Sim Chi Yin, Straits Times 3 Mar 08;
In the final part looking at the aftermath of the blizzards in China, The Straits Times examines the challenges facing the authorities, who also have a lot of answering to do
WEI XIN COUNTY (YUNNAN) - THE snow has melted and the sun is out. But China is still facing many tough challenges posed by the worst winter weather to hit the country's south in decades.
Across the 21 affected provinces ill-prepared for the blizzards, the authorities recorded 129 deaths, 1.66 million people made homeless and losses of more than 151 billion yuan (S$30 billion) in ruined livestock, livelihoods and infrastructure - greater than the cost exacted by the Sars crisis of 2003.
The latest disaster destroyed swathes of arable land, set forest reserves back a few decades and laid bare the fragility of the country's basic infrastructure. Roads and railways were crippled and power pylons collapsed like a pack of cards.
Beijing has promised to rebuild battered homes by June and ordered all power grids to be restored by the end of this month. The transport system is now on the mend.
But more than exposing the country's physical vulnerabilities, the winter storms cast a shadow over the government's grip on crisis management, note observers.
As the state reaches into its deep coffers and channels billions of yuan to rebuild and offer relief, questions are being raised and fingers pointed.
The more daring among local news publications ask: Why wasn't there better coordination between the weather and transport authorities? Why were local power networks so weak? Who should take responsibility for the slow official response?
The official explanation is in that now-tired phrase: that the storms were the 'worst in 50 years' and thus caught officials and local residents off-guard.
But news reports have unearthed precedents, showing that the badly hit central province of Hunan, for instance, had faced another 'worst in 50 years' storm in February 2005.
While some public accounting is expected at this week's annual National People's Congress session, some commentators have concluded that 'at least half of this disaster was man-made...a bureaucratic calamity'.
Yes, Beijing and local governments alike 'took the issue too lightly at the start and then got flustered', said legal scholar and crisis management expert Mo Jihong, of the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences.
But it was the scale and timing of the blizzards - over the peak Chinese New Year travel period - that made them as crippling as they were, he added.
Still, there is little doubt that the government was unprepared and local officials waited for Beijing's command before acting, he noted.
'This should be a lesson for them,' he said, arguing that a ministry should be set up to streamline China's response to emergencies.
Also, instead of simply repairing the power grid, the weak power infrastructure should eventually be upgraded, with Beijing raising the anti-frost requirements for pylons and cables across the board, said Prof Mo, weighing in on the debate that has emerged over whether China should invest in weather-proofing itself against future winter storms of similar magnitude.
He added: 'The thinking has been: if we can fix the problem with a three-yuan solution, why use an eight-yuan one? But I think we will learn from this episode.'
Beyond the nuts and bolts, Beijing and local governments face the perhaps more difficult task of rebuilding their public image.
Already, at the height of the storms in late January and early February, the state's propaganda machinery went into overdrive, trumpeting the massive relief efforts and eulogising relief workers who had sacrificed their lives in the disaster.
Top leaders were shown comforting victims, with Premier Wen Jiabao making whistle-stop tours and saying 'sorry' to the hordes of stranded migrant workers.
That meant little to migrants persuaded to forgo their annual New Year visit home and to others like electronics factory worker Wu Yuntao, 29, who took nine days to go from Shanghai to his home in Wei Xin county in north-east Yunnan - instead of the usual three.
He did not pay much attention to what politicians were doing, he said. 'We were just trying to get home, and we were starving and stuck on the train.'
Though Mr Wen's appearance moved some, that sort of propaganda stunt is 'beginning to look more and more fake to the regular Chinese media consumer', noted Mr David Bandurski, of the University of Hong Kong's China Media Project. 'It's not enough anymore.'
As Mr Huang Mao, 21, who came home to Wei Xin from his factory job in the coastal province of Jiangsu last week, put it: 'I see leaders on TV, expressing their concern for the people. But when I got home, I realise that yet again, out here, no one seems to care about us.'
