Shanghai Lights

print this

By Anna-Stina Nykänen
     
      I don't know where it was that Jorma Ollila sussed it out, but I grasped it in China. I only needed to stand for moment looking at the lights - the traffic lights, that is - in Shanghai to know that the planet is on the verge of catastrophe.
      The air in Shanghai was so polluted that it made one's eyes water. I stood at an intersection of two streets, the snot in my nostrils black with the acrid smog, and I watched as the lights went red.
      In a flash the entire street in front of me was filled with at least a hundred cyclists waiting their turn to cross the junction. When all those cyclists step up to mopeds, and then upgrade again to cars, what will become of us?
     
It is no good, no earthly good at all, that we here in Finland should fret and fuss about whether we put the metal tops of our individual yoghurt cartons into the right garbage bins.
      We have to be ready for bigger things than that.
      But nobody gets that here in Finland. Nobody sees the big picture. They argue about reports. They look for evidence of this or that. Now WERE those winters of our childhood really so very different from now?
      At the same time, in Shanghai, a kid could probably grow to adulthood without ever seeing a blue sky. Like in an adult sci-fi comic.
      To keep the kids happy, the smog masks in Shanghai were gaily painted, with images on them. Oh, yes, and pictures of blue skies and fluffy clouds.
     
On the streets of Shanghai I also began to have my doubts as to whether the same psychological theories and constants apply everywhere.
      There must be something different about the mind and mindset of those who live permanently in a swirling throng of people and who are perfectly accustomed to the idea that they will be bodily shoved and squeezed into metro train carriages by the platform staff.
      Imagine what it would be like here if everyone was an individualist, said one man. Yes, in Finland it is always so important to "realise oneself" and reach personal solutions.
     
A great flood of people crosses the junction. The meter attached to the traffic light counts down the remaining green seconds. In a moment the traffic policeman's whistle will blow.
      Do people here long for "their own space"?
      Or does the idea of being alone fill them with dread and fear?
      One week later, and a small town in Finland felt eerily deserted. As evening approached, my son and I stood at the traffic lights and looked both ways. There was not one car to be seen, not one person out walking the dog, let alone anyone on a bicycle.
      The sight was anxiety-inducing in its own way. I looked at my watch. I had this sudden flash that perhaps I ought to have switched the radio on at home: perhaps Finns had been advised to remain indoors with the windows closed and to await further instruct...
      The idea of environmental catastrophe once again strayed into my mind.
     
There was not one single customer in the local store.
      In China, there were plenty of willing buyers in all the shops. Even if the place were only selling oranges, then they would need to be selling them from a lot of different counters, perhaps a whole department store devoted to them, in order that everyone should be able to get their own. There are just so many people.
      While I was there, the concept of what is exploitation became much clearer to me.
      The prices of some items were so low that it actually felt uncomfortable. There is no way the worker could have got anything for his labour. And the same goes for the producer of the raw materials.
      I initially tried to think that perhaps the goods in question were stolen. In that case, the price would no longer have very much meaning. But in Finland, even a thief would take more, simply for the cost of transporting the stuff to where it could be sold.
      No escaping it. It was exploitation in action.
     
Anything and everything was for sale; whatever the human mind could think of and think it needs.
      For instance, pets that are suited to extremely cramped living conditions. In a pet shop, customers were eagerly examining large cockroaches and grasshoppers - they are ideal for the "more compact" home!
      The finest of the carrying cases for these bugs were made of polished hardwoods, with little feeding holes and all. People in China, too, they do love animals so.
     
I wrote some weeks ago about how I was worried about coping in China - would I be able to keep my composure?
      What a waste of time all that was.
      The Chinese themselves don't bother to behave that way. Chinese women were giving their husbands a tongue-lashing right there in the middle of the street at the tops of their voices, with no sense of shame at all. Wow!
      Our son looked on all goggle-eyed as a child of his age got clipped around the ear by his mother. The mother was going on and on at the weeping boy, and finally she clumsily lifted her leg and booted him in the behind.
      "Why did she do that?" asked my son. I explained to him that while kicking a child is a crime in Finland, it is not an offence in China.
      "OK, OK, but why did she still go ahead and kick him when the kid was already crying?" asked my puzzled son.
     
Helsingin Sanomat / First published in print in the Nyt weekly supplement of 9.2.2007


Previously in HS International Edition:
  New mission for Jorma Ollila: fighting climate change (30.1.2007)

ANNA-STINA NYKÄNEN / Helsingin Sanomat
anna-stina.nykanen@hs.fi