HarshrealityofChina’sdivide
2019-02-16 20:10阅读：
By JOE ZHANG, MAY 3, 2001.
The New York Times. IHT.
On a recent trip here from Hong Kong, I visited my 22-year-old
nephew Donghai. Three months earlier, he had cried as he said
farewell to his parents and sister in Maliang, a remote village in
Hubei Province in central China. Donghai came to Beijing to work
for a consultancy firm owned by a friend of mine. But a couple of
weeks ago he lost his job after the consultancy was bought by a
larger company.
Donghai shares a tiny room with Hong, a mature-age student at the
Beijing University of Foreign Trade. It is one of about 40 such
rooms in the basement of the university's warehouse. The corridor
is dimly lit and lined with cardboard boxes and plastic bags. It
reminds me of my own dormitory when I was a college student in
Wuhan from 1979 to 1983.
Donghai told me that about 70 people live in the basement, which
has two levels. When it rains heavily, dirty water flows into the
corridor. Most of the residents are migrant
workers from various parts of China, the so-called 'floating
population.'
The millions of migrant workers are badly treated by locals,
although they do the heaviest and dirtiest work. As they do not
have permanent city residency status, they are often the first to
lose their jobs. To make matters worse, city residents and
government officials often make them convenient scapegoats for
theft and petty crimes. Even newspapers refer to them as a group of
troublemakers.
For their tiny room, Donghai and Hong each have to pay a monthly
rent of 250 yuan, about $30. Before he lost his job, which paid
about 500 yuan a month, Donghai found the rental manageable. But he
recently started a self-imposed austerity program. Donghai said he
tries to live on 5 yuan a day. I felt really sorry for him and gave
him 4,000 yuan.
As a high school student in 1977 and 1978, I seldom had enough
food. I had to live at the school because it was 10 kilometers from
my home and there was no transport. Many of my fellow students
suffered eyesight impairment and other medical complaints because
of poor nutrition and inadequate lighting. I certainly do not want
Donghai to endure the same pain.
Besides, I have a moral obligation to look after Donghai. His
mother, my sister Yuqing, quit school in 1972 at the age of 13 to
look after me and two younger siblings for a year when our parents
were 'mobilized' by the People's Commune to build a reservoir for
Jingmen city, 60 kilometers from our home.
Yuqing, who was not able to finish her own education, has pinned
high hopes on her children, Donghai and her 15-year old daughter,
Dongqin. Yuqing wants them to become permanent city residents and
get respectable white-collar jobs.
Since 1949, China has divided its citizens into two classes:
urbanites and peasants. Residence controls have been extremely
rigid, causing much hardship. Countless families have been divided
because of the controls. Employment is often linked to having the
right residence status. The right to live and work in one city is
not automatically transferable to another city. When I was a small
child in my rural village, I started to understand that I was among
second-class citizens. Since then, I have heard and seen much about
the unfairness between the two classes.
Since the late 1970s, millions of people, myself included, have won
the privilege of urban resident status. Having a university
education and doing military service are the most common legal
ways. But many city governments have openly sold residence rights
for hefty fees. While the fee varies between cities, it can reach
30,000 yuan per person.
What has changed in recent years is that city residence no longer
goes with a guaranteed job. Many rural families, after spending
their life savings and even borrowed money to move to cities, end
up without jobs. In fierce labor market competition, these new
urbanites are often disadvantaged because they do not have
necessary contacts, skills or exposure. They are not even
qualified for social security payments, which are tied to prior
employment in the state sector.
Donghai was out of work for almost two years after graduating from
a local technical college. Imagine how pleased Yuqing was when I
arranged for Donghai to work for my friend's firm, although Donghai
still does not have permanent resident status in any city, not to
mention Beijing.
To avoid upsetting his parents, Donghai hasn't told them that he
has lost his job. Meanwhile, he is trying hard to find other work
in Beijing. I feel for Donghai. He will lose face for the family
and himself if he has to return home.
I admire Donghai because he remains determined to succeed in the
city. He has just registered for a Securities Institute
qualification exam to be held in June. In the meantime, he
continues to visit employment centers and comb the classified ads
for jobs.
The writer, a financial analyst in Hong Kong and a former manager
at China's central bank in Beijing, contributed this comment to the
International Herald Tribune (part of the New York Times).
