China’s media censors have a very short fuse. Undesirable posts and comments on social media often disappear within minutes. Unwelcome narratives are either absent or only appear on the sidelines in Chinese news reporting. The most recent example was the Russian invasion of Ukraine.
In an interview with China.Table, sinologist Mareike Ohlberg explains how well-educated Chinese still get news from abroad and what sources feed their worldview. Others, however, support media control. In their view, censorship is necessary to maintain social order. Nevertheless, media censorship is also a problem for the Party, says Ohlberg speaking with Fabian Peltsch. “It takes a lot of effort and contradicts itself.”
A prime example of tedious censorship also unfolded this weekend. With every passing day of the Covid lockdown in Shanghai, the tone on social media becomes rougher – but users also get more and more creative in their attempts to bypass the government’s deleters and blockers, as our colleagues from China report. One particular video attracted a lot of attention on Saturday and Sunday: “Voices of April“. Learn what it’s all about in our analysis.
Lockdowns and maintaining supplies during the zero-covid policy are currently complicating the work of logisticians in the People’s Republic. AHK Hong Kong and the Port of Hamburg Marketing will report on the impact of the Covid measures and the Ukraine war on supply chains in a panel discussion on Thursday (28.4.). China.Table is a media partner: Our subscribers will be able to attend the webinar “Rethinking Global Supply Chains – Navigating Complex Challenges in 2022 and Beyond” for free. As a licensee, you will receive a separate email on this later today.
Ms. Ohlberg, the pro-Russian coverage of the Ukraine war has once again shown how one-sided Chinese state media spread their narrative. We in the West like to believe that the educated Chinese know that they are being fed propaganda.
It is one thing to know that news is filtered and you are being fed propaganda, and another not to still give some credence to the narrative. Of course, many Chinese know how their own media is made.
Don’t they feel patronized?
There are those who say, “yes, it is annoying,” but they put up with it and are then influenced by it in one way or another. Others give more credence to other sources, be it foreign media or “alternative” Chinese media. But there are also Chinese who defend media censorship. I have encountered this argument from time to time at Chinese universities. There, more regime-compliant academics argue that censorship is necessary for social order and the common good. The elitist mindset of some people even sometimes tends to claim: Their fellow citizens in China are incapable or not educated enough to handle the truth or the full spectrum of information responsibly – or even to elect their own parties democratically.
What do such educated Chinese read to get diversified information about politics from abroad?
This is, of course, a large group of people and, accordingly, there are differences in how individuals or certain groups obtain information. Some do have access to foreign news, either via a VPN or because they live outside of China. These are then sometimes read in parallel with official Chinese media, as well as frequently non-official Chinese media located overseas. However, one phenomenon that very much characterizes Chinese information circles is WeChat information bubbles. Through WeChat, people stay in touch with friends and acquaintances, similar to WhatsApp, but it is also a news source or the main news source for many people, including Chinese living abroad. The news that can be consumed via WeChat is, in turn, usually subject to censorship guidelines and filters imposed by the Chinese government. Administrators these days are accountable for everything that goes on in their groups. A few years ago, there was a bit more freedom.
What leeway does Chinese media have to deviate from the official party narrative?
There are media outlets that find room to report more independently every now and then. We saw this at the beginning of the pandemic, when Caixin was quite free and committed to good, investigative journalism and excellent reporting on the ground. This potential still exists, but it can often only be utilized to a limited extent. Depending on media control, windows open up, but unfortunately, they always close again very quickly.
Why does the state finance this huge censorship apparatus on the one hand and on the other hand not take more decisive action against the use of VPN networks, which allow users to easily access foreign news?
This certainly has to do with economic relations with foreign countries. Many foreign companies use VPNs and do not necessarily want to use a channel provided by the state. If VPNs were categorically banned or blocked, this would also have an impact on foreign and economic relations.
At the same time, the Party has managed to prevent the population from using VPNs without a blanket ban. For example, they rely on deterrence: Time and again, some people are arrested and prosecuted, mostly those who provide or sell VPNs. Many Chinese think that VPNs are illegal, which is not correct. But what is allowed and what is not is intentionally left unclear.
It’s the same old story: You don’t know where you stand. And if the public security apparatus wants to give you trouble, it will certainly find a reason. That’s why I can understand why some people prefer to be cautious. Above all, however, I don’t believe that obtaining information via VPN networks will have any effect on the broad masses as long as the possibilities of being able to discuss this information further in the public sphere are so severely restricted in China.
Is the Party elite allowed to use VPN networks officially?
Certain government departments or sub-departments that are trusted and need access to the unfiltered Internet to do their job have access to the Western Internet even without a VPN. For example, there are people in the state apparatus whose job it is to specifically monitor foreign media and gather what is being discussed there. During the outbreak of the so-called Jasmine protests in 2011, I posted a YouTube video on the Internet myself. Half of the clicks came from China. Others have observed similar things.
This indicates that certain government agencies have access via direct lines. If they had used a VPN, the country of origin of the click would not have been China, but the location of the respective VPN server used to bypass censorship. In addition, there are media agencies such as Xinhua that produce press reviews for the political elite. The higher the cadres are in the hierarchy, the bigger the writing usually is, because they are usually quite old (laughs).
Media such as the New York Times or Spiegel often translate investigative stories from China into Chinese. Does that have an effect in China?
Basically, everything gets somewhere. But I don’t believe that such news reaches a critical mass. This is usually only accomplished when people organize themselves, exchange information with each other, and have a common public space. But right now we’re moving in the opposite direction: Access is becoming more and more difficult, and all channels through which people can exchange information are becoming more and more controlled.
In your book “Hidden Hand,” you write that Beijing does not want to maintain media censorship forever.
Media censorship is also a problem for the Party: it takes a lot of effort and contradicts itself. As a long-term goal, Beijing wants to expand its global discourse power. If foreign countries follow Beijing’s narrative, censorship in China can gradually be dropped. That is the idea. However, that’s a bit like Marx’s withering away of the state, so it’s a goal in the very, very distant future. For now, censorship continues to expand, and will continue to do so for a long time.
Dr. Mareike Ohlberg is a Senior Fellow in the Asia Program of the Global Marshall Fund and Co-Director of the Stockholm China Forum. She focuses on Chinese foreign policy, media and digital policy, and developments in Hong Kong and Taiwan.
China ratified two International Labor Organization (ILO) conventions against forced labor last week (China.Table reported). The decision came as a surprise, as negotiations with the People’s Republic on concessions in this regard have been going on for decades. After all, these are two longstanding ILO conventions:
The ILO is part of the United Nations (UN). It has been around since 1919, making it over a hundred years old. Its goal is to improve the social conditions for workers. To this end, it primarily defines rules and standards. Conventions on forced labor are therefore among the cornerstones of its work. It outlaws “all work or service which is exacted from any person under the threat of a penalty and for which the person has not offered himself or herself voluntarily.” Until last week, however, China refused to sign it. Not surprising in a country that only formally closed its work camps in 2013, only to open new ones in Xinjiang a short time later.
However, observers do not expect any actual improvements for local workers. The move was a “diplomatic decision” that will not lead to any significant changes, Aidan Chau of the non-governmental organization China Labour Bulletin told China.Table. The Hong Kong-based organization campaigns for workers’ rights in the People’s Republic.
Experience shows that China signs many conventions, but practice in the country changes only insignificantly. For example, China has also ratified the 1988 Safety and Health in Construction Convention, Chau said. “However, we continue to observe that occupational accidents on construction sites, such as crane collapses, are common in China.” Major progress on workers’ interests and rights can only come through collective negotiations, Chau said. But independent unions do not exist in China. Other forms of employee organizations are also weak in China.
The ILO is also hardly in a position to verify the implementation of its conventions. China rejects all accusations of forced labor – especially in the Xinjiang province. Beijing is unlikely to agree to on-site investigations by independent experts.
The timing of the ratification is not entirely coincidental. In May, the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights, Michelle Bachelet, is scheduled to visit China for the first time – including the Xinjiang region. With the ratification, China now wants to signal that the protection of workers’ rights is taken seriously, Surya Deva, a law professor at Macquarie University in Australia, told the South China Morning Post newspaper.
According to Deva, however, it is unlikely that the ILO conventions will result in the abolition of forced labor on the ground. Beijing was making the move out of calculation: “to warm its relations with the EU in view of the increasing cleavage with the US over the Russian invasion of Ukraine and to try reviving the CAI.” The fact that the People’s Republic refused to ratify the ILO conventions has so far been one of the main points of contention regarding the investment agreement between the European Union and China (CAI).
While this issue has been resolved, it is not enough. CAI has been on hold for more than a year. The main reason for this was the mutual sanctions imposed in March 2021. Brussels had imposed them on several leading officials in Xinjiang over human rights violations against the Uyghurs. Beijing responded with counter-sanctions, including against EU MEPs.
Could signing off on the agreements now bring momentum to the CAI tussle? Probably not. “While ratification of the ILO conventions is a great gesture by Beijing toward Brussels, it does not eliminate the main obstacles to CAI ratification,” says Merics analyst Grzegorz Stec. CAI remains on hold for very different obstacles: mutual sanctions and the trade dispute over Lithuania. “None of these issues is likely to be resolved in the foreseeable future, including in the context of political tensions over Beijing’s alignment with Moscow,” Stec said.
Beijing seems to be in a “damage control mode” toward the EU. The EU-China summit did not go very well (China.Table reported). The ILO conventions are also not helping much at the moment, according to Stec. The focus of EU-China relations would increasingly shift toward “systemic rivalry”. Improving the relationship with Brussels could be difficult for the leadership in Beijing, Stec explains.
A clear rejection of any progress on CAI because of the ratification of the ILO convention also came from the EU Trade Commissioner. The EU does place great value on the ILO and welcomes the step, he said. But as long as sanctions against EU MEPs are in place, CAI will not be revived.
“I hoped that after two years of Corona we would now find calmer waters,” admits Ulrich Ackermann. It turned out differently. His foreign trade department at the German Engineering Federation (VDMA) is particularly busy at the moment. Currently, the main issues are the sanctions against Russia and their implications, including for trade with China. Ackermann and his team are available to the more than 3,400 member companies whenever they have questions about customs duties, export regulations or the general conditions on foreign markets.
“The bottom line is that we are a kind of consulting firm for our members in all matters relating to exports and foreign trade,” says Ackermann, describing his role. And there is no shortage of inquiries. The 63-year-old just received a call from a member company that was urgently looking for a new steel supplier, claiming that the market had been swept clean. “Who knows that 20 percent of the steel slabs processed in Western Europe come from Russia and Ukraine?” asks Ackermann. For laymen: A slab is a cast, elongated block.
Above all, many medium-sized companies in the industry value the expertise of the VDMA. 15 experts for all regions of the world and all relevant topics are working in its department in Frankfurt am Main. They receive additional support from the Berlin branch and the VDMA’s foreign offices, including two in China. The country is extremely important for the industry; in 2020, German companies supplied mechanical engineering products worth more than €18 billion to it. Sanctions against China would have an enormous impact.
That is why Ackermann looks with concern at Xi Jinping’s behavior toward Putin, but also at the relationship with Taiwan. “Free trade just requires stable framework conditions,” says the Frankfurt native. Markets have fascinated him for decades. In 1986, Ackermann wrote his diploma thesis in economics about a possible liberalization of European air traffic. Immediately afterward, he joined the VDMA, where he worked on the then-emerging European single market. Since 2005, he has been steering the foreign trade department through uncertain times.
Uncertainty also currently dominates the Chinese market. Due to the strict Covid entry rules, small and medium-sized companies, in particular, are restricted in their business, he says. “A lot of people are telling us we’re losing some access to the market right now,” he reveals. “There’s nothing like really being on the ground.” He is also eager to go back to China soon. He has been saving the scenic regions so far, he says. “I’ve never been to China as a tourist, but I know the industrial areas very well,” he says with a smile. Paul Meerkamp
Return home after work, kick up your feet, and be served? That is not only possible back at home with the parents, but now also in the big Chinese city. Provided you have a bit of (digital) change at the ready and are willing to spend it. “Lazy economy” is the name of the booming service sector that makes this possible. Why not just call a spade a spade? In Chinese, the new sector is really called 懒人经济 lǎnrén jīngjì (懒人 lǎnrén “lazy person” + 经济 jīngjì “economy”).
The usual suspects of the urban service landscape in the Middle Kingdom – namely the tardy triad of DiDi cab-hailing, Waimai delivery service and Kuaidi express delivery – are just the tip of the couch potato iceberg.
Popular manifestations of the lazy economy also include citywide errand boy services (同城配送 tóngchéng pèisòng) for urgent documents, forgotten keys, or small last-minute gifts (of course, only the last few meters or steps of the route are made on foot, the rest is done by rattling motorcycles or agile electric scooters). And strangers’ legs can also be hired if the favorite restaurant or milk tea stand is outside the usual standard range of popular food delivery apps. So-called “fancy footwork” (跑腿 pǎotuǐ) then take over the extra mile for a small surcharge.
Fancy some healthy homemade food, but too lazy to swing the kitchen knife? No problem. In China, all you need to do is use your smartphone to have washed and pre-cut vegetables and all kinds of other wok-ready ingredients delivered to your door in no time at all. And if that is still too much, you can simply order a private chef to boot. Conveniently, the cook brings the necessary cooking utensils and usually does the dishes at the end. Or perhaps you feel the desire for a spontaneous hotpot menu in your own four walls? Well – large firepot chains in China such as Haidilao (海底捞 Hǎidǐlāo) offer an all-round carefree package for notorious slackers. From dips to meat rolls, from ladles to electric hot plates, everything is delivered and picked up on the same or the following day after the feeding frenzy. But of course you still have to eat yourself.
Can’t get any lazier, you say? Please do not underestimate the ingenuity of Chinese product marketers. Naturally, they have long since recognized the monetary gravity of the lazy segment and have been throwing new bait into the slacker jungle for some time now. First and foremost: self-heating instant meals (自热方便食品 zìrè fāngbiàn shípǐn). Boring instant noodles are a thing of the past. Today, big-city sloths use a bit of boiled water to whip up their own steaming dish classics from the bowl, such as rice with diced kungpao chicken (宫保鸡丁 Gōngbǎo-jīdīng) or fragrant stir-fried pork (鱼香肉丝 Yúxiāng-ròusī). A chemical pouch that releases heat when it comes into contact with liquid makes this possible. With its help, the ingredients in the plastic bowl are cooked to mouthwatering perfection in just a few minutes, without the need for a microwave.
Other companies that want a slice of the sloucher pie are the manufacturers of smart household appliances (智能家用电器 zhìnéng jiāyòng diànqì). They ensure that you don’t even have to reach for the remote or sweep chip crumbs off the floor. The former is no longer necessary thanks to intelligent devices with voice control, while the latter is taken over by the cleaning robot with no complaining.
By the way, the gizmo extravaganza especially flourishes amongst the young, smartphone-savvy clientele in China’s developed east (there is a clear age and east-west divide, according to statistics).
As far as colloquial terms for their lazy peers are concerned, however, the Chinese are anything but idle. There is a whole range of lazy synonyms that stand out for their figurative character. They range from “lazy ghost” (懒鬼 lǎnguǐ) and “lazy egg” (懒蛋 lǎndàn) to “lazy worm” (懒虫 lǎnchóng) and “lazy cat” (懒猫 lǎnmāo) to “lazy bone” (懒骨头lǎn gǔtou).
Thank you for at least not being too lazy to read to the end of this text. But now we have earned a break – until our next linguistic column.
Verena Menzel runs the online language school New Chinese in Beijing.
China’s media censors have a very short fuse. Undesirable posts and comments on social media often disappear within minutes. Unwelcome narratives are either absent or only appear on the sidelines in Chinese news reporting. The most recent example was the Russian invasion of Ukraine.
In an interview with China.Table, sinologist Mareike Ohlberg explains how well-educated Chinese still get news from abroad and what sources feed their worldview. Others, however, support media control. In their view, censorship is necessary to maintain social order. Nevertheless, media censorship is also a problem for the Party, says Ohlberg speaking with Fabian Peltsch. “It takes a lot of effort and contradicts itself.”
A prime example of tedious censorship also unfolded this weekend. With every passing day of the Covid lockdown in Shanghai, the tone on social media becomes rougher – but users also get more and more creative in their attempts to bypass the government’s deleters and blockers, as our colleagues from China report. One particular video attracted a lot of attention on Saturday and Sunday: “Voices of April“. Learn what it’s all about in our analysis.
Lockdowns and maintaining supplies during the zero-covid policy are currently complicating the work of logisticians in the People’s Republic. AHK Hong Kong and the Port of Hamburg Marketing will report on the impact of the Covid measures and the Ukraine war on supply chains in a panel discussion on Thursday (28.4.). China.Table is a media partner: Our subscribers will be able to attend the webinar “Rethinking Global Supply Chains – Navigating Complex Challenges in 2022 and Beyond” for free. As a licensee, you will receive a separate email on this later today.
Ms. Ohlberg, the pro-Russian coverage of the Ukraine war has once again shown how one-sided Chinese state media spread their narrative. We in the West like to believe that the educated Chinese know that they are being fed propaganda.
It is one thing to know that news is filtered and you are being fed propaganda, and another not to still give some credence to the narrative. Of course, many Chinese know how their own media is made.
Don’t they feel patronized?
There are those who say, “yes, it is annoying,” but they put up with it and are then influenced by it in one way or another. Others give more credence to other sources, be it foreign media or “alternative” Chinese media. But there are also Chinese who defend media censorship. I have encountered this argument from time to time at Chinese universities. There, more regime-compliant academics argue that censorship is necessary for social order and the common good. The elitist mindset of some people even sometimes tends to claim: Their fellow citizens in China are incapable or not educated enough to handle the truth or the full spectrum of information responsibly – or even to elect their own parties democratically.
What do such educated Chinese read to get diversified information about politics from abroad?
This is, of course, a large group of people and, accordingly, there are differences in how individuals or certain groups obtain information. Some do have access to foreign news, either via a VPN or because they live outside of China. These are then sometimes read in parallel with official Chinese media, as well as frequently non-official Chinese media located overseas. However, one phenomenon that very much characterizes Chinese information circles is WeChat information bubbles. Through WeChat, people stay in touch with friends and acquaintances, similar to WhatsApp, but it is also a news source or the main news source for many people, including Chinese living abroad. The news that can be consumed via WeChat is, in turn, usually subject to censorship guidelines and filters imposed by the Chinese government. Administrators these days are accountable for everything that goes on in their groups. A few years ago, there was a bit more freedom.
What leeway does Chinese media have to deviate from the official party narrative?
There are media outlets that find room to report more independently every now and then. We saw this at the beginning of the pandemic, when Caixin was quite free and committed to good, investigative journalism and excellent reporting on the ground. This potential still exists, but it can often only be utilized to a limited extent. Depending on media control, windows open up, but unfortunately, they always close again very quickly.
Why does the state finance this huge censorship apparatus on the one hand and on the other hand not take more decisive action against the use of VPN networks, which allow users to easily access foreign news?
This certainly has to do with economic relations with foreign countries. Many foreign companies use VPNs and do not necessarily want to use a channel provided by the state. If VPNs were categorically banned or blocked, this would also have an impact on foreign and economic relations.
At the same time, the Party has managed to prevent the population from using VPNs without a blanket ban. For example, they rely on deterrence: Time and again, some people are arrested and prosecuted, mostly those who provide or sell VPNs. Many Chinese think that VPNs are illegal, which is not correct. But what is allowed and what is not is intentionally left unclear.
It’s the same old story: You don’t know where you stand. And if the public security apparatus wants to give you trouble, it will certainly find a reason. That’s why I can understand why some people prefer to be cautious. Above all, however, I don’t believe that obtaining information via VPN networks will have any effect on the broad masses as long as the possibilities of being able to discuss this information further in the public sphere are so severely restricted in China.
Is the Party elite allowed to use VPN networks officially?
Certain government departments or sub-departments that are trusted and need access to the unfiltered Internet to do their job have access to the Western Internet even without a VPN. For example, there are people in the state apparatus whose job it is to specifically monitor foreign media and gather what is being discussed there. During the outbreak of the so-called Jasmine protests in 2011, I posted a YouTube video on the Internet myself. Half of the clicks came from China. Others have observed similar things.
This indicates that certain government agencies have access via direct lines. If they had used a VPN, the country of origin of the click would not have been China, but the location of the respective VPN server used to bypass censorship. In addition, there are media agencies such as Xinhua that produce press reviews for the political elite. The higher the cadres are in the hierarchy, the bigger the writing usually is, because they are usually quite old (laughs).
Media such as the New York Times or Spiegel often translate investigative stories from China into Chinese. Does that have an effect in China?
Basically, everything gets somewhere. But I don’t believe that such news reaches a critical mass. This is usually only accomplished when people organize themselves, exchange information with each other, and have a common public space. But right now we’re moving in the opposite direction: Access is becoming more and more difficult, and all channels through which people can exchange information are becoming more and more controlled.
In your book “Hidden Hand,” you write that Beijing does not want to maintain media censorship forever.
Media censorship is also a problem for the Party: it takes a lot of effort and contradicts itself. As a long-term goal, Beijing wants to expand its global discourse power. If foreign countries follow Beijing’s narrative, censorship in China can gradually be dropped. That is the idea. However, that’s a bit like Marx’s withering away of the state, so it’s a goal in the very, very distant future. For now, censorship continues to expand, and will continue to do so for a long time.
Dr. Mareike Ohlberg is a Senior Fellow in the Asia Program of the Global Marshall Fund and Co-Director of the Stockholm China Forum. She focuses on Chinese foreign policy, media and digital policy, and developments in Hong Kong and Taiwan.
China ratified two International Labor Organization (ILO) conventions against forced labor last week (China.Table reported). The decision came as a surprise, as negotiations with the People’s Republic on concessions in this regard have been going on for decades. After all, these are two longstanding ILO conventions:
The ILO is part of the United Nations (UN). It has been around since 1919, making it over a hundred years old. Its goal is to improve the social conditions for workers. To this end, it primarily defines rules and standards. Conventions on forced labor are therefore among the cornerstones of its work. It outlaws “all work or service which is exacted from any person under the threat of a penalty and for which the person has not offered himself or herself voluntarily.” Until last week, however, China refused to sign it. Not surprising in a country that only formally closed its work camps in 2013, only to open new ones in Xinjiang a short time later.
However, observers do not expect any actual improvements for local workers. The move was a “diplomatic decision” that will not lead to any significant changes, Aidan Chau of the non-governmental organization China Labour Bulletin told China.Table. The Hong Kong-based organization campaigns for workers’ rights in the People’s Republic.
Experience shows that China signs many conventions, but practice in the country changes only insignificantly. For example, China has also ratified the 1988 Safety and Health in Construction Convention, Chau said. “However, we continue to observe that occupational accidents on construction sites, such as crane collapses, are common in China.” Major progress on workers’ interests and rights can only come through collective negotiations, Chau said. But independent unions do not exist in China. Other forms of employee organizations are also weak in China.
The ILO is also hardly in a position to verify the implementation of its conventions. China rejects all accusations of forced labor – especially in the Xinjiang province. Beijing is unlikely to agree to on-site investigations by independent experts.
The timing of the ratification is not entirely coincidental. In May, the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights, Michelle Bachelet, is scheduled to visit China for the first time – including the Xinjiang region. With the ratification, China now wants to signal that the protection of workers’ rights is taken seriously, Surya Deva, a law professor at Macquarie University in Australia, told the South China Morning Post newspaper.
According to Deva, however, it is unlikely that the ILO conventions will result in the abolition of forced labor on the ground. Beijing was making the move out of calculation: “to warm its relations with the EU in view of the increasing cleavage with the US over the Russian invasion of Ukraine and to try reviving the CAI.” The fact that the People’s Republic refused to ratify the ILO conventions has so far been one of the main points of contention regarding the investment agreement between the European Union and China (CAI).
While this issue has been resolved, it is not enough. CAI has been on hold for more than a year. The main reason for this was the mutual sanctions imposed in March 2021. Brussels had imposed them on several leading officials in Xinjiang over human rights violations against the Uyghurs. Beijing responded with counter-sanctions, including against EU MEPs.
Could signing off on the agreements now bring momentum to the CAI tussle? Probably not. “While ratification of the ILO conventions is a great gesture by Beijing toward Brussels, it does not eliminate the main obstacles to CAI ratification,” says Merics analyst Grzegorz Stec. CAI remains on hold for very different obstacles: mutual sanctions and the trade dispute over Lithuania. “None of these issues is likely to be resolved in the foreseeable future, including in the context of political tensions over Beijing’s alignment with Moscow,” Stec said.
Beijing seems to be in a “damage control mode” toward the EU. The EU-China summit did not go very well (China.Table reported). The ILO conventions are also not helping much at the moment, according to Stec. The focus of EU-China relations would increasingly shift toward “systemic rivalry”. Improving the relationship with Brussels could be difficult for the leadership in Beijing, Stec explains.
A clear rejection of any progress on CAI because of the ratification of the ILO convention also came from the EU Trade Commissioner. The EU does place great value on the ILO and welcomes the step, he said. But as long as sanctions against EU MEPs are in place, CAI will not be revived.
“I hoped that after two years of Corona we would now find calmer waters,” admits Ulrich Ackermann. It turned out differently. His foreign trade department at the German Engineering Federation (VDMA) is particularly busy at the moment. Currently, the main issues are the sanctions against Russia and their implications, including for trade with China. Ackermann and his team are available to the more than 3,400 member companies whenever they have questions about customs duties, export regulations or the general conditions on foreign markets.
“The bottom line is that we are a kind of consulting firm for our members in all matters relating to exports and foreign trade,” says Ackermann, describing his role. And there is no shortage of inquiries. The 63-year-old just received a call from a member company that was urgently looking for a new steel supplier, claiming that the market had been swept clean. “Who knows that 20 percent of the steel slabs processed in Western Europe come from Russia and Ukraine?” asks Ackermann. For laymen: A slab is a cast, elongated block.
Above all, many medium-sized companies in the industry value the expertise of the VDMA. 15 experts for all regions of the world and all relevant topics are working in its department in Frankfurt am Main. They receive additional support from the Berlin branch and the VDMA’s foreign offices, including two in China. The country is extremely important for the industry; in 2020, German companies supplied mechanical engineering products worth more than €18 billion to it. Sanctions against China would have an enormous impact.
That is why Ackermann looks with concern at Xi Jinping’s behavior toward Putin, but also at the relationship with Taiwan. “Free trade just requires stable framework conditions,” says the Frankfurt native. Markets have fascinated him for decades. In 1986, Ackermann wrote his diploma thesis in economics about a possible liberalization of European air traffic. Immediately afterward, he joined the VDMA, where he worked on the then-emerging European single market. Since 2005, he has been steering the foreign trade department through uncertain times.
Uncertainty also currently dominates the Chinese market. Due to the strict Covid entry rules, small and medium-sized companies, in particular, are restricted in their business, he says. “A lot of people are telling us we’re losing some access to the market right now,” he reveals. “There’s nothing like really being on the ground.” He is also eager to go back to China soon. He has been saving the scenic regions so far, he says. “I’ve never been to China as a tourist, but I know the industrial areas very well,” he says with a smile. Paul Meerkamp
Return home after work, kick up your feet, and be served? That is not only possible back at home with the parents, but now also in the big Chinese city. Provided you have a bit of (digital) change at the ready and are willing to spend it. “Lazy economy” is the name of the booming service sector that makes this possible. Why not just call a spade a spade? In Chinese, the new sector is really called 懒人经济 lǎnrén jīngjì (懒人 lǎnrén “lazy person” + 经济 jīngjì “economy”).
The usual suspects of the urban service landscape in the Middle Kingdom – namely the tardy triad of DiDi cab-hailing, Waimai delivery service and Kuaidi express delivery – are just the tip of the couch potato iceberg.
Popular manifestations of the lazy economy also include citywide errand boy services (同城配送 tóngchéng pèisòng) for urgent documents, forgotten keys, or small last-minute gifts (of course, only the last few meters or steps of the route are made on foot, the rest is done by rattling motorcycles or agile electric scooters). And strangers’ legs can also be hired if the favorite restaurant or milk tea stand is outside the usual standard range of popular food delivery apps. So-called “fancy footwork” (跑腿 pǎotuǐ) then take over the extra mile for a small surcharge.
Fancy some healthy homemade food, but too lazy to swing the kitchen knife? No problem. In China, all you need to do is use your smartphone to have washed and pre-cut vegetables and all kinds of other wok-ready ingredients delivered to your door in no time at all. And if that is still too much, you can simply order a private chef to boot. Conveniently, the cook brings the necessary cooking utensils and usually does the dishes at the end. Or perhaps you feel the desire for a spontaneous hotpot menu in your own four walls? Well – large firepot chains in China such as Haidilao (海底捞 Hǎidǐlāo) offer an all-round carefree package for notorious slackers. From dips to meat rolls, from ladles to electric hot plates, everything is delivered and picked up on the same or the following day after the feeding frenzy. But of course you still have to eat yourself.
Can’t get any lazier, you say? Please do not underestimate the ingenuity of Chinese product marketers. Naturally, they have long since recognized the monetary gravity of the lazy segment and have been throwing new bait into the slacker jungle for some time now. First and foremost: self-heating instant meals (自热方便食品 zìrè fāngbiàn shípǐn). Boring instant noodles are a thing of the past. Today, big-city sloths use a bit of boiled water to whip up their own steaming dish classics from the bowl, such as rice with diced kungpao chicken (宫保鸡丁 Gōngbǎo-jīdīng) or fragrant stir-fried pork (鱼香肉丝 Yúxiāng-ròusī). A chemical pouch that releases heat when it comes into contact with liquid makes this possible. With its help, the ingredients in the plastic bowl are cooked to mouthwatering perfection in just a few minutes, without the need for a microwave.
Other companies that want a slice of the sloucher pie are the manufacturers of smart household appliances (智能家用电器 zhìnéng jiāyòng diànqì). They ensure that you don’t even have to reach for the remote or sweep chip crumbs off the floor. The former is no longer necessary thanks to intelligent devices with voice control, while the latter is taken over by the cleaning robot with no complaining.
By the way, the gizmo extravaganza especially flourishes amongst the young, smartphone-savvy clientele in China’s developed east (there is a clear age and east-west divide, according to statistics).
As far as colloquial terms for their lazy peers are concerned, however, the Chinese are anything but idle. There is a whole range of lazy synonyms that stand out for their figurative character. They range from “lazy ghost” (懒鬼 lǎnguǐ) and “lazy egg” (懒蛋 lǎndàn) to “lazy worm” (懒虫 lǎnchóng) and “lazy cat” (懒猫 lǎnmāo) to “lazy bone” (懒骨头lǎn gǔtou).
Thank you for at least not being too lazy to read to the end of this text. But now we have earned a break – until our next linguistic column.
Verena Menzel runs the online language school New Chinese in Beijing.
