The roads on the outskirts of Beira are lined with warehouses run by Chinese people. After several failed attempts, we manage to convince Zheng (not his real name) to let us take a peek inside his facilities, which are about the size of a football pitch. At one end of the warehouse, various types of tree trunks are waiting in piles for lorries to arrive so that they can be immediately stamped and sent on their way without any great level of scrutiny. “I buy the wood from some Chinese people who live to the north of the country. There are lots of Chinese people there. I don’t know where the wood comes from or whether it has been felled legally or illegally,” he admits. At the other end of the warehouse, a hazardous machine consisting of a saw and a power generator serves as a sawmill. “All the technology comes from China. There is nothing local here,” he tells us. Originally from Henan province, Zheng arrived in Beira four years ago, attracted by “the opportunities offered by the country.”
He lives alone, having left his family behind in China. He plans to return to his own country once he has made his fortune, which does not seem like a very distant prospect. “I’ve made several hundred thousand dollars,” he tells us frankly. The Mozambican forests foot the bill for this newfound wealth: each month Zheng exports between thirty and forty 18-ton containers to China, or 7,500 tons of timber each year.15 “Because of the Chinese, 25 percent of the forests have disappeared in the provinces of Sofala, Zambezia and Nampula, to name just a few. In four or five years there will be nothing left,” Ana Alonso concludes. If the logging continues at its current rate, Mozambique’s entire reserves of hardwood will be wiped out in less than a decade.16
THE INHERENT DANGERS OF CHINA’S NATIONAL INTEREST
The list of countries, like Russia and Mozambique, whose forests are suffering as a result of Chinese demand and the corruption and negligence of the local elites is extensive: Papua New Guinea, Indonesia, Burma, the Democratic Republic of Congo, Madagascar, Gabon, Equatorial Guinea … the list goes on. The effects of all this would no doubt be much less severe if the client was not the most populated country in the world and the biggest producer of wooden products on the planet.17 China’s dependence on other countries to satisfy the needs of its market is growing constantly in the face of enormous rates of consumption, which will require new suppliers at some point in the immediate future.18 This explains why the country is exploring every corner of the world in search of the precious—and lucrative—raw material.
The same factors which we saw in Russia and Mozambique are evident in all the abovementioned developing countries which China has turned to for its wood supplies. The first of these is the generalized use of corruption, which fuels both the timber industry and environmental abuse. This is perhaps the most critical common denominator in this process, as it allows Chinese businessmen to gain easy access to large quantities of precious specimens without having to concern themselves with the origin of the wood, its legality or the methods used to obtain it. Secondly, resources are exported in their natural state without creating any kind of processing industry that might generate wealth on a local level in terms of employment or investments. The Chinese authorities’ complete lack of interest in monitoring the origin of the wood—a process routinely carried out by more responsible countries—completes the modus operandi of this perfect crime.
What is the social and environmental impact of this drama on the rest of the world? To begin with, it is causing a silent but rapid looting of hardwood forest species in the developing world, with a steady decline in reserves in places such as Africa and Latin America.19 In terms of socioeconomic factors, the participation in the payment of bribes helps to perpetuate systems of corruption. Furthermore, exporting the raw material in its original form prevents the development of any economic impact in terms of employment, added value or the transfer of technology or knowledge. While the Chinese government and businessmen are, of course, not the only ones to blame, there is no doubt that they hold some responsibility, particularly in terms of the Chinese state’s indifference to ending or substantially reducing the country’s consumption of illegal wood. China could do much more to prevent this, but the destruction of the forests and its socioeconomic impact are seen as a necessary evil, or rather as the side effects of a more important necessity: the country’s own development and well-being.
On the contrary, in the interests of its own economic prosperity the government contributes to ensuring that China—a country which controls a third of the world’s furniture trade, exporting furniture to the value of over $16 billion in 201020—continues to launder illegal timber on a massive scale:21 illegal baobab, ebony and mahogany enter its territory and are transformed into parquet flooring, tables, cupboards and sofas which are then exported to the lucrative markets of the United States and Europe. Alternatively, they are sold in Shanghai or Canton, where a rosewood bed with a Ming dynasty design can be sold for $800,000.22
CHINA’S HEGEMONY OVER THE MEKONG RIVER
One example of these lucrative business dealings can be seen in the Chinese town of Jinghong in the south of Yunnan province, a few kilometers from the border with Thailand and Burma. Jinghong is a peaceful town full of tropical vegetation and Buddhist temples where the local people, many of them from the Dai ethnic minority, bet on cockfights in their spare time. The main streets are lined with luxury shops selling jade, and furniture made of Burmese wood, attracting customers who are oblivious to the drama taking place in Burmese mines we saw in Chapter 3. However, it was not the impact on the Burmese forests that had brought us on our second journey to the region. Instead we had come in search of the mythical water serpent which runs through Jinghong—the “city of dawn”—and stretches for 4,880 kilometers through the heart of Asia until it finally comes to rest on the coast of Vietnam: the Mekong river.
Although we have booked our tickets in advance, Bai Haiping still asks us to confirm one day before the journey in case the water levels have dropped and our trip needs to be canceled. “Yes, there’s enough water. The boat leaves tomorrow at eight thirty,” our tourist guide confirms over the telephone. The amount of traffic through the area has dropped off significantly lately as a result of the low water levels on this stretch of the river. Now, just two small speedboats head off each month towards Thailand along the Lancang—the “Turbulent River”—as the Chinese part of the Mekong is known. The authorities blame climate change and the recent drought—an event which is remembered for the disastrous effects it had in 201023—for the current situation on the river. However, from the Xishuangbanna Bridge over the Mekong we can glimpse another contributing factor: the hydroelectric projects built along the river.
The only way we can approach the enormous cement wall blocking the murky waters of the Mekong is by taking a short journey in one of the small canoes belonging to the local fishermen. “The foreigner can’t come in here,” a policeman manning a checkpoint on the road to the Jinghong Dam had told us. Tensions are running high in the area. While it is not one of the biggest Chinese dams, it has had one of the biggest effects on the local population. “The dam has affected the ethnic minorities who live on the riverbanks, as well as having a direct impact on the Xishuangbanna nature reserve,” explained Yu Xiaogang, director of the Chinese NGO Green Watershed, whose organization estimates that several thousand people have been evicted from the area. When we compare this with the social and environmental impact of the Three Gorges Dam, the Jinghong Dam is clearly a smaller project. However, its peculiarity resides in the fact that it is the last in a series of four dams which have already been built on the Chinese side of the Mekong, while another four are currently under construction or in the planning stage.24 This sequence of hydroelectric barriers is aimed at supplying energy to China’s eastern regions, the country’s industrial heartland, as well as facilitating business with Thailand and Laos, countries which buy electricity from China.25 All this work is being undertaken unilaterally by China: from the approval of the first dam (the Manwan Dam) in 1986 to the present
day, Beijing has never consulted any of the countries (Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, Vietnam and Burma) which lie on the path of a river with the second greatest levels of biodiversity on the planet after the Amazon.26
A dozen soldiers from the People’s Liberation Army make an appearance at a military post on Jinghong’s port, slightly dampening the spirits of the fifty or so tourists waiting for an exit stamp on their passports so that they can set off along the river towards Thailand. Once we have climbed into our small, rickety boat, the motor roars into action and we finally set off downriver along the Mekong. The urban scenery immediately disappears and the thick vegetation of Southeast Asia dominates both riverbanks, while at times the fog makes it impossible to see the rocks projecting out of the sandy current. Whenever the boat runs across another vessel, as constantly happens with the modest rafts of the Burmese fishermen—easily recognizable by the satellite dishes installed on their wooden roofs—it slows down. The same thing happens whenever we see a Chinese cargo ship traveling upstream after transporting “Made in China” products throughout Southeast Asia.
Plowing its way stealthily through the water into Burmese territory, our boat soon stops so that two soldiers can collect the toll fee from our captain: a wad of red notes which may or may not be required by law. Further on, the river begins to widen and comes to life with women washing clothes on the riverbanks and men breaking their backs farming the fertile lands alongside the “mother of waters,” as the Mekong is known in the Thai language. However, most of all it is the hustle and bustle of pointed fishing boats that lends a mystical air to a river which begins its journey in the Himalayas and whose resources provide a means of survival for over 60 million people. Som Wang’s boat is almost 20 meters long and is equipped with blue leather seats recovered from a wrecked bus. Despite the flimsiness of the boat it is a fabulous vessel, with its bow covered in colorful posters and a music system playing the popular Thai hits of the day. The tanned skins of this Thai fisherman and his crew are covered in tattoos, including one on Som Wang’s back showing a fish about to swallow a hook: a symbol of the passion of these men who have spent most of their lives fishing around Chiang Khong, a small fishing town in northern Thailand. “My father taught me all my fishing skills. I started when I was nine years old, following his instructions about how, when and where to fish,” he says, smiling, as he tells us how his family have lived off the Mekong for generations.
This way of life is now in danger. “Ten years ago there were hundreds of active fishing boats in the area. By 2008 there were only sixty left. Today there are no more than thirty.” This decline has been caused by the “great changes suffered by the river,” which have led to a dramatic fall in the diversity of the river species as well as the quantity and weight of the fish. “We used to know exactly when the river seasons were going to change. There were two of them: the rainy season and the dry season. We used to understand the natural cycle of the Mekong and we knew that there would always be fish in certain places. All that has changed now,” explains thirty-eight-year-old Som Wang, who refuses to let his son follow in his professional footsteps. “There’s no future in it,” he tells us.
It is difficult to blame one single agent for the changes that have taken place in such a rich and complex ecosystem as the Mekong. However, in Chiang Khong everybody points the finger at China. On the one hand, the local people blame Beijing for building the dams which have forced the river to such extremes: the water levels are now not only affected by rainfall, but also by the opening and closing of the sluice gates used to generate electricity. On the other hand, the people accuse China of being interested only in the river’s commercial uses, which have led Beijing to demolish the rapids and rocks along the main stretch of the river in order to make it more accessible by boat, thereby eroding the riverbed. Despite the irrepressible smiles on the faces of the Thai people, there is much resentment in Chiang Khong against their neighbor. This is particularly true among the local fishermen, who now have to find alternative ways of making a living. Most of them transport merchandise or passengers to Laos, on the other side of the river. “We used to be able to make a lot of money if we worked hard during the fishing season, but now I can barely make 500 bahts [around 12 euros] working from four o’clock in the morning until seven o’clock at night. As well as the decline in the fish population, the size of the fish has fallen: species that used to weigh seven or eight kilos now hardly even reach two kilos,” Wang complains. One of these species is the legendary giant catfish. This fabulous migratory creature is one of the biggest freshwater fish on the planet, measuring up to 3 meters in length and 300 kilos in weight. This marvel is now in danger of extinction as a result of the impenetrable walls which block its path as it travels upstream.
Niwat Roykaew, founder of the local NGO Chiang Khong Conservation Group, has been following the changes in the river as it travels through seven Thai provinces since 1996. He has come to exactly the same conclusion as the fishermen who took part in a demonstration outside the Chinese embassy in Bangkok in April 2011 in protest against the planned Chinese hydroelectric projects along the Mekong river. “The problems started in 2003, when building work began on the Daochashan Dam. The water levels began to fluctuate dramatically outside the seasonal period. The fishermen could no longer understand the river’s natural cycle,” says Roykaew, a man with the appearance of a classic 1970s hippie. These incredible oscillations, which can see water levels fluctuating by up to 3 meters in just 24 hours without any rainfall being recorded upstream, have led to terrible and unprecedented situations. “The fishermen now find themselves ‘fishing’ birds,” he explains. “It’s a common practice among the indigenous population to leave their fishing rods buried in the earth for hours at a time while they go away. When they come back, the fishermen find that the hooks are out in the open, as the river’s water levels have dropped so dramatically. As a result, they end up catching birds instead of fish.”
The local communities which do not make a living from fishing have been equally badly affected. “The increase in the river’s water level has also flooded and devastated the crops of the many local people who plant tobacco or corn along the riverbanks. It has also destroyed the livelihood of the many women who used to collect and dry algae. When the algae is exposed as a result of the fall in water levels, the sun burns it and makes it unusable. As a result, many families have left Chiang Khong in search of work in other places,” Roykaew explains.
NATIONAL SOVEREIGNTY AND THE IMPORTANCE OF “NO INTERVENTION”
As the Mekong represents such an important resource for neighboring countries such as Vietnam and Cambodia, it is somewhat surprising that Beijing continues to make decisions about the river unilaterally, particularly considering the harm that this behavior does to the country’s image.27 China’s level of collaboration with these countries has increased very slightly in recent years, particularly since 2010 when Beijing was criticized for not sharing information about the country’s water resources during a period of historic droughts. Partly as a result of pressure from the international press, Beijing now shares some of the information gathered by its meteorological stations in Yunnan. However, the level of co-operation is still far from ideal. While China actively insists on being given a role in keeping with its international status at organizations such as the United Nations, the WTO or the World Bank, it flatly refuses to enter into multilateral talks with the downstream countries, which are already engaging in dialogue aimed at guaranteeing the sustainability of projects along the main course of the Mekong river.
The organization responsible for bringing together the countries which share the river’s resources is the Mekong River Commission (MRC), an international institution created in 1995. China, the only country so far to have built dams along the Mekong, joined the institution in 2002, although—like Burma—it is not a full member.28 Unfortunately for the other nations involved, China has only joined as a dialogue partner, which in practice means that it par
ticipates in meetings but does not share any information or submit its river activities to the institution for review. This way of saving face in the diplomatic arena without having to take on any undesirable commitments is simply not good enough, according to Yu Xiaogang, the director of Green Watershed. “It would be good for the health of the river if China could join the MRC as soon as possible.” Sadly, although the Mekong’s sustainability has reached a critical point, the situation does not seem likely to change any time soon. “China is still a long way from becoming a full member of the MRC,” admits Tiffany Hacker, spokesperson for the Commission, when we meet her at the institute’s headquarters in the Laotian capital, Vientiane.
As a way of subliminally justifying its absence from the river commission, China argues that it was not invited to form part of the commission when it was first established, which was largely a result of its conflict with Vietnam. Beijing’s decision has also doubtlessly been influenced by its belief that joining the institution would prevent it from being able to develop the river in its own territory exactly as it pleases. However, He Deming, probably China’s leading expert on transboundary river-related issues, offered an additional argument when we met him some days earlier: “The MRC is not an independent institution because it receives funds from countries outside the Commission. Furthermore, it does not have enough power to resolve these problems,” he argued during a particularly tense interview at his office at the University of Kunming. “I never talk to foreign journalists,” he had previously told us.
As Hacker explains, the MRC does indeed receive funds from countries such as France, the United States and Australia. However, this money is provided for specific scientific research projects, making it difficult to accuse the organization of being politicized. The truth is that China objects to having to give up its current ability to make unilateral decisions about the river. “If China was a member of the MRC, it would have to notify the Commission about any projects on the Mekong six months in advance, so that these projects can be debated and studied by the rest of the countries. The decisions made by the MRC are not binding, but they do act as a counterweight, as the rest of the countries examine the environmental studies and plans for each project,” Hacker points out. For China, a country obsessed with preventing other countries from dictating its international agenda, this is an act of interference in its domestic affairs. “Co-ordinating projects between six countries would be very complicated. In our system everything is done according to a pyramid approach: the order is given from the top and carried out at the base. We believe that other countries should follow this model, because if you let everybody give their opinion it is difficult to make decisions,” says Jiangwen Qu, a professor at Kunming’s Center for Asian Studies, in justification of China’s stance on this issue.
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