March 19, 2002 Leaner Factories, Fewer Workers Bring More Labor Unrest to China By ERIK ECKHOLM EIJING, March 18 — As the overhaul of China's moribund state industries enters a decisive phase, public protests by displaced workers are becoming larger and angrier than ever, with huge demonstrations breaking out this month in several places. In one dramatic example, every weekday since March 1, tens of thousands of irate workers have gathered outside the headquarters of China's most glorified oil field, at Daqing in the far northeast, charging official deceit and betrayal in what some experts have called the largest protests over labor issues since the Communist Party took power in 1949. Labor disputes over money and benefits, often peppered with charges of official corruption, have become frequent as China seeks to streamline or shed its bloated state- owned factories. If reports in recent days from Daqing and several other sites are any guide, the scale of unrest is likely to grow in the months and years ahead as China opens more industries to competition under World Trade Organization rules. Millions of middle-aged workers, in particular, say they feel betrayed by a system that long gave them honor and security, if little money, and that now seems intent on discarding them. The unrest has not threatened the rule of the Communist Party, in part because the police crush any efforts to form independent unions or to share labor complaints across regions. China's leaders have recently focused on the stubborn poverty in the countryside, where a majority of the people live, as a source of instability. But the growing disaffection of older urban workers, too, is a major preoccupation and the government has had only limited success in building new social safety nets. On Sunday in Beijing, the commander of the People's Armed Police, the main antiriot force, told an officers conference that with China's entry into the W.T.O. the police must prepare for an increase in "mass incidents," the People's Armed Police News reported today. Workers at the giant Daqing oil complex, who were long exalted as national heroes, say they were pressured to accept severance agreements that will strand many in poverty, facing old age without medical insurance or pensions. "We've been cheated and misled," said a woman who gave her last name, Liu. Ms. Liu, who is in her 30's, took the buyout in December 2000 along with more than 50,000 other workers and, like most of them, has been unemployed ever since. Outraged workers in the aging industrial city of Liaoyang, also in the northeast, have mounted growing waves of protest. Earlier this month, in a rare example of cooperation among workers from different industries, 5,000 workers from six bankrupt factories held demonstrations, demanding more than a year's worth of unpaid wages and pensions and charging that officials had embezzled the funds. The standoff there grew today as an estimated 30,000 workers from 20 different factories gathered, demanding the release of a leader who was arrested Sunday in violation of a public pledge by the authorities, according to residents and outside rights monitors. At the Daqing oil fields, workers say they were deceived by managers when they agreed to the buyouts, sundering the traditional lifetime worker-factory relationship. Company executives, told to downsize, had warned the workers of imminent corporate bankruptcy and the likelihood of massive layoffs with little or no compensation. So more than 50,000 workers, of more than 200,000, took severance offers of up to $500 for each year of service. The sums, which were set without negotiation, seemed large at the time, workers say, and were much higher than the national norm in such situations. But after more than a year of unemployment and rising expenses, many of the former employees feel scared and vulnerable. The protests began when the Daqing Oilfield Bureau announced it would stop paying the former employees' heating bills. It also said they would have to make large annual payments themselves if they wished to keep their medical and old- age insurance. On some days, more than 30,000 Daqing workers have filled the streets, witnesses say. "We've discovered that there's a big difference between what we were promised and what we've been given," said Ms. Liu, who spoke nervously after receiving a phone call from a reporter. "The managers were very persuasive and convinced us this was the best deal we could get." Han Dongfang, an exiled labor advocate, called the Daqing demonstrations "probably the largest protests over labor issues since 1949." Mr. Han, who spent time in jail for organizing an independent union in 1989, runs the China Labor Bulletin in Hong Kong. The Daqing workers tried to organize but some leaders were detained and others are now in hiding, Mr. Han said. But the demonstrations have continued in the oil city, built with legendary hardship in the 1960's on the cold, marshy plains of Heilongjiang Province and praised by Mao as a socialist model. They fueled China's industrialization, but today the Daqing fields produce more water than oil, output is declining and production costs are noncompetitive. In 1998, in a national restructuring of oil industries, they became a subsidiary of the PetroChina Company, which is listed on stock exchanges in New York and Hong Kong and must pay heed to shareholders. Officials of PetroChina, the Daqing Oilfield Bureau and the governments of Daqing and Heilongjiang Province all declined to comment on the dispute. The party-run union at the oil fields denied responsibility for the welfare of the protesters. "These people have terminated their contracts in return for a lump sum," said an official who did not give his name. "They are no longer employees of the oil field and they are no longer members of the trade union." Riot police have been deployed in Daqing but have so far shown restraint. The Chinese press has not been allowed to cover the disputes. The shrinking oil industry is seething with conflict elsewhere as well. Just this month, disputes over severance terms led to large protests at the Huabei field in Hebei Province and the Songjiang field in Jilin Province, a labor official said. Thousands of labor demonstrations or strikes, usually short-lived, are reported through internal Government channels each year. Reports seeping through the censorship in recent weeks suggest how common and seemingly intractable such conflicts have become. Last week, as the Daqing protests continued, a more disruptive action began in a coal mining region in Liaoning Province. Some 10,000 miners in the town of Fushun, similarly furious over severance packages, have blocked highways and railroad tracks, according to local residents. Textile workers are striking in the western province of Sichuan, charging that state owners are selling off their factory's assets rather than trying to save it, Mr. Han said. He acknowledges that state industries must reduce their work forces but said the hostility and misunderstanding reflect the inability of Chinese workers to organize and bargain. Ms. Liu, the former employee, said: "In the past, Daqing oil workers were docile types who obeyed the leaders. Now we feel differently." Copyright 2002 The New York Times Company | Privacy Information

March 20, 2002

Where Workers, Too, Rust, Bitterness Boils

By ERIK ECKHOLM

IAOYANG, China, March 19 — This onetime showcase of Communist enterprise, the site this month of large, angry protests by displaced workers, is ringed by the rusting remains of defunct state industries.

In its drab appearance and employment woes, Liaoyang, a city of about 500,000 people, resembles many places in China's industrial northeast. People here say that more than half of the city's factory workers have lost their jobs.

The demonstrations continued today, with several thousand people marching from police headquarters to city hall to demand the release of Yao Fuxin, a 52-year-old labor leader who was snatched by unknown authorities on Sunday.

"We demand the government release our man," read one banner. "The army of workers must have food and jobs," insisted another. A third demanded, "Dismiss Gong Shangwu, liberate Liaoyang," a reference to a senior official whom workers accuse of criminal activities.

"Our major demand today was for the release of Yao Fuxin," said a relative of Mr. Yao, who was laid off from the local steel mill in 1993 and has now, with just a primary education, emerged as the chief worker advocate in this pocket of Liaoning Province.

"Everything else has to wait," said the relative, who insisted on anonymity, "because if our representative can't speak for us, what else is there to talk about?"

The last decade has been jarring for the workers here, who used to be called the backbone of the new China and the "masters of the nation."

Independent efforts to organize workers have always been crushed in the past, but Mr. Yao and others here have concluded that they must speak out.

The failure of state enterprises in Liaoyang is pervasive — everything from paper and leather to chemical factories, from textile mills to steel mills, has gone bankrupt or will soon. As a result, workers from diverse industries have joined together in the demonstrations, a rarity in China and a development that is not welcomed by the governing party or security agencies.

Another sight in Liaoyang is as telling as the demonstrations. It is the sidewalk vigils by many hundreds of residents — plaintive appeals for work that some have undertaken daily for months or years.

At several places, clusters of men and women stand or sit, holding cards that describe their skills: carpentry, bricklaying, plumbing and heating, general repair. Their chances of finding a job are slim, but still they spend their days on display. Perhaps they come because a small chance is better than none, but also, it seems, they are here to remind themselves and everyone else that "I am here, I exist, I am willing to work."

Others have tried to respond more assertively to the unexplained bankruptcies, the suspicious disappearances of company assets or pension funds and the pitifully low or nonexistent aid granted people who gave their lives to the state.

Ms. Li, a former steelworker in her early 50's who, like others, declined to give her full name, said she took part in the demonstrations on Monday and today because, "We have no other hope now."

"All we can do is ask the authorities to release Yao Fuxin and listen to our problems," she said.

Another marcher, called Ma, was dismissed from a chemical plant last year with a payment of just $970 after 20 years of service.

"What the Communist Party is doing now isn't fair and it doesn't make sense," he said.

He spoke outside the crumbling company apartment where he lives with his wife — who was placed on unpaid "long-term vacation" by her factory — and their 18-year-old son, who has been unable to find a job since he graduated from junior high school two years ago.

Mr. Ma said he received a $27 welfare check each month but "it's not enough for three people to live on, even if you just eat corn gruel every day."

On Monday, he and most of his neighbors joined in the biggest demonstration yet at city hall, which participants say drew up to 30,000 people, demanding the dismissal of corrupt officials and Mr. Yao's release. But like many others he did not return today for what was a considerably smaller demonstration, in large part, he said, because he fears that such protests may be futile.

"That won't solve our problems anyway," he said. "If we go in dribs and drabs, nobody pays attention to us. We need all the laid-off workers to go the government at the same time."

Mr. Yao's relative said the numbers were also down today because the police had warned many people not to take part in an illegal gathering and blocked some workers traveling in by road. As word spreads of Mr. Yao's arrest, the relative predicted, many more workers are likely to take to the streets.

Mr. Yao's disappearance has frightened and perplexed his family and supporters. Earlier this month, after two days of similar protests involving 5,000 workers, city leaders promised that there would be no arrests.

But on Sunday, Mr. Yao disappeared after going out for what he said would be a brief walk. A city official told the crowd today that the police had not detained Mr. Yao, but his family and supporters feel certain that he was arrested by some agency and that the secrecy only guarantees that he will be denied his legal rights.

"We can't go on living like this, and nobody is listening to us," said a supporter of Mr. Yao who gave his surname as Xiao. "We can't take our problems to the official trade unions. They are the Communist Party's unions, not ours."