Pun Ngai, China’s Infrastructural Capitalism: The Making of a Chinese Working Class

Published on May Day, to celebrate workers of the world

THE PRELUDE

Entering history, entering movement. This paper is a political project. It sketches a larger plan for writing about China’s infrastructural capitalism and the making of the Chinese working class. This project emerges from a revitalization of the leftist movement that occurred in the wake of the Jasic labor rights struggle (2018). The valiant efforts of the Jasic technology workers and their supporters to fight union-busting and the oppression of laborers helped inspire a rebirth of global Marxism that attempts to confront the failure of the first wave of socialist movements, global capitalism’s subsequent neo-liberal turn, and the current populist regression. This project is situated at that historical conjuncture and within the legacy of China’s modern revolutions. Since the 1920s, China’s working masses have expressed their firm belief in class struggle and fought for a Marxist vision of communism. As part of a global effort to prepare for the imminent wave of new emancipatory movements, we also locate our project in global anti- capitalist movements while we also attempt to overcome the parochial and nationalistic approach of actually existing Chinese Marxism.

We are a group of instructors and students. We argue that Chinese capitalism has already entered a new age of monopoly capital. It is not only supported by new developments in high technology but, more importantly, by increasingly authoritarian state power, which has been instrumental in constructing the infrastructural base – such as building projects, new economic zones, highways and high-speed railways, digital platforms and logistics, etc., both internally and externally – in order to reproduce expanded capitalism, resulting in fierce imperialist battles among global powers. We conceptualize this historical process as “infrastructural capitalism,” which vividly embodies the materiality of expanded capitalism and its inherent crises, ruptures and cleavages, within which new class struggles can take root.

A NEW EPOCH FOR A LEFTIST MOVEMENT?

Is a leftist radical movement against capitalism possible in contemporary China? At a time when the power of the state looks totalizing, and the success of any leftist movement appears more distant than ever, we anticipate that the potential for such a movement is always present within China’s growing capitalist crisis. The origin of this project, conceived as a weapon of criticism, emerges at a critical juncture in Chinese capitalism and resistance from the student-worker alliance that came to be widely known as the Jasic struggle (Pun 2021).

The unionising campaign by the workers and radicalised students, who openly identified with Marxism and Maoism, took a radical direction not seen in recent decades in confronting capital and the state. The sudden outburst that brought the student radicals onto the political stage in 2018 first elicited puzzlement. They demonstrated an entirely different face compared to China’s migrant labour movement, whose political and ideological orientation was shaped by a predominantly liberal or reformist outlook in civil society and academia. The migrant labour movement had received support from international agencies since the early 2000s, support that grounded the movement’s liberal approach and ultimately overshadowed the richness and complexity of indigenous political struggles in China, especially by suggesting that the struggles of the present were disconnected from the generations of radical struggles that had come before.   

The significance of the current emergence of student-worker radicalism has been the subject of intense political debate within the labour movement and the progressive left in China and abroad. It is easy to treat their radicalism as an aberration from the otherwise liberal mainstay of the labour movement. However, this is to miss the lineage of such radicalism, which can be traced back to the first generation of Chinese communists in the early twentieth century. The Jasic alliance’s explicit positioning as Marxists in that lineage posited a threat to the actually existing official Marxism of the current Communist party, by exposing how the self-proclaimed socialist state no longer stands for the interests of the working class (Andreas 2008; Karl 2020).

It is this critical Marxist tradition that we seek to unearth. We rely on classical Marxist theories meant for grasping the revolutionary potential of the working masses. We do not fantasise a bright future, as we are facing a very stifled and tense political atmosphere due not simply to attacks from an increasingly authoritarian state, but also to the setbacks faced by the emergent radical labour activism. This left-wing labour activism, while inexperienced, has shown its determination to challenge Chinese and global capitalism and the new conflicts among the existing and emerging imperialist states.

CHINA’S INFRASTRUCTURAL CAPITALISM

We define the contemporary moment of Chinese capitalism as infrastructural capitalism. It is characterised by the transition from competitive capitalism to a stage of monopoly capital and emerging imperialist rivalry, as well as a state-led attempt to escape the crisis dynamics deepened by the Great Recession of 2008-2009. For many years now, the Chinese state has been dealing with declining growth rates and the proliferation of social conflicts, despite its rapid rebound in the pandemic period.

We posit that Chinese capitalism has entered a new age of monopoly capital. It is not only supported by new developments in high technology, but more importantly, by an increasing populist or authoritarian state power. State power has been instrumental in constructing infrastructures (Xiang and Lindquist 2014; Lin et al. 2017), especially building projects and new economic zones overseas covering regions in Asia, the Middle East, Africa, Latin America and others in order to reproduce expanded capitalism, leading to fierce intra-imperialist battles. We strive to understand the features of this new Chinese capitalism as part of the deepening process of global capitalism.

With “infrastructural capitalism”, we conceptualise a form of capitalism built fundamentally on the production of physical and digital infrastructures, either spearheaded by or aided significantly by the Chinese state (Pun and Chen 2022). This concept encompasses both the concrete infrastructures of road, cities, high-speed rail, and logistics transportation – itself linked to extractive capital in China and overseas — and their intersections with digital infrastructures of e-commerce and the platform economy that increasingly take advantage of built as well as human infrastructures (Larkin 2013).

Often condemned as distorting state spending and antithetic to the functioning of a market economy, infrastructure is foundational to the deepening of China’s capitalist development. At stake in infrastructural capitalism is the material base underlying all other forms of capitalist materiality, namely extractive capitalism (Mezzadra, S., & Neilson, 2019), industrial capitalism (Braverman, 1998), and digital capitalism (Fuchs and Mosco, 2015). Metaphorically, infrastructural capitalism also provides symbolic power capable of exhibiting spectacular landscapes and prophesizing a nationalistic or imperialistic future of humanity. Increasingly, Chinese infrastructural capitalism takes on an international dimension. The One Belt One Road initiatives are a broad umbrella under which Chinese private and state capital export excessive productive capacity and build up infrastructures in other developing economies to secure resource extraction. In the process, those economies and their labour relations are reconfigured.

The recent process of intensifying infrastructural development also accentuated a series of social contradictions and class conflicts in China. First and foremost, infrastructural development is dependent on land dispossession. For much of the last three decades, land disputes over dispossession (and the corrupted processes associated with them) have been among the most widespread and violent cause and type of struggle in China. Second, infrastructural construction has consistently led to labour abuse through subcontracting and wage theft, sparking recurring construction worker protests. Third, a high level of government debt has accumulated in financing infrastructural development, including high-speed rail construction and others – this is a ticking bomb for the future Chinese economy. These contradictions have not been resolved and are likely to be amplified in the coming period as Chinese capitalism continues to rely on similar methods and mechanisms for infrastructural development. 

This new Chinese and global configuration of infrastructural capitalism serves to produce the dispossession, extraction and exploitation of the working class and the peasantry in the service of capital valorisation and concentration in the age of monopoly capitalism. As monopoly capitalism is sustained through global infrastructural projects, the new modernity it creates is far from “all that is solid melts into air;” rather it is as solid as a rock and it will undergird the explosions from the working class in the future.

RECURRING CLASS CONFLICTS

We are not simply interested in conceptualising the form of Chinese capitalism from the standpoint of power from above. We are fundamentally concerned with understanding the infrastructural base of labour struggles under a new form of Chinese capitalism – the very base of capitalism in its deepening phase since the 2000s. The questions of working-class formation and re-formation, and of labour organising, cannot be answered in the abstract but have to be understood in the context of the rapid configuration of Chinese infrastructural capitalism.

Our project is not anchored with a contemporary or linear temporality. We link up not simply with the classic Marxist theories which work tenaciously to transgress the chains of capitalism, but also with the history of the Chinese Revolution, in which blood and tears were shed to break the chains that were fettering the working class and the peasantry. As the current resistance against infrastructural capitalism is embedded firmly in the legacy of China’s Revolution, any understanding of the Chinese working class needs also to be rooted in China’s revolutionary past. That past provides not only the possibility and the opportunity to imagine transgressing the capitalist mode of life, but it also offers historical examples in which the working masses fought against capitalism and imperialism (Lin 2013; Karl 2020). Igniting this revolutionary past might enrich the theoretical development of a new movement to analyse contemporary capitalism and its crises. The past and future are connected through this rewriting in the present, with the rewriting firmly re-rooted in global Marxism. Reworking Chinese Marxism, by stripping away its parochial and nationalistic understandings of revolution, and by reconnecting it to the circuit of global Marxism, could reintegrate contemporary Chinese Marxism back into a global anti-capitalist project.

In this project, we suggest a tripartite infrastructural organizing base: worker-controlled trade unions at the workplace, workers’ centres in the industrial community, and solidarity networks at vocational training colleges. Needless to say, like the Jasic struggle, the formation of trade unions, based on workers’ power but with students’ support, might withstand efforts to strike them down because capital-labour conflicts continue to be centred in the workplace. We perceive that worker centres in the industrial zones and communities continue to have radical potential, organising issues around social reproduction as well as forming mutual support groups among working class families. Vocational training colleges – the major sites for reproducing new worker-subjects for almost half of China’s youth population – will emerge as new experimentation platforms for “learning to labour.” These will contain the potential for formations of radical solidarity, education, and networks. Female attendants on the high-speed train, digital laborers at Alibaba web-stores, and logistics workers in packaging and shipment companies such as Cainiao all come from vocational training colleges. Workplace, community, and vocational training colleges are thus three pillars for the combination of workers’ power, and all three pillars are rooted and re-territorialized in infrastructural capitalism and can therefore produce and foreground working class struggles in the sphere of production and social reproduction.

A new epoch of Chinese infrastructural capitalism has signified a new dynamic of capitalist crisis, state repression, and grassroots resistance. As a new force of Chinese Marxist leftists – committed to engaging in the labour movement – emerged, they immediately faced an onslaught, and suffered a brave but tragic fate. It is in this context that we are compelled to embark on this project on labour and infrastructural capitalism, aiming to provide the praxis of a newly emerged and emergent leftist force with theoretical interpellation and critical analysis. Propelled by the desires and the necessities of working-class struggles, we are not alone; we stand with you, the Chinese working class – as part of the global left and global working class.

PUN Ngai, Department of Cultural Studies, Lingnan University

 

References:

Andreas, J. (2008). “Changing colours in China.” New Left Review, 54(Nov–Dec), 123-142.

Braverman, H. (1998). Labor and monopoly capital: The degradation of work in the twentieth century. NYU Press.

Fuchs, C., & Mosco, V. (2015). Marx in the age of digital capitalism. Brill.

Karl, R. E. (2020). China’s Revolutions in the Modern World: A Brief Interpretive History. Verso.

Larkin, B. (2013). The Politics and Poetics of Infrastructure. Annual Review of Anthropology 42 (1):327–43.

Lin, Chun. (2013). China and global capitalism: Reflections on Marxism, history, and contemporary politics. Springer.

Lin, W., Lindquist, J., Xiang, B., & Yeoh, B. S. (2017). “Migration infrastructures and the production of migrant mobilities.” Mobilities, 12(2), 167-174.

Mezzadra, S., & Neilson, B. (2019). The politics of operations: Excavating contemporary capitalism. Duke University Press.

Pun, N. (2021). “Turning left: student-worker alliance in labour struggles in China.” Globalizations, 18(8), 1392-1405.

Pun, N., & Chen, P. (2022). “Confronting global infrastructural capitalism: the triple logic of the ‘vanguard’ and its inevitable spatial and class contradictions in China’s high-speed rail program.” Cultural Studies, 1-22. Online first.

Xiang, B., & Lindquist, J. (2014). Migration infrastructure. International Migration Review, 48(1), 122-148.

Hongwei Bao, Is a Queer Friendly Beijing Olympics Possible? 

This essay looks back upon China’s LGBTQ culture around the 2008 Summer Olympics to reflect upon its contemporary gender and sexual politics around the 2022 Winter Olympics. 

On 14 February 2009, on the newly renovated Qianmen Street near Tiananmen in central Beijing, a ‘same-sex wedding’ was taking place. A gay couple and a lesbian couple were taking wedding photos in public in front of strangers. The scene attracted the attention of many curious passers-by. Some volunteers distributed flowers to the onlookers and wished them a happy Valentine’s Day. A small film crew followed the photo shoots and also interviewed the passers-by about their attitudes toward LGBTQ people and same-sex marriage. Although some interviewees expressed concern or even objection to the idea of same-sex marriage, most people interviewed seemed supportive of LGBTQ people and their rights. The atmosphere was relaxed and the conversations were good-humored. There were security guards standing nearby but no police intervention occurred. The event was later covered by national and international media including China Daily, China’s official English-language newspaper.[1] The Guangzhou-based Southern Metropolitan Weekly reported the event with an eye-catching news headline: ‘Same-Sex Wedding in Beijing: From Underground to the Street’ highlighting the historical significance of the event.

 

A same-sex wedding in Beijing, 2009 (Photo Courtesy of Fan Popo)

 

It was later revealed that the scene mentioned above was a piece of performance art in the ‘flash mob’ form of activism organized by Tongyu (‘Common Language’), a queer organization based in Beijing. This has been considered a milestone event in China’s LGBTQ history, epitomizing a glocalized form of queer activism that is flexible, contingent, culturally sensitive and that does not have to follow the Western LGBTQ Pride paradigm.[2] The documentary that recorded the event, New Beijing, New Marriage, co-directed by Fan Popo and David Zheng, also became a landmark film in Chinese queer cinema, exemplifying a performative mode of documentary, what I call the ‘theatre documentary convergence’.[3] More importantly, the film captured the optimism and creative energy within China’s LGBTQ communities in the immediate aftermath of the 2008 Beijing Olympics. The film’s reference to the Olympics could not have been clearer: the film title New Beijing, New Marriage was a tongue-in-cheek parody of the 2008 Olympics slogan ‘New Beijing, New Olympics’. The filmmakers also asked in the film synopsis: did the freshly branded ‘New Beijing’ also bring about ‘new concepts’ about love and marriage?[4]

There are positive and negative things to be said about the 2008 historical juncture. In hindsight, it was an era marked by openness and an undogmatic way of doing things. Having successfully joined the World Trade Organization and escaped the global financial crisis, China was eager to show to the world an open image, and the Olympic Games became a good way for such a showcase. For many LGBTQ people, it was a time full of hope and optimism. Although not legally recognized by the Chinese government, LGBTQ people were nonetheless able to set up grassroots organizations and conduct rights-based activism, often under the disguise of HIV/AIDS intervention or women’s rights. In 2008 alone, some key community organizations with national impacts were established, including the Beijing LGBT Centre, China Independent Queer Film Tour, PFLAG (Parents, Families and Friends of Lesbians and Gays) China, and Chinese Lala/Lesbian Alliance. In the same year, the community zine Friend celebrated its tenth anniversary, and Cui Zi’en’s documentary about queer community history, Queer China, ‘Comrade’ China, was completed. I attended the film’s premiere in Songzhuang, an artist and filmmaker’s community near Beijing, in November 2008. No one said doing things was easy back then: queer filmmakers and activists had to constantly negotiate with often idiosyncratic political control and media censorship. But it was still possible to do things, and there seemed endless possibilities and creative energy at the time.

Fourteen years later, in 2022, we are living in a different world, not least because of the raging COVID-19 pandemic and the escalating war in Europe. Meanwhile, Beijing held another Olympics, a Winter Olympics of a smaller scale in comparison to the 2008 Summer Olympics. The glamour and ambition of the 2008 Olympics was heavily reduced this time, in the context of the pandemic and also because of several countries’ diplomatic boycotts. Even with all the controversies surrounding these Winter Olympics, Beijing promised to impress the world with its stringent quarantine measures, excellent athletic performance, as well as the power and determination to get difficult things done.

Unlike in 2008, however, today we cannot hear the open expression of LGBTQ voices in China, and it is difficult to know what—if anything—is going on in China’s LGBTQ communities. This is hardly surprising, given China’s frequent crackdown on LGBTQ rights in the last few years: in 2020, China’s longest running LGBTQ public event, Shanghai Pride, was forced to shut down.[5] In 2021, dozens of social media accounts run by LGBTQ university students were blocked and deleted without warning.[6] The few remaining LGBTQ organizations—if they are allowed to exist at all—have to keep a low profile. The ‘same-sex wedding’ event that took place in Qianmen in 2009 would no longer be imaginable in today’s Beijing. What was thought of as the beginning of Chinese queer activism back then had turned out to be a peak. At a time when limited spaces for LGBTQ culture have fast been  shrinking, the 2008 historical juncture seemed a nostalgic ‘golden era’ for many queer activists. 

Today we see the relentless rise of a patriarchal and heteronormative culture in mainstream media and in Chinese society. Its zeitgeist is embodied by the hard, macho-type of ‘wolf warrior’ masculinity in the Chinese blockbuster Wolf Warrior 2.[7] Soft masculinity and gender androgyny, which used to be valorized in East Asian contexts, has been designated a social problem. In early 2021, China’s Ministry of Education called on schools to reform their physical education curriculum in a proposal titled ‘The Proposal to Prevent the Feminization of Male Adolescents’.[8] In late 2021, China’s media regulator issued a ban on ‘effeminate men’—derogatorily referred to as niangpao (‘sissy pants’) in the official document—on TV and video streaming sites.[9] Meanwhile, women have constantly been called on to go back home, get married, to be good housewives and mothers, and to give birth to more children.[10] #Metoo has been banned and feminist activists have been detained or put under strict surveillance.[11] Late in 2021, after having accused a retired, high-ranking Chinese government official of sexual harassment, Chinese tennis player Peng Shuai disappeared from public view for a while; her safety remained a public concern after her staged reappearance.>[12] Even during the 2022 Winter Olympics, news about the trafficking of women in eastern China’s Jiangsu Province surfaced—and then quickly was censored—on Chinese social media.[13] What we are witnessing, in other words, is the resurgence of a conservative and patriarchal gender ideology advocated by the state and endorsed by mainstream media. This ideology is often imbued with a strong nationalistic undertone: there seems a clear demarcation of what is considered Chinese and what is considered Western, regardless of the inaccuracy of these claims vis-à-vis the long history of gender variance and sexual diversity in China, as well as the messy entanglements of gender discourses and activist cultures globally.

These conservative state policies and media discourses have real-life consequences. In December 2021, Zhou Peng, a 26-year-old young man from Zhejiang province, was found dead. His note suggested that he might have committed suicide because he was bullied for being ‘too effeminate’.[14] Although the case was quickly dismissed by the police, it raised serious concerns in Chinese cyberspace. Many people came to the realization that this tragedy could happen to anyone who does not—or is not willing to—fit into the newly-enforced gender, sexual and social norms. Something like Zhou Peng’s death was not unexpected in a society where hegemonic masculinity is valorized, ‘masculinity education’ increasingly is becoming a norm, and LGBTQ groups and social media accounts are routinely shut down. Zhou Peng’s death is not the first and may not be the last of such gender related tragedies, and it reminds people of the human cost of the state-led conservative, masculinist, and heteronormative gender discourses.

The valorization of masculinity, as well as the endorsement of conservative gender norms, is the result of an increasingly macho and aggressive Chinese politics. Situated in dramatic tension within global geopolitics, China is flexing its muscles to the world by ‘toughening up’ its national and international image and by conducting a ‘wolf warrior diplomacy’.[15] In the 2022 Olympics, we witnessed Chinese athletes achieve plenty of gold medals, and Beijing has shown off its political and economic power through extravagant opening and closing ceremonies (even if in empty stadiums). But is China strong and determined and confident enough to offer sufficient space and freedom for men, women, trans and queer people who do not fit state-mandated gender norms? It seems that, for the moment, gender and sexual minorities in China are perceived as so threatening that there may not yet be a place for them in the country’s grand ‘Chinese dream’ and ‘shared future’.[16]

 

 

NOTES

[1] China Daily: http://www.china.org.cn/living_in_china/news/2009-04/16/content_17615339.htm

[2] a milestone event: https://www.taylorfrancis.com/chapters/mono/10.4324/9781003027898-9/new-beijing-new-marriage-hongwei-bao

[3] theatre documentary convergence https://sk.sagepub.com/reference/the-sage-handbook-of-global-sexualities/i6278.xml  

[4] New Beijing, New Marriage: https://www.cultureunplugged.com/documentary/watch-online/play/54331/New-Beijing–New-Marriage——————

[5] Shanghai Pride: https://edition.cnn.com/2020/08/14/asia/shanghai-pride-shutdown-intl-hnk/index.html

[6] LGBTQ social media accounts: https://www.theguardian.com/world/2021/jul/08/outrage-over-crackdown-on-lgbtq-wechat-accounts-in-china

[7] Wolf Warrior: https://u.osu.edu/mclc/2018/02/22/wolf-warrior-ii-the-rise-of-china-and-gendersexuality-politics/

[8] The Proposal to Prevent the Feminisation of Male Adolescents: https://radiichina.com/masculine-feminization-teenagers/

[9] niangpao: https://www.vice.com/en/article/xgx3nn/china-masculinity-sissy-stars

[10] more children: https://www.nytimes.com/2021/05/31/world/asia/china-three-child-policy.html

[11] feminist activists: https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2015/apr/17/chinas-feminist-five-this-is-the-worst-crackdown-on-lawyers-activists-and-scholars-in-decades

[12] Peng Shuai: https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-china-59376438

[13] trafficking of women: https://www.sixthtone.com/news/1009739/investigators-release-trafficking-details-of-woman-chained-to-wall-

[14] Zhou Peng: https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-china-59576108

[15] wolf warrior diplomacy: https://thediplomat.com/2020/05/interpreting-chinas-wolf-warrior-diplomacy/

[16] Chinese dream: https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-china-22726375 Shared future: https://www.reuters.com/lifestyle/sports/together-shared-future-unveiled-motto-beijing-2022-games-2021-09-17/

Oleksii Polegkyi, (Im)possible Peace in Ukraine

On the 11th of February 1945, the Yalta Agreement was signed by Roosevelt, Churchill and Stalin. This Agreement divided Europe for the decades to come. On 12th February 2015, the Minsk Accord II was signed by Russia, Ukraine, and OSCE [the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe] as an attempt to stop a war that was then escalating in the Eastern part of Ukraine. Many in the Kremlin enjoy symbolic allusions. But Karl Marx said that history repeats itself, first as tragedy, then as farce.

The current Russian military build-up around Ukraine has raised fears of a possible Russian offensive that could extend beyond the territories in eastern Ukraine currently controlled by the Kremlin and lead to full-scale war between the two countries. Vladimir Putin has never accepted the independence of Ukraine. He has now hinted broadly that his patience with Kyiv is running out. In summer 2021, Putin again openly questioned the legitimacy of Ukraine as an independent state and laid bare his own imperial ambitions for Russia. Moscow’s problem is that Ukraine is, despite all problems, escaping Russia’s hold. 

Situation in the Donbas under Zelensky’s presidency

Despite some achievements in 2019–20 (mainly in humanitarian aspects), a solution to the war in the Donbas (Eastern Ukraine) is nowhere close. Russia’s attitude toward Ukraine or regarding conflict resolution is unchanging. Its main goal is to push the Ukrainian government into direct negotiations with representatives of the occupational administrations of the self-proclaimed Donetsk and Luhansk people’s republics (DNR/LNR) and block Ukraine’s movement towards NATO and Europe. DNR/LNR are quasi-states fully controlled by the Kremlin which have remained the primary scene of the Donbas War since 2014. In response to Putin’s pressure, President Zelensky’s position on the Ukraine has remained unequivocal: legitimate elections in the occupied parts of the Donbas should take place only in a secure environment—namely, after the withdrawal of Russian troops and return of the eastern border to Ukrainian control.

Furthermore, contrary to the Kremlin’s demands, the topic of Crimea is still on the agenda. For example, the Crimea Platform was established by President Zelensky in February 2021 in order to build a coordinated international effort to pressure Russia to leave the Crimean Peninsula. The inaugural Summit of the Crimea Platform was held in Kyiv on 23 August 2021, with representatives of forty-six countries. Ukraine hopes to consolidate international efforts in this area, and the initiative will focus on tasks such as enforcing sanctions and countering Russia’s militarization of the Crimea, as well as monitoring human rights and environmental threats.

Domestic policy obviously plays an important role in both countries. Putin’s imperial drive is rooted in the domestic dynamics of the Russian power regime. It is largely due to the nature and structure of Russian politics, which needs to generate a permanent sense of threat for domestic purposes because the state inherently needs militarization to preserve Putin`s system of power. The country is constantly either preparing for war against an external enemy or pursuing enemies at home.

President Zelensky’s options are limited: even if he could accept Moscow’s deal, Ukrainian society would not accept “peace under any conditions.” However, Ukraine has not managed to present a realistic vision for the resolution of the conflict or a strategy for re-integrating the occupied parts of Eastern Ukraine without the Kremlin’s willingness to cooperate.

Russia has continued its practice of granting citizenship to Ukrainian residents of the occupied Donbas territories, having already distributed more than 650,000 Russian passports. In essence, the negotiations under the Minsk format have reached a dead end, with Russia not having managed to achieve its aim to implement the accord on its own conditions. The Normandy format (a negotiating group involving  Germany, Russia, Ukraine and France, whose representatives met in an effort to resolve the war in Donbas) also seems to be unviable as a platform for negotiations.

The main obstacles to ending the war in the Donbas are not only different approaches toward the negotiations but the fundamentally different aims of Russia and Ukraine. For Ukraine, the end of its conflict with Russia would require the restoration of its sovereignty, while Russia expects to always keep Ukraine in its “sphere of privileged interests” and influence Ukrainian internal affairs. As summarized by the British analyst Duncan Allan concerning the dilemma of the Minsk Accord: “Ukraine views the Minsk Process as a chance to restore its sovereignty, whereas Russia sees it as an opportunity to curtail this sovereignty.”[1]

Russia’s goals in the potential escalation

For Russia, creating hybrid threats is its main strategy. An important aspect of Russian information and psychological operations is the so-called reflexive control (RC), which is closely related to the Chinese concept of “stratagems” and the concept of “perception management”. Reflexive control (RC) is the term used to describe the practice of predetermining an adversary’s decision in your favor, by altering key factors in the adversary’s perception of the world or of a certain situation.

Russia has essentially reached its limits concerning its possibilities to exert pressure on Ukraine, but it cannot accept real peace in a Donbas under Ukrainian control, as that would be perceived as weakness of the Kremlin and personally of Vladimir Putin.

In this sense, Russia’s military manoeuvres have primarily political objectives. First, Russia is seeking to “reset” its negotiations with the USA and increase the international influence of Moscow (not only with regard to Ukraine) through its traditional strategy of military-political blackmail.  The Kremlin often uses the tactic of raising tensions and then, in exchange for calming down, it gets something smaller that before was unacceptable but now suffices to diffuse the situation.

 Second, through its demonstration of military might the Kremlin is trying to force Kyiv to be more accommodating and compliant.

And third, Russia is desperate to prevent Ukraine’s rapprochement and deeper cooperation with NATO.

Additionally, the Kremlin is trying to divide the “West” as much as possible (most importantly, by, creating more tensions and contradictions between the US and European countries).

Moscow can again use its favourite tactics to increase tensions and blackmail Ukraine, with the end game of gaining a better negotiating position. A British House of Commons Report concluded: “Russia has several probable motives for escalating tensions on the border with Ukraine, driven by regional insecurities and President Putin’s willingness to engage in power politics. Russia is using its military for coercive diplomacy, to pressure the Ukrainian Government to make concessions in the political settlements for the Donbas and to test Western allies’ resolve to come to Ukraine’s aid.”[2]

One of the main pillars of Ukraine’s efforts to neutralize the Russian threat is to obtain international support and increase sanctions on the Russian Federation. Unfortunately for Ukraine, in the eyes of US and even the European Union – Ukraine is a good cause but not vital to its strategic interests. For Putin, it is a key for keeping power and for Russian national interest.

At least, during last few months, Vladimir Putin already got more international attention than he had received in many years. On the one hand, then, Russian maneuvers around Ukraine could be very costly for Moscow, because they recreate fear of Russia in Europe and mobilize opponents of Kremlin policy. But the Kremlin will try to get what it can in this situation. For example, Russia will try to force Germany and France to press Kyiv to implement Minsk Agreement II on Moscow’s conditions. But for Ukraine, this is unacceptable because it will lead to endless internal conflicts and will destroy the country.

Conclusion

In the overall perception of the Kremlin, Russia continues to be at war with the West (writ large) and it is a war in multiple domains simultaneously. This war is not a frozen conflict but a multi-theatre confrontation that is highly dynamic and can be activated by Moscow in any domain that it wants, e.g., conventional escalation in Ukraine, Belarus, or any other place.[3]

The attempts of some European countries to cooperate with Moscow in consensus mode or to “reset” relations are perceived by the Kremlin as weakness and will only provoke more aggressive actions on its part.

The conflict between Russia and Ukraine has a longstanding strategic and even ontological character. Russia has no interest in a real peace for Ukraine and wants to keep the country as destabilized as possible. Putin’s speeches on many occasions highlight the constancy of his perception of the Ukrainian state as impermanent and of its existence as not justified by any reason. Because the Russian elite cannot accept the existence of an independent Ukraine (with constant emphasis on Ukraine’s full dependency, “failed state” status, disintegration, etc.), it will inevitably lead either to Ukraine being incorporated (in one form or another) into the sphere of “exclusive” Russian influence and under the full control of Moscow. Or, it will lead to Putin’s model of authoritarian regime, one that is based on ideas of revanchism, to be destroyed and Russia will transform itself into a democratic state. In other words, the existence of an independent Ukraine is possible only if the Russian Federation undergoes a profound transformation. As at the moment there is no chance of such a change (at least in the short term), the war between the two countries will continue. However, its intensity may increase or decrease, depending on the internal situation in the Russian Federation, the situation in the world, and the abilities of Ukraine to counteract Russian aggression.  

The Kremlin, having made Ukraine part of Russia’s domestic political agenda, cannot accept the loss of Ukraine. By the same token, the Kremlin cannot allow Ukraine to develop successfully (especially after 2014) because this would mean a failure of Russian efforts, which could become an example for its own opposition-minded citizens and inspire them to protest in Russia and in the whole post-Soviet space. That is why Ukraine as a failed state or a basket case is a condition, a sine qua non for the survival of the current Kremlin elites.

At the same time, for an absolute majority of Ukrainians it is already impossible to imagine Ukraine under the control of Moscow. For millions of Ukrainians war will not have started at some point in the near future. Rather, war started already in 2014. Eight years of war have changed dramatically the perception of Russia (even for those who had had positive attitudes towards Russia) and Ukrainian society demonstrates a readiness to fight for their own country. According to a survey conducted by Kyiv International Institute of Sociology (KIIS)[4] in December 2021, 33.3% of the population is ready to put up armed resistance; and 21.7% are ready to resist by participating in civil resistance actions. A Russian invasion will be catastrophic for Ukraine, but also for Russia. Russia can destroy the Ukrainian military, but it will not be able to control the territory and population of Ukraine.

The scenario of developing a constant threat of conflict escalation and pushing Ukraine into endless internal confrontations will remain the basic formula for the Russian model of “controlled chaos” in the neighboring country for the foreseeable future.

Dr. Oleksii Polegkyi is the Academic Director, Center for Public Diplomacy, Ukraine 

 

 

NOTES

[1] Duncan Allan. “The Minsk Conundrum: Western Policy and Russia’s War in Eastern Ukraine,” Chatham House,  22 May 2020; https://www.chathamhouse.org/publication/minsk-conundrum-allan

[2] “Russia and Ukraine border tensions,” Report, House of Commons, 29 June 2021, p.12; https://committees.parliament.uk/publications/6567/documents/71219/default/

[3]Polegkyi, Oleksii & Stepniowski, Tomasz (eds.) „Security dilemma in the Black Sea region in the light of the Russian-Ukrainian conflict”, IES Policy Papers, Institute of Central Europe, Poland, N5, 2021; https://ies.lublin.pl/ies-policy-papers/security-dilemma-in-the-black-sea-region-in-light-of-the-russian-ukrainian-conflict/?fbclid=IwAR1-PgJHMwTEa5ZlB0183v-Zm1dez2Rwzx3lMDLLYZdV6n9XjlvF0SgwRyA

[4]“Will Ukrainians resist Russian intervention”, Kyiv International Institute of Sociology (KIIS), December 3-11, 2021; https://www.kiis.com.ua/?lang=eng&cat=reports&id=1079&page=1

I-Yi Hsieh, Global Friction on Wet Markets

Almost two years into the global pandemic of Covid-19, the contention surrounding wet markets as one of the pandemic’s outbreak origin narratives remains. Amid the furor of demanding that China put a blanket ban on wet markets, a rare agreement emerged among Mitch McConnell, Jane Goodall, Paul McCartney, and Anthony Fauci in March-May 2020. Declaring wet market as the literal and symbolic place of the “dirty, cruel, and primitive Asians” who butcher animals in public, hands and aprons covered in blood, a global discourse stigmatizing wet markets has peaked in the pandemic anxiety. Anthropologists have since attempted to combat these false charges by clarifying the point that the wild animal trade is a rare presence in the daily food markets of China, known as wet markets in English (Lynteris and Fearnley 2020). Some have gone further to argue that wet markets are a local way of food consumption that value neighborhood, face-to-face interactions while acquiring the benefit of reducing the over-packaging of food items commonly seen in supermarkets (Cheung 2020). What is missing in the two sides of global discourses pertinent to the issue at hand is the labor history of wet markets. This community-scaled food infrastructure is widely available not only in the People’s Republic of China, but also in Taiwan, Hong Kong, Singapore, and Southeast Asia, among other places. This is not to mention that the term “wet market” was first minted in official policy in Singapore in the 1970s, as the city-state began to differentiate air-conditioned supermarkets from food vendors using ice to keep produce fresh at the stall, in open-air temperatures. When the ice melted and sometimes dampened the market’s floor, there emerged the attribution of “wetness” in the term “wet market.” It is thus fair to argue that wet markets, as a category and a named social practice aimed at global translatability, is in and of itself a post-war invention. 

The international advocates for a ban on wet markets amid the pandemic turns out to be evidence of a continuous Orientalism reinforced by the anti-China sentiment fueled by the pandemic. Looking back, it is now clear that wet markets were the scapegoat for the dismantled public health care system and other social problems looming underneath the just-on-time capitalism of our age. Even the contentious Huanan Seafood Market itself, now forced to close, was a wholesale food market mostly supplying restaurants and was a congregation of cross-province trucks and large refrigerators, with Wuhan being China’s inland hub city. This fact runs counter to the Euro-American ascription of the Huanan Seafood Market being a small, dirty “wet market” filled with random transactions. Instead, it was a well-organized wholesale organization managed by the Huanan Fruits Wholesale company with an investment amounting to about US$7.68 million. The scale of the marketplace itself is a story of contemporary China: it encompassed 50,000 square meters (12.36 acres) and in this sense, it resembled the textile, small merchandise, art, or even antique-collecting markets emblematic of the unique form of megasized wholesale commercial zones birthed in China’s market reform era. In 2011, the total trade at the Huanan Seafood Market amounted to US$183 million, [1] with the parent company of its management being a real estate corporation. It has even received the title of “Civilized Market in Wuhan” several times.[2] The main investors in the wholesale space include 24 corporations from Wuhan, Shanghai, and Beijing.

What about Taiwan?

Since mid-2020, I have started to conduct ethnographic fieldwork at several wet markets in Taipei—first initiated as a rebuttal to the global stigmatization of wet markets as a global biosecurity risk embedded in the capitalist food system. Indeed, local food markets in Asia are now deeply woven into the international food system and cargo logistics, while they also employ a large labor force to process animal meats and produce on behalf of Asia’s rising urban consumers alienated from the complex, and highly uneven food production process. Yet fieldwork has its own ontogenesis to surprise a researcher. I gradually found that the issues surrounding biosecurity always point to biopolitics. It is not only true that the flow of air in outdoor markets helps to reduce the aerosol transmission of the Covid-19 virus, which makes the outdoor wet markets in Taiwan a safer space to shop than supermarkets and the government-managed indoor compounds, both of which are sometimes located in basements with cramped stalls in an environment of bad ventilation. It is also true that the labor history and friction over wet market vendors is very telling of Taiwan society’s tangled relationship with capitalism through the colonial to post-war times. 

As anyone who has ever been to Taiwan would know, the gigantic, indoor compounds dressed up in a Cold War architectural style of bureaucratic mono-color (fifty shades of blue, if one may) have been the norm for public food markets in Taiwanese cities, designed to improve hygiene standards and managerial excellence. In researching the regulations on street markets in Taiwan, the archival work leads me to discovering that the Japanese colonial origin of indoor food markets was first designed to be a major tax revenue generating mechanism for the first Colonial Governor, who used the lucrative tax collected at colonial public markets and slaughter houses to fund his ambitious hygiene infrastructure implemented in the early 1900s. This first public, indoor marketplace was established in colonial Tainan in 1905, in a baroque style that even surpassed its Japanese counterparts established as late as the 1930s. In the Cold War era, the Nationalist government continued the colonial governmentality regarding street markets as a source of social chaos and hygiene concerns. Yet the more effort put into rounding up street vendors into indoor market compounds, often from their original neighborhood to far away locations, the more it seemed to be a futile attempt as new vendors would soon appear at the original wet market’s location. And of course, the unruliness of street vendors is a constant story of political tension in Taiwan. The most infamous case was the instigation of the 228 Incident in February1947 — when a 40-year-old woman Lin Jiang-mai, a vendor selling contraband cigarettes at a local street market in Taiheichō, was struck by the Tobacco Monopoly Bureau enforcement team trying to confiscate her cigarettes. Taiheichō was one of the known street market locations in the pre-Japanese Qing era, and it was such a popular designation that later the Japanese Colonial Governor set up an indoor market compound in the old street market’s location in 1908.   

A Vendor in Eirakuchō Market, Taipei. 1930. (Taiwan Memory Data Base, Taiwan National Central Library. https://tm.ncl.edu.tw/. Latest accessed 2022-02-10.)

The Labor History of Wet Market

The labor history of wet markets in Taiwan is even more telling of the biopolitics of food infrastructure. In the anti-eviction activism for a wet market located in central Taipei in 2020-2021, the international friction on wet market embeds itself into the concrete, everyday struggle faced by the vendors and migrants whose lives are deeply entangled in these neighborhood-scale food supply organisms. Situated at the juncture of the old and new in central Taipei, the wet market of my fieldwork site, Shuanglian market, has been caught up in the storm of gentrification enhanced by Taipei municipal government’s zealous pursuit of rebranding Taipei as global city, which resulted in an infrastructure renewal aiming to replace community grassland alongside the wet market of about 200 vendors with a design claimed to be Tokyo “Shinjuku” style of trendiness. This design would cover the already over heated city center with cement surface throughout one subway line’s ground-level park. Initially, the excuse for eviction of the wet market went by branding the vendors an urban safety risk for potentially causing fire in the neighborhood and obstructing fire trucks getting through (an entirely false accusation as the open space of park by the wet market provides plenty of space for emergency evacuation). This excuse uncannily resembled the eradication of the so-called “low-end population” campaign that removed migrant communities in Beijing in 2017-2019.

In participating in the year-long protest launched by Shuanglian’s community members who support the wet market, I found the grassroot organizing among the vendors can surprise our dominant academic discourses regarding these day laborers as the precariat class. Our academic discourses often depict contingent labor in our time as “the dangerous class” who are hard to organize and prone to anti-social resentment. To the contrary, despite all the difficulties of organizing meetings, elections, and petitions among a group of high school dropouts, illiterate elders, Buddhist moms, southeast Asian vendors and neighborhood hooligans against a hoard of techno-bureaucrats and civil engineers from the Taipei Metro and municipal government, the wet market is like a sponge absorbing a variety of invisible livelihoods, providing everyone a place to labor, to connect and make a living. Indeed, after interviewing many vendors, I found a large percentage of them were once factory workers at textile or shoe factories who had been laid off when Taiwanese factories went overseas in droves in the 1990s, to mainland China or southeast Asia. Many vendors initially took up odd jobs and gradually found their way into these organically gathered wet market locations, catering for community-oriented food consumption by providing sophisticated, individualized service for housewives and seniors who frequent their familiar vendors.

What the Taiwan story tells us is that the local wet markets, called caishichang (菜市場) in mandarin, provide a social mechanism to digest the over-commodified factory workers created during the golden era of Taiwan’s manufacture-export in 1960s-1980s, who later were forced into unemployment during the first crisis of rising wages and living standards following the Taiwanese capitalists going overseas to reduce production cost in pursuit of higher profit. These day laborers were nonetheless first created by Taiwan’s “aiding the industry with agriculture (以農養工)” in the 1960s-70s, which forced peasant families to rely on one or more members working at factories, while the island’s special economic zones provided jobs for sewing shoes, making toys, or assembling chemical products for US companies such as Johnson & Johnson. Later, when these manufactures left for cheaper labor in the then opening People’s Republic of China, the workers in Taiwan found themselves falling into a precarious situation. Eventually many found their way into wet markets and night markets, where labor for food preparation arose to cater for the urban white-collar households. Despite the government’s consistent efforts to erase wet markets in major Taiwanese cities, the scale of outdoor food markets simply has continued to swell everywhere in the past twenty years, particularly at the margin of large metropolitan centers or in emerging technology towns such as Taipei and Hsinchu – where major IT companies like the Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing reside. The mono-industry path launched in Taiwan in the past 30-40 years has indeed contributed to a flourishing engineer class working for the IT industry, yet this narrow concentration also abandons and leaves behind a generation of workers who were not included in the technology boom. So these workers turn to basic human needs: food and care, the things that every neighborhood needs and desires. It is thus no surprise that about 70% of this union of the vendors working at the Shuanglian market is female. And it is also no surprise for any labor scholar to anticipate that one major obstacle they face is confronting the Taipei municipal government’s initial ignorance and negligence of these vendors’ livelihood, rights to work, and well-being.

There is thus no surprise that wet markets exist in many Asian trade hub cities, for they serve as an organism absorbing surplus population. And this defines the social life of wet markets. The labor history of wet markets also calls for a perspective of multispecies ethnography, for the labor which is involved in the food production processes tends to be placed at the lower rung of the social hierarchy, alongside the produce and animals they deal with. They are categorized and denigrated by having to deal with the bodily fluids of animals, the unavoidable wetness, however much commodity fetishism tries to hide these material realities from the supermarket consumer by deploying ever more plastic packaging. It is thus also imperative to consider the biopolitics of wet markets as a problem of capitalist crisis converging with environmental crisis, particularly in light of Rob Wallace and others’ call to dwell analytically on the constant outbreaks of zoonotic pandemics of our time in the context of human’s increasing depriving wild animal of their habitats for urban expansion and industrial animal farms.

The global friction of wet markets urges us to confront capitalist surplus production and surplus population, articulated in the Marxist theories of crisis, in the increasingly solidified Asian urban household economy that outsources family food preparation and food care to wet markets in metropolitan areas. The laborers who carefully prepare a piece of pork at a pork stall in a wet market absorb a whole history of food infrastructure, and its stigma, in exchange for rising Asian urban consumers demanding freshly slaughtered meat for a dish on the dinner table. If we cannot consider wet markets in the origin outbreak narrative of Covid-19 as inevitably caught up by multispecies labor relations taking place at global trade hubs, against a backdrop of increased inequality embodied in the degradation of public health around the world, we might never see the end of enhanced pandemic cruelty, which defines a new horizon of (in)humanity in our time. 

I-Yi Hsieh is a Postdoctoral Researcher, ICCS, Taiwan Yangming-Chiaotung University 

 

NOTES

[1] See the Sina Finance report on the Huanan Seafood Market’s management team: https://cj.sina.com.cn/articles/view/1704103183/65928d0f02001iyab

[2] Ibid.