Russell Leigh Moses
It’s rare in China to see a showdown between the government and the governed in which the ruling powers are forced to yield to public dismay and change course.
But that’s exactly what we saw this week. The battle wasn’t about democracy — it was about trees.
Here’s what happened. The former Republican-era capital of Nanjing has embarked on a massive expansion of its subway system; from 2 lines to perhaps 20 or more in as many years. Making urban China modern entails building major transportation networks no matter what the cost. A dozen or so Chinese cities already have subway systems; nearly twenty more have plans. These projects are attempts by municipalities to deal with the growing gridlock on China’s streets produced by cars and urban sprawl. They are also paths for political promotion of cadres yearning for elevation to Beijing.
Nanjing is no exception. And it’s difficult for anyone in China—high or low–to argue against urban development.
But matters got complicated. To make way for at least two of the subway lines, the Nanjing authorities decided that they needed to remove over a thousand trees, many of them wutong trees, whose distinctive shape and foliage provide shade and respite from Nanjing’s famous furnace heat. Visitors to Nanjing always notice how special these trees are, and residents of the city are justifiably proud of the distinction that the wutong trees bring to their city.
Many residents tied green ribbons around the trees to signal their support for efforts to save them (report in Chinese). They were irked by the lack of notice given by the government to remove the trees despite assurances that some would be transplanted elsewhere. Many knew from online forums and even the local media in Nanjing that an earlier effort at to transplant trees years before had led to many of them dying. Public dismay and distrust grew, and many called for demonstrations on the weekend to persuade the local government to back off.
Nanjing authorities would have surely preferred the issue to remain local. Vice Mayor Lu Bing went so far as to invite journalists for a press conference, explaining the government’s case, thanking the public for its concern, and even hinting that the removal procedures were under review (report in Chinese). Nanjing officials must have believed that pressure from below would dissipate before Beijing became anxious and intervened.
But the national media was already starting to cover the controversy, noting both the local government’s line and that there was public restlessness. While some media urged Nanjing to find a balance between construction and protection (report in Chinese), one of the central Party newspapers noted (Chinese) that while removing trees was not new in Nanjing, neither was civic dissatisfaction with those policies every time it was done. Astonishingly, a leading Kuomintang legislator in Taiwan weighed in, protesting that the Nanjing city government was smearing the legacy of Sun Yat-sen through their actions—and his comments were carried in the popular nationalist newspaper in China, Global Times (Chinese).
By Thursday evening, it was clear that the local authorities had lost the high-ground, and a truce was called. Both the Nanjing Party secretary and the mayor appeared publicly to assure that the removal of the trees would be halted pending further study and more public input (report in Chinese).
Nanjing officials presented this decision as a triumph of listening to the public. Some netizens praised (Chinese) the response of the government.
So what does this all mean?
These events showed yet again that much remains missing in Chinese policy-making. The lack of transparency, the absence of meaningful public hearings before decisions are made or initiatives get underway, the dearth of accountability to the public where official conduct is concerned—these are all much more important at the present stage of China’s political development than democracy.
Nanjing residents were not eager to subvert the government or to take command; but they did want to save officials from making what they saw as a monumentally stupid decision.
One positive sign in Nanjing in the past days was that when calls for public protest began in the blogosphere not a single official talked about the need for social stability. Some in government circles have acknowledged for months that the emphasis on stability at all costs has gotten far too costly; that cadres have become tone-deaf to local concerns. Reformers have lost some recent struggles to the truncheon-swingers but this one was a win.
Better politics in China starts with better policy. Nanjing shows what some cadres have already been saying: That having residents involved in local decisions earlier remains an attractive alternative to keeping the public out. Perhaps those waiting to take over the Party leadership next year were taking notes.