Read this article at Asia Times: New frontiers: how Shenzhen became a global tech colossus
This article can also be read at Asia Times
Forget the choreographed yawnfest wrapping up in Beijing right now. For any understanding of the Chinese model of development, one might as well behold a Beijing sunset, in all its glorious opacity, as try to make sense of the Communist Party’s smoke signals. Alternatively, one might ponder a prominent undercurrent – a meme, if you like – of Chairman Xi’s Chinese dream: football. As the 2017 Chinese Super League season draws – wheezing, limping, splint-shinned – to a close, here are some takeaways.
#1 In the grander scheme of things, the Chinese still aren’t all that interested in watching Chinese football. While the growing market in China for European football – notably the English Premier League – has put the latter’s marketing warlocks in a froth of activity, average attendances at CSL matches haven’t risen enormously in recent years, despite an ongoing whirlwind of interest from Xi and a regiment of newly-minted Chinese billionaires. In a nation of 1.4 billion, the average CSL game in 2017 drew around 24,000 spectators, which is actually respectable by European standards, but once you strip out a handful of top sides, that figure falls away significantly. An absence of quality on the pitch remains a factor, but so too does the fact that China only got a proper league going in 1994 and has now set itself the task of building a sporting imperium from the top down. The league lacks domestic heroes, folklore, a sense of history and – barring some emerging needle between Shanghai SIPG and Shanghai Shenhua – meaningful rivalries.
#2 The suspicion that there may be something pyramid-shaped about Chinese football has yet to be dispelled. Some of China’s richest men have put very large sums of money in, without the league developing any kind of sustainable revenue streams. Seemingly sold on the promise of jam tomorrow, China Sports Media Ltd (CSM) acquired broadcasting rights to the CSL in 2015, agreeing to pay 8 billion yuan (US$1.18 billion) in instalments over a five-year period. In 2016, the company farmed online broadcasting out to the tech giant LeEco in a two-year deal worth 2.7 billion yuan. Owing to a “cash crunch,” however, LeEco, in turn, sold its 2017 rights to the video streaming site PPTV for 1.35 billion yuan. Then, in July this year, CSM – after withholding its 2017 instalment – announced it is seeking to extend the period of its initial deal from five to 10 years, complaining that new regulations (see #3, below) from the Chinese Football Authority (CFA), a government supervisory body that is the largest shareholder in the CSL, hurt its ability to recoup its investment. Could it be that the projected subscriber base just doesn’t exist?
#3 The current campaign has been, in one respect at least, the proverbial season of two halves. In the winter transfer window, CSL clubs shelled out some jaw-dropping sums to acquire players that have been big names in the global game. Shanghai Shenhua’s capture of Carlos Tevez, regarded a decade or so ago as one of football’s finest strikers, in a deal that reportedly made him the world’s highest-paid player, on an annual salary of $41 million, raised eyebrows among aficionados everywhere. SIPG’s signing of Brazilian midfielder Oscar from English giants Chelsea involved similar levels of cash and suspension of disbelief but at least brought on a player in his prime who could easily be lighting up a higher stage. Others leaving European football for China on tidy contracts included Belgian international Axel Witsel; another former Chelsea man, Nigeria’s John Obi Mikel; and Brazilian forward Alexandre Pato.
The CFA had, in fact, already signaled its dissatisfaction with the influx of money-grabbing foreign talents by reducing the number of overseas players teams can field in a game from four plus a substitute to three. Then, in June, came the coup de main – overseas transfers in the mid-season window would carry a 100% levy. If a club paid less than 45 million yuan ($6.63 million) for a player, the same amount again would have to be put into the club’s own youth system; if more, then a matching sum would have to be rendered unto Caesar, or rather the state’s football development fund.
The whole idea is to nurture more young Chinese players – a laudable aim, but one hedged in by commercial imperatives that create something of a Catch-22. If the league is banking on foreign stars, however superannuated, for box-office appeal, then what happens to the whole enterprise if they’re removed from the picture? It’s unclear if the rule will remain in place for next season or what impact it might have in the long run. But certainly, summer signings were significantly more mid-market, which is probably a good thing, as teams built around a small nucleus of bling-encumbered big-shots famously struggle to find balance. Tevez, incidentally, has been utterly useless, scoring just three goals in a meager 14 appearances to date.
#4 Similarly, it’s no longer enough just to appoint a European or South American manager and expect success on a plate in the CSL. OK, Guangzhou Evergrande have just sealed their seventh straight league title, and their second under former Chelsea and Brazil coach Luiz Felipe Scolari, and SIPG have had a good season under another former Chelsea manager, Andre Villas-Boas – they will finish second in the table and got to the semi-finals of the Asian Champions League. But other foreign coaches have fared less well this term. Beijing Gouan showed Spaniard Jose Gonzalez the door in June, after just six months in the job, and Shenhua – who sit a lowly 12th in the standings – parted company with Gus Poyet (yeah, he used to play for Chelsea) last month. Fabio Capello, hugely successful at the helm of AC Milan back in the 1990s, took over at struggling Jiangsu Suning in June but has only just been able to ensure their top-flight survival.
#5 As one might expect given the mishmash of coaching influences in Chinese football – Italian, German, Portuguese, Brazilian, Korean – and the lack of a tried and trusted formula for the national team, which remains calamitously feeble, there is still no identifiably Chinese style of football. It can be a task getting anywhere near Evergrande’s or SIPG’s Brazilians but games otherwise often seem to have a pronounced physical edge. There is also the occasional dust-up, with the fiercest of them this season coming in an SIPG-Guangzhou R&F clash when a couple of over-enthusiastic interventions from Oscar – for which he was subsequently, and quite unfairly, banned for eight matches – sparked a mass brawl. His team-mates Hulk and Wu Lei were also suspended later for wearing t-shirts supporting Oscar, and Villas-Boas earned his own sanction for an Instagram post that questioned his player’s treatment. The Chinese are all about the rule of law, you understand.
#6 Chinese football displays a glaring lack of transparency in terms of relationships between clubs, their investors, players, fans and the powers-that-be. In July, Jiangsu Suning’s owners – the retailers Suning – were as good as accused of using football to launder money by Chinese state TV. And in the same month, 13 CSL clubs were forced to deny that they were in breach of regulations in relation to unpaid player transfers, salaries or bonuses. Non-resolution, they were told, could see them kicked out of the league next season. Some issued statements denying irregularities; others said they were investigating matters. Then, miraculously, the issue just went away. Who paid what to whom, and when? Cui bono, apart from some young foreign men with tattoos and their agents? Who knows? Perhaps the skies over Beijing hold the answers.
This article can also be read at Asia Times
After more than two months of brinksmanship, it appears the circus has packed its bags as the summer-long Himalayan impasse between China and India looks to be officially over. With the aggressors having been unable to agree on a narrative about its onset, the manner of its dialling down looks to be similarly unclear, but – for now, at least – there is an “understanding.”
India said on Monday that an agreement had been reached with China, following talks, and that both sides were pulling back their border forces from the Doklam plateau, an area that is claimed by both China and Bhutan, long a strategic partner of its neighbor to the south.
“Following diplomatic communications,” read a statement from New Delhi yesterday, “expeditious disengagement of border personnel of China and India at the face-off site” was ongoing.
The stand-off began on June 16 when Chinese soldiers, convinced they were on Chinese territory, found their attempts to extend a road at Doklam, near the tri-junction between India, Bhutan and China, thwarted by Indian soldiers. As both camps dug in their heels, the ensuing diplomatic crisis came to be portrayed as the worst in decades between the nuclear-armed neighbors.
For its part, the Chinese Foreign Ministry announced yesterday only that China was “pleased” India had “withdrawn,” adding that it would “continue to exercise its sovereign rights” over the plateau. Indian government officials whispered anonymously that China had backed off too, taking its road-building apparatus with it, although none of this has actually been confirmed.
China had repeatedly said India must withdraw its troops before any negotiations could take place, while India had insisted both sides should withdraw their forces together. In the event, it appears likely that some compromise was struck, possibly relating to some peripheral matter such as China’s growing relationship with Pakistan. Either way, it is significant that de-escalation has been achieved without loss of face for either party.
Throughout the crisis, India’s notoriously bellicose media appeared to exhibit a remarkably composed streak in the face of provocative rhetoric from China’s state-owned sentinels – albeit under almost certain pressure from Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s slick media managers. That being so, it has not been slow, with the troops now gone from Doklam, to condemn China’s conduct in attempting to “bully” other countries.
Accusing China of “bare-knuckled policies” and “historic revisionism”, an editorial in the Times of India by columnnist Rajeev Deshpande suggests New Delhi’s “resolve” offers a lesson to other countries in how to resist Chinese aggression. He writes: “The Doklam saga will encourage countries like Vietnam, Mongolia, Singapore and Japan that have been pushing back at China, and cause others like Philippines, who looked as if they might cave in, to reconsider.”
Meanwhile, Dhruva Jaishankar, a foreign policy fellow with Brookings India, told AFP that India had achieved its objective by forcing China to step back from its contentious road project. “The Chinese side is going to focus on the fact that the Indian troops have withdrawn,” he said. “(But) ultimately the issue is whether this road gets built or not, and it appears that it won’t be the case.”
What’s certainly clear is that India has no appetite for being pushed around by its increasingly hegemonic neighbor. Given China’s ambitions forth of its borders – not least in terms of building connectivity and strategic alliances in areas of land and sea that India is accustomed to viewing as its own sphere of influence – future flashpoints seem inevitable. But whether the stand-off at Doklam comes to be viewed as a phony prelude to some more heated conflict or a footnote in a coming trajectory of greater bilateral co-operation, the fact that no shots were fired in this little summer contretemps suggest both sides have at least weighed the risks attached.
This blog post can also be read at SCMP.COM –
A woman destroys an ATM machine in a fit of rage. Another wins a hair-growing competition. A man, drunk, drowns in a manure pit. I know I am far from alone in finding the South China Morning Post’s Around the Nation page one of its most compelling sections. Countless conversations with editorial staff and SCMP loyalists assure me of this. Often, however, there is a tone of slight hesitation in their admissions – a wavering, I think, lest too pronounced an enthusiasm be taken to intimate a lack of seriousness about news.
Anyone familiar with this blog will acknowledge that if it does not always provide the final word in serious-minded comment, then it will at least include one or two from somewhere nearing that end of things. More generally, the SCMP is considered a serious organ – the sub-editors may quibble at the word, but its news and analysis tends more towards the intellectual than what used to be called “human interest”, even when it was about pets. With ATN, this order is subverted. Reader, a word here in its praise.
For those of you who don’t know what I’m referring to, buy the paper and you’ll see it: Around the Nation is a round-up of stories that have been making the headlines in sundry corners of the mainland. Some are routine – a new infrastructure project here, a government denial about something over there. Others are anecdotal but still marginally un-extraordinary: a man cracks a window during a quarrel on a bus with his girlfriend; a woman has to receive medical help after playing mahjong for three days solid. The most memorable can usually be filed under bizarre, gruesome, heartwarming, comical or downright appalling, although none of these categories is exclusive.
You would probably be right to identify this as tabloid journalism. A fine tradition, and one in which I’ve dabbled, and frequently defend, but make no mistake – it’s often voyeuristic, mawkish and vulgar. The snobs have a point. Doubtless, too, it serves as an instrument of distraction, particularly in a country such as China where “proper” journalism gets throttled. And this is all before one considers how things have evolved online, where it seems the only way for media organisations to thrive is to deploy armies of clickbait wallahs to churn out titillating content, and to hell with its veracity.
There is, I think, a case to be made that our appetite for the weird and wonderful, the salacious and the shocking, is such that a journalism that caters to it offers a valve – one that’s not inimical to but rather part of life in a civilised society. This applies, moreover, regardless of how far that society may or may not be shaped by the principles of Athenian democracy. In its way, though, ATN offers both less and more than this valve function.
For one, ATN is mediated, a digest from other sources, for English readers in Hong Kong and elsewhere. There’s therefore an element of revelling in the wacky things that seem to happen in the mainland, puzzlement at the jarring effects created by awkwardly-translated phrases or sketchily-explained cultural mores, uncertainty at the degree of comic intentions. (What are we to make, for example, of this detail, included in a story about a pig which surprised visitors to a Buddhist temple in Wenzhou province by prostrating itself as if in prayer? “Photos posted online amazed some internet users, while others claimed the animal was suffering from a vitamin E deficiency.”)
At the same time, details omitted leave us wanting to know more, or attempting to piece things together in our imaginations, as we skip from the fantastical to the mundane to the brutal, mind-mapping the country, wondering what’s fact, what’s hearsay and what’s been embellished by eager hacks. The stories about mahjong casualties and failed blackmail attempts on local officials have an ageless quality, like folktales. Earlier this year it seems there was a spate of burglars breaking into homes then falling asleep.
Meanwhile, the outbreaks of violence or cruelty, the crazy people doing crazy things, the health scares, the exam stress – all contribute to a sense of modern China, even if they don’t tell us what modern China is. In Henan, a grave-visiting business opens for people who don’t have time to visit their own deceased relatives. In Chongqing, a farmer sells his ox to go looking for his runaway son.
ATN may be tabloid journalism by numbers on the one hand; on the other it offers a dispassionate window on a diverse country enduring the pangs of development. All human life is there. Animal life too.
This article was published in the South China Morning Post’s Post Magazine
Trading in the online currency Bitcoin has just gone the way of most things the Chinese government fears or doesn’t understand (they’re not the only ones) and been banned in the mainland after huge demand there saw it surge in value. The news also came fast on the heels of reports that the so-called Great Firewall of China is under attack from uptake of a new software programme that allows users to get round web censorship: Lantern.
It may well be that by the time you read this Lantern – which has already been put to the test by dissidents in Iran – will have had Beijing’s hose turned on it, but its emergence demonstrates that rearguard attempts to wage war on internet activity are likely doomed to failure. Because the thing about the web is that there’s always a workaround. The technology it has spawned and put at the world’s disposal already outstrips the might of governments to control it. It’s about time they realised this.
It’s not just the Chinese and the Iranians (and the Russians) – all of whom seem to think a closed, national “intranet” model is possible – who don’t quite seem to get it, though. British Prime Minister David Cameron keeps talking about being able to turn off the tap of online pornography. Does he really believe any “fix” his taxpayer-funded IT wallahs can come up with will be any match for internetland’s plumbers? If governments can’t control things like porn or copyright, what hope have they of reining in alternative currencies, or thought?
East and West alike seem to fear “the dark web”. We learn that it’s a nasty place, one where people sell drugs and plan terror attacks and eat babies. But actually it’s just a way of connecting to the world with anonymity. No wonder it’s the new bogey man.
As the efforts of the NSA to be the world’s listening post (its priest, if you will) have shown, at considerable cost to America’s soft power – attempting to master the web is a losing game. If there’s a war going, the geeks have already won.
This article appeared in the South China Morning Post’s Post Magazine
There is a book, written by a man named Gou Honyang, which can be found in all good government-approved bookshops on mainland China – meaning, essentially, that it carries the Communist Party’s imprimatur. Low-Carbon Plot was published in 2010, and in it the author alleges that the theory of man-made climate change amounts to a torrent of hogwash. The whole business is a conspiracy got up by Western governments and corporations, he says, to protect their own interests and way of life at the expense of the entire developing world.
No English translation has been made of the text, but other snippets of Gou’s thesis may be a little more familiar to those attuned to the whole climate change debate – such as it exists – elsewhere. “After many years of repeated indoctrination from every kind of propaganda machine,” he writes in his introduction, “[and with evidence of] environmental pollution and the exhaustion of natural resources, people have already formed a conditioned reflex … and quickly hang these things on the hook of ‘carbon’.”
“We must not get into too much of a fluster,” he adds. “It is with polluted water, acid rain, destructive logging and waste which we must struggle over the long term.”
It is probable that in the west Gou would be branded a “climate change denier”, the charge – suggestive of that most vile of moral perversions, holocaust denial – that is frequently levelled at anyone who dissents from the mainstream orthodoxy on AGW (anthropogenic global warming). But in China even strident environmentalists such as Ma Jin, a former South China Morning Post journalist who is now director of the Beijing-based NGO the Institute of Public and Environmental Affairs, are given to expressing the view that climate change is rather less of a concern than, say, water pollution.
In recent years, Beijing has made gestures towards amenability on “legally binding” global agreements on carbon checks. That they have been undermined by delaying tactics and obfuscation only points to the reality that any approximation of a coherent Chinese position on climate is likely to be something of a stab in the dark.
The same cannot be said, inter alia, of the European Union. Indeed, of all the tumult and brinksmanship the 27-member bloc has visited on global economic affairs of late, one episode stands out as constituting something of a feat: its dragooning of China, the US and Russia onto the same side in a trade dispute over emissions. Following its decision to force all airlines flying in or out of Europe to pay a carbon tax, in fact, the EU has seen most of the world’s powers close ranks in a sort of beachhead assault on the notion.
And on this matter, at least, Beijing’s position has been unequivocal. In February an un-named official announced Chinese airlines were banned from paying any such taxes.
The theory of AGW may be afforded a veneration bordering on the religious in parts of the West, then, but in China – where new coal-fired power stations are said to go on line at a rate of one per week – the prosleytisers have made only tentative inroads.Last year, the central government pledged to reduce the amount of carbon dioxide produced per unit of Gross Domestic Product (GDP) by 40 to 45 per cent of 2005 levels by the end of 2020. It is not clear how it intends to achieve this, but, given the Chinese economy’s rates of growth, overall emissions in eight years’ time would still be significantly greater than now if it did.
Xie Zhenhua, vice chairman of the National Development and Reform Commission is said to be keen on binding commitments, but only after 2020. The government’s chief climate negotiator, Su Wei, has let it be known he is of a similar mind. Before the United Nations Climate Change Conference in Durban in December, however, he stipulated that any pact would have to recognise that countries had “common but differentiated responsibilities.” In other words, nations including China and India should have the right to continue developing via the engine of cheap carbon-based energy.
“Personally, I think that in the next two or three decades, emissions in China will continue to increase,” says Ding Zhongli, vice-president of the Chinese Academy of Science, from Beijing. A geologist who has studied climate records spanning the last 2.6 million years, he is also a renowned sceptic when it comes to the global temperature increases prophesised by the United Nations’ Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC).
“In designing international emissions reduction policy,” he adds, “three factors have to be taken into consideration: historical accumulative emissions per capita, recent emissions per capita and emissions transfers in international trading. If you look at these factors carefully, you’ll naturally find that the present gap between the poor and the rich in the world would be fixed for ever if the developing countries have to reduce their emissions.”
One vaulting leap of the imagination down the line from this argument, Gou Honyang’s assertion that climate change is a western capitalist conspiracy is interesting, if only for the fact that in the West it tends to be the libertarian right and political conservatives who are quickest to dismiss global warming. That they find common cause with many in Communist China is one irony. Another is that Big Government intervention – the path submitted to be humanity’s only available course by those ringing alarm bells in the west – is precisely what Beijing does better than anyone else. It is thinkable, though fanciful, that some day it will realise this and lead some kind of global green revolution. On the other hand, it is equally conceivable that, suspicious of foreign-minted political correctness, it will side with the west’s “reactionaries” in the matter.
Richard Lindzen, an atmospheric physicist at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology has said that “the consensus [on global warming] was reached before the research had even begun”, adding that scientists who question the prevailing wisdom are marginalised and labelled deniers – when in fact they are simply being good scientists. It seems at least plausible that, having stood apart from the formulation of the “consensus”, China sees, more plainly, grounds for scepticism which, in the west, are hid from sight.
A DECADE or so ago, the then just-ennobled Baron May of Oxford, Robert May, told a journalist he was being interviewed by that “I am the president of the Royal Society and I am telling you the debate on climate change is over.” Science has traditionally valued men of logic over men of conviction, but the study of climate appears singularly prone to inspiring certainty. In fact, Lord May’s faith in his own pronouncements was reminiscent, in its way, of Lowell Ponte’s, as recorded for posterity in his book The Cooling, some 25 years earlier. “It is a cold fact,” Ponte asserts,”[that] the Global Cooling presents humankind with the most important social, political, and adaptive challenge we have had to deal with for ten thousand years.”
May vacated his presidency in 2005, but the 452-year-old British learned society – which acts as an advisor to the country’s government – continues to castigate sceptic viewpoints and pressure media not to give them coverage.
Climatologists who are sceptical of the AGW orthodoxy say they find it difficult to attract funding for research. The late atmospheric scientist Reid Bryson put it like this: “There is a lot of money to be made in this… If you want to be an eminent scientist you have to have a lot of grad students and a lot of grants. You can’t get grants unless you say, ‘Oh, global warming, yes, yes carbon dioxide’.”
Worse, there have been reports of intimidation. Ian Plimer, an Australian geologist and the author of the sceptical book Heaven and Earth, has had to endure demonstrations outside his home, while others say colleagues who have doubts remain silent because they fear reprisals or for the security of their jobs.
The dissenters may well have felt some degree of vindication, if not schadenfreude, then, when in November 2009 thousands of emails were hacked from the servers at the climate research unit at the University of East Anglia, in Britain, and made their way into the hands of sceptic bloggers. The most interesting of these involved correspondence among a tight group of academics – all men whose papers have been cited by the IPCC, which every few years publishes “assessment reports” on climate research.
Inquiries in the UK and US into what became known as “Climategate” exonerated the scientific community, but on the face of it at least, many excerpts picked up on seemed to offer considerable grist to the sceptic mill and corroborate suspicions that cliques of scientists were determined to make their data fit with pre-determined models of runaway AGW. In one exchange, Kevin Trenberth, one of America’s most senior climatologists, states: “The fact is that we can’t account for the lack of warming at the moment and it is a travesty that we can’t.” And on another occasion – referring to what is called the Medieval Warm Period, a spell, from about 950 to 1250 AD, during which the temperature records in many parts of the world show significant warming – he writes: “It would be nice to try to ‘contain’ the putative ‘MWP’.” The implication being, of course, that if it can be shown that warming and cooling have taken place throughout history, then the current warming may be discounted as unexceptional. There is also a long series of communications on how best to squeeze dissenting colleagues out of the peer review process and complaints about sharing data with other scientists who “just want to find something wrong with it.”
Professor John Christy, whose doctorate Trenberth supervised, is a Fellow of the American Meteorological Society best known for his development, along with a colleague, of the first successful satellite temperature recording system. Far from denying that human activity has had an impact on climate, he is nevertheless a critic of those who make catastrophic predictions of global temperature and sea level rises and is deeply suspicious of the IPCC’s culture and procedures.
“Basically, and I’m generalizing here, the IPCC is not a collection of neutral scientific observers,” he says from his office at the University of Alabama. “It is rather a cast of self-selected players whose views can be counted on to generate a product acceptable to governments which seek more control over energy policy and thus human opportunity. Many, not all, of those who write the IPCC [reports] have a direct, vested interest in assuring a catastrophe is upon us to solidify their various positions of authority and income positions largely funded by the governments for whom they work.”
The world, he adds, “always has catastrophes being promoted by various entities, and human-caused climate change is now fading because of lack of evidence and something else will take its place – world-wide economic destruction, Middle East turmoil, repressive regimes.”
It may be worth recalling that “consensus” has existed in the past among scientists on everything from the benefits of eugenics to stomach ulcers being caused by stress (they’re not) and, of course, global cooling. But Christy goes further, suggesting that the oft-cited consensus on climate change is not as significant or as clear-cut as we’re constantly being told.
“Surveys are not useful here,” he says. “Virtually every [scientist] will say the earth has warmed in the past 150 years, that climate always changes, that carbon dioxide has increased and that there will be some impact on global temperatures. [But] these are relatively trivial. Agreeing to those statements does not lead to the notion of claiming dangerous climate change is occurring. It’s all in how you ask the question and allow the reader’s mind to extrapolate to the alarmist vision of the answer.”
Various reasons have been suggested for man-made global warming becoming established in the popular consciousness as “fact”, before, as Richard Lindzen alludes, the theory had even been tested. One is that as the traditional political Left in the west lost its way, something had to take its place. At the same time, environmentalism had snowballed from the 1970s onwards, and warming offered generally anti-capitalist movements – buttressed by sympathetic liberals in the media and academia – a new cause, something to rally against. This ideological dimension may help to explain the factious, emotive nature of climate rhetoric, pace Lord May, perhaps, but it has been of little service to the public: debate, informed or otherwise, tends to be polarised; the shades of grey are crowded out.
THE objectives outlined on chinadialogue.net – “an independent, non-commercial, bilingual website” where “China and the word discuss the environment” – sound perfectly heroic. Founded in London and partly funded by the British government, it has offices in Beijing and San Francisco and is “devoted to the publication of high quality information and debate” and to “direct dialogue”.
When it comes to engaging in dialogue about climate scepticism, however, its managing editors prove to be a little less devoted than their mission statement suggests: no sooner is it intimated that “alternative” views on climate might be up for consideration in this article than enquiries are stonewalled.
Perhaps pariah status is no more than the non-believers deserve; but then again, such an attitude might be considered a little ungracious in a country where the non-believers aren’t exactly thin on the ground. And not only that: in China even “warmists” afford those shades of grey credence.
Veteran meteorologist Ding Yuhui, who helps to advise the central government on climate, says global warming of 0.74 degrees Celsius over the last 100 years is “abnormal” and that it has caused melting of glaciers and Arctic sea ice, rising sea levels and “an increase in the frequency and intensity of some extreme weather and climate events.” He adds, however, that “it is still in debate that the temperature during the Medieval Warm Period could [have been] warmer than the contemporary climate.”
According to Ding Zhongli, “most” Chinese climate scholars believe only that an increase in carbon dioxide “could” be the main cause of planetary warming. For his part, he says: “I’m sceptical that the [climate’s] sensitivity to CO2 could have been exaggerated by IPCC reports,” adding that “over the last decade we don’t actually see a clear warming.”
Most Chinese paleoclimatologists (who study changes in climate over the entire history of the planet) believe, he says, that “compared to some periods in Chinese history, we are now still in a relatively colder stage, and so recent climate variability is still within normal patterns.”
Studies of tree ring data conducted by Ding Zhongli’s colleague, Liu Yu, show that temperatures around China have been higher at various points over the last 2,500 years. Yu told The South China Morning Post last year that China was experiencing neither its warmest temperatures in history nor its most dramatic climate change: during the Eastern Jin dynasty, for example, mean temperatures on the Tibetan Plateau increased by 0.9 C over 30 years. He also cited archeological records showing that pomegranates – which require much warmer temperatures than northern China experiences today – were used as currency in the north-eastern province of Xinjiang during the same period.
These are the kinds of “inconvenient truths” that get climate sceptics animated and their detractors twitchy. Of all the deviations and incongruities lit upon, though, the early 21st Century temperature standstill alluded to by Yu and in the “Climategate” emails is perhaps the most inconvenient to those demanding drastic action to stop rising temperatures. As confirmed, begrudgingly perhaps, in numerous peer-reviewed studies, including data sets produced by the British Met Office and the Berkeley University Earth Surface Temperature project (BEST) – albeit the latter stands accused by one of its own team of trying to cover up its findings – mean global temperatures stood still between 1998 and at least 2009. All of which means that the basis for global warming over the last 100 years is predicated on just two warming spells: pre-1940 and 1975-98. In-between times, carbon dioxide emissions were still on the rise, but temperatures were not.
Few disagree that there has been an overall warming – in the region of 1 C at most since 1850. But according to John Christy there is no universal agreement as to the quantitative magnitude of AGW relative to other factors.
“There are many studies which show that the climate system is not very sensitive to CO2,” he says. “Mine for example have shown far less warming than predicted by the models, a pattern of warming that is inconsistent with model projection and regional trends that are not outside the range of natural variability.
“In terms of global temperature trends, we now have a third of a century of bulk atmospheric temperatures showing a modest 0.13 C per decade rate of rise – less than half that predicted by climate models. In the past 15 years the trend has been close to zero – the period in which warming was expected to have its fastest rate due to the enhanced greenhouse effect.
Others point to evidence that while some glaciers may be in retreat, others are not: there has been melting on the West Antarctic ice sheet, for example, but some studies show icepacks on the rest of the continent – the other 90 per cent of it – are growing. And others yet pour cold water on the panic over rising sea levels. According to Nils-Axel Morner, the retired former head of the International Union for Quaternary Research, sea levels have been oscillating close to their present level for the last three centuries.
“Sea level has been rising for thousands of years and continues at about 1 inch per decade,” is Christy’s assessment. “Since during the last warm interglacial period, 130,000 years ago, the sea level reached about five metres higher than today, you should expect present sea level to continue to rise until the next ice age.”
Meanwhile, some sceptics flatly dismiss the notion of man-made global warming altogether. In an email interview, octogenarian Japanese geophysicist Syun-Ichi Akasofu, who was founding director of the International Arctic Research Center at the University of Alaska Fairbanks, says data on sea level changes, glacier retreat, sea ice retreat, ice cores, tree-rings and changes in cosmic-ray intensity indicate simply that the planet is still recovering from what is termed the Little Ice Age, a period of cooling and increased glaciation following the Medieval Warm Period and beginning in about 1550.
“The recovery has proceeded continuously, roughly in a linear manner, from 1800-1850 to the present,” he writes, adding that “cosmic-ray intensity data show that solar activity was related to both the Little Ice Age and recovery from it. It peaked in 1940 and 2000, causing the halting of warming temporarily after 2000. These changes are natural changes.”
WHEN applied to climate change, the precautionary principle – that we should assume the worst-case scenario is a possibility and act accordingly – has the ring of logic to it. But what if, as seems likely, the world simply finds it impossible to reduce its overall dependence on carbon dioxide-emitting fuels within the time frame being urged?
The EU has been making noises about reducing its emissions by 80-90 per cent of their 1990 levels by 2050. Such costly masochism sounds all well and good, but the world’s economic development – an energy-intensive process – will demand a large amount of outsourcing of production elsewhere. This being the case, might it be better to do nothing? And if not, then what?
“Numerous calculations show that the impacts of these severe energy-suppression measures would be too small to measure on the climate, but easy to measure in economic harm,” Christy says. “Thus in a simple cost to benefit study, we find large costs, but no benefits for carbon dioxide reductions.
“The precautionary principle is a false perspective … This higher cost reduces the standard of living, thus reducing the health, prosperity and opportunity for [most] people – unless you are fortunate to be in a specific subsidised industry that government decides with tax payer money to support.”
Bjorn Lomborg, the Danish environmental economist and author of The Sceptical Environmentalist, has said that the brunt of the costs of reducing global carbon emissions would be borne by developing countries, mainly in terms of having their dreams of economic development thwarted. As he put it in an interview: “Africans ask, ‘how can you have a steel industry or a rail network based on solar [energy]?”.
Economists forecast a vastly more developed world 100 years hence – one in which poverty has all but been eliminated. This scenario is to a large extent dependent, however, on poorer nations being able to avail themselves of the benefits of cheap energy. For them warmer but richer may seem more appealing than still poor but cooler.
What can’t be proven is how much cooler things might be if carbon emissions are successfully reduced. And likewise the scare reports don’t take any account of man’s ability, proven over millenia, to adapt to whichever circumstances are thrown at him. Research is already being carried out on the viability of geoengineering – a catch-all term for technologies that sequester carbon dioxide or other greenhouses from the atmosphere or cool the planet through solar radiation management – while more resources can and, for reasons quite apart from rising sea levels, probably should be invested in sea and flood defences around the world. After all, the Dutch mastered this aspect of hydraulics in the 16th Century.
The former British Chancellor of the Exchequer, Nigel Lawson, who chairs the London-based sceptic think tank The Global Warming Policy Foundation, has written that “adaptation will enable us, if and when it is necessary, greatly to reduce the adverse consequences of global warming, at far less cost than mitigation [emissions reduction] to the point where for the world as a whole, these are unlikely greatly to outweigh (if indeed they outweigh at all) the customarily overlooked benefits of global warming.”
Besides the fact that raised carbon dioxide levels have been shown to speed up crop growth – it is a misnomer to call it a “pollutant” – such benefits include the obvious one that in many regions of the world warmer temperatures would be deemed advantageous. Professor Xie Zhenghui, deputy director of the International Centre for Climate and Environmental Sciences in Beijing theorises, for example, that China would do alright under warmer temperatures. “Chinese civilisation has reached its highest points when temperatures have been warmest (such as during the Han and Tang dynasties) and its lowest points when they have cooled,” he told The South China Morning Post last year.
Whether or not such thinking reflects the views of Chinese policy makers is a matter for conjecture. But mixed in with the more eccentric viewpoints, it is hard not to be struck by the sense of realism that pervades much of the debate over climate in China.
Xu Ming, another professor from the Chinese Academy of Sciences, said recently that while China should do what it can to reduce greenhouse gas emissions, “no matter what we do, global warming is inevitable. Therefore we must get ready for it.”
“Instead of ploughing money into expensive carbon reduction technologies,” he added, “[China] should build water redistribution facilities, plant trees and develop new crops that could endure temperature fluctuations.”
Protecting the environment is probably one of the most enlightened ideas humanity has had. It just might not be the same thing as trying to stop climate change.
This article appeared in The Herald
Many of the books on the politics shelves this year have been overtaken by events. As crisis became crash, the realisation that political economy is to politics what money is to banks was a little late in dawning, but there were at least one or two lonely voices who claimed to have seen the whole thing coming in time to dash off guides to where it had all gone wrong.
Robert Shiller’s The Subprime Solution: How Today’s Global Financial Crisis Happened and What to Do about it (Princeton, £9.95), a short expose of the lax borrowing that led to America becoming the world’s first subprime superpower, falls into that category. Niall Ferguson’s The Ascent of Money (Allen Lane, £25) does too but isn’t just a paean to capitalism’s convulsions: it’s also a thorough-going history of the rise of capital (the foundation, Ferguson believes, of human progress).
For anyone who takes fright at mention of stocks and bonds, securities, bears, bulls and hedge funds, it is essential reading. Ferguson’s lessons are that sooner or later every bubble bursts and that human greed and ignorance, rather than the financial system itself, created the current crisis.
There’s something atavistic about AN Wilson’s Our Times (Hutchinson, £25), an indictment of Britain’s national collapse. Wilson is a cultural conservative, yet there’s nothing rigid or canonical about him: neither the old establishment nor the new, the Britain of aristocratic humbug nor of health and safety tutorials, is spared his vituperation.
Britain’s shared sense of identity and purpose has been undone since the war, he believes, by political elites, mass migration, yoof culture, the demise of organised Christianity and the replacement of trains by cars. He can be contradictory, factually wayward, even scurrilous, but he is always entertaining and always illuminating.
China’s story over the last two decades – thanks to its economic reforms – has been one of rise rather than demise. Philip Pan’s Out of Mao’s Shadow: The Struggle for the Soul of New China (Simon & Schuster, £14.99), challenges utterly, however, the notion that democracy will be the inevitable corollary. In a sobering, saddening study he narrates the stories of men and women, dead or imprisoned, who dared to break rank. Their heroism, obscured and written out of history by the Party, a de facto “mafia”, deserves to be honoured everywhere.
Left-wing commentators lobbed so much mud at Martin Amis this year that even his virtuoso prose style was filed as a charge against him. Too clever, not self-effacing enough, crowed one reviewer, a marginally more coherent remonstrance than the view, expressed by the Marxist academic Terry Eagleton, that one should no more listen to a novelist talking about Islamism than a window cleaner.
The Second Plane (Jonathan Cape, £12.99), a collection of essays and short fiction written in response to 9/11 and all its consequences and bifurcations on the world stage, is a brilliant riposte to that view. Literature, for Amis, is “reason at play”; religions are repositories of “ignorance, reaction and sentimentality.” Islamism (“an ideology superimposed upon a religion – illusion upon illusion”) is a death cult every bit as pernicious as Nazism or Stalinism and the novelist – for whom morality and reason are, in the end, all – has in fact a duty to say something about it.
When confronted by Islamist terror, Amis believes, too many on the liberal left evade the truth: they see not a desolate and implacable ideology but misguided liberators whose cause is fundamentally righteous.
Where Amis’s eloquence is trained on anti-Americanism as an ideology, Simon Schama proffers instead its antidote. His The American Future (Bodley Head, £20) is both a history and a treatise on that most nebulous of constructs, hope. Our television don assumes a triangular perspective – daydreaming about the future as the past looms like a gently stirring branch at the window of the here and now. America’s history of violence is explored in considerable detail: from the obliteration of the Cherokee, to Gettysburg, to Vietnam. The liberty so prized by the early settlers, then, came at a cost to others; on the other hand, the country’s enduring racism and paranoia should be understood as inevitable by-products of being the world’s melting pot.
Convinced of America’s ability to reinvent itself once more in the 21st Century, Schama hoped for an Obama victory, and he got it. In the president-elect he sees a Jeffersonian figure salving the wounds of the bedraggled republic and renewing a sense of “common purpose.” Others tend, similarly, to see what they want to in Obama. One hopes he can be something more than that: his own man.
This article appeared in The Herald
A certain shock value attends the title of this book. John McCain’s friends might think twice, at any rate, about buying him it as a Thanksgiving present, although both he and Barack Obama would do well to read it. Any divining of anti-American sentiment would be wide of the mark, however. The American imperium has been bitterly savaged by authors in recent years, but in Fareed Zakaria’s work there is, sensibly, nary a hint of glee at its convulsions. Zakaria grapples with the impending shift away from American dominance in the world as new, emerging powers – China, India, Russia, Brazil, Mexico – begin to assert their interests with greater confidence, but, crucially, he does so without resort to scaremongering or hyperbole and with a keen understanding of his adopted country’s real strengths and real interests.
An Indian emigre, he believes America’s openness remains key among those strengths. That he arrived in the States as an 18-year-old student in 1982 and was last year named as one of the world’s 100 leading public intellectuals by Foreign Policy and Prospect magazines, is perhaps as good an illustration as any of his point that immigration is part of what gives the country its edge. Equally his Indian childhood and adolescence burnish his account of the “rise of the rest” with an authority forbidden a more Waspish scholar.
The new reality is that while, for the time being, America remains the world’s only politico-military superpower, in almost every other sphere – industrial, financial, educational, cultural – the global distribution of power is shifting. By 2040, the five emerging powers mentioned are expected to have a larger combined economic output than the G7 countries. Zakaria devotes chapters of his book to the two fastest-growing of these new powers, China and India; by his reckoning the former is already “the second most important country in the world.”
Over the last two decades the Chinese Communist Party has, he says, flouted the general rule that autocratic governments are “insular, corrupt and stupid.” Not having to respond to an electorate has helped Beijing carry out reforms on a scale unimaginable in the west and while suspicion of widespread corruption lingers, the country now has one of the most open economies in the world.
While many industries in China are still under state control, the backbone of the Indian economy, expected to be the world’s third-largest by 2040, is its private sector. India has emerged a clear winner from globalisation: its exports include software and services as well as cars and steel. Consumer spending, meanwhile, makes up a massive 67 per cent of GDP. The country’s extant political class, suspicious of change, muddles along improvidently – nearly a fifth of Indian members of parliament have been accused of crimes, including embezzlement and corruption as well as murder and rape – but in its favour India has sound democratic institutions, bequeathed to it by the British, and “a vibrant model of secularism and tolerance.”
Many in the west are scared witless at the prospect of rivals to America’s might deciding to flex their muscles – a serious US-Chinese rivalry would doubtless set back growth, trade and globalisation – but Zakaria argues there is little to suggest this will happen, and certainly not imminently. As he notes, “Indians are extremely comfortable with and well disposed toward America,” while “Beijing tends to avoid picking a fight with other governments,” preferring to focus on growing its economy.
His rationalisation of Chinese involvement in Africa is not wholly convincing, however. Beijing’s policies of selling arms to Robert Mugabe, in return for platinum and ore, and Sudan, for oil, in addition to its general disinterest in anything to do with human rights around the world, are, Zakaria postulates, the result of a foreign policy based on pragmatism rather than idealism. China is not a Protestant, proselytising power, he says; Confucianism doesn’t hold to “universal commandments or the need to spread the faith.” Far worse behaviour than that of the Chinese has been explained away with religion, but the idea that they’ve been getting up to no good because they didn’t go to Sunday school requires quite some leap of faith.
Zakaria’s contention that the threat of Islamist terrorism is overhyped is more compelling, although his claim that much of the Muslim world is “modernising” does seem a jot counter-intuitive. He does not seek to deny that the threat exists, but argues we may be winning the war on terror with greater ease than we are led to believe: “since 2001 governments everywhere have been aggressive in bursting terrorist networks, following their money, and tracking their recruits – with almost immediate results.” He adds that sectarian conflict within Islam itself and the desire in many Muslim societies for stability has made jihad increasingly unpopular.
This book, indeed, does rather a nice job of allaying a number of other fears about the “post-American world” it is supposed we are entering. Zakaria’s outlook is fundamentally optimistic: as he points out, while the last ten years are perceived as having been ridden with wars and global strife, in actual fact organised violence has declined dramatically since the 1980s and by the end of 2004 was at its lowest level since the late 1950s. It may be simply that the immediacy and intensity of the 24-hour news cycle makes us believe the world is a more dangerous place than it actually is. Moreover, these years have seen most economies experience unprecedented growth. Due in large part to capitalism, poverty is falling in countries housing 80 per cent of the world’s population; China’s growth alone has already lifted more than 400 million out of poverty. In all but the world’s 50 or so poorest countries, “basket cases that need urgent attention”, the poor are being absorbed into open, productive and growing economies. And while growth may now be slowing somewhat, “the diverse new sources of growth and massive quantities of capital have given the global economic system as a whole greater resilience.”
More exclusively American fears are allayed too. The American economy has its problems – the loss of key industries, the credit crunch – but it remains the most competitive in the world, according to the World Economic Forum. America has most of the very best universities in the world, while American companies are better than anyone else at turning ideas into marketable and lucrative products. The country’s relative economic weight may fall, says Zakaria, but if it resists the temptation to become insular and it does not turn its back on free trade, it can respond to the new reality.
“For all its abuses of power,” he writes, “the United States has been the creator and sustainer of the current order of open trade and democratic government – an order that has been benign and beneficial for the vast majority of humankind.” After Iraq, that reputation is “sullied”, but Zakaria believes Washington can be the world’s honest broker once more, provided it can also reacquaint itself with bi-partisanship and multilateralism, and assert itself against ideological attack groups, vested interests and a sensationalist media. His book – measured, erudite, thrilling in its breadth of reference – is a timely reminder of why the world needs a strong, engaged America.