Asia
Now we know why the buns taste odd
Published 19 July 2007
Chinese goods undercut the rest because not much is spent on safety, many products are counterfeited or developed from stolen intellectual property rights
It started with the dead dogs. This spring, in homes across America, family pooches were keeling over after dinner. The cause was pet food imported from China that contained mela mine, added to give falsely high protein readings. Since then the US media have been full of stories of lethal Chinese products, from toothpaste laced with antifreeze to Thomas and Friends toy trains covered in toxic paint.
Everyone reacted as you would expect. American senators used the scandals as an excuse to push their protectionist agenda. The Chinese government began with affronted denials, eventually acknowledged it needed to do more about food safety, and finally executed the former head of the State Food and Drug Administration, Zheng Xiaoyu, for corruption.
Having thus proved that everything is in hand and being dealt with, Li Changjiang, minister of the State Administration of Quality Supervision, Inspection and Quarantine, went for the usual target. "Some foreign media . . . have wantonly reported on so-called unsafe Chinese products," he said. "They are turning white to black." For good measure, the Chinese government banned sundry American foodstuffs, claiming that they, too, were contaminated.
The mini trade war has obscured more fundamental questions about the role of China in the globalised world. One of the main factors keeping down prices worldwide is cheap Chinese imports. Now Americans are beginning to understand how this works. Chinese goods undercut the rest because neither the government nor the manufacturers spend much on safety, many products are counterfeited or developed from stolen intellectual property rights, and labour is cheap - especially if provided by children or slaves (see last month's brick kilns scandal).
According to the Wall Street Journal, at least a hundred grieving pet owners are suing US pet food importers or others over the deaths of their animals. That means lawsuits, the costs of which will eventually be passed on to consumers. "American companies have not always realised how expensive Chinese-manufactured goods can turn out to be once the cost of low quality is factored in," said the WSJ editorial.
Beyond the normal bluster are signs that the central government has understood how serious this is. The Chinese economic miracle is built on exports, and so, if these falter, the whole project will shake. But dealing with the problem means addressing some of the most complex issues in China today.
From his office on the 22nd floor of the Shell Tower, David Fernyhough surveys Hong Kong's Causeway Bay. Fernyhough is a New Zealander, formerly with the Hong Kong organised crime squad, now executive vice-president of Hill & Associates, a company frequently hired by multinationals seeking to uncover who is faking their products. "China is the manufacturing centre for the majority of all counterfeit products," he said. "It's got the capability, the funding, a large geographical area in which to hide, and corruption. All the ingredients are there. There's the expertise, the business acumen and the networks to get the product from China to pretty much anywhere on the globe."
The Chinese government acknowledges the link between counterfeit products and poor quality; the food safety chief was executed for taking bribes from eight pharmaceutical companies, and licensing fake or inadequately tested drugs. Yet, according to Fernyhough and other sources, in many provinces state-owned enterprises are involved in counterfeiting and local officials are implicated.
"We've seen a huge amount of Taiwanese money going into China and backing the manufacture of counterfeits - bribing officials, setting up networks, paying off freight forwarders and customs officials," he said.
Foreign media have concentrated on dangerous exports but the problem affects the Chinese, too. On Zheng Xiaoyu's watch, at least ten people died in Anhui Province after taking an antibiotic that should never have been approved. This past week, an undercover TV team exposed a Beijing baozi maker who filled his steamed buns with 40 per cent fatty meat, and 60 per cent dirty cardboard scraps softened with caustic soda.
The answer, maybe, lies in that little anecdote. It was one of a handful of occasions when a TV journalist has been allowed to expose something of direct concern to viewers. The Chinese government would rather deal with the problem by executions and decrees. Allowing journalists to do their muckraking job or even permitting independent consumer groups to operate would, in the long run, be far more effective. But that, of course, would be a threat not to American dogs or Chinese citizens, but to the power of the Party - so it is out of the question.
Lindsey Hilsum is China correspondent for Channel 4 News
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