2008年6月9日 星期一

約會 一甲子

在中國,一甲子的完滿最為人津津樂道。中國的正史只有一個皇帝有幸活到進入他的第二甲子的統治。這中國統治者就是康 熙,他從1661年至1722年共統治61年。康熙之治如此有成,致使他的長壽孫子決定在第60年統治時棄位,以免越損祖父的紀錄。這次遜位,在當時被認為守孝道的美德,令人欽佩。不過當時世人注意到,雖然無公開批評,此孝孫遜位誠然可歌,卻拒絕放棄任何權力(眾笑),他還再統治數年,雖然可說採取無名義的方式。


60年前一個承諾 兒渡海代父尋友

【聯合報╱文/張柏東】

花蓮縣玉里火車站日籍站長原口新一兒子原口健一(左)偕妻(右)來玉里火車站,代父尋找張新根或張家人。 圖/張柏東

二次大戰結束時,花蓮縣玉里火車站日籍站長原口新一於返國前,對台籍同事張新根說:「一定回來看你!」直到十二年前他去世,都未達成心願。昨天,他兒子原口健一偕妻來玉里火車站,代父尋找張新根或張家人,玉里站長游祈益努力協助,但未找到。

原口健一說,張新根應該九十九歲了,他提供張新根的全家福照片,背面寫著張新根七名子女的名字,分別是張仲正、張仲義、張照玉、張貴美、張照梅、張靜枝、張貴英。原口健一現住日本國廣島市南區東雲本町三—七—廿一,電話○八二二八二四七四八。

South Korea’s ‘Wild Geese’and:protests

South Korea Truckers May Add to President's Anguish


Published: June 9, 2008

Filed at 3:50 a.m. ET

SEOUL (Reuters) - South Korean truckers voted on Monday whether to strike over high oil prices, a move that could choke transport and pile more woes on a president whose policies have already sparked mass street protests.

Lee Myung-bak, who in December scored the biggest landslide in an open presidential election in South Korea, has seen his support nosedive after only 100 days in office due to anger over a U.S. beef import deal, jeopardizing his business-friendly economic reform plans.

Lee is bracing for one of his toughest weeks in office with the possible transport strike and a major street protest planned for Tuesday.

He is expected to announce within days a cabinet reshuffle aimed at showing the public his government has learned from its mistakes and will take a new path.

"This is a critical juncture," said Lee Nae-young, a professor of political science at Korea University.

During the race for the presidency, Lee's strength was his can-do image, first fostered when he ran Hyundai Construction and later enhanced when he transformed Seoul as its mayor.

Now, it has become a weakness, with analysts saying the public sees him as an arrogant CEO trying to force through change instead of listening to the concerns of the people.

"I hope the current crisis can be a wake-up call for his presidency," the political science professor said.

At the weekend, Lee's government tried to win back support by unveiling a plan to hand-out $10.2 billion to its lowest income citizens over the next year to offset the skyrocketing price of oil -- taking a page from Asian neighbors in targeting subsidies at the poor.

The leader of the union representing about 13,000 truckers and transport workers said that may not be enough and his members could strike later this week.

"MEANINGLESS MEASURES"

"The government measures are meaningless if they can't solve the loss we are suffering," said Kim Dal-shi. Results of the vote area expected late on Monday or on Tuesday.

Protests against Lee began in April, with thousands taking to the streets and charging him with ignoring safety concerns over U.S. beef by striking what they saw as a bad deal.

Many South Koreans worry U.S. beef could carry mad cow disease and may be mislabeled or end up in cheaper food products without any labeling at all, meaning consumers buy it unwittingly.

U.S. and South Korean officials said U.S. beef is safe while analysts said dangers from the imports are being exaggerated by groups that would oppose Lee's government regardless.

U.S. Congressional leaders say a separate two-way free trade deal would be dashed unless South Korea opens its markets to U.S. beef.

The protests have grown in size and changed in focus as labor groups and other left-leaning activists have used them to criticize the economic reform plans of Lee, the first conservative leader of South Korea in 10 years.

"The beef issue has become a catalyst to mobilize these anti-reform activists," said political science professor Lee.

Lee was hoping to push through a new conservative-led parliament a reform agenda that includes tax cuts across the economy, privatizing public firms and making the country more friendly to foreign investors.

Left-leaning opposition parties scuttled last week's opening session for the new National Assembly with a boycott and said they will not return until Lee renegotiates the beef deal.

Analysts said Lee, who has a five-year term, and the conservative-led parliament, which sits for four years, still have plenty of time to win back support but bold steps are needed in the coming days to turn the tide.

"The government is going to struggle to move forward its pro-business and economic rationalization policies," said Yun Chang-hyun, a professor of finance at University of Seoul.

(Additional reporting by Angela Moon and Park Ju-min; Editing by Jonathan Hopfner and Jerry Norton)



為讓子女接受英文教育,南韓現在也有不少家庭現在是「內在美」、「內在紐」,亦即妻子在美國或是紐西蘭,丈夫在南韓繼續打拚賺錢的家庭。南韓稱這種家庭為「野雁」,野雁爸爸與野雁媽媽分兩國居住,野雁爸爸可能一年飛兩次到外國探視妻小。

紐約時報報導,紐西蘭奧克蘭富人區「雷穆拉」的一所公立小學,每天都有六位南韓野雁媽媽到校接子女下課,彼此碰面會熱情招呼。她們六人也是這所小學最大外國人團體的成員。

南韓人形容他們嚴苛的教育制度,比壓力鍋有過之而無不及。有些父母,為不想讓子女遭受太大升學壓力,以及讓他們從小學好英文,即由妻子帶著子女投奔美澳。

目前南韓至少有四萬名學童為外國小留學生。專家認為,這是全球化教育新時代的必然結果。不過,這是南韓第一次出現為了子女教育,妻子帶著子女離開的現象。傳統上,南韓人均由男性離鄉背井。

「南韓教育發展中心」統計,南韓的小學到高中生,2006年在外成為小留學生者,共有2萬9511人,為2004年的近兩倍,2000年的近七倍。這些數字不包括陪同出國的父母或親人。

在美國的外國學生,目前以南韓為最大宗,人數逾10萬3000人。在紐西蘭,南韓學生也占留學生第二,僅次於中國大陸。南韓與其他國家的最大不同處,在於小留學生多數從小學上起,認為這種年紀語言吸收能力比較強。


For English Studies, Koreans Say Goodbye to Dad

Stacy Arezou Mehrfar for The New York Times

To allow Amy Park, a Korean, to study English in New Zealand, her parents decided to live apart. More Photos >


Published: June 8, 2008

AUCKLAND, New Zealand — On a sunny afternoon recently, half a dozen South Korean mothers came to pick up their children at the Remuera Primary School here, greeting one another warmly in a schoolyard filled with New Zealanders.

Skip to next paragraph
Stacy Arezou Mehrfar for The New York Times

Park Jun-woo, 8, right, attends a school in Auckland, New Zealand, where he lives with his mother and older brother. His father stayed behind in South Korea. More Photos »

Seokyong Lee for The New York Times

Amy Park’s father, Kevin Park, agreed that she should leave South Korea to study abroad. But, he said, “I miss my family.” More Photos >

The mothers, members of the largest group of foreigners at the public school, were part of what are known in South Korea as “wild geese,” families living separately, sometimes for years, to school their children in English-speaking countries like New Zealand and the United States. The mothers and children live overseas while the fathers live and work in South Korea, flying over to visit a couple of times a year.

Driven by a shared dissatisfaction with South Korea’s rigid educational system, parents in rapidly expanding numbers are seeking to give their children an edge by helping them become fluent in English while sparing them, and themselves, the stress of South Korea’s notorious educational pressure cooker.

More than 40,000 South Korean schoolchildren are believed to be living outside South Korea with their mothers in what experts say is an outgrowth of a new era of globalized education.

The phenomenon is the first time that South Korean parents’ famous focus on education has split wives from husbands and children from fathers. It has also upended traditional migration patterns by which men went overseas temporarily while their wives and children stayed home, straining marriages and the Confucian ideal of the traditional Korean family. The cost of maintaining two households has stretched family budgets since most wives cannot work outside South Korea because of visa restrictions.

In 2006, 29,511 children from elementary through high school level left South Korea, nearly double the number in 2004 and almost seven times the figure in 2000, according to the Korean Educational Development Institute, a research group that tracks the figures for the Ministry of Education. The figures, the latest available, did not include children accompanying parents who left South Korea to work or emigrate, and who could also be partly motivated by educational goals.

South Koreans now make up the largest group of foreign students in the United States (more than 103,000) and the second largest in New Zealand after Chinese students, according to American and New Zealand government statistics. Yet, unlike other foreign students, South Koreans tend to go overseas starting in elementary school — in the belief that they will absorb English more easily at that age.

In New Zealand, there were 6,579 South Koreans in the country’s elementary and secondary schools in 2007, accounting for 38 percent of all foreign students.

“We talked about coming here for two years before we finally did it,” said Kim Soo-in, 39, who landed here 16 months ago with her two sons. “It was never a question of whether to do it, but when. We knew we had to do it at some point.”

Wild geese fathers were initially relatively wealthy and tended to send their families to the United States. But in the last few years, more middle-class families have been heading to less expensive destinations like Canada, Australia and New Zealand.

Now, there are also “eagle fathers,” who visit their families several times a year because they have the time and money. Those with neither, who are stuck in South Korea, are known as “penguin fathers.”

The national experience is considered enough of a social problem that an aide to South Korea’s president recently singled out the plight of the penguin fathers.

President Lee Myung-bak said he would start to address the problem by hiring 10,000 English teachers. “This is unprecedented,” he said. “Korea is actually the only country in the world undergoing such a phenomenon, which is very unfortunate.”

South Korean students routinely score at the top in international academic tests. But unhappiness over education’s financial and psychological costs is so widespread that it is often cited as a reason for the country’s low birthrate, which, at 1.26 in 2007, was one of the world’s lowest.

South Korean parents say that the schools are failing to teach not only English but also other skills crucial in an era of globalization, like creative thinking. That resonates among South Koreans, whose economy has slowed after decades of high growth and who believe they are increasingly being squeezed between the larger economies of Japan and China.

It could take years to see how well this wave of children will fare back in South Korea, especially since they are now going overseas at the elementary level. But earlier this decade, when the wild geese children tended to be high school students, many succeeded in plying their improved English scores to get into colleges in the United States or other English-speaking countries, education experts said. For others, their years overseas was a roundabout way to get into top South Korean colleges, like Yonsei University in Seoul, which increasingly offer courses or entire programs in English.

For New Zealand’s public schools, which charge foreign students annual tuition of $8,700, South Koreans provide an important source of revenue. The economic benefits have helped offset resentment toward an Asian influx that has remade many schools in Auckland, the country’s largest city, lending an Asian character to the business district and raising home prices in the wealthier suburbs.

At Remuera Primary, Ms. Kim said she believed that English fluency would increase her sons’ chances of gaining admission to selective secondary schools in South Korea and ultimately to a leading university in Seoul. Her husband, Park Il-ryang, 43, graduated from a little-known Korean university, and he said that the resulting lack of connections had hampered his own career.

Before coming here, the parents had sent one son, Jun-sung, now 10, to evening cram schools and their other son, Jun-woo, now 8, to an English preschool. Parents in their apartment building talked incessantly about their children’s education.

Even so, the sons were not making sufficient progress in English, the parents said. They hired a private English tutor to supplement the supplementary cram schools. “We didn’t think the cram schools were doing any good, but we were too insecure to stop sending them, because the other parents were sending their children,” Ms. Kim said.

At their house recently, the sons peeked through the living-room blinds to see whether their neighbor, Charles Price, was free to play. In no time, the boys were coming and going, barefoot, between the houses, carrying “Bionicle” action figures.

The parents were pleased that their sons had integrated well into the neighborhood and school, and were now even speaking English to each other. But Ms. Kim was worried that her younger son was making shockingly simple mistakes in his spoken Korean and might not form a solid “Korean identity.”

Striking the right balance would be critical to the brothers’ re-entry into South Korea, with its fierce competition to get into the best schools.

South Korean women’s rising social status and growing economic power have fueled the wild geese migration, according to education experts like Oh Ook-whan, a professor at Ehwa Womans University who has studied the separated families. Conservatives have criticized the wild geese mothers for being obsessed about their children’s education at the risk of destroying their marriages. The women’s real intention, they say, is to get as far away as possible from their mothers-in-law.

The mothers say they are the modern-day successors to one of the most famous mothers in East Asia: the mother of Mencius, the fourth-century Chinese Confucian philosopher. In a story known in South Korea, as well as China and Japan, Mencius’s mother moved to three neighborhoods before finding the environment most favorable to her son’s education.

“I don’t know why Mencius’s mother is so revered and why we wild geese mothers are so criticized,” said Chang Soo-jin, 37, who moved here with her two children nearly two years ago. “Our coming out here is exactly the same as what she did.”

Here, the English skills of her 6-year-old daughter, Amy, have improved so much that she now has the reading abilities of an 8-year-old, said her teacher at Sunderland, a small private school where all 16 foreign students come from South Korea.

Yet Amy’s father, Kevin Park, 41, was not totally convinced that the benefits had been worth splitting up the family. He had reluctantly agreed with his wife’s decision to come here with the children and then extend their stay, twice.

After his family left Seoul, Mr. Park, an engineer, moved into what South Koreans call an “officetel,” a building with small units that can be used as apartments or offices. Hearing about wild geese fathers becoming dissolute living by themselves, he stopped drinking at home.

“I’m alone, I miss my family,” Mr. Park said grimly in an interview in Seoul. “Families should live together.”

Living apart for years strains marriages and undermines the role of a father, traditionally the center of the family in South Korea’s Confucian culture, education experts and psychologists said. Some spouses have affairs; some marriages end in divorce.

“Even if there are problems, some couples choose to ignore them for the sake of their children’s education,” said Choi Yang-suk, a psychologist at Yonsei who has studied wild geese families in the United States and Canada.

Here, Park Jeong-won, 40, and her husband, Kim Yoon-seok, 45, an ophthalmologist who was here on a visit, said their marriage had grown stronger despite living apart for four and a half years. Every reunion, they said, was like a honeymoon.

But while Ms. Park said she talked to her husband a couple of hours daily by phone, she said her son and daughter never asked to talk to their father. He, in turn, never asked to talk to his children, the couple said.

“We may be a strange family,” Ms. Park said.

Dr. Kim said his own father had always been too busy with work to spend much time with the family, and on weekends woke up at 4 a.m. to play golf.

“Maybe that’s why, now that I’m a father, I have a similar relationship with my son,” he said.

Asked whether she missed her father, Ellin, 11, said: “I don’t miss him that much. I see him every year.”

“Do you think that’s enough?” her mother asked, a little surprised.

Ellin corrected herself and said she saw him twice a year.

2008年6月6日 星期五

“六四”19年,为了忘却的纪念

中国 | 2008.06.04

“六四”19年,为了忘却的纪念

六四事件已经过去了19年,但直到今天这一话题仍在中国属于禁忌。很多年轻人已经对1989年发生的民主运动以及天安门流血事件知之甚少,但老一辈人对当 年的情景仍然记忆犹新。据人权组织估计目前中国仍有60到100人因参加89年的民主运动而被关在监狱。人权组织呼吁北京政府将这些人释放。

北京天安门广场周围车水马龙。天安门广场上有儿童在放风筝、有游人在闲逛、也有士兵在站岗。在这里已经找不到任何中国民主运动在1989年6月4日遭到血腥镇压的痕迹。

天安门母亲丁子霖Bildunterschrift: Großansicht des Bildes mit der Bildunterschrift: 天安门母亲丁子霖

如 今中国很多青少年对19年前发生的“六四”事件一无所知。天安门广场上数百人被士兵开枪打死、被坦克碾过的真相迄今仍属禁忌。当年丧生的具体人数迄今仍不 清楚。也正因如此,中国年轻人对“六四”感到陌生。72岁的丁子霖表示:“我觉得这是一个罪过,这个罪过不在他们身上。这个罪过在共产党身上。这是刻意掩 盖历史。”

丁 子霖永远无法忘记,她的儿子在1989年6月4日凌晨被开枪打死。当时她的儿子刚过完17岁生日没有多久。丁子霖觉得,在19年后的今天,谈论“六四”事 件仍然非常困难。她在自己的住宅里给儿子设立了一个小型的纪念台。骨灰坛上方悬挂着儿子参加示威的照片。骨灰坛前摆放着鲜花。曾经担任教授的丁子霖现在是 “天安门母亲”的发言人。该组织成员都是一些失去孩子的母亲,他们的孩子有的在“六四”期间丧生,有的在当时失踪。今年,天安门母亲在自己的网页上公布了 一张地图,上面标注着示威者被开枪打死的地点。该网页很快被中国安全机构屏蔽。

19年后的天安门Bildunterschrift: Großansicht des Bildes mit der Bildunterschrift: 19年后的天安门

天 安门母亲今年除了在网站上纪念“六四”的死难者,也同时对汶川地震的遇难者表示了哀悼。丁子霖说:“我们觉得中国政府实施的是双重标准。他们对地震中的受 害者表示关心,但是对我们不理不睬,甚至加以控制。但是我们只有一个标准。我们看到灾区那么多孩子被压在豆腐渣工程下,看到那么多妈妈在痛哭,我们也非常 痛苦。”

一 些人权组织表示,中国政府确实显示出可以对自然灾害做出及时有效地反应,他们呼吁中国也以同样的方式对待人权问题。迄今为止,天安门母亲仍然没有受到公正 对待。不过,尽管今年天安门广场仍然没有举行任何纪念“六四”的活动,但一位路过的老者认为,总有一天历史的真相会被揭开:“我相信,迟早有一天这个事情 会被澄清,会还老百姓一个公道。”

被 海内外许多人称作“民主斗士”的魏京生日前在接受德国之声记者采访时曾表示,“六四”学生运动的意义在于启发了中国民智,“打破了中国人过去一直对共产党 怀有的幻想”并引起了整个世界的变化。魏京生评价19年来中国民主运动发展时说:“90年代以来,中国从一种街头化的知识分子化的民主运动走向了群众化的 维权运动。这样的民主运动是比较有基础的,因为它和老百姓的切身利益紧密结合在一起。”

德国之声

2008年6月5日 星期四

China placates foes abroad, nationalists at home

綜述一些近月新聞

Soothe, seethe

Jun 4th 2008
From Economist.com

China placates foes abroad, nationalists at home


WHEN nationalism rears its head in China, the country's neighbours tremble. They have been trembling especially hard this year. In the wake of unrest in Tibet in March, a virulently xenophobic mood swept the country. Westerners were the main target, but East Asian governments still fear that China may start throwing its weight around and settling old scores.

The earthquake in Sichuan last month, and the West's sympathetic response to it, has helped to defuse the tension, but anxieties remain. At a recent conference in Singapore on regional security, organised by the London-based International Institute for Strategic Studies, Singapore's prime minister, Lee Hsien Loong, said that how China and the West handled problems caused by “narrow interest groups” (apparently referring to the pro-Tibet lobby and its ilk), would “strongly influence whether China's emergence will unsettle the international order, or whether China succeeds in its path of peaceful integration with the rest of the world.”

AP Getting warmer

Mr Lee warned of “unexpected incidents” arising before or during the Beijing Olympics in August. One recent episode which shocked many Chinese, involved Sharon Stone, an American actress, suggested that the Sichuan earthquake could have been a result of bad “karma” in China caused by its crackdown in Tibet.

Chinese cinemas have responded by refusing to show her films and Christian Dior, a French fashion company, has stopped using her in its advertising campaign in China. The French have been especially nervous of public sentiment in China since April, when protests in Paris against the Olympic torch relay triggered demands in China for a boycott of French goods.

The Communist Party, fearful of being accused of selling out Chinese interests, has been reluctant to come down hard on nationalist protesters. But it too is clearly nervous. Police have been keeping a close watch on public displays of patriotism, even those involving nothing more than small groups of young Chinese shouting “Come on, China!” to show their sympathy with the earthquake victims.

China does not want the West or its neighbours to get alarmed. It fears that anti-China sentiment abroad could fuel nationalism at home, which in turn could pressure on policymakers to engage in a vicious cycle of tit-for-tat responses.

So even as Chinese nationalists have been seething over perceived insults by foreigners, their leaders have been reaching out to traditional rivals. President Hu Jintao flew to Tokyo in May for the first visit by a Chinese head of state in a decade and a far friendlier one than his predecessor's trip in 1998.


China has been offering olive branches to Taiwan's new president, Ma Ying-jeou. In late May Mr Hu held talks in Beijing with Wu Poh-hsiung, who leads Mr Ma's party, the Kuomintang. They agreed to resume dialogue between the two sides, which has been suspended for a decade. When Vietnam's Communist Party chief, Nong Duc Manh, visited, the two sides agreed to set up a hotline between their leaders.

In the earthquake zone, at least some foreign journalists have found the Chinese military—which normally shuns contact with the media—unusually chatty and willing to help. American military planes have been allowed to fly in with relief supplies. China even agreed to allow Japanese military planes to do the same, but quickly decided against the idea after Chinese nationalists (who resent the Japanese more than the Americans) began protesting on the internet. It would have been the first action in China by Japanese military aircraft since the second world war.

Singapore's Mr Lee said the international community needed to understand “the strength of these gut emotions in Chinese society and in the collective psyche”. Chinese leaders know it all too well and are struggling to contain it.



新加坡,俄羅斯

新加坡內閣資政李光耀昨天透露,一名俄羅斯企業家對新加坡樟宜機場的效率印象深刻,因此邀請新加坡協助俄羅斯發展機場。他又說,新加坡將在俄羅斯參與五個機場的開發工程。

新加坡媒體今天報導,李光耀昨天在莫斯科答覆媒體時,指已經與莫斯科謝瑞米提耶佛機場簽有管理合約的樟宜機場國際公司,將要在參與另外四個俄羅斯的機場發展工程。

據悉,這些機場包括了正在談判中的聖彼得堡機場,和俄羅斯南部黑海渡假勝地、二零一四年冬季奧運主辦城市素溪的機場擴建工程。

李光耀說,俄羅斯可以在新加坡協助下,興建一座設施完善的機場,但機場能否有效運作,以推動經濟發展,就有賴良好的行政體制和人力資源。

李光耀又指,一名俄羅斯企業家到新加坡後,對樟宜機場效率印象特別深刻。這名企業家認為樟宜機場指示標示清楚、海關人員效率高,通過後就能馬上拿到行李,搭計程車二十分鐘就到市中心。

李光耀認為,只要人們心態改變,海關人員停留在過往工作節奏的謝瑞米提耶佛機場,也有能力達到這樣的標準。

另外,李光耀也認為,俄羅斯擁有六千五百億美元的國家儲備金,擁有足夠的資源對鐵路、機場和通訊等基礎設施進行投資。這樣一來,就能創造更多就業機會,協助更多人擺脫貧困。

Experts Warned of Quake Risk in China

Experts Warned of Quake Risk in China

David Guttenfelder/Associated Press

Railway workers outside Hongbai in Sichuan Province, China, near a quake-damaged chemical plant. China pushed development in the region despite quake risks.


Published: June 5, 2008

SHANGHAI — Chinese scientists say that even before a final accounting can be made in last month’s earthquake in Sichuan Province, one thing is painfully evident: The huge death toll stems partly from a failure to heed clear warnings of a devastating earthquake in the area.


Oded Balilty/Associated Press

Workers shoring up dikes outside Hanwang in Sichuan to withstand the flow of water from draining quake-formed lakes.

For decades, Chinese scientists say, they have known of the risk of a potentially catastrophic earthquake along the Longmenshan belt, the area where the Wenchuan earthquake struck, and repeatedly raised their concerns with government authorities. But they say preparations for a quake there were cursory at best, and building codes remained well short of the codes that have become standard in other well-known earthquake zones, including Beijing itself.

The ruling Communist Party has hailed its own vigorous response to the quake as evidence of its concern for human life, and has generally received positive reviews at home and abroad for its rescue efforts after the quake. To date, however, China’s state-run news media have paid little attention to the fact that government officials apparently did little to shore up structures, limit urban growth or even conduct basic safety drills that might have reduced the death toll.

“Chinese people have a saying, that you learn a fence needs mending after the sheep have run away,” said Gao Jianguo, a researcher with the China Earthquake Administration, in Beijing. “In this case, people wouldn’t recognize the danger until the sheep actually died. We tried to lay out the reasons beforehand, but people wouldn’t listen.”

One after another, Chinese experts have emphasized that they are unable to predict the timing of an event like the one May 12, which left about 87,000 people dead or missing. But they say the general danger to this region has been known since at least 1933, when a major quake struck Wenchuan, and has been studied fairly intensively since the 1970s.

“The line of the middle fault is as clear as a string,” said Li Yong, a geological expert at Chengdu University of Technology. “It suggests continuous and strong movement. Such a long and clear lineament should trigger a big quake. Other scientists have had similar ideas.”

In July, a paper by Mr. Li and another scientist raised the likelihood of a 7.0 magnitude earthquake along the Longmenshan belt, and spoke again of the dangers there at a conference in China a month before the disaster.

While many say scientists advocated stronger precautionary measures for years, some also expressed a deep sense of failure for not having warned the government in stronger terms that seismic danger there was being underestimated. The Longmenshan belt did not appear, for example, on a recent priority watch list of likely trouble spots.

“Beyond the pain felt by ordinary Chinese, we in earthquake science are guilty beyond description,” said Ma Shengli, deputy director of the Institute of Geology of the Chinese Earthquake Administration. “Our ability fell far short of what was needed, and we can’t help but cry.”

Some seismologists also say that the earthquake agency, based in Beijing, did not press the government to impose tougher building codes in the region. So even if most buildings there had been built to code — many appeared to fall far short — they might well have failed to withstand the May quake, which the Chinese government says had a magnitude of 8.0, the most powerful in China in modern times.

“The earthquake administration didn’t warn the government enough,” said Mr. Gao, the researcher with the earthquake agency. “We told them things should be built to withstand seventh-degree crack resistance, but we should have insisted on ninth degree, just as experts from the Soviet Union advised us back in the 1950s.”

Mr. Gao referred to an earthquake building code standard used in China. A building would have required construction to an 11th-degree standard to have escaped damage in last month’s earthquake. Many Chinese experts invoked the high cost of building structures to withstand major earthquakes as a rationale for the failure to do so.

Earthquake-related building codes exist throughout China, but experts say they have been applied spottily. In Beijing, where the earthquake risk is high, more strenuous efforts have been made to enforce strict building codes. In many other high-risk areas, this has not been the case.

“Standards are one thing, and the implementation is another,” said Liu Hang, a professor and senior engineer at the Beijing Construction Engineering Research Institute. “The quake-proof level for Wenchuan’s local buildings is rated Degree 7, but based on what I’ve seen on-site, the buildings there are far from reaching this standard. Let’s not talk about whether the degree of quake-proofing is high enough; the buildings in the affected areas just have no quake-proof protection at all.”

Speaking of the capital, Mr. Liu said, “Unless the epicenter of an earthquake like this occurred right in Tiananmen Square, central Beijing would not be seriously damaged.”

Officials at China’s Ministry of Housing and Urban-Rural Development did not respond to a request for an interview. An official at Sichuan Province’s construction department who identified himself only as Lu denied there were widespread problems of enforcing building standards, but declined to say more.

In light of the huge loss of life, many said that whatever the rationale, the failure to enforce adequate building standards in Sichuan was unacceptable.

Hu Xingdou, a professor at the Beijing Institute of Technology, called the failure to enforce adequate building standards a case of “serious malfeasance” on the part of local governments.

“One of their basic responsibilities is to ensure people’s safety, which means supervising the quality of people’s homes, and making sure that new houses comply with standards,” Professor Hu said. “Even if they haven’t made the effort to cover all rural housing, initially they should make sure public buildings, such as schools and hospitals, are safe and compliant.”

China has long pushed major infrastructure and even military developments in the area despite the quake risk. The mountainous region outside Chengdu became a major military production base in the 1960s, when China feared the possibility of an attack from the Soviet Union or the United States. Nuclear design, plutonium and fighter jet production facilities were located not far from the Longmenshan belt, largely because the region, deep in central China, was far from the country’s borders and considered relatively safe from aerial assault.

Under Mao’s Third Front policy, major industrial and military facilities were located in the Chinese heartland rather than in coastal areas viewed as more vulnerable. “The awareness of earthquake risk has been a gradual process, while the construction of the Third Front was primarily a political decision,” said Ma Dingsheng, a military expert and commentator on Phoenix TV, based in Hong Kong. He said that even after the quake risk was better understood, military facilities there continued to expand.

There is no evidence of serious damage to military facilities, though information about them is highly classified in China.

On Wednesday, China’s State Council passed a draft regulation on post-quake restoration and reconstruction at an executive meeting, the official Xinhua news agency reported Thursday. It introduced special requirements on earthquake-resistance levels of infrastructure construction in the quake-hit regions, including schools and hospitals.

Local governments must organize personnel to conduct safety appraisals of all school buildings as soon as possible to ensure the safety of students as they return to school, according to the statement.

A disproportionately large number of the earthquake’s victims were children crushed when thousands of classrooms crumbled or collapsed. Facing pressure from parents over the loss of their children, this week the Sichuan Education Bureau published a list of five reasons school-related deaths were so high. The reasons included the timing of the quake, while classes were in session, and the age of school buildings. No mention was made of government failure to enforce standards, or of corruption, which are taboo subjects.

Treading carefully around a politically delicate subject, Mr. Li, the co-author of last year’s paper warning of the danger to this region, said, “Many experts have provided their knowledge and suggestions, but how much of it became a reality in these towns and villages isn’t something that’s convenient for me to say.”

Some scientists said that given the known risk, the areas with the worst damage should never have been settled. “How could a populous city be built in such a risky area, particularly right at the foot of mountains?” said Liu Jingbo, a professor at the Construction Institute of Disaster Preparation and Relief at Tsinghua University, in Beijing. “When an earthquake occurs, it’s not just the collapse of buildings that buries people, but boulders and huge rocks and mud flows follow on immediately.”

More than 15,000 people died in Beichuan, or about one-tenth of the city’s population. “The ignorance of the local government or the lack of attention to implementation of the departments with real power contributed to this tragedy,” Professor Liu said.

Beichuan, a county capital, was moved in 1952 to its present site at the foot of three mountains, from a nearby site that was prone to flooding. But concerns about the risk of a major earthquake have been voiced almost continuously since the relocation.

“Ever since I was small,” said Sun Xiaotao, director of the general office of Beichuan County’s fiscal bureau, “I’ve heard talk about how if an earthquake happened, we’d be wrapped in, just like a dumpling.”

Reporting was contributed by Fan Wenxin, Li Zhen and Shi Jing from Shanghai, and John Schwartz from New York.

2008年6月1日 星期日

Help with a bow (Tzu Chi)

Taiwan's charities

Help with a bow

May 29th 2008 | TAIPEI
From The Economist print edition

An unexpected bringer of relief in Myanmar and China


EPA Taiwan to the rescue

THE natural disasters that recently befell Myanmar and China have tested the willingness of both stricken countries to let in foreign helpers. Western relief organisations are still waiting to see whether Myanmar's armed forces meant what they said when they promised to let in all aid workers, regardless of nationality. China, though quick to accept money and material from the West, was slower to let in its people. But whereas Western do-gooders have queued for entry, volunteers from Taiwan's non-governmental organisations (NGOs) received a warmer welcome. A chartered relief mission from Taipei, led by a Burmese-born Buddhist monk, was among the first to land in Yangon, Myanmar's main city. In China, emergency workers from a Taiwanese foundation were among the first to reach Sichuan. This first-responder feat is all the more remarkable given the political impasse between China and Taiwan.

Disaster relief plays to the strengths of Taiwan's NGOs. They have plenty of experience coping with earthquakes and typhoons at home, and can mobilise legions of volunteers at short notice. Operating in a vibrant democracy that encourages civil society is also handy, as is the charitable impulse of many Taiwanese. This is often channelled into Buddhist philanthropy, which troubles receiving countries less than the proselytising zeal that comes attached to some brands of Christian charity. Paradoxically, Taiwan's diplomatic isolation helps: its aid agencies can plead neutrality in countries such as Myanmar.


The largest NGO in Taiwan—and by all accounts in the Chinese-speaking world—is the Tzu Chi Foundation, which has dozens of international chapters, around 10m supporters and annual donations of $300m. In Taiwan it runs hospitals, schools, a university, recycling centres and one of the world's largest bone-marrow banks. 忘記提媒體 It began overseas relief work in 1991, responding to flooding along China's Yangzi river. Initially, its offer of help got a cool response from both sides of the Taiwan Strait. Critics at home asked why they wanted to aid “the enemy”. Eventually both sides relented, and China is now the biggest overseas recipient of Tzu Chi's low-key largesse. Earlier this year, it finally got a licence to operate freely as a 100%-foreign NGO, a first for China, it claims.

With projects in dozens of countries, Tzu Chi is starting to resemble its Western counterparts, except that its aid workers are trained volunteers who pay their own way to disaster zones. Master Cheng Yen, a Buddhist nun who founded the organisation in 1966, teaches that charitable givers must thank those they help in person, preferably with a bow. That is not just a wonderful bit of courtesy. It is also a way to make sure that aid reaches its recipients, rather than ending up in the hands of an unworthy government.