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Harbin's
Aftermath Harbin, China, Dec. 12 — One month out of the worst reported toxin spill in China's history, I'm still trying to understand the overall response of citizens and government leaders. Reticence? Resignation? Resilience? Probably some of each.
On Nov. 13, an explosion at a government-owned Petro China chemical plant in Jilin City dumped about 100 tons of benzene — a colorless, odorless and mostly tasteless carcinogenic chemical — into the Songhua River, the primary water source for Chicago-sized Harbin, a metropolitan population of approximately 8 million, located 120 miles downriver. Fortunately, the attempted cover-up failed and 10 days later (12 hours before the 60-mile length toxin slick arrived in Harbin), the public was warned. Water was shut off for one week, causing a citywide hoarding of water — from bottled water on supermarket shelves to buckets drawn from wells. Although this environmental disaster — a disaster by Western standards — was widely reported in the international media over a two-week period (to the amazement of the Chinese), the spill was a one-week story here and is now, mostly, yesterday's news. Most of the benzene has continued its journey to Russia via the Amur River, so it's now been relegated to "their [Russia's] problem." However, unknown quantities of the toxin deposited in the bottom of the iced-over Songhua River and will not re-surface until July when the water reaches evaporation-conducive temperatures of 60-something degrees Fahrenheit. Many speculate it will find its way into the water tables, plant life, and eventually into animals (and humans). But, the average Harbiner has moved on, because the wrong-doers were punished, there's not a lot a citizen can do, and in the context of this generation's history, it's not that big of a deal. President Hu Jintao's and Premier Wen Jiaboa's first response was to promise citizens that there would be accountability and that the wrong-doers would face severe punishment. Punishment in China is swift, highly personal, and when politically necessary, very public. Fact: In China, you don't want to be anywhere near the levers of a bad outcome. Within one week of the public announcement, the head of the State Environmental Protection Agency resigned, with newspapers covering his obituary (degrees earned, party offices held, etc.) and a captioned photo stating, "Minister taking blame for the river pollution." The chemical plant's general manager, also a government-level minister, resigned and the deputy mayor of Jilin City was found dead in his home, presumably by suicide. Then, the flow of public apologies from plant personnel and municipal officials commenced. In China, formal apologies are real and compensation is mostly symbolic. This is certainly the case in environmental law, where plaintiffs routinely claim compensatory damages of $2 to $500, in addition to a public apology. A public apology — a voluntary act of losing face — has far more meaning than a huge monetary award. Unfortunately, though, this gives a false assurance to the public that somehow policy is also affected, which in Harbin means, "this probably won't happen again." Nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, China's own government data estimates that 75 percent of China's urban-flowing rivers are unsafe for drinking or fishing, meaning that approximately 300 million people daily consume unsafe water. More than 30,000 people, mostly children, die annually from diarrhea, due to drinking unclean water. A continued rise in birth defects has proven to be directly liked to water quality. The government, at all levels, tries to assuage the public by passing environmental laws, which largely mimic statutes from the West. However, environmental impact statements are rarely prepared and local state agencies and courts are more beholden to economic interests than to health and aesthetic. Although there are reports in the international press of hundreds or even thousands of environmental protests annually, for the most part these are out of view to the average Chinese. The information gap, or lack thereof, only explains part of the relatively slow response to environmental challenges in China, or, in the case of Harbin, a quick return to business as usual. First, it takes a courageous person to step out against the grain, disrupt the guanxi (network), and demand change. It's almost "non-Chinese." One thing a foreign resident in China learns over time is the prevailing attitude of "duty." Although Mao's brand of communism disowned Confucius, the centuries-old concept of "filial duty" served as a perfect philosophical transition to "duty to state." This was no more evident to me than last week, when I showed the film The Nuremburg Trial to a group of law students. A majority of the students, although appalled by the results of the German judges' verdicts (sending Jews to camps), nonetheless sympathized with and in some cases, endorsed, the judges' obligation to duty. In terms of human rights, this is chilling. In the context of policy, it illustrates a citizen's duty to accept the government's assurance that an environmental issue has been resolved and to "move on." On the eve of Harbin's resumption of water service, the provincial governor appeared on television and drank a cup of boiled water. This "drink or dare" (or, "drink the Kool-Aid"?) was performed out of duty and the citizens responded to the crisis — without protest — out of duty.
Second, there's a sense of resignation to the current state of environmental affairs. Although a handful of NGOs have taken root in response to China's environmental issues, a generation has gotten used to boiling water, walking outside wearing surgical masks, and other routines to cope with environmental problems. This is certainly the case in northeast China. Clean air and clean water seem so out of reach, that residents are more or less resigned to the current status. Foreign responses to externalities — downriver pollution to Russia or smog in Los Angeles with a causal link to China — will likely have a more determining affect on China's environmental regime than domestic pressure. Finally, the Songhua River spill has to be viewed in perspective. The day after the spill was announced, 180 miners were killed in a nearby coal mine (as many as 4,000 to 5,000 die annually in coal mine accidents). Three days later, another toxin spill occurred in Southern China, causing the evacuation of a village. These environmental and labor-related episodes are routine, and like a murder in Detroit or Baltimore, is not front page news or cause of major alarm. There is also the broader historical view as well. During the Sino-Japanese War (1937-45), approximately 10 million died, including 300,000 during the two-month Nanjing Massacre. Somewhere between 16 million and 40 million died of famine during The Great Leap Forward of 1959-61. Nobody knows for sure how many people died during the Cultural Revolution, but millions were affected. The Songhua River spill is a relatively small historical event, and is accepted essentially as a bump in the road in the continuum of development and progress: a necessary and unpreventable event. The larger and smaller events demonstrate a resilience that is incomprehensible to a foreign observer. "Make the masses' water completely safe, and we must not allow the masses to be short of water!" chants by Harbin's water plant workers ring cheesy or propped propaganda to American ears, but it's genuine in China. The annual International Snow and Ice Festival is still on schedule. Blocks of ice are being cut out of the Songhua and hauled to parks where laborers and artisans are working 24/7 to build five- to six-story Forbidden City replicas and Lalique-like life-size sculptures. The show will go on. One year ago I was admonished by several former China residents that "things are not always as they appear." Indeed, they are not, and the recent toxin spill event here in Harbin is but one example where foreigners, and Chinese, are trying to sort out if this is just yesterday's come-and-gone environmental accident or a disaster with long-term concealed effects.
Stephen Barnes of Eugene is a visiting law professor at the Harbin Institute of Technology, where he teaches International Law and Overview of American Law. He returns home in January. He can be reached at barneschina@hotmail.com
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