Jonathan Watts - When a Billion Chinese Jump

For over half a century Barbie has been the ecological equivalent of a weapon of mass destruction. The doll’s plasticity became the subject of much postmodern self-parody in the Barbie emporium. Accessories were decked with English slogans such as “A plastic tan never fades,” and the skincare products boasted “plastic smooth” results. Unrivaled in her ability to influence young minds, she was the perfect saleswoman for a fantasy lifestyle that, scaled-up and replicated, was proving calamitous.

The size of Barbie’s eco-footprint was belied by her petite slingbacks. With a garage full of cars, a huge home, and a penchant for foreign travel and shopping, her carbon consumption would be off the scale in the real world. If little girls in China grew up wanting to shop, eat, and travel like Barbie, the planet’s prognosis would shift from touch-and-go to terminal.

Until very recently, China has been living within the planet’s means. If everyone in the world consumed what the average Mr. or Mrs. Wang did in 2007, we would just about stay within the sustainable resources of our planet. 4Humanity would have a balanced ecological budget.

But, understandably, Mr. and Mrs. Wang wanted to keep up with Mr. and Mrs. Jones on the other side of the Pacific. That was human nature. It was also very bad news for the environment, because if we all ate, shopped, and traveled like those average Americans, we would need 4.5 earths. If we all lived like Barbara Millicent Roberts, the situation would be even worse. 5

In the United States, appalling damage had been done for decades. The situation was only slightly less serious in western Europe. In China, that Barbie-dream apocalypse was closest to coming true in Shanghai. The city that Deng Xiaoping called “the head of the dragon” was the biggest, richest, most globalized mass of modernity in the country. This was the home of the most luxury shopping malls, the tallest buildings, the nation’s first F1 track, the biggest auto companies, the only commercially operating Maglev train, the second-busiest port in the world, and a gathering horde of international salesmen trying to sell the American consumer lifestyle. 6

The planet’s biggest corporations were depending on the Wangs catching up with the Joneses (and the Robertses). The United States had shopped until its economy dropped. Sinking in debt, plagued by obesity, and increasingly dependent on military might to protect its lifestyle, the world’s superconsumer was groaning with indigestion. Europe was too decrepit and conservative to take up the slack, so global manufacturers, retailers, and restaurant chains were desperate to stimulate the Chinese appetite.

Shanghai was their beachhead. While information firms and political lobbyists headed to Beijing and manufacturers flocked to Guangzhou, retail giants almost invariably chose Shanghai as the base for their China headquarters and their first showrooms. From Kentucky Fried Chicken, McDonald’s, and Starbucks to Louis Vuitton, Gucci, and Chanel, international brands made the city a giant shopping mall. Shanghai’s skies were filled with spectacular towers that hosted the offices of global corporations, while its suburbs sprawled outward with the luxury villas of the marketing managers, PR consultants, and advertising executives.

Judging by appearances, Shanghai was a source of environmental optimism. The city has used its wealth to clean up the streets, air, and rivers, to upgrade transport infrastructure, and to relocate polluters. 7Such was the improvement that the city was often cited as a model in China.

Stroll down the Huaihai Road and the transformation was evident. Most of the colonial-era buildings in this part of the French Concession had been torn down and replaced by boutiques and department stores. Out had gone old family-run stores and local brands, such as Three Gun Underwear. In had come Adidas, Mothercare, H&M, Zara, Costa Coffee, and stalls selling Heineken and Coca-Cola. In quieter side streets, the former residences of the European traders had become upmarket salons for Dunhill and Vacheron Constantin.

Consumers had never had more options. America’s Wal-Mart, France’s Carrefour, Britain’s Tesco, and Japan’s Ito-Yokado were expanding in China faster than in any other country. Each year they opened hundreds of new stores in the expectation that Chinese consumption would surge as more rural migrants moved into cities and worked their way into the middle class.

Young urbanites were becoming as enthusiastic about french fries, burgers, and fried chicken as their counterparts in New York or London. When the first Kentucky Fried Chicken opened near Tiananmen Square in 1987, it was seen as a novel Western dining experience. Twenty years later, the company had 2,000 outlets in 400 cities, employing 200,000 people, making it easily the biggest restaurant chain in China. 8In roughly the same period, McDonald’s had grown from one restaurant to 800. Dozens of other fast-food outlets tried to mimic their success. Along with the changing diet came a surge in obesity, diabetes, and heart disease.

As in other countries, the arrival of the Barbie ideal came at a time when real body shapes were moving in the opposite direction. Obese children used to be rare in China. Due to the country’s history of famine, plumpness had long been seen as a sign of health and prosperity. Even adults take a certain pride in a bulging belly. Men in the north used to roll up their shirts in the summer to show their jiangjun du or General’s Belly. 9But now General’s Bellies are everywhere. In Shanghai, they even have a new name: XO Bellies—after the cognac favored by business executives and senior officials. As in the rest of the world, China has rapidly grown obese, with nearly 15 percent of the population overweight. 10Shanghai is often cited as the worst-affected city.

Diet and weight also affect the health of the planet. The demographer Joel Cohen has estimated that the earth could sustain ten billion people if everyone became a vegan. 11But the opposite is happening in China. Barbie™ Burgers and the like are part of an increasingly carnivorous diet. As the country becomes wealthier, it moves ever closer to the fattening staples of the United States. 12Each year, the average American chomps through 124 kilograms of meat, most of it beef. 13Fattening a cow by a kilogram requires four times as much grain and far more water than fattening a chicken by the same amount. To feed its growing livestock, China now imports huge quantities of soy, much of it from Brazil, which has resulted in accelerated clearance of Amazonian forest and Cerrado savanna for cultivation and a shifting of the irrigation pressure to Brazil and other suppliers of grain. In policymaking circles, this is known as importing “virtual water.” In practice it often means exporting environmental stress.

Shanghai’s bright cosmetic exterior has been achieved at the expense of the places that provide its resources and deal with its waste. Like many other wealthy cities around the world, the high-protein, high-octane, jetsetting lifestyle is being paid for elsewhere. As the “head of the dragon” grows hungrier and heavier, its ecological footprint is sinking deeper and wider.

At two o’clock on a Tuesday afternoon I stood in front of the imposing colonial facade of Number 18 on the Bund, where I planned to climb a step higher up the consumer ladder. During the colonial era, this had been the center of foreign power. British, French, and Japanese financial institutions built their regional headquarters here in grand styles befitting their claim to empire. By turns art deco, Gothic, baroque, and Romanesque, this promenade on the Huangpu River was home to the magnificent Cathay Hotel, the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank, several shipping firms, the British consulate, the Jardine Matheson trading house, a number of telegraph companies, a customs house with a replica of Big Ben, and the Shanghai Club, where financiers, military officers, and administrators determined the fate of the natives over gin and tonics at the 30-meter “Long Bar,” at the time the biggest in the world.