When a Billion Chinese Jump (31 page)

The black fuel was the basis of the world’s earliest military-industrial complexes. In the late sixteenth century the army commander on the northwestern frontier, Tian Le, sent out excavation teams into the mountains to search for the ore and trees needed to smelt iron for weapons. He requisitioned foundry workers from Shanxi and Shaanxi to help. Their success was lauded in dispatches.

“In Hexi, the region where the wars are conducted, iron smelted in the morning can be put to use the same evening,” wrote an admiring deputy. “The barbarians within our frontiers have repeatedly been given a bloody nose in recent times, and have been sticking out their tongues in astonishment, speaking of an ‘iron wall’! When they now further hear that we are smelting iron here, won’t they be inclined to behave themselves?”
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As in films and art today, the misery and dangers of mining were another frequent theme of poems. Few are more evocative than Wang Taiyue’s description of environmental destruction and the grim life of a copper miner in the eighteenth century:

They gather at dawn, by the mouth of the shaft
Standing there naked, their garments stripped off,
Lamps strapped to their heads in carrying baskets,
To probe in the darkness the fathomless bottom.

Grazed by the stone’s teeth, the sharp-edged projections,
They grope down sheer cliffs, and across mossy patches
The hot months tempt them with harsh epidemics,
When poisonous vapors mix with hot gases

In the chill of the winter, their bodies will tremble,
Hands blister with chilblains. Their feet will be chapped.
Down the mine for this reason, they huddle together,
But hardly revive, their life’s force at a standstill …

The wood they must have is no longer available,
The forests shaved bald, like a convict’s head. Blighted.
Only now they regret—felling day after day,
Has left them no way to provide for their firewood.

Worse still, as the mountainsides’ bellies were hollowed,
The subsidence this caused demolished the rocks,
And smashed them to fragments, like scattering pebbles,
As, in one death, a few hundred perished.

Their spirits were heard, in the depths of night, wailing,
As their ghost fires were flickering, chilled in the gale.
How worthless, alas, is a human’s existence,
Its price even less than a chicken’s or piglet’s.
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This lament echoes the coal-mining literature of many other nations, where appreciation for the warmth and power the fuel provided was mixed with horror at the conditions of miners and industrial pollution. In English, the earliest record of urban smog dates back to 1661, when the British diarist John Evelyn penned “Fumifugium,” an appeal for the government to clean up the air of London. In words that would sound familiar to the residents of early twenty-first-century Linfen, he noted:

By reason of the excessive coldness of the air, hindering the ascent of the smoke, was so filled with the fuliginous steam of the sea-coal, that hardly can one see across the street, and this filling the lungs with its gross particles exceedingly obstructed the breast, so as one would scarcely breathe.

The smog worsened during the Victorian period. In 1852, Charles Dickens vividly described the “London particulars” in the opening of
Bleak House
:

Smoke lowering down from chimney-pots, making a soft black drizzle, with flakes of soot in it as big as full-grown snowflakes—gone into mourning, one might imagine, for the death of the sun.

It was not until 1956, after a “great smog” killed 12,000 people in 1952, that Britain cleaned up its skies with the Clean Air Act and a shift to oil, gas, and cleaner coal-burning technology. China has found it harder to escape the carbon that appears to choke the sky and the sun.

With 20 percent of the world’s population and an economy that continues to grow, China needs huge amounts of fuel. Deposits of oil and gas are small relative to the country’s size, but coal is abundant.
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Unfortunately, it is mostly of low quality and inconveniently located in the northwest, the opposite end of the country from where it is most needed: the manufacturing belt of the southeast.

The cleanest solution would be to transform the fuel into electricity or gas near the source and transfer it via power lines or pipes. But this would mean the mining provinces receiving even less economic benefit.
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So the coal has to be transported by train, barge, and ship at huge extra cost to the economy and the environment. Coal accounts for 40 percent of the freight on China’s railways.
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On the track from Shanxi through Beijing to the southeast, I counted in astonishment as double locomotives pulled a train of more than two hundred cars each loaded high with more than 60 tons of coal and ash. There was another ten minutes later. Then another. A million tons could pass along a single line in a day.

Millions of dollars flow in the other direction. China’s spectacular economic rise can be tracked by the volume of coal mined, freighted, and burned. During the Mao era, colliery production was held back by centralized price restraints that turned coal into red ink. But after the market
reforms of the late 1970s and early 1980s, digging mines suddenly became the quickest way to get rich. The wealth of Shanxi’s colliery bosses was notorious. The problems caused by coal were not entirely their fault—the state’s control over extraction rights and frequent crackdowns encouraged mine owners to cash in as quickly as possible and with minimum concern for safety. But mine owners were a reviled group who were accused of having blood on their hands, ruining the land, and being the epitome of bad taste. Young people who drove flashy cars, wore loud clothes, and treated people badly were taunted as being “like the child of a Shanxi mine owner.”

Pan Yue, the deputy environment minister, described the bosses as little more than parasites. “Coal-mine owners from Shanxi Province indiscriminately extract coal and dig up the land, creating pollution. As a result they become extremely wealthy. Once they have polluted Shanxi, however, they do not stay there. Instead they move to Beijing, where they buy luxury villas and push up house prices. They have also pushed up property prices in all the coastal regions of North China. If these areas then become polluted, they will no doubt move to the U.S., Canada, or Australia and cause inflation there too. They create pollution, but are removed from its consequences. They take all the benefits of polluting industries, but pay nothing toward the cleanup costs.”

The true cost of the mines never shows up on balance sheets. For the mining provinces, it is a curse. They receive far from a fair market price because the mines are owned by the state and the colliery owners get the rights to profit from extraction. The prosperity of cities like Shanghai and Beijing is based on cheap energy from provinces like Shanxi and Shaanxi, which are left with the environmental and health costs. One influential study estimates the environmental and social costs associated with China’s use of coal at about 7.1 percent of the nation’s GDP in 2007.
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As an increasing number of people in China are saying, “Something has to change.”
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Industry forecasters agree. Without a long-term strategic plan, the country’s reserves will be exhausted before the end of the century.
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The government has responded with a drive for more efficiency, the key focus of “Scientific Development.” It has closed small private mines and opened automated megacollieries. It has replaced small old thermal plants with supercritical and ultra-supercritical generators equipped with scrubbers
and other technology to reduce emissions of nitrogen dioxide and sulfur dioxide (though it has not always been properly used).
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Policymakers are studying the possibility of a carbon tax. More public funds and utility cash are being invested in “clean coal” technology. Along with the tightening of safety standards, this has begun to drive up the cost of domestic coal, as has Shanxi’s introduction of an ecological restoration fund. Indeed, as prices soared in 2008, many factories in the southeast started importing from Australia and elsewhere.

Abandoning coal completely is not, of course, an option, as I learned in a discussion with Xiao Yunhan, an energy visionary at the Chinese Academy of Sciences. “Nobody likes coal, even in China. But do you have a better solution for our energy supply problems?” he said. He expected consumption of coal to double over the following ten years. For at least another two decades, China would be trapped in a coal-dependent economy.

“Even if China utilizes every kind of energy to the maximum level, it is still difficult for us to produce enough energy for economic development. It’s not a case of choosing coal or renewables. We need both,” the senior scientist said. “We have to use coal, so the best thing we can do is make that use as efficient as possible.”

Unlike the Meng brothers, people will not be expected to eat lumps of anthracite, but industrialists are expected to find new ways to consume carbon. In addition to installing newer and more efficient power plants, China is also ahead of other nations in developing and adopting Integrated Gasification Combined Cycle (IGCC) technology that turns coal into gas, removes impurities, maximizes efficiency, and can capture carbon. In the future, Xiao predicted plants will be able to turn coal into gas and diesel, capturing and eventually sequestrating carbon dioxide emissions. Some of the technology is at an advanced stage of development.

“That’s my idea. At Shanxi and Shaanxi, coal-to-oil and IGCC will be integrated into one system. In this regard, China is ahead of other nations. The U.S. is only talking about this,” he told me matter-of-factly over a cup of green tea.

The technology is expensive, but Xiao estimated that China could build and operate IGCC plants for about a third of the price of the U.S. In the near future, he predicted China would have to choose whether to invest primarily in supercritical plants, which burn coal efficiently, or IGCC facilities that dealt more effectively with carbon. The latter are more
expensive, but price is not the only consideration. “The uncertainty of climate change constraints is a factor in deciding which plants we build,” he said. “If we don’t need to worry about CO
₂
emissions, then supercritical plants make more sense. But if we are concerned about carbon dioxide, then IGCC is the best. This is the big decision we must make in the next five to ten years … Sequestration will be the final solution for carbon dioxide control. But before that we should try other things.”
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“Isn’t the priority in the long term to reduce demand?” I asked.

He shrugged and smiled. “We cannot deny people a happy life.”

“But we also must not deny future generations a happy life,” I said.

“True,” he replied.

I returned to the Black Belt soon after. Driving through Shaanxi, the farther north I progressed, the duller the colors of the landscape became. After a few hours I hit the stunningly morose moonscape of the loess hills, pocked with cave dwellings, many still in use. That bleak beauty gave way to a scattering of dirty, cinder-block homes that lifted and thickened into the city of Yan’an. Farther north still, the dark yellow contours gave way to a flat scrubland. It was almost desert. I had to close the window because the air was filled with grit. I wondered whether the haze in the sky was pollution or the dregs of a sandstorm. At Yulin, where part of the Great Wall had been knocked down and replaced by a row of shops and apartment buildings, coal was piled up here and there on the roadside. The town looked filthy.

Moving on, I saw sand dunes and dry riverbeds. Coal production was taking scarce water supplies from agriculture. Dust devils danced on the road ahead, curling and coiling in the wind. At Shenmu, just before the provincial boundary with Inner Mongolia, I stopped at a service station, where trucks laden high with coal lined up for gas. It would be at least an hour before my car reached the front of the long queue for the pumps, so I wandered around and got chatting to a coal wholesaler. Zhang Guoluan was dour-faced but content with life. Why? Because his income had risen fivefold over the previous five years thanks to a surge in demand for coal. But he knew it would not last forever.

“I guess our country might stop using coal one day. It is already being phased out in the big cities because of the pollution it causes,” he said matter-of-factly.

I asked if he was worried about losing his job.

“No. If that happens, I will just return to my old life as a farmer.”

I filled my tank and pressed on. Zhang’s job was safe, I reflected. Demand for coal would not fall anytime soon. Power would always trump sustainability. Educated farmers no longer wanted to work underground because it was too dangerous, but both state mines and private collieries were hiring poor, uneducated workers, often from ethnic minorities, to do the dirty work, just as the West had done for centuries. Mine safety might improve but so would productivity. Local pollution might ease, but carbon emissions into the global atmosphere would continue to rise. For decades, hot, suffocating dregs of preancient life would enter the air in ever greater quantities.

China would remain trapped in carbon with appalling consequences for itself and the world. My thoughts returned to the Meng brothers, who seemed unlikely ever to fully recover from being buried alive. What had happened to them? I asked my assistant to call and ask. Meng Xianchen had moved to Xilinhaote in Inner Mongolia. He was a gatekeeper at a relative’s coal mine and still complained of fatigue. He escaped the carbon but not its effects. Nor had he lost his instinct for survival. “If you want a full interview,” he said, “you have to pay.”

I sympathized. But I would see and hear worse. As I was to learn in neighboring Gansu, coal digging was surpassed only by water mining as an environmental threat to China. Both were unsustainable. Together, there was no more destructive combination.