中國人比外國人更有錢?

中國來信

在中國，中國人比外國人更有錢

DIDI KIRSTEN TATLOW 報道 2012年12月15日

北京——在誠信如意犬舍外，12月的凜冽寒風將縷縷黃土揚向天空。我們朝着磚石砌成的建築跑了過去。

這裡位於北京東部的通州。在狗場中間的院子里，數十隻狗在跳躍、吠叫：裡面有金毛獵犬、拉布拉多犬和藏獒，這些高級品種針對的是快速增長的中國中產及上層階級。

為了實現我們很久以前對孩子許下的一個承諾，我們也來到這裡買狗了。此前，我試着在電話里向狗場的主人楊先生解釋，我們想找一條什麼樣的狗，所以， 他把我們直接帶到了一間生着煤爐供暖的昏暗房間里，裡面回蕩着十幾隻比特幼犬和牛頭犬的叫聲。我抓住四歲女兒的手，把她拉向我的身邊。我的兒子和丈夫則詫 異地盯着看。
“你說的就是這個品種，不是嗎？”楊先生問道，他感覺到了我們的驚愕。
我說，“哎呀，不是。”說著，我的丈夫向他展示了手機里的一張拳師狗照片。
“哦，拳師狗，”楊先生說，他是一位皮膚黝黑、精瘦結實的男人，大概40來歲。“實際上，我們不太確定這種狗中文叫什麼。也有叫它們‘英式牛狗’的”，他指着狗說，也就是英國鬥牛犬。“或者叫法國鬥牛犬。你想要來一隻這樣的狗嗎？”
然後，那種所謂的神奇時刻來臨了，我們的目光好像受到指揮一樣，被引向地板上的一個籠子里，一隻黃褐色的拳師狗幼仔直立起後腿，兩條前腿扒在籠子上，充滿希望地凝視着我們。
它那時叫“赫丘利”(Hercules)，我現在叫它“小同志”。對我的中國朋友來說，這個名字既讓人吃驚，又讓人忍俊不禁。給動物起一個革命化的名字，讓他們感到了一絲突破禁忌的意味。（今天，“同志”也有同性戀的意思，所以，他們的反應很複雜。）
我們想要它，但還是有點猶豫。
楊先生說，“1.5萬元人民幣”，摺合2400美元。這隻拳師狗不是本地品種，不過，這個要價對一個普通家庭而言還是太貴了。在美國，它們的售價可能大約在300美元。我害怕孩子們感到失望，於是開始討價還價。
我的主打牌很實在：不能僅僅因為我們是外國人，就認為我們很富有。
過去，在中國的外國人，比中國人富有，而且人們也廣泛認為外國人很富有。買同樣的東西，我們要支付更多的錢，甚至還必須使用特殊的貨幣，外匯券。外匯券已在1995年被廢止。然而，在過去30年里，中國已經創造了巨大的財富。
今年，在上海發佈的胡潤百富榜(Hurun Rich List)上，共出現了251位資產超過10億美元的中國富豪，而在2000年只有兩位。根據榜單，中國還有至少270萬名百萬美元富豪。胡潤富豪榜的創 始人胡潤(Rupert Hoogewerf)說，他相信真實的數字要更高。
然而也有很多窮人。香港報紙《南華早報》(South China Morning Post)援引中國新聞媒體報道稱，本周，一項調查發現，2010年中國的基尼係數(Gini coefficient)為0.61，基尼係數衡量的是收入差距，0表示完全平等，1則表示一人擁有所有財富。這個數字遠遠高於全球平均水平0.44，而 且比可能引發社會動蕩的“危險水平”高50%。
這項調查覆蓋了8438個家庭，2.95萬人，是由中國人民銀行金融研究所和西南財經大學共同開展的。
現在對於許多中國人來說，花1.5萬元人民幣買一隻小狗不足為奇，儘管其他很多人仍然付不起這個價錢。
我必須通過討價還價的過程來說服楊先生，我們都是正常人，而且並不是所有的外國人都很有錢。
“你知道現在在中國誰最有錢么？”我隨口說道。“就是中國人自己。”
楊先生禮貌地點點頭表示同意。
“外國人只是中產階級，”我繼續說。“富人都是中國人自己，他們才是有錢人呢。”
我看到他有了一點理解的神情，於是我們開始談價錢。
“今天早上，一個中國人花1.15萬買了一隻，”楊先生說。“我只能降到這麼低。”
我反駁道，“誰知道現在人們的錢都是從哪兒來的啊。”
“你看，我也不富啊，”楊先生嘟嘟囔囔地說。“我還得供一個孩子上學呢。”
“我也是啊，”我附和道。“而且我得供兩個。”他降了降價格，我提了提價格。
最後，或許是意識到有筆生意總比沒有生意好，他把“小同志”塞到我懷裡，開出了一個遠低於要價，但仍然超出我的預期的價格。
“拿走吧，”他邊說邊不無喜悅地點點頭，彷彿是在說，你跟我不都一樣么，只是努力過日子而已。
不過這件事讓我意識到，外國人現在在中國，已經不算相對富有了。對這一點我很歡迎，因為這顯示出許多中國人的經濟狀況改善了很多。但它也讓我意識到，無論按什麼標準，中國都已經不再便宜。
隨着整體經濟的急速增長，價格也在肆無忌憚地上漲。由於整體經濟受到壓制，除了充滿泡沫的房地產市場之外極少有其他投資渠道，富人願意付出令人咋舌的高價，購買可能保值的東西。
就連傳統繪畫中使用的硯台也成了熱炒的商品。普洱茶很早以前就不再是用來喝的了，它成了人們為了賺錢而買賣的東西。至於買房，諾貝爾文學獎得主莫言說，他最近拿到的120萬美元獎金（約合750萬元人民幣），在北京市中心買不到多大的房子。
我覺得，我們買到“小同志”還算幸運的，去年，中國媒體報道，一個有錢的商人花大約150萬美元的價錢，買到了一隻藏獒。

翻譯：王童鶴、張薇

Letter from China

New Presumptions About Who's Rich in China

By DIDI KIRSTEN TATLOW December 15, 2012

BEIJING — Outside Honesty Dog House, a cold and dry December wind whipped coils of beige earth skyward. We ran for the brick buildings.

Dozens of dogs surged and barked in a central courtyard of the kennel in Tongzhou, east of Beijing: golden retrievers, Labradors and Tibetan mastiffs, elegant breeds aimed at China’s fast-growing upper and middle classes.

Fulfilling a longtime promise to our children, we, too, had come to buy a dog. I had tried to explain to Mr. Yang, the owner, over the phone what we were looking for, so he took us straight to a dim room heated by a coal brazier that echoed with the barking of a dozen pit bull puppies and bulldogs. I grabbed my 4-year-old daughter and drew her to me. My son and husband stared.
“That’s what you said, isn’t it?” asked Mr. Yang, sensing our consternation.
“Uh, no,” I said, as my husband showed him photographs of a boxer on his mobile phone.
“Oh. Quanshi gou,” said Mr. Yang, a sunburned, wiry man in his 40s. “Actually we’re not that precise in Chinese about what to call them. There’s also yingshi niugou,” or English bulldog, he said, pointing. “Or French ones. Do you want one of those?”
Then one of those magical moments happened and our gaze was drawn, as if by command, to a cage on the floor, where a single, brown boxer puppy stood on his hind legs, paddling at the sides, staring at us hopefully.
It was Hercules — or Xiao Tongzhi, “Little Comrade,” as I now call him, to the equal shock and delight of Chinese friends who sense a breached taboo in giving an animal a revolutionary name. (Today, “comrade” also means homosexual, so the reaction is complex.)
We wanted him. But it was close.
“Fifteen thousand renminbi,” said Mr. Yang — $2,400. The boxer is not an indigenous breed, but that was too much for an ordinary family. (In the United States, they might cost around $300.) Dreading the children’s disappointment, I set to bargaining.
My main card was an honest one: Just because we’re foreigners doesn’t mean we’re rich.
Once, non-Chinese in China were wealthy compared with Chinese, and widely perceived as such. We were charged more for the same things and even had to use a special currency, the F.E.C., or Foreign Exchange Certificate. (It was abolished in 1995.) But over the past three decades, China has seen the creation of enormous wealth.
This year, the Shanghai-based Hurun Rich List counted 251 U.S.-dollar billionaires, compared with two in 2000. There were at least 2.7 million dollar millionaires, according to the list, whose founder, Rupert Hoogewerf, says he believes the true numbers are higher.
And yet there are many poor, too. This week, a survey found that China’s Gini coefficient — a measure of income inequality — was 0.61 in 2010, with zero equaling perfect equality and 1 equaling a situation where one person owns all the wealth. That was significantly higher than the global average of 0.44 and 50 percent above the “risk level” for social unrest, The South China Morning Post, a Hong Kong newspaper, wrote, citing Chinese news media.
The survey, conducted on 8,438 households and 29,500 individuals, was set up by the Finance Research Institute of the People’s Bank of China and Southwestern University of Finance and Economics, The Post reported.
For many Chinese today, spending 15,000 renminbi on a puppy is unremarkable, even though it remains impossible for others.
I had to instill some normalcy into the negotiation and disabuse Mr. Yang of the idea that because we were non-Chinese we must be wealthy.
“You know who are the richest people in China today?” I began, casually. “Chinese people.”
Mr. Yang nodded in polite agreement.
“Foreigners are merely middle-class,” I continued. “The rich are all your own people. They’re the ones with money.”
I saw some kind of understanding dawn on him. We set to naming prices.
“This morning, a Chinese man bought one for 11,500 renminbi,” said Mr. Yang. “It’s the lowest I’ll go.”
“Who knows where people get their money from these days,” I countered.
“I’m not rich either, you know,” grumbled Mr. Yang. “I have a child to educate.”
“So do I,” I parried. “Two.” As he inched down, I inched up.
In the end, perhaps sensing a deal was better than no deal, he thrust Little Comrade into my arms, naming a price far below his asking but still above mine.
“Take him,” he nodded, not unhappily, as if to say: You and I, we’re the same. Just trying to get by.
And yet the incident reminded me not just how foreigners in China today are no longer comparatively rich — something I welcome as it shows that many Chinese people are doing much better — but that China is no longer cheap, by any standard.
Prices are rising relentlessly as the economy swells, and in a repressed economy with few outlets for investment other than a bubbly property market, rich people are willing to pay exorbitant amounts for things that may prove a good investment.
Even ink-grinding stones, used in traditional painting, have become a speculative object. Pu’er tea long ago became something one can buy and sell for profit rather than drink. As for buying a home, the Nobel Literature laureate Mo Yan said recently that his $1.2 million award would not buy him a decent apartment in central Beijing.
I suppose we were lucky with Little Comrade. Last year, Chinese media reported, a Tibetan mastiff sold to a rich businessman for around $1.5 million.