In what can only be seen as an inauspicious portent for the year to come, the Mandarin Oriental Hotel adjacent to the CCTV Tower in Beijing was gutted by a massive inferno last night just months away from its grand opening. So far a Beijing government spokesperson quoted by Xinhua News Agency is blaming the blaze on “illegal launches of fireworks.” The last day of Lunar New Year celebrations always ends with a chaotic barrage of pyrotechnics around the city. This time, however, the biggest show in town was the burning Mandarin Oriental Hotel backlit by the Year of the Ox’s first full moon.

I have no doubt that heads are going to roll after this fiasco. The Mandarin Oriental Hotel was designed by Rem Koolhaas in conjunction with the even more imposing CCTV Tower. Constructed during the 2008 Summer Olympic development boom, the complex stood for a sleek, modern image of Beijing that the Chinese Communist Party continues to paint for the rest of the world. Now the building will always be remembered for the massive fireball it turned into on Lunar New Years and the resulting charred shell standing in the middle of the Central Business District. In an unlikely turn of events, an old world celebration took down China’s new world order.

For now the Chinese media have been rather tightlipped about the situation. China’s Net Nanny was also on the prowl last night as videos posted to YouTube were temporarily blocked as well as links to articles in foreign media sources. Even local workers setting up food carts for morning commuters at 4AM across the street from the tower had no idea that a fire ravaged the building just hours before. In all, there was a general sense of shock mixed with grim acknowledgment of the highly symbolic nature of the building’s destruction.

Fortunately the Mandarin Oriental Hotel was unoccupied before the blaze, the only reported death being that of a firefighter. For now, the spinners in the Propaganda Bureau are going to have an unenviable task of trying to save as much face as possible both domestically and abroad. This is also a sad moment for me personally, as I remain a huge fan of the CCTV complex design. Now the Mandarin Oriental Hotel will be condemned and suffer the fate of the hutongs and block housing that came before.

Props to Omar for giving me the post title.

Macau’s unique character draws deeply from its eclectic cultural heritage. Both the first and last European colony in China, Portuguese sovereignty in Macau was not ceded until 1999, over 400 years after the establishment of the original settlement. Since the handover Macau has existed in a liminal realm stipulated by the “one country, two systems” policy – the Chinese state handles defense and foreign affairs but relinquishes control over domestic matters such as the police force, monetary system and political appointments. However, since Macau opened up its casino sector in 2002, the island’s socioeconomic fate was bound to the rise and fall of its entertainment resorts.

Last month I ventured to Macau to inspect the Cotai Strip, a massive development modeled after the Las Vegas Strip and home to the Las Vegas Sands’ Venetian Macau Resort. Currently the largest casino in the world, the Venetian helped Macau surpass Las Vegas in gambling revenues last year. For now Macau remains the only gambling destination within China and easily one of the most prominent within Asia. Still, the Chinese state is trying to curb the rampant profits and concomitant “dark elements” that spawn from the gambling world. Thanks to new border regulations implemented this summer, mainland Chinese can only visit Macau once every three months.

The loss of such an audience now pales in comparison to the impact of the current global financial downturn. Las Vegas Sands recently laid off 11,000 laborers and suspended work on two expansion projects planned for the Cotai Strip. MGM and Galaxy Entertainment also halted future expansion efforts. The hottest casino market in the world fizzled almost overnight. Still, a halt to the unchecked leeching of Asia’s nouveau riche might not be such a horrible turn of events. More shopping malls and roulette tables should be the least of Macau’s concerns as it continues to come to grips with its new identity as Asia’s premiere entertainment destination.

Over the past few years Macau residents have taken to the streets to protest against rampant corruption and labor issues stemming from the rise of powerful casino moguls. Now, with financial markets spiraling out of control, relying on the luxury entertainment industry no longer seems like a safe bet. For once the demand for casinos in Asia cannot meet the excessive supply in Macau. Catering to indulgent tastes at the Venetian does not fit reform-minded market trends. Even if Macau’s casinos make some sort of recovery in the coming months, the whole enterprise carries a heavier stigma of waste and decadence.

“why the fuck am i loyal to you / we don’t wanna be your victim of greed / sick of you, no future for us / how many people die in famine”

The Changsha concert was the sixth in Demerit‘s Bastards of the Nation Tour, and they powered through a set of gutter punk decked out in tattered t-shirts, AK-47 bullet belts and bondage pants. Responding in kind, the crowd at 4698 Bar tore around the room in an act of mayhem rarely realized outside the smoky confines of underground music clubs across China. Meanwhile, across town on the former grounds of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) Committee in Changsha, stood one of the most famous statues of Mao in China. With his steel arm raised to the sky, the Great Helmsman beckoned the recently founded republic into a new era. Little did he know that only thirty years after his death another wave of rebellious youth, sporting towering mohawks instead of Mao caps, would be decrying his egalitarian fantasy.

While punk in China might be old news, young hardcore bands like Demerit are breathing new life into the scene with incisive lyrics in songs like “Fight Your Apathy” and their latest album’s namesake “Bastards of the Nation.” Both call for an end to political cronyism and lambaste the mindless consumer frenzy gripping China’s youth. Touring outside of government controlled media channels, Demerit brings a nonconformist message to China’s disaffected masses. They play for the downtrodden and those still mired in poverty despite an infusion of rampant, free-market policies into the CCP’s quasi-socialist economics. Rabble-rousing within a muted population largely resigned to government control is an uphill struggle, but Demerit is on a campaign against passivity and compliance.

“send me to work, send me to war / send me to waste my life for you / hate for you, no future for us / we are just bastards of the nation”

The Bastards of the Nation Tour became an important medium for communication when Demerit’s lyrics were censored from their album liner notes earlier this year. All of the music publishing houses in China are state owned and refused to condone such incendiary material, especially leading up to the Olympics. In the end, Demerit could only publish them in English. This awkward concession limited Demerit’s access to new audiences and forced them to take their message to limited-communication Internet forums and directly to the people on tour. There is not much else they could do. While telling an authoritarian government to fuck off certainly bolsters your status in the punk world, China is still a place where voices are silenced daily. Demerit might not have garnered enough momentum for an outright crackdown, but the CCP continues to slowly gag deviant voices amongst the masses. Demerit could easily be muzzled if one piqued official decided to veto their privilege to release new CDs or perform concerts.

Touring in China is by no means a joyride. Long train journeys at odd hours, shabby lodging, and a constant diet of noodles and beer are some of the highlights. Getting paid concert by concert also makes things tight. Still, Demerit prides itself on interacting directly with their fans whether it is a concert for eight in a backwater provincial dive or a few hundred in a music-crazy urban center. Luckily there is a growing network of underground bars and clubs in Beijing, Shanghai, Nanjing, Xian, Wuhan, Guangzhou and Chengdu that promote alternative music in the face of an increasingly pop-dominated market. The 4698 Bar back in Changsha recently became another mainstay for traveling bands and is managed by a group of tattooed entrepreneurs who play in their own punk outfit Last Choice. This nascent tour circuit is turning heads both domestically and internationally and will hopefully provide an established framework for up and coming bands to find audiences in a country renowned for its draconian media control.

“so fuck your pretty thoughts / we don’t care about your perfect plans / so fuck your pretty thoughts / we still have rebel attitude”

The network of clubs also weaves through some of the most intensely developed urban centers in the world. Cities pop up almost overnight across China’s interior. Touted as an “economic miracle,” this vision of modernity spreading throughout China lines select pockets richly, but continues to leave a great number of people out on the curb – grappling with a population of 1.4 billion is no easy feat. Migrant workers from the countryside, the true force behind China’s construction boom, usually can’t afford a residence in municipalities built with their own hands. Demerit thrives off the growing dissatisfaction of people passed over in China’s newfangled Great Leap Forward. Concert goers lose themselves in music that transcends the shallow nationalism that so often defers legitimate criticism of the CCP. Demerit’s hard-hitting punk is one of the most explosive fissures in China’s music underground and will continue to resonate for some time to come.

In an almost anachronistic throwback, Demerit opens their new album with the end of Martin Luther King’s “I have a dream” speech dubbed over a rousing drum line: “I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.” While Martin Luther King’s mission to end segregation and bigotry is seemingly disconnected from the travails of modern China, Demerit’s intent is clear. They want to stand for suppressed voices of a new generation who grew up with little future prospects and no hope to bridge the ever widening gap between the rich and the poor in China. This isn’t the fringe of China, either. Hundreds of millions of Chinese still live largely agrarian existences and will continue to go unspoken for well into this new century. China is sweltering in the heat of oppression and Demerit, at the very least, continues to vent some it at every concert.

All lyrics taken from the song “Bastards of the Nation.”

As notions of art and beauty continue to be disassembled and repackaged with increasing vigor around the planet, new spaces for creative exploration emerge on a daily basis. Unfortunately much of it is pomp and fluff – ineptly masked pastiche. Innovative works that push aesthetic boundaries while challenging the relationship between art and observer appear intermittently. For now, some of the most compelling terrain for imaginative probing takes place in cyberspace, and one Chinese artist remains at the vanguard of this emerging, and sometimes lucrative, field of fancy.

Cao Fei, a 29-year-old Guangzhou native, uses the much-heralded Second Life online world as an artistic medium. The user-generated virtual environment first inspired her video project i.Mirror, a Second Life documentary using screen captures of her digital avatar dubbed China Tracy. Cao Fei begins the sequence of videos with a quote taken from William J. Mitchell’s Me++: The Cyborg Self and the Networked City, “I construct, and I am constructed, in a mutually recursive process that continually engages my fluid, permeable boundaries and my endlessly ramifying networks. I am a spatially extended cyborg.” What follows is a surreal montage of dreamlike landscapes interlaced with fleeting relationships. Cao Fei calls it an illusion, but one dominated by youth, beauty, and money – something too well connected to reality and therein capable of transcending the many boundaries commonly placed between the digital and physical self.

Her newest project, RMB City, is also making waves in the international art circuit with its recent appearance at Art Basel in Miami and the Istanbul Biennial. Designed completely within Second Life, RMB City is a recreation of China’s social landscape in all its paradoxical glory. Giant panda’s hang from cranes while the Bird’s Nest stadium lies partially submerged off the island’s waterfront. Even Tiananmen Square has a swimming pool. Her manifesto explains, “RMB City… doesn’t restore the full present, nor does it recall our reminiscence of the past. It’s a mirror that partially reflects; we see where we were coming from, discover some of the ‘connections’ that fill the pale zone between the real and the virtual, the clues of which get disturbed, enriched, and polished.” Still, plots on the island are up for sale at prices only someone with Cao Fei’s clout could demand for cyber art. A European collector already secured his nook of virtual real estate for 100,000 Euros. Apparently participation comes at a price.

Second Life has drawn its fair share of praise as it blends formerly disparate modes of collective experience, but Cao Fei now promises to take it to a new level. RMB City, as a work of art, cannot be enjoyed outside a digital network. Its environment demands continual submersion into virtual spaces – liminal worlds fueled by self-expression and unfettered by social mores. For some it might continually erode their reality, but others find solace in the online worlds and continue to explore different aspects of the self as Cao Fei lives through China Tracy.

The art of telling stories using caricatures dates back to prehistoric man. Although cave paintings didn’t survive Beijing’s urban upheaval, new and more subversive forms of pictorial narration now issue forth from the comic underground. The once popular bison and ibex motifs of yore gave way to more pertinent contemporary themes such as teen angst, social detachment, and disgruntled robots. One of Beijing’s leading cliques of illustrators, aptly dubbed Cult Youth, take innovative strides with such matters in their newly minted anthology of graphic shorts.

Whether you like it or not, comic books and graphic novels are turning into one of the most widespread and influential forms of popular culture. Although China is far from eclipsing Japan’s manga scene, younger generations in Beijing with unprecedented access to foreign media are getting hooked. Cult Youth stands at the forefront of this movement. Guoqi (郭麒), one of twenty plus Cult Youth affiliated artists, noted, “that caricatures from any historical period are very valuable, but this generation in China saw many comics from different countries while growing up and now understand their important nature. People no longer believe comics are for children only.” Everyday occurrences enter the illustrator’s palette and take on new forms that fascinate both the young and old.

The most appealing nature of Cult Youth’s newest anthology is the eclectic array of themes presented in each graphic short. In many ways, it mirrors the kaleidoscope of often-conflicting interests, desires, and traditions that exist in modern China. Ca (擦), one of the founding members of Cult Youth, expounded, “We don’t say exactly who we are. We don’t pretend to represent any particular thing about China. Rather, our work grows out of our own personal interests. We have a wide range of opinions and aren’t primarily interested in any sort of pure documentary effort or work that invokes a feeling of social responsibility.” The unparalleled multiplicity of people in China defies any generalization and Cult Youth mirrors that chaos with their unstinting and often trenchant conceptual takes on life in the Middle Kingdom.

Still, many of the Cult Youth artists claim to grapple with a materialistic void growing within society and therefore feel their influence is gaining momentum. “China’s masses deal with an impoverished mainstream culture. Many are hungry for more, and it seems Cult Youth’s free and willful comics is what they need,” asserted Songqi (宋麒), Guoqi’s (郭麒) twin brother. With more dedicated readers, the anthology certainly resonates in a particular manner – the witty and insightful strips draw you in with their arresting and sometimes grotesque illustrations.

Cult Youth personifies the increasing number of Chinese becoming aware of the impact of international media on their country and the disjunction it represents from the experience of previous generations. “Older people had a world of their own,” Ca (擦) continued, “Such things cannot be passed on. The new youth access everything.” Many of the artists expressed the need to lead people to a new understanding of the information explosion occurring around them and therein present new outlets for individual expression while underhandedly capturing the pitfalls of modern China. According to Heilichi (黑荔枝), “Independent thinking leads to happiness.” There is a growing sense among the Cult Youth illustrators that even if they get labeled as outsiders, their work will continue to speak for itself.

In the end, Cult Youth still agrees on one thing: they want people to laugh and appreciate the absurdities of life. There is a mischievous air about the group as they reinterpret the already convoluted world surrounding them in Beijing. Not many of them know what the future holds, but they love their work and produced a unique anthology of graphic shorts that present a small but captivating window into contemporary China.

Spring Festival remains the most widely celebrated holiday in China and, statistically speaking, the world. Marking the Lunar New Year, an estimated 2.3 billion trips will transpire over a 40-day period ending on March 2. Easily the largest human migration in the history of the world, people return home en masse to see family and friends. The monumental number of travelers also reflects one the most glaring socioeconomic disparities in China: the floating population.

China’s fiscal boom, often dubiously labeled a “miracle,” remains concentrated in special economic zones along the coast that draws hundreds of millions of people from the impecunious interior of the country. With no job prospects at home, menial workers float into cities and manufacturing sectors looking to support themselves and their extended families. For most, the only time to return home occurs during the Spring Festival – a small respite from an arduous existence.

The sudden abandonment of work sites by migrant workers across the country thus stages the insanity of the Spring Festival transportation rush. On January 20 alone, 52.48 million Chinese took bus trips throughout the country. To make matters worse, southern and central China is currently experiencing the worst snowstorms in over fifty years. In Guangzhou alone, over 200,000 travelers, mostly factory workers, are stranded in a train station waiting to return to their homes.

Despite the stress of holiday travel, passengers at the Beijing West Railway Station appeared more cheerful than anxious. Unaffected by the crippling weather systems to the south, people are scrambling onto trains and making their way home at a steady pace. Even though many of the migrant workers have much to complain about concerning low wages and rising living costs, the prospect of being reunited with their families takes the edge of their struggle.

Homosexuality in China doesn’t elicit the same cross-burning fanaticism that it does in the United States. In all my time spent here I never heard of a hate crime aimed at a homosexual. Chances are that such occurrences might not get reported or covered in the media, and discrimination certainly exists in various guises, but I have yet to encounter people who label homosexuality as “evil” and support its whole scale eradication. Instead, sexual deviance tends to inspire curiosity and awkwardness amongst typical Chinese urban dwellers. It remains a latent oddity within the social milieu.

It still came as a bit of a surprise when Dinah Gardner, the longtime Gay & Lesbian columnist for TimeOut Beijing, told me we were going to the White Cloud Temple and the Source of Law Temple to ask monks about their respective views on homosexuality. Even though I consider myself well versed within the Daoist and Buddhist canon, it never really crossed my mind to ask such a question before and I was interested in how the monks would frame their responses. As the photographer, I could also sit back and watch the fireworks fly.

Lou Jiayong, a Daoist monk at the White Cloud Temple, was the first to get entrapped by Dinah. She started the interview with some elementary questions concerning Daoism and then popped him the big one: “In the West, Islam and Christianity often persecute homosexuals. How does Daoism feel about homosexuality amongst practitioners?” Lou handled the question surprisingly well. According to Daoist principle, homosexuality represents a metaphysical problem. The union of two Yang forces (male on male) creates disharmony within the Dao and must eventually be resolved. “If there is only Yin or Yang it is imbalance or disharmony,” stressed Lou. Homosexual relationships do not perpetuate natural life. At some point, Yin must mix with Yang to produce more babies. Lou did emphasize that Daoism would never discriminate against homosexuals but remained adamant that Daoist ideology could never condone what he considered lewd sexual acts and anomalies in the natural course of existence.

Zhi Yong, a Buddhist monk at the Source of Law Temple, remained unperturbed throughout his interview. Buddhist practitioners of any orientation are encouraged to stem their sexual desires in order to achieve inner peace. At the heart, there is no absolute right or wrong with regards to homosexuality. Zhi continued, “[Homosexuality] is abnormal to me, but of course from the point of view of a gay person, it is quite normal… In Buddhism everything has two sides. How can you say, ‘this is right,’ or, ‘this is wrong?’ There is no right or wrong in this world. For some people they are right, for others they are wrong.” While I might not support such moral ambiguity in other situations, being gay and Buddhist doesn’t represent a problem for lay people. Still, if you want to join a monastery you must leave any prurient thoughts at the door.

As the glut of newfangled galleries within the 798 art district continues to swell, those looking for more creative space head a few kilometers up the road to Caochangdi. Here the Three Shadows Photography Art Centre embraces aesthetic standards often occluded in China’s consumptive art frenzy – empty spaces are nourished instead of filled. Ai Weiwei’s minimalist design lends the exhibition hall an austerity that complements the starkness of the surrounding neighborhood. Low slung buildings surround an open courtyard dotted with fledging tress wrapped tightly with rope. The sparsity and tranquility of the area engenders a contemplative environment fit for an afternoon perusal and, more importantly, encouraging future generations of artists to push the boundaries of the medium.

Unlike other purported art centers, cofounders and noted photographers RongRong and inri dedicated over 130 square meters of workspace for three darkrooms and a digital lab. True to their mission to foster contemporary photography in China, the workspace is open to the public at prices undercutting commercial labs. Photo enthusiasts can make gallery quality prints with enlargers for 120 film, an Imacon 949 scanner, and an HP 44-inch inkjet printer. It is a rare opportunity to get hands-on experience with such equipment, let alone in such a supportive and stimulating atmosphere.

If inspiration is still lacking, Three Shadows also maintains the Library of Contemporary Photography. “It is a resouce for young photographers and artists,”explained Stephanie Tung, International Affairs Officer at Three Shadows, “something RongRong lacked when he first started.” The fine assortment of books encompasses a broad swath of both Chinese and international art publications. It is well worth spending an extra hour saturating one’s brain in perennial favorites and more eclectic selections from the collection. With support and donations, the library will continue to become an important aid to any local photographer – access to so many art photography books in one place is a unique find anywhere in the world.

Hopefully more galleries and art centers will pick up on Three Shadows undertaking to not only provide an excellent venue to view art, but also foster and motivate a new generation of artists. Art director Zhang Li, who just won the Grand Prize at the 2007 Nantes Film Festival for his film Crime and Punishment, promises to explore fringe developments in contemporary art while surveying important works from the past. The current exhibition, Convection, takes this task at hand with selections from Man Ray, Robert Frank, Zhang Haier, Liu Zheng, and many others. Stay posted to threeshadows.cn for upcoming speakers and exhibitions.

The French retail megastore Carrefoure faced a public relations nightmare after three people were trampled to death during a cooking oil sale earlier this month at a Chongqing outlet. The five-liter bottles of oil were marked down 20% for a total savings of about $1.50 per bottle. People began to line up around 4AM and hastily swarmed the racks when the doors opened – three dead and 31 injured were left in the wake. The embarrassing incident prompted Chongqing officials to call for an immediate investigation into supermarket safety standards and their, “arrangement of product displays.” The Carrefoure sales pitch sunk the hook too deep into the consumer’s mouth.

While many pundits attribute this tragedy to substandard store design or base materialism, the heart of it lies in desperation. Over the past year the Chinese state singled out Chongqinq to be a frontrunner in a national campaign to urbanize the interior. Even though government subsidies abound, they do not trickle down to the lower rungs of the social ladder. Chongqinq remains a precarious place to make ends meet. Getting ahold of discounted cooking oil, a bare essential in any Chinese home, thus represents a wish to avoid the privations of winter and not low-minded greed.

In any case, retail outlets continue to attract shoppers in large droves. The economies of scale are too big to resist and dominate the increasingly consumer-oriented mentality of Chinese urbanites. Multinational corporations fall over themselves catering to this acquisitive upsurge. Ikea just built its largest store in the world in Beijing. The garagantun space boasts over four floors of housewares and furniture – everything a new homemaker could possibly imagine. Unfortunately I fall into this category and lined up with the rest to indulge the guilty pleasures of my nesting impulse.

This advertisement keeps popping up in various Beijing subway stations and continues to baffle me. I have no idea what to make of “Quiet + Sprints: In the Primeval Forest Movement.” A better translation might be “Tranquility + Running: Physical Recreation in a Primeval Forest,” but still doesn’t mesh with the enthusiastic boar slayer gloating over his kill. First of all, if companies in China continue to splurge on advertising, they need to start paying the extra cash to drag in some foreigner to see if their moniker MAKES ANY SENSE AT ALL FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. Also, this is the first time that I have seen hunting as a leisure activity so prominently marketed. It might not be duck hunting in Alabama or an African shooting safari but certainly establishes financial clout amongst coworkers who can’t afford such an extravagant weekend. This poster will continue to haunt me. Hopefully I can convince a magazine to send me out for an adventurous weekend of quiet and sprinting.

There is no escaping the frigid winter silently creeping in under Beijing’s lofty autumnal skies. Dropping temperatures nip at pedestrians scurrying about in formidable layers of clothing. Aside from hardy members of the Houhai Polar Bear Club, exposing oneself to the elements for more than five consecutive minutes is anathema and, for many, the only solution is to hibernate. Thus the already crammed streets of Beijing bear witness to one of the great shopping frenzies of the year: the annual winter cabbage sale. Massive loads of cabbage are hauled in from the countryside and sold in bulk on streetcorners. For three weeks locals swarm the towering stacks of frayed vegetables to fill out their caches of winter edibles. Thirty heads of oversized cabbage in the cupboard guarantees that one can always cook up a tasty treat without venturing forth into the bitter cold.

The industrious purveyors of this cabbage deluge never rest during the peak purchasing period. After sunset they spread blankets on the ground and watch over their hulking mounds of produce through the night. My neighborhood cabbage dealer usually lives just north of Beijing where he runs a large market garden. A keen salesman, he is quick to offer a cigarette and always sports a billowing navy-blue suit. Apparently he doesn’t mind the three weeks spent on the street even though others complain about the “bitterness” of the whole entrerprise. “This is when I make all my money,” he explained, “it’s fun on the street and my girlfriend loves me when I get home.” Fortunately nearby residents can’t get enough cabbage – a perennial treat for any old hand in Beijing.

Oliver August submitted a great article to Wired on the Chinese state’s imprudent attempts to monitor and filter domestic Internet content. The impractical task continues to disconcert the central government as millions of new users chip away at the “Golden Shield” on a daily basis. Still, nothing can stem the burgeoning flow of digital traffic and desire for unadulterated information access. Adaptive technologies such as proxy servers and encryption constantly spoil attempts to seal outside media from online denizens. The problem will only expand as a younger, tech-savvy generation comes to age. Restricting the Internet only seems to create a stronger urge amongst adolescents to devour the forbidden fruits beyond the “Golden Shield.”

Although this does not mark the eminent demise of the Chinese Communist Party’s (CCP) iron grip on the Chinese state, the CCP is scrambling to revamp their ministry of disinformation (aka The Central Propaganda Department – 中共中央宣传部) and methods of pacifying perturbed social groups. Puppet strings amongst the masses are growing taut and sometimes snapping as the Chinese state loses ground in an increasingly influential online world. Bloggers and journalists now regularly flout bans on reporting events blacklisted by the Chinese state. As the masses continue to grow wary of the Chinese state’s official mouthpieces, they actively seek out alternative media outlets both at home and abroad. Even though only a tenth of China’s massive 1.3 billion population consistently access the Internet, these numbers are rising just as fast as China’s breakneck GDP growth.

The greatest hope for this information revolution subsists in the Chinese state’s reliance on new communication technologies to drive economic expansion. They cannot simply unplug the masses. While Burma cut the Internet with ease during recent pro-democracy protests, the Chinese State would bring untold ruin to markets that increasingly depend on the Internet to drive business and communication. It would also represent a massive step backward in desperate attempts to present a polished facade for the world during the Olympics. In any case, the future political battlefield will certainly take place online where everyone can have an equal stake much to the CCP’s dismay.

Link: The Great Firewall: China’s Misguided — and Futile — Attempt to Control What Happens Online

Hedgehog is the band to trump in Beijing these days. Putting on raucous shows around the city, their energetic beats and skilled instrumental work attract larger and larger crowds every week. Atom, the petite but boisterous drummer for the outfit, stole the show at D-22 last Friday – she also walked off stage with a piece of my heart. Hopefully this wave of success can inspire them to new musical heights. Even as they fluidly move through sets and work crowds with increasing confidence, everyone is expecting bigger and better things. Their talent tickles the fancy of having an underground indie group break through the pop-dominated music mainstream in China and reach a broader fan base. Such a class act would be playing to packed venues across the country in the United States and deserves similar status here. Hedgehog may be one of the first in a wave of alternative rock to push the limits of China’s bland music taste.

As urban residents wield greater purchasing power, sophisticated shopping becomes an ever-important status symbol. Those at the top of Beijing’s increasingly stratified income brackets constantly seek to distinguish themselves from the rest of the pack. Conspicuous consumptive habits thus provide instant prominence and luxury companies are scrambling to cater to and expand upon every whim and desire. Designer clothing, sports cars, and jet-set vacations become necessary additions to any ostentatious parvenu enjoying the taste of once forbidden fruits.

This weekend I bore witness to the star-studded opening of Lane Crawford’s department store in Beijing. It’s a four-story behemoth in a glitzy mall and only stocks vogue international fashion designers. Apparently Beijing has stepped into the sartorial big leagues. Whether or not the store will make money is another question. Beijing doesn’t exude pretentious airs quite like Shanghai or Hong Kong yet. Local shoppers prefer to browse the racks and then hit the streets in search of similar black-market counterfeits. Still, this won’t stop major luxury brands vying to cash in on Beijing’s nouveau riche and their swelling materialistic obsessions. Too much is at stake in this potential market.

Unfortunately sipping on Moet all evening and ogling $5,000 USD Raf Simmons leather jackets can only provide so much enjoyment. Such prices smack of insolence considering the average income of rural farmers in China still tops out at around $225 USD per year according to the Xinhua News Agency. Even most city dwellers who average $750 USD per year would be left out of the commodity feeding frenzy occurring in department stores across Beijing. Many disenfranchised economic groups are starting to take action though, and the Chinese state is starting to realize the vast potential of widespread social unrest if income gaps continue to widen in favor of those already lining their closets with Givenchy, Paul Smith, and Prada. Even though the potential for a luxury backlash looms ever on the horizon, for now nothing seems to stand in the way of these corporate giants.

See “China’s hunger for luxury goods grows” for an excellent description of Chinese yuppies aka chippies.

The #5 subway line was all the rage when it first opened earlier this month. Locals lined up for blocks to catch an inaugural ride on the latest edition to Beijing’s underground. Although initial excitement soon subsided, people’s expectations for more and better transit options reached new heights. The slick #5 subway cars sported flat screen monitors displaying local news, spotless interiors, and exacting temperature control. The antiquated #1 and #2 subway lines still run on time, but now stand out as the ugly stepsisters of Beijing’s expanding public transportation system.

The opening of the #5 subway line also reshuffled Beijing’s suburban housing market – everyone wants to live next to a subway line these days. Traffic congestion is without a doubt the largest drawback stemming from recent surges in urban wealth and population density. Beijing’s newfound love affair with the car might come to a grisly end if traffic levels continue to rise at the current pace. Nobody can escape the mind bogglingly clogged expressways after 5PM. I would rather shoot myself in the foot than face such a cataclysm on a daily basis. The northern terminus of the #5 subway line thus stands to become the newest haven for low-income workers looking to escape increasing housing prices in the city center while maintaining a relatively short commute.

Picking an appropriately dreary afternoon, I headed out to investigate the new residential developments at the end of the #5 subway line. The area in question encompassed the last three subway stops and bore the unsettlingly kitschy name Pathway to Heaven Gardens (天通苑). If your idea of paradise includes high-rise concrete housing blocks arranged like a precarious domino set, look no further. These hulking domiciles symbolize the pinnacle of China’s insipid community planning; even the grassy fields surrounding the development appeared devoid of life. Only the occasional movement of tenants scurrying in and out of the complex lent a breath of vitality to the concrete jungle.

The only redeeming value of the area was the people living there. I stuck out like a sore thumb and soon struck up a number of conversations with inquisitive locals. My favorite included a gang of young security officers from Hebei Province skirting their duties and hanging out underneath the end of the of #5 subway line. They were happy to have jobs in Beijing but found the community lacking the warmth of their hometowns. It’s not hard to imagine such difficulties would occur within the migratory population, but their living environment did nothing to establish new bonds between the residents. I plan to revisit this area throughout the year so expect more reports concerning the Pathway to Heaven Gardens.

The 17th National People’s Congress taking place this week in Beijing has solidified President Hu’s grip on the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) and insured his ideological musing will be engraved alongside those espoused by previous leaders of China. Calling for a “harmonious society” that implements the “scientific concept of development,” President Hu’s moralistic yet vague proclamations also provide cover for the real issue at hand: no one knows how the most critical decisions regarding China’s future are being handled and whether or not economic or environmental reform will actually be implemented. While the “democratically” elected People’s Congress with ethnic minority representatives in full native dress put on a good show, they are mainly there to give a nod of approval to predetermined policy. No one has the slightest clue as to what goes on behind the closed doors of the Politburo.

Even though transparency within the CCP’s decision-making process will not come to light in the near future, President Hu looks good on paper. The China Daily has recently put together an impressive collection of propaganda articles that introduces us to the lighter side of President Hu. My favorite part has to be the slide show entitled “President Hu meets people.” Truly inspirational. Even though the China Daily still remains a mouthpiece for the CCP, they did surprisingly post a few articles criticizing the government’s inability to implement a green GDP system and highlighting how the complaint bureau remains the busiest office in Beijing due to widespread corruption. Luckily President Hu is “meeting people” and has called for officials to remain, “sober-minded, firm in politics, [and] pragmatic in style of work.” What a fine man we have at the helm of the most populous nation in the world. I already feel myself being lulled into indifference.

Luckily this ambiguous situation provides plenty of fodder for China pundits and graduate students forcing out dissertations around the world. Everyone wants to take a whack at the good old CCP chopping block. Fortunately I do not feel qualified to unravel such a skein. My only wish is to blindly submit myself to the nationwide morality drive implemented by President Hu last year concerning the eight honors and disgraces of society: Love the country, do it no harm; Serve the people, never betray them; Follow science, discard superstition; Be diligent, not indolent; Be united, help each other, make no gains at other’s expense; Be honest and trustworthy, do not sacrifice ethics for profit; Be disciplined and law-abiding, not chaotic and lawless; Live plainly, work hard, do not wallow in luxuries and pleasures. Sounds good to me but let’s see what happens.

Beijing’s burgeoning music scene is finally coming into its own. Venues like D-22, Mao Live House, and Yugong Yishan serve up nightly sets of rock, punk, and other emerging talents that defy categorization. When I first arrived in Beijing seven years ago not much could be said about local live acts. Aside from a few diamonds in the rough, cheesy jazz trios and mediocre cover bands dominated most musical engagements. Now I have already witnessed numerous performances that could put New York’s much touted music scene to shame. There is an undeniable energy in these small clubs as more bands emerge on a monthly basis.

Some of my early favorites have to be the Subs, Queen Sea Big Shark, The Scoff, Joyside, Banana Monkey and the Carsick Cars. All of them sport a raucous sound and driving beats that quickly whip crowds into frenzied states. The Subs lead singer Kang Mao deserves special mention. Her inspired performance last Friday at D-22 blew me away – she has a remarkable stage presence (apparently she maintains such intensity at every show). This might be old news for Beijing music aficionados but deserves attention from anyone returning to Beijing and looking for some raw action.

Joyside and the Carsick Cars also just released albums under the newcomer Beijing label Maybe Mars. Their powerful, pop-inflected tunes earn them a deservedly loyal fan base. Joyside devotees are especially notorious for their alcoholic excesses inspired by front man Bian Yuan who bears a marked resemblance to the great Jim Morrison in his tight leather pants and tapered shirts. Lastly, even though I have not met him yet, vocalist Lee Lee from The Scoff seems like the coolest dude in town.

Expect more entries about the local music scene in the near future – I have luckily landed myself a gig to take portraits of these musicians for D-22.

A host of unpleasant situations potentially face the Chinese State while it prepares for the 2008 Summer Olympics. Political activists in China and around the planet see the event as an important opportunity to air their many grievances. Groups like Students for a Free Tibet have already taken advantage of the situation and garnered international attention by staging a protest on the Great Wall concerning the military presence and lack of political autonomy in Tibet. Disenfranchised domestic social groups and prohibited religious movements like Falun Gong are all likely to make some sort of appearance next summer and the world will be watching. For many, granting Beijing the Olympics slights the humanitarian ideals the event is supposed to represent.

The Olympic Charter’s second Fundamental Principle of Olympism:
“The goal of Olympism is to place sport at the service of the harmonious development of man, with a view of promoting a peaceful society concerned with the preservation of human dignity.”

Much can be said about the Chinese state’s lack of commitment to such standards but now an even larger blemish has appeared on the face of the forthcoming Olympics: the Chinese state’s refusal to take action against the Burmese military junta’s brutal oppression of recent nonviolent protests staged by Buddhist monks. Such tactics have been employed in the past by the Chinese state and their unwillingness to put pressure on the Burmese military may foreshadow events to come.

Fred Hiatt at the Washington Post has taken an excellent stand on the issue: What We Owe the Burmese

Only those of true revolutionary spirit braved the elements to witness the Chinese flag hoisted above Tiananmen Square at dawn this National Day. Not many survived the long night of revelry to diligently stand at attention on the hallowed ground where Mao founded the People’s Republic of China and was finally laid to rest in his oversize mausoleum. Fallen patriots who succumbed to the cold rain lay scattered about underground walkways leading up to Tiananmen while running dogs of capitalism bustled about hawking their overpriced umbrellas and ponchos to the shivering masses. Luckily I came prepared in my windbreaker and marched resolutely into the square after tucking in a plate of steamed buns at Qianmen.

Jockeying for position close to the flagpole proved difficult when police officers cordoned off various sections of the square devoted to massive billboards displaying nationalistic slogans such as, “Vivaciously celebrate the 58th anniversary of the establishment of the People’s Republic of China!” or, “Steadfastly hold to the great path of China’s unique social ideology!” Nonetheless, the assembled revolutionaries seemed more concerned with the persistent umbrella battle raging amongst those packed closest to the front – many were martyred on spiked parasols wielded by tiny ladies repelling the ceaseless tide of bodies cramming for a closer glimpse of the ceremony. The sea of umbrellas only receded when the stirring drum overture of the Chinese national anthem called the crowd to attention. Everyone then raised their mobile phones to solute the flag and capture the special moment as “March of the Volunteers” resounded throughout Tiananmen.

Arise,
Ye who refuse to be slaves!
With our very flesh and blood,
Let us build our new Great Wall!
The peoples of China are in the most critical time,
Everybody must roar his defiance.
Arise!
Arise!
Arise!
Millions of hearts with one mind,
Brave the enemy’s gunfire, March on!
Brave the enemy’s gunfire, March on!
March on!
March on!
On!

The spirited lyrics of the song struck a deep chord in the audience. Seconds after the final note everyone marched straight to the exit. I remained to pay respect to Mao’s portrait looming over the entrance of the Forbidden City – it’s pastel background reflecting the soft hues of the rising sun.

The New York Times recently started a very important series of articles on China’s “epic pollution crisis.” Although the rhetoric might appear a bit alarmist there is no doubt that the Chinese state needs to implement immediate measures to curtail the adverse effects of their developmental explosion. It is an issue that will soon affect the whole planet. One of the most unnerving announcements is the International Energy Agency’s finding that China is surpassing America in emissions, about ten years ahead of schedule. Such a staggering rise in pollution levels are only going to be compounded as the Chinese state grapples with the recent development upsurge in the interior of the country – most provincial metropolises have renewed investment in and expansion of their urban infrastructure in an attempt to catch up with boom cities like Shanghai, Tianjin, Beijing, and Guangzhou. Everyone is looking to cash in while low construction costs persist and environmental regulations go unenforced. Moreover, many construction projects look to only cash in on short-term payoffs and will have to be eventually replaced. It is detrimental to China’s future that pollution-adjusted GDP growth rates factor into urban planning and national legislation. This economic juggernaut must be transformed in the coming decade. The rest of the world can no longer ignore how 1.3 billion people chose to live on this side of the planet. As easy as it is to point the finger at the Chinese state, the US government is just as guilty for promoting and investing in the industrial explosion across China’s eastern seaboard. We have done nothing to set new criterion for clean energy and waste management and can thank our own consumptive practices for the current mess. The US government has consistently ignored the situation and now the Chinese feel just as entitled to engage in similar excesses. The whole country is going to have to swallow a bitter pill sooner rather than later. The Chinese state must start setting new and innovative precedents for urban living as the country takes up a specious banner of modernity and progress.

Link: Choking on Growth – As China Roars, Pollution Reaches Deadly Extremes