Here’s the thing about the retreat of manufacturing from the townships and villages of the Pearl River Delta; these areas have urbanized, migrants have settled in and are raising families, but as the low-end jobs and shops that once sustained local and migrant communities follow the factories elsewhere, these neighborhoods are withering. Consider, for example, the older section of Dongguan–莞城, which only twenty years ago was a vibrant community and today is an abandoned reminder of the area’s complicated history with Ming pirates and British opium, its deep relationships with the late Qing Chinese diaspora, and the Pearl River Delta’s urban village origins. Old Dongguan has become a focus of concern for urban planners and concerned citizens: how to revitalize an “old street” that is no longer viable, but sits on prime real estate, or more precisely, inquiring minds want to know: to raze or not to raze historic areas and landmark buildings? Continue reading
If you’re like me, you probably didn’t realize the loveliness that awaits you in “Guan Cheng,” the old section of Dongguan City. And yes, the surprise adds to the pleasure of strolling its meandering streets and riverside boulevards. Ke Yuan (可园), which comes from the expression “lovely garden” is open to visitors. It is an example of Lingnan sensibility and was a key site for the development of Lingnan style painting. Impressions, below.
In 2009, Sam Green and Carrie Lozano made the short documentary Utopia, Part 3: The World’s Largest Shopping Mall about the South China Mall in Wanjiang, Dongguan. On November 1 and 2, 2013, I visited said mall. This post serves as a partial update. It also a brief response to the ideas of “too big to fail” and “acceptable capitalism” that haunt so many apologies for contemporary neoliberalism. Continue reading
Visited the New South China Mall in Dongguan, which is undergoing a family makeover (more next post). Today, impressions of my neon romance with the semi-abandoned re-occupied playground. Continue reading
For those of you who wonder, what’s great in Dongguan–and you know you’re out there because Dongguan has gotten really bad press–I’ld like to suggest Guanyin Mountain National Forest in Tangxia, Zhangmutou Township (东莞市樟木头镇塘厦观音山). The forest occupies 18 sq kilometers, of which most is beautiful forest and hiking trails. This may come as a surprise because Zhangmutou was one of the industrial centers that sprung up along the Kowloon-Guangzhou Railway in the late 80s and 90s. In fact, the area was once known as “Little Hong Kong” because many Hong Kongers vacationed and bought homes there.
From the mountain viewing stations one can see the village and township industrial parks of early reform, as well as the recreational facilities (including golf courses and upscale hotels) where Hong Kongers went for the weekend indulgence and the late 1990s housing that truck drivers and the SAR’s mobile poor bought. One can also see more recent upper middle class developments by Vanke and China Resources which aim to attract buyers from neighboring Shenzhen. In fact, Tangxia is closer to downtown Shenzhen than is Longgang District. In addition to beautiful trails and fresh if muggy semi-tropical air, the park also offers views of how industrial urbanization with South Chinese characteristics reshapes the land, reminding us that we are not talking of “location, location, location”, but more precisely, “policy, policy, policy”.
Each of these areas exists because of a change to or promulgation of Chinese policy. The village and township industrial parks came about as a result of the responsibility system, while the resorts and entertainment industry that catered to a Hong Kong clientele depended upon laws that made it illegal for mainland truckers to cross the border and deliver containers from local factories to Hong Kong logistics companies. The present shift to upscale housing developments for Shenzhen and neighboring elites is also a manifestation of policy: crackdowns on the sex industry and push toward higher value added production in the area.
Of course, the construction in Tangxia has also depended upon the establishment of a bourgeoisie in Guangzhou and Shenzhen, where first houses have been paid off and costs of education met. However, more importantly, Vanke and China Resources have taken up the call to build in Tangxia because the Shenzhen metro will soon connect the area to the SEZ. They hope that the relative low cost of housing will attract young Shenzhen families to move to Dongguan and commute to Shenzhen. In the meantime, however, the people I spoke with in Tangxia were not buying a primary home, but rather a home for their retired parents. After all, they like nearby developers are waiting for Dongguan Municipality to build schools and hospitals, integrating Tangxia into the urban grid because the geographic effects of policy are as visible in their absence as they are in their presence.
Unlike Shenzhen, which has managed to disassociate itself from its rural past, Dongguan continues to be considered a market town, population and exports, notwithstanding — provincial in all condescending senses of the word. Unfortunately for folks in Dongguan, urbanizing strategies to overcome the stigma of cultural boorishness are often the problem. The Lamwa (联华国际) development, 星河传说 (Milky Way Legend), for example, is located in Dongcheng District, Dongguan Municipality’s aspiring middle class district, where English inscriptions, including a Cambridge education kindergarten are all part of local efforts to rebrand the city. It feels, however, like 1990s Shenzhen, before millennial skyscrapers and creative industries replaced industrial parks, creating Shenzhen urbanity and the concomitant nostalgia for urban villages. Impressions of Milky Way Legend’s high culture pretensions, below:
another couplet from real estate advertising, this one noted because it suggests the poetic contours of consumption: 梦想的产品，现实的冲动 (a dreamy product, a practical impulse) as if impulse buying were about satisfying dreams, rather than putting ourselves in debt. after all, the cheapest 30 sq meter condo started at 380,000 rmb, well over the minimum wage. what’s more this relatively cheap development is located in dongguan, a long ride from downtown shenzhen. so to buy into the dream one needs an upper management salary and a car. sigh.