce electronic parts, and spends a better part of the year shuttling between Taiwan, Shantou, and Kunshan, an electronics manufacturing centre half way between Shanghai and Suzhou. That is a relatively clean and interesting middle-of-the-road city called “Little Taiwan” owing to the fact that 85% of the businesses there were started by “Tai Shang” the word they use for Taiwanese investors on the mainland. He travels to BC one or twice a year for at most a couple of weeks at a time. Meanwhile, Mrs. Liu holds up the domestic front in Canada and is responsible for the children. The boys attend the local high school.
This kind of cross-Pacific family unit is common in all immigrant countries, but especially prevalent in the Vancouver area. My best friend who taught at a private high school there told me one third of his students have a similar domestic arrangement. Parents who spend so much time flying across the Pacific are known in Chinese as “astronauts”. Many of the children literally live off their parent’s credit cards, and some drive around in automobiles far more luxurious than those of their teachers.
As with many Asian families transplanted in Canada, the major motivation to move across the Pacific to the New World is to educate their offspring in an English-speaking environment. This is the case as well for the Liu family. However, as good a future investment as it may sound to the parents, there are many difficulties. Mrs. Liu for example, could not speak much English at all, and had to rely on her adolescent boys for simple matters of communication and daily living that posed so much challenge for her. The children were not at all used to the freedom and flexibility of the western education system, and seemed not to know what to do with themselves outside of class. In Taiwan and in Singapore where they had been studying previously, they had very strict teachers, a curriculum they were not allowed to fall behind on, and more than enough homework to occupy most of their free time. The older boy began getting involved with some of the rebel students in his school, and started skipping class, ignoring his studies, and not caring about his marks. His reasoning was that he planned to be an entrepreneur like his dad, and an education was not needed for that, and what did anyone care anyway, his father was never there. The younger brother had a much more introverted personality, isolating himself in video games, movies, and martial arts novels in Chinese, and snacking constantly on Doritos and Frito-Lays.
While the family appeared set financially, the stress created by moving to an entirely alien environment and by an absent father figure made for a very difficult adjustment period. Most noticeably, Mrs. Liu told me it was nearly impossible to discipline the boys, and she longed for their younger days back home before they were teenagers, and when the extended family was there to add support and authority. She herself had taken to going out gambling several evenings a week with her Taiwanese housewife friends as a coping strategy and way of relieving the stress of single parenthood. I suggested a healthier pursuit like taking them to the gym might be better for everyone, but that idea never made it very far. That side of the family was unfortunately on a downward spiral when I last saw them.
Upon returning to China in 2001, Mr. Liu was very keen on inviting me to work with him to create a new trading company and help drum up business for his electronic parts factories. Jennifer and I were his guests for ten days, and I learned about his operations on the mainland and how he thought we could work together. While I reckoned I knew him fairly well from our meetings in Canada, I was shocked and dismayed by his behaviour away from his family. I asked him why he always had two cell phones hanging around his neck, and he said matter-of-factly that one was in case his wife called, and the other one was reserved for business purposes and for his local girlfriends. Right in front of my wife Jennifer, he said he wanted to set me up with several “little wives” so that I could enjoy the “good life” like him. While hardworking and business savvy, his conduct was that of a dirty old man, and his perverted sense of humor harped on crude jokes that often belittled women. At his factory compound, his personal secretary, a girl of about 20, was also his private mistress, and they slept in the next room to us on the top floor of the worker’s dormitory. We could hear them plain as day having sex next door, and almost every night he had her get up at 2 or 3 am to make him a meal. Jennifer and I were getting more and more turned off by his wanton behaviour, and simply could take it no longer. I decided there was no way I could work with a man with such loose morals. I thanked him for his hospitality, made the excuse that Jennifer did not like it much in that part of the country, and told him we were deciding to pursue our future back to her hometown of Chongqing. His disappointment was evident, and I am sure he could not understand how I could turn down such an enjoyable and potentially lucrative partnership with him.
The juxtaposition of the haves and have-nots in China can be very startling at times. While the life of the average Chinese has improved a great deal over the past couple of decades under the sweeping economic reforms, the uneven growth has been the source of great jubilation for some and envy for most others.
Not too long ago, I remember passing by a new 5-star hotel being built in Beijing off the highway to the Great Wall at Badaling. The driveway up to the main entrance had not yet been fully paved, yet the hotel was already open for business. A short, wiry man of about 60 was struggling to make a delivery of a couple dozen plastic cartons of bottled beer up to the side delivery entrance. His three wheel bicycle was fitted with a long wooden plank on the back, and the stacked cartons were wobbling precariously as he heave-hoed them past the bumps and potholes in the dirt path. Now, a couple years later, I am sure all deliveries are done by truck right into the loading area, and a flower-lined approach ramp takes guests right to the waiting bellboys.
In Chongqing, the city government is systematically demolishing the old, run-down sections of the city and making way for new high-rise offices, upscale apartment complexes, as well as the tunnels and roadways they hope will improve traffic circulation. Much of the downtown area especially is totally unrecognizable from just a year ago. While most of the infrastructure funding is coming from the central government, there are a surprising number of “got rich quick” private entrepreneurs who have made small (and sometimes huge) fortunes through a variety of business deals, legal or not-quite-so.
One such opportunist we know here started out as an employee in a state-owned enterprise, and was charged with exploring the export market for local agricultural products. After a few years learning the ropes, he took his knowledge and connections with him, “retired” from his government job, and “jumped into the sea” (started a business on his own). This is a very common occurrence nationwide, that the skilled employees with the know-how and contacts set out on their own. Mr. Jia could not have timed it better. Within two years of self-operation, his firm had already earned him a lifetime’s worth of income he would have earned from his old job. Taking his newfound wealth, he though a foreign passport would be of future benefit, so he purchased citizenship in a small South Pacific island nation. His foreign passport facilitated his business endeavors in Hong Kong, and after a few more years there, was granted resident status. Since then, he and his family have moved back to Chongqing, live a penthouse suite overlooking both rivers one one side by day and the bright lights of downtown by night on the other, and he continues to merrily wheel and deal with little concern for governments or borders. Since he and his wife both have HK residency, they can legally have more than one child, and now have a boy and a girl. Their son is now 16, and is studying at a private school in England, which costs his father $30,000 US a year for tuition and living expenses.
They are a very nice family and are Jennifer’s long-time friends, but visiting them in their inner city palace always feels rather odd to me. I can’t help but to think of the vast majority of the local population in this underdeveloped part of the country who are unemployed, have been “downsized” (ie. the state-owned enterprise they once counted on for the "iron rice bowl" went belly up), or are very happy making $100 a month in some back- breaking job. And people from all economic backgrounds often live in the very same neigbourhood, unlike in North America where the well-heeled tend to live well-removed from the needy. I guess it won’t be long before the Great Divide in wealth segregates people here as well.
It is common practice in Chinese night clubs that the more outstanding singers and dancers receive red envelopes of cash from some appreciative members of the audience, and this accounts for the lion’s share of their earnings. In some establishments, sending a single flower to the performer on stage means a cash gift of a certain amount, perhaps 50 or 100 RMB. Well-heeled patrons occasionally send entire bouquets.
10 years ago, Xiao Duan was the most attractive dancer in the local performing arts troupe, and was not only in great demand for her grace on stage, but was also the target for the amorous attentions of no small number of male suitors. She had been happily dating her boyfriend of 2 years when she caught the eye of a rich and powerful local businessman, and her personal life took a big turn for the more complicated. Over a period of three months, Mr. Big Wig, who many say to this day is still well-connected in organized crime, attended her evening performance without fail, and without fail, gave her an envelope stuffed with 10,000 RMB, every single evening. She began to keep company with both men at the same time, but this arrangement did not last. When he found out about her regular boyfriend, he demanded that she stop seeing him, and offered him a compensation package of 1,000,000 RMB to sever their relationship. Both Xiao Duan and her beau agreed to be bought out by Mr. Money Bags, and they parted ways.
After a while, Xiao Duan began suspecting that she was just one in a network of kept women he supports throughout the country. Often away on “business”, weeks would pass before he returned “home”. To this day, no proposal of marriage has ever come, and this in spite of her giving birth to his son.
Nowadays, this is how she leads her life, having given up dancing for good, and being basically a single parent, relying on his bank account and cameo appearances in maintaining some semblance of a normal family. She recently told me that the best thing to have come out of this is that he is very fond of his boy, and spends more time with them now than before, and that when he is home, he is a decent man and has never abused her.
In developing China, money speaks very loudly. While it would be easy to condemn her for “selling out”, who is to say her life would have been better with her original boyfriend, or had she chosen another path? The Chinese tend to be more guarded with their inner-most feelings on issues of such a personal nature, but when we see her, we are impressed with her enthusiasm and confidence that the future will always be better than today.
I have taken my share of tours in this vast and ultimately compelling country, and have come into contact with all shapes and sizes of tour guides. They range from free-lance volunteers hoping to practice their English, to professionally trained language experts who have been at it for decades. Attitudes and personalities also vary greatly, and while most take some pride in providing good service, there are still many who interest themselves in little more than earning commissions off the rich Americans in the “antique” dealerships, carpet factories, and silk markets.
There is an official tour guide manual in circulation that is used nation-wide which covers nearly every aspect of China that would be of interest to foreigners, including the dos and don’ts of revealing the negative aspects of society. Instruction is also given during training as how to address (or better yet, avoid) sensitive issues and present the country in the best possible light. While expected to adhere to a definite “party line”, I have found it interesting how a few guides take the rules with a grain of rice, throw caution to the typhoon, and infuse their own biases and opinions into their ongoing narration regarding every topic under heaven.
There is a small (by Chinese standards) city in the middle reaches of the Yangtze River called Shashi, well-known domestically for its ancient walled city, strategic importance during the Three Kingdoms period 1200 years ago, and a well-preserved, 2000 yr old mummy called Mr. Sui. The local tour guide, an ex-English teacher about 40 years old and who called himself Preston, had passable language skills, and did a competent job at introducing the local sites. However, we provided quite a shock when he began filling in the dead time on the bus between stops with his own ad-libbed commentary:
-- “See the graffiti on the wall over there? ‘Dai Ban’ along with a telephone number means you can call and order any kind of forged document you need, like an import-export license, graduation certificate from Peking University, a marriage certificate, or anything else. The quality is very good, and it is cheap!”
-- “This is the Shashi City hospital. It is famous for burn victims. And Shashi people also have a high number of sexually transmitted diseases, so they all come here for treatment. The doctors and nurses are very experienced with this”.
The tourists in our little group sat on the bus dumbfounded, and when I pointed out that it was not in his best interest to show only the negative side of everything, he obviously ran out of things to talk about, and he started mulling over what to do next. This tour was taking place in the months following 9/11, so he pulled out the newspaper and began translating the day’s news headlines, thinking his guests would enjoy hearing what was going on in the world. He began,
-- “Today, there were many deaths and injuries on the streets of Kabul in heavy fighting between American and Taliban soldiers….”
It led us all to wonder after if Preston had slept through his entire “How To Be A Tour Guide” training or if he himself had perhaps had procured a fake tour guide license from one of the wall advertisers.
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