Park Your Policy Here For Now, But Not Your Bike

It’s not a clampdown, but the beginnings of a finding some way forward on bike-sharing, at least in one part of Nanjing.

Today’s edition of Nanjing Daily [南京日报] carries the news that Xinjiekou [新街口]--the center of Nanjing and its main shopping district--has begun to institute changes to the ways in which share-bikes are distributed and parked there. According to the report, spaces to leave share-bikes for use will now be limited, and after 30 minutes, the affiliated company must remove share-bikes that are not being used.

These measures are clearly stopgaps to deal with the growing problem of bike-sharing in localities here—one which the account states, at least in Nanjing’s central shopping area, “has become more strained” [更加紧张].

The Xinjiekou Administrative Management Committee—one of the many departments and bureaus here that oversee zones (instead of having a specific policy portfolio, such as transportation in general)—stated that since January, six separate bike-sharing companies have appeared in Nanjing, and that while the local government isn’t out to prohibit their activities, “there are 0.37 square kilometers of the Xinjiekou core area, and the non-motorized parking area [that is, anything that isn’t a car or a delivery truck] can only accommodate 2500 to 3000 non-motor vehicles.” The problem, according to Director Lu Minmin [陆敏敏], is that “a lot of people after the end of shopping, often choose subway, bus, taxi and other ways to leave,” and the resulting pedestrian traffic is often heavy. The sudden influx of shared-bikes competing for already tight space has made sidewalks more difficult to park on and to navigate.

One parking attendant quoted in the article estimated that recently there are hundreds of shared bicycles competing with electric bikes, motorcycles, and other vehicles for parking spots, many of the latter piloted by people employed in the area and forced to find spaces away from their workplaces. “The local operators are trying to maintain the order of parking,” Lu noted, “but because of the lack of manpower, it’s only a drop of water in the ocean [杯水车薪].” Something had to be done, has to be done, or at least tried.

This is not some draconian directive being announced that Nanjing city authorities will implement from above without further consideration or consultation. Nanjing doesn’t work that way. In fact, the report noted that “Qinhuai District parking facilities management center director Fang Xiaojun [方晓俊] suggested that the various operators should establish an autonomous coalition…to coordinate ways in which to allocate and maintain order for bike-share parking.” So there's room for discussion and options.

Interestingly, Nanjing Daily—in what is surely an effort to convey the sentiment that options other than outright bans exist—has a lengthy article a few pages later, extolling the bike-sharing programs currently operating abroad, with nary a critical word to say about any of them. That positive presentation signals that there’s still a strong chance that whatever is done here to deal with the challenges of bike-sharing can still be brokered locally in Nanjing, instead of being imposed by Beijing in its usual Our Size Fits All approach.

Which doesn’t mean that coming up with a new approach for Nanjing is going to be straightforward. Indeed, there were signs of incoordination from the start.

Nanjing authorities didn't do their best job of announcing this new policy—which is striking in a small way at least because they're usually as proactive in soliciting views and notifying the public as they are in policymaking itself. But here word of the new restrictions first appeared on social media here as bike-share riders reported being told to park elsewhere; the aforementioned Xinjiekou Administrative Management Committee gathered local reporters together to announce what they were up to after those reports started causing concern. Somewhere there was a communications breakdown, probably because it was a Monday when all government officials are tied up in meetings to greet and plan the new week. It’s also possible the delay was intentional, to test local reaction, and go with what various officials could agree on for the time being.

The larger point to be made here is that this is yet another case of local issues in China—the ones that really matter to residents far more than what’s too often reported on (non-existent environmental or feminist movements, widespread outrage at Seoul, and so on). While the narrative told by more than a few observers bound to the Beijing-Shanghai Beltway is about the potential for problems--too much expansion too fast, too much credit, and another bubble in China that’s also set to burst, leading to citizen outrage and cries for democracy--actual inhabitants here see matters rather differently. This is not rulers and ruled fighting against each other, but each struggling to make ways without making too many bumps. What’s happening is not easy, but nor is it violent or unstable. From a local perspective, it’s people trying yet again to find ways to share the various roads they have to ride and walk on.

Beijing Signals Bike-Sharing Shouldn't Be Disorderly

Tuesday’s edition of People’s Daily hints that the bike-sharing industry could be about to get a stick in its wheels.

In a commentary on the flagship newspaper’s opinion-editorial pages, the author, 明朗 or “Forthrightness”—a glib pseudonym for authoritative opinion being passed along from Beijing to alert lower-level officials —notes that bike-sharing has become a hot topic on social media, in online forums, and at local public meetings.

The author states that “objectively speaking, sharing bikes better solves the problem of the last mile of urban traffic”—a nod to the notion in China that local governments need to find innovative ways to deal with new problems by connecting with citizens on issues that matter to the latter more than the usual macro-policies of economic development. In other words, by providing city dwellers with more local options for transport, the article is saying, bike-sharing initiatives seemed to provide at least a partial solution, a helpful convenience.

But in the past few months, according to the article, “negative public comments have surged”, becoming part of a larger discussion about “national quality” [素质]  and uncivilized behavior. The commentary contends that “what’s a convenience has also been inconveniently chaotic”, citing “damage to vehicles, space being illegally occupied, private property being encroached on, bike deposit processes that are opaque, and [instances of] bicycle operation mismanagement”. The author argues that while some of these problems are understandable because “bike-sharing is still in a stage of ‘adolescence’, the crazy chase for capital funding amidst disorderly competition raises the problem of how to better integrate [these private initiatives] into overall public management of society.”

That’s Party-speak for the very real possibility of more regulation and control. First, there’s the sense that there’s too much public dissension; which then creates conditions whereby authorities (in this case, Beijing) have to step in and exert oversight and management lest matters go off the road. In other words, discussion is good, but it has to be guided. Innovation is admirable, but it can’t produce unhappiness. In the case of bike-sharing, as the commentary puts it, everyone needs to “be soberly aware that [the novelty of these ventures] does not preclude the industry from being guided by rules and regulations, the strong oversight of enterprises, and social supervision generally for the purpose of healthy and orderly development.” Officials are being admonished not to let this new thing "become disorderly [无序发展]”.

The author does convey the sentiment that the goal of preventing further problems “is the aspiration of all parties, who naturally also need to work together to solve” the challenges created by the increase in bike-sharing programs. Whether that involves consolidation in this nascent industry or local governments becoming better at managing the problem isn’t spelled out. It could be that central authorities aren't in agreement on what to do; it may be that they want to give local governments and entrepreneurs a chance to propose solutions from below.

But the warning from at least some central authorities is growing clearer: If the concerned parties aren’t willing to start pedaling together soon, Beijing won’t be reluctant to grab the handlebars.

Never Break A Promise That You Never Made In the First Place

The New York Times continues to do a lot of interesting and often excellent reporting on China. This post isn’t about that.

It’s about the tendency of observers to ascribe to China’s leader Xi Jinping things he’s never said or indicated an abiding commitment to doing.

Today’s edition of the online edition has a story with the headline “Xi Jinping’s Failed Promises Dim Hopes for Economic Change in 2nd Term”. The article states that:

…as Mr. Xi nears the end of his first five-year term as Communist Party leader, his record has not lived up to the bold statements, critics say. The question now is whether he was ever really serious about taking the painful steps needed to repair the economy, or merely paying lip service to reform to justify his tightening grip on power.

The piece has some good reporting, in that it casts the interview wider than the usual suspect Western experts (though they get their shout, of course) and asks Chinese analysts their thoughts on where Beijing has failed in restructuring the economy here. There’s disappointment and perhaps even a little despair evident in the responses (as well as a bit of smugness from some of the Observers Abroad) when it comes to progress made in economic and financial reforms.

But what’s troubling is the presumption that it’s Xi who’s breaking promises. 

First, Xi doesn’t make promises. That’s the job of the collective leadership in China. It’s inaccurate and actually unfair to characterize the lack of progress as somehow Xi’s fault. Xi’s makes policy pronouncements and lays out goals, but one would be hard-pressed to point to a speech where Xi lays out any sort of economic vision.

It’s also unclear how Xi can be cast as so strong on the one hand and so weak (or at least weak-willed) on the other. Is his failure one of will or capability? The article poses the question—which is a sign that the issue isn’t about promises in any event but should really be about the political environment that Xi is in, and is trying to reshape, for better or worse. If Xi doesn't do something, it's because Xi the strongman is either suddenly weak or deceptive? Really?

Moreover, when Xi makes “promises” about reforms, those overwhelmingly have been about changing China’s Communist party. Xi’s been drifting in and out of economic policymaking in the past few years and he’s made references to the importance of “strengthening and improving the Party’s leadership over economic matters [加强和改善党对经济工作的领导].” That's pretty much it. When there have been actual reforms proposed to China’s economic planning and procedures—which is where everyone here knows the real changes are needed—it’s been Premier Li Keqiang who’s been the key comrade. If anyone should be held individually accountable for the dearth of progress towards a more open economy in China, it’s Li.

Even more important is the mistaken assumption that when China’s leaders talk about economic reform, they mean market access, financial deregulation, lower trade barriers and the sorts of features that many think Beijing needs to be focusing on. They don't mean such things; that's outside analysts and commentators talking about what they think China ought to do. Xi talks about reform as a far more expansive undertaking, in which economics is only a part (and not a large one). Li, for his part, wants to eliminate bureaucratic obstacles and transform the ways in which decisions and made and applied in China. Xi wants more control, Li’s arguing for more speed. Neither is convinced that a Western economic model works for China anymore than they believe a political one will. Assuming that they do is a terrible error.

Xi’s not suddenly going to come around to being the leader that some observers want him to be—a desire that’s gotten all the fiercer with the dismay accompanying Donald Trump as US president. Xi hasn’t guaranteed anything more than to make China great his own way, and he thinks reforming the Communist party he leads is the main job at hand. At the end of the day, economic transformation might turn out to be the only way left forward for him, but let’s wait until Xi says exactly that before anyone accuses him of making promises he never made to start with.  

Another Fad That Fades--Or Gets Ridden Out Of Town?

A brief word or twelve about the new bike-sharing programs that have debuted in a number of Chinese cities in recent months, including some in Jiangsu. 

There’s been a lot of interesting analysis that’s been done on these initiatives, at least from a macro perspective. Mobike, Ofo, and a number of other brands are seen as vying for customers to get out of their cars and back in touch with the bike-reading heritage of the Middle Kingdom.

Unfortunately, a good deal of the coverage thus far is overheated and rests at one or another extreme: these programs will save China’s cities and show how innovative the country and its young people are; or they will turn out to be terrible investments, another example of excess capacity in China and bubbles about to burst. Apparently in China, anything new is either a “game-changer” or about to implode an already teetering structure—there’s no in-between, and, it’s implied, they cannot be both true. (That China's bubbles very rarely actually burst never seems to get any attention.)

Perhaps that’s the view from Beijing and Shanghai, and maybe there’s merit in that analysis for those cities. But the vast majority of China’s people live elsewhere. And here in the provinces, the situation is just as complex as it’s always been and may well ever be.

First, these are good bikes that Mobike and Ofo are providing: they’re handsome and well-kept, and they’re pretty much everywhere. But then again, so are the bikes being offered by the city of Nanjing in partnership with other quasi-private firms. The problem with the latter has been the payment system: instead of apps, prospective riders were supposed to use their public transportation cards to swipe.

Except they couldn’t: Nanjing teamed up with a firm (or created one as a front company—it happens all the time here in Local China) that decided it wanted its own card used to collect fees on. That situation is now said to have been remedied, but in some parts of the city, the problem persists. Nanjing has invested a lot of money and attention to the city-wide project of providing bikes to residents, but it’s under challenge from Mobike, Ofo and others because riders want to use apps on their cellphones.

Another problem for Nanjing at least is that their bikes have to be left at designated stations. The vast majority of residents here do that; but some don’t, and that’s created a problem of retrieval, as well as theft (particularly by itinerant labor in the city, some of whom can’t believe their good fortune of being able to swipe a card and swipe a bike to take back to the countryside at the same time). Nanjing has established a plethora of new sites, but some customers start riding the bikes, find their dietary habits (especially cigarettes) don’t allow them to go very far, give up after less than a kilometer or two, and leave the bike anywhere they find convenient for themselves. The irresponsibility that pervades Chinese society rears its ugly front wheel in this case.

The bike-sharing options offered by various start-up firms are seen by many riders as more attractive and—well, cool. One often sees young people riding these bikes, pausing to take a selfie, and then pedaling on. It’s also common to see young couples putting their child on the bike for a photo, and then getting back to their walk (or, in more than one instance, walking downstairs into the car park). Perhaps in many instances there’s a destination, but it’s clear that for some users, it’s just something to experiment with and post about. Whether riding public bikes will be incorporated into their daily lives is open to question, especially as these are early days for all where these ventures are concerned.

Of more local concern is where to park these sorts of bikes. An emerging problem is riders using bicycles to go to lunch or dinner here, and leaving them in front of restaurants, blocking sidewalks as well as entrances to adjoining shops. Already there are reports in larger cities of users leaving ride-sharing bicycles in authorized locations and city authorities impounding them.

As much as some observers want to frame this issue (as with so many others here) as about consumers and citizens and how they’re changing China, the bike-sharing initiative will come down to how the State reacts. One can easily see local authorities that have invested millions of RMB in their own public bicycle infrastructure deciding to launch campaigns to purge private competitors in the name of cleaning up the streets. Like many matters that seem new in Local China, this one may get rather old—and reminiscent of former times—rather fast.