Saturday, April 2, 2011
Friday, April 1, 2011
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Fukushima and the Fragility of Modern Civilization
As a companion piece to an on-the-ground account of the Japanese earthquake we published last week, I am posting here some thoughts from our colleague Peter David Pedersen of the Tokyo sustainability consultancy E-Square Inc. He reflects on the longer-term consequences of how Japan (and the rest of the world) will change behaviors related to potentially dangerous energy sources such as nuclear power. Peter has had personal experience with censorship in the Japanese media when it comes to criticizing TEPCO specifically and nuclear power in general.
Ogoto-onsen, near Kyoto, March 18, 2011
I am writing to you from a hotel along the shore of Biwa-ko, Japan's largest lake, some 528 km west (and slightly south) of the Fukushima nuclear power station. Fresh snow is covering the landscape in what would normally be a very idyllic setting.
Right now it feels absolutely surreal, as if all the earthquake destruction in eastern Japan combined with the man-made specter of nuclear destruction were scenes out a Hollywood movie entitled "Twin Disasters." But this is no movie, and whether there will be any form of "happy" ending to the nuclear malaise remains entirely unpredictable.
The Japanese government "cannot" talk openly and honestly to the Japanese public about the potential dangers in a worst-case scenario at Fukushima, primarily because of fears of panic among the 30 million people in the world's largest metropolitan area, Tokyo and Yokohama.
Over the last 10 years or so, I have repeatedly experienced the attempts of TEPCO (Tokyo Electric Power Co.) to control information on nuclear power in this country. For eighteen months, from 2000–2001, I anchored the main news program at MX TV, Tokyo's local TV station, and was told by the producer that "since TEPCO is a sponsor of our program, I would prefer if you do not openly criticize nuclear power."
On another occasion, I was writing a piece for a well-known publication for 5th and 6th grade school kids on the environment. That time the chief editor told me, "TEPCO is one of the sponsors of our magazine. While I would like you to write on the environment, please don't be critical of nuclear power."
On a third occasion, not directly related to TEPCO, I was interviewed by the Yomiuri newspaper, one of Japan's top two newspapers in terms of circulation, about the 1978 demonstrations throughout Denmark against the possible introduction of nuclear power, in which I participated as a child. When the interview appeared in the newspaper, my phrase "demonstrations against nuclear power" had been altered to "demonstrations for renewable energy." This was not what I had said, and when I called the journalist in charge, he sheepishly apologized, saying, "I did not dare to write anything negative about nuclear power lest I should invite the wrath of my editor (boss)."
I feel so very sorry for the people who are, right now, sacrificing their future health, and some of them their immediate lives, working to stop the disaster at the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Station. They may be described as "heroes"—and surely their efforts as such are heroic—but in a wider perspective they are victims of an industry in which the brainwashing of contractors and workers to believe that what they work with is safe has been pervasive.
In its entirety, the present situation in eastern Japan and the Tokyo metropolitan area has revealed the amazing fragility of modern civilization. All lifelines—water, transport, electricity, food supplies—have been severed or disrupted in eastern Japan, and Tokyo, one of the world's largest cities, was in danger of a large-scale, sudden blackout yesterday afternoon (March 17) as a cold spell of weather drove up electricity consumption close to the limit of maximum supply.
A good friend of mine, working at Tohoku University not far from the epicenter of the earthquake, called to tell how he finally, after six days, managed to leave Sendai (a city of more than 1 million on Honshu's east coast), driving to Tokyo in a 16-hour ordeal. No gasoline being available anywhere on the route, he barely managed to reach Tokyo, his gas tank drying up. More frightening than the drive, though, was how food and water were virtually impossible to obtain in the city center of Sendai.
"Emergency supplies have been distributed to the schools where tens of thousands of people take refuge, but nothing seemed to reach the city of Sendai and shelves in supermarkets were almost completely empty. For the first time, I had the feeling of a threat to my life because of an inability to buy food," he told me.
My friend made it, but older and weaker people are dying—or will die—as the crucial lifelines of a hypermodern society have been devastated.
The question, obviously, is what we can learn from this experience, not only in Japan but also in modern society as a whole. It remains to be seen whether we will truly learn anything at all. To me, there seem to be at least three major lessons. The first is the question of how or if lifestyles and values will change. The thing that the Japanese have been praised for throughout the first week of this terrible disaster has not been "technology" or "financial strength"—it has been the strong spirit, the patience, and the human qualities of the people here that have touched many around the world.
Money and shiny goods in temples of consumption have carried absolutely no value for the people here in the last week. Is there a chance that we may, now, see and act on the emptiness of useless consumerism? I hope there is a chance, although I do at the same time fear that once things settle down, Japan and the world will go on as if nothing had happened.
The second lesson is the danger of concentration of population into huge metropolises. Although the epicenter of the M9.0 earthquake was hundreds of kilometers northeast of Tokyo, the city was paralyzed, streets were clogged, subways inoperative, and phone lines dead. The staff at my office could not get home or get in touch with their family.
What if—and this could happen any day—the earthquake had hit Tokyo straight on? I have not the courage to think of the scale of disaster or the number of human lives that would have been lost. As urbanization continues at great speed in the world's population centers, the utter fragility of the 21st century megacity poses serious questions. Is there a way to answer this question in a more humane and sustainable manner than we are experiencing today? There must be.
The third lesson is the folly of making ourselves dependent on energy production from large-scale and extremely dangerous power stations, where no workable plans exist to control worst-case scenarios. Huge costs will be incurred in Japan over the next several decades to clean up Fukushima. Huge costs were incurred to build the plant in the first place. Surely this money could have been used more wisely. Hopefully, the lesson taken from Fukushima will, finally, make the idea of nonviolent, nontoxic, decentralized energy sources the mainstream policy and business choice around the world.
If we can learn the lessons, there is hope for the future.
Peter David Pedersen
Chief Executive
E-Square Inc.
Tokyo, JAPAN
[PHOTO CREDIT: Globovisión. Damaged reactor at Fukushima (CC).]
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Cyber Nationalists or Critical Netizens?
Yifan Xu reports for Policy Innovations on a survey of Chinese Internet users.
Is the Internet spreading and intensifying nationalism among the Chinese public? A nationwide opinion survey conducted in 2008 by the Research Center of Contemporary China sheds some light on the issue. Respondents were asked to indicate their level of agreement with nationalistic statements such as "the world would be a better place if people from other countries were more like the Chinese," and nationalist policies such as "China should limit the import of foreign products in order to protect its national economy."
The results show that Chinese netizens with higher education and income levels are less likely to be nationalistic and are less supportive of protectionist policies. In particular, for the statement "the world would be a better place if people from other countries were more like the Chinese," using the Internet decreases the probability of agreement by 10.7 percent; expressing oneself online reduces the probability of agreement by 10.3 percent; and using government websites reduces the probability of agreement by 17.6 percent.
This suggests that the old cyber-libertarian dream of the Internet serving as a catalyst for political reform may still have some elements of truth. At least the Chinese Communist Party must think so, given its extensive censorship of the Internet.
When Google withdrew its business from China in early 2010, Chinese netizens made a few sarcastic comments comparing the CCP's Internet censorship with the "closing door" policy of the Qing Dynasty—just like the Qing governors struggled to maintain the great Chinese Empire, the CCP is trying to create a "great Chinese Intranet." The CCP's logic is simple: the Internet makes possible negative information and news about the Party, which was previously unavailable from the traditional mass media.
In recent years, Chinese political dissidents have been actively using the Internet to reach out to ordinary people as well as foreign populations. For instance, while human rights activist Hu Jia was under house arrest, he remained active via emails and blogs, and posted a series of video diaries on YouTube. The Internet is in fact thick with opinions from nationalists and anti-nationalists alike.
The most interesting survey finding is that people who have used the Internet to access a government website—to get information, make a comment, or lodge a complaint—are even less likely to be nationalistic. This could be a spillover effect from dissatisfaction with the government.
The August 2010 Zhouqu landslide provides an interesting contrast. Generally speaking, disastrous events cause a nationalistic surge. In the 2008 survey, following the Wenchuan earthquake, respondents were more likely to agree with nationalistic statement. Yet the Zhouqu landslide has led to wide criticism of the government online. Netizens accused the government of working harder to promote a positive image of itself than to mount an effective rescue effort.
As New York Times columnist Nicholas D. Kristof observed in 2002, nationalism in China is a double-edged sword: "it has potential not just for conferring legitimacy on the government but also for taking it away." Armed with personal computers, critical netizens are able to quickly spread anti-nationalist discourse and protests in a decentralized fashion. Should that happen in China, the cyber-libertarian dream may materialize.
[PHOTO CREDIT: March oh! (CC).]
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Google's Rallying Cry in China
I was just interviewed with Daniel Gross by Newsweek On Air about Google's announcement that it may leave China due to hacking of Gmail accounts and censorship in China. Here are my comments from the interview today.
How essential do you see greater freedom to Chinese economic development, and how long can they continue their current influence on world markets without it?
One freedom is perhaps the most crucial to economic development. That's freedom of speech. It is the only way Chinese society, companies, government, etc. can tackle its rampant corruption problem, which will impede the advancement of China. It is essential for the efficient use of capital, scientific development, effective market functions, fair trade, sound diplomatic relations, intellectual property protection. Without freedoms or the provision of public goods, the China brand will remain weak.
Given that global manufacturing is centered in China, the country will have more opportunities to build up its technology control capacity. One question in my mind is whether we will see an increasing gap between two "worlds" with competing norms—between emerging markets and rich countries or between state capitalist countries and free market democracies.
What about the argument that without tight controls the pent up aspirations of China's 1.3 BILLION people could cause chaos? Is it ethical to stir that pot?
To the contrary, without representational democracy, Chinese society is searching for some kind of valve to release its pressure and frustrations—over corruption, product safety scandals, pollution, land rights. Right now without freedom of speech, the balloon is being squeezed into Wild West internet forums in which people spread rumors and gossip. The country would benefit from a professionalized media sector with incentives to break stories freely.
Even Americans who don't care much about internet freedom in China are worried about Chinese cyber-attacks on U.S. companies and the government. How extensive is it and what are they after?
No one knows but the FBI, Pentagon, and just about every single serious China hand has been talking about China's cyber attacks for a long time. The nature of US-China relations and vulnerabilities is changing; it makes previous flare ups, for example over Hainan island, look quaint. The gravity has grown over the past year and culminated in December when more than 20 companies were attacked. It is very serious. Human rights organizations have used Gmail to communicate with people in China. If Gmail were compromised it would literally put people's lives in jeopardy.
Leaving aside the cynical view of Google's move, is there a real ethical question about whether that particular company's presence in China—even if complicit with Chinese censorship—helps spread democratic values, slowly to be sure?
From Google's perspective, it was a trade off. How much evil would it have to do in order to do some good and make money. They put it on a scale and decided that the amount of good it could do in China was worth it. That is no longer the case. During my last trip to China last month, everyone, including Chinese, complained about corruption, arrogance, fakery, and a lack of trust in that society.
The question has now been turned upside down: Is China worth it? I think the biggest effect of Google's move is that it will expand the debate and increase the range of options. It is no longer a given that you have to be in China to succeed. Companies and people can now think in a broader framework that takes into account ethical implications.
In a panel discussion at the Carnegie Council last week, Ian Bremmer of Eurasia Group—a frequent guest on this show—said a major ethical challenge for many companies and Western governments will mirror Google's—how to co-exist with China despite very different value systems, respecting theirs and our own. How do we best approach making those inevitable compromises?
That is one of the biggest questions of our time. I see a convergence of ideas and moral values. The Chinese are taking some of what is good from the West. The West might be able to take some things that are good in China. The answer is that we have to assess the merit and ethics of all decisions and stick to what we believe is right. What is right is also practical. In the long run, I feel China will come to that conclusion as well. It is a business concern, too. Another release valve in Chinese society can be people's relationship and connection with companies. Visits to China have suggested to me that building an ethical, trusted brand in the Chinese market would be a huge opportunity.
Photo by gwydionwilliams.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Behind the Great Firewall of China: Freedom, Control, and Democracy on the Internet
The Great Firewall of China is widely known, but what does it look like, how does it operate? Policy Innovations advisor Rebecca MacKinnon gave a fascinating presentation on Freedom and Control on the Internet at the Open Society Institute in New York earlier this week, detailing some of the trends and practices in Chinese censorship.
Search engine censorship is one of the primary forms. Rebecca showed examples of the different sets of image results one gets from Google.com and from Google.cn when searching for Tiananmen massacre. Google.com, the global site, returns photos depicting violence and victims. Google.cn, the Chinese domestic version, shows nothing of the sort. Instead the results include at least one photo of the Nanjing massacre.
Rebecca also showed what happens when you try to visit banned sites or post sensitive words to a blog. Banned sites are made to look like you're experiencing a temporary technical error, and blog posts with sensitive words can elicit a pop-up that says the "community editors" will get back to you shortly, so don't repost your text. Of course, you never hear from them and your draft never gets published.
The Chinese government is also proactive about shaping opinions online, throwing their support behind organizations like anti-CNN, a website that combats "the lies and distortions of facts from the Western media." They also pay members of what has come to be known as the 50-Cent Party to post opinions favoring the government and its policies in online forums. 50 Cent refers not to the American rapper but the per-post rate these loyalists receive.
Spoof and humor seems to be the predominant form of online criticism that is somewhat tolerated. In the wake of the recent Mandarin Oriental hotel fire next to the Chinese Central TV headquarters building—which has been dubbed the "underpants" building by Beijingers due to its unique two-legged architecture—various visual puns and mashups appeared online mocking CCTV. It turns out CCTV caused the blaze with illegal fireworks while celebrating Chinese New Year. Sadly one firefighter died and several were injured in the incident, but humor nonetheless belongs in politics, as the Tina Fey phenomenon made clear during the U.S. election.
A parallel trend of resistance is what Harvard's Ethan Zuckerman describes as the cute cat theory of digital activism: where free speech, organizing, and other forms of anti-authoritarian protest piggyback on social media that are primarily intended for benign and mundane activities like sharing photos of adorable pets. Authorities can't take down the whole site to delete the protest group pages without killing the cat appreciation society pages, too.
So is the Chinese government worried about online activism and dissent moving into the streets? Very much so. This is where the rubber meets the road, said MacKinnon, although no opposition party has yet to emerge from the Internet. The true test may come later this year as economic downturn meets a slew of dramatic anniversaries: March 31, 1959, Dalai Lama flees Tibet; June 4, 1989, Tiananmen Square; October 1, 1949, People's Republic of China founded.
MacKinnon emphasized that Internet norms in the West will influence what happens in China. We're at a stage where large communications companies exist in a mediating layer between people and their governments. If this layer remains opaque, then the system will tend to reinforce incumbent power, she said. To help keep things transparent, Rebecca has worked to develop the Global Network Initiative, a voluntary code of conduct for the ICT industry. Through a multi-stakeholder process, GNI has crafted a "collaborative approach to protect and advance freedom of expression and privacy in the ICT sector." She says we may see companies conducting "human rights feasibility assessments" in the near future.
Operating in an environment of censorship presents ICT companies with significant ethical choices. Should they fudge on their philosophy to gain early market access? Will fostering some openness be better than none at all? How sensitive should they be to the domestic affairs of a sovereign nation?
Chinese private enterprises don't have the luxury of ruminating on these matters. In fact, they are legally responsible for the content their users post, and the government can rescind their business licenses if they don't manage to keep controversial material off the web. For the individual user who wants to maintain freedom and anonymity, there are options such as the Tor project.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
