Chinese walker

Until the 1980s the Mekong River flowed freely for 4,900 kilometres from its 5,100-metre-high source in Tibet to the coast of Vietnam, where it finally poured into the South China Sea. The Mekong is the world%26rsquo;s twelfth longest river, and the eighth or tenth largest, in terms of the 475 billion cubic metres of water it discharges annually. Then and now it passes through or by China, Burma (Myanmar), Laos, Thailand, Cambodia and Vietnam. It is south-east Asia%26rsquo;s longest river, but 44% of its course is in China, a fact of capital importance for its ecology and the problems associated with its governance.

In 1980 not only were there no dams on its course, but much of the river could not be used for sizeable, long-distance navigation because of the great barrier of the Khone Falls, located just above the border between Cambodia and Laos, and the repeated rapids and obstacles that marked its course in Laos and China. Indeed, no exaggeration is involved in noting that the Mekong%26rsquo;s overall physical configuration in 1980 was remarkably little changed from that existing when it was explored by the French Mekong Expedition that travelled painfully up the river from Vietnam%26rsquo;s Mekong Delta to Jinghong in southern Yunnan in 1866 and 1867. This was the first European expedition to explore the Mekong from southern Vietnam into China and to produce an accurate map of its course to that point.

Since 2003, the most substantial changes to the Mekong%26rsquo;s character below China have related to navigation. Following a major program to clear obstacles from the Mekong begun early in the present decade, a regular navigation service now exists between southern Yunnan and the northern Thai river port of Chiang Saen. It is not clear whether the Chinese, who promoted the concept of these clearances and carried out the work involved, still wish to develop navigation further down the river, as was previously their plan. To date, the environmental effects of the navigation clearances have been of a limited character.

The Mekong plays a vital role in the countries of the Lower Mekong Basin (LMB): Laos, Thailand, Cambodia and Vietnam. (Burma is not within the basin). In all four LMB countries the Mekong is a source of irrigation. In Vietnam%26rsquo;s Mekong Delta the annual pattern of flood and retreat insure that this region contributes over 50% of agriculture%26rsquo;s contribution to the country%26rsquo;s GDP. For all four LMB countries the Mekong and its associated systems, particularly Cambodia%26rsquo;s Great Lake (Tonle Sap), are a bountiful source of fish, with the annual value of the catch conservatively valued at US$2 billion. More than 70% of the Cambodian population%26rsquo;s annual animal protein consumption comes from the river%26rsquo;s fish. Eighty per cent of the Mekong%26rsquo;s fish species are migratory, some travelling many hundreds of kilometres between spawning and reaching adulthood. Overall, eight out of 10 persons living in the LMB depend on the river for sustenance, either in terms of wild fish captured in the river or through both large and small-scale agriculture and horticulture.

Since the 1980s, the character of the river has been steadily transformed by China%26rsquo;s dam-building program in Yunnan province. The important changes that had taken place on the course of the river since 1980 and up to 2004 were outlined in the Lowy Institute Paper, River at Risk: The Mekong and the Water Politics of Southeast Asia. In 2010 three hydroelectric dams are already in operation and two more very large dams are under construction and due for completion in 2012 and 2017. Plans exist for at least two further dams, and by 2030 there could be a %26ldquo;cascade%26rdquo; of seven dams in Yunnan. Even before that date and with five dams commissioned, China will be able to regulate the flow of the river, reducing the floods of the wet season and raising the level of the river during the dry. In building its dams, China has acted without consulting its downstream neighbours. Although until now the effects of the dams so far built have been limited, this is set to change within a decade, as discussed below.

For despite the limited environmental costs of the dams China has so far completed, and of the river clearances to aid navigation, this state of affairs will change once China has five dams in operation. And the costs exacted by the Chinese dams will be magnified if the proposed mainstream dams below China are built.

Even if no dams are built on the mainstream below China, the cascade to which it is committed will ultimately have serious effects on the functioning of the Mekong once the dams are used to control the river%26rsquo;s flow. This will be the case because the cascade will:

* Alter the hydrology of the river and so the current %26ldquo;flood pulse%26rdquo;, the regular rise and fall of the river on an annual basis which plays an essential part in the timing of spawning and the migration pattern. This will be particularly important in relation to the Tonle Sap in Cambodia, but will have an effect throughout the river%26rsquo;s course;

* Block the flow of sediment down the river which plays a vital part both in depositing nutrients on the agricultural regions flooded by the river and also as a trigger for fish migration %26mdash; at present well over 50% of the river%26rsquo;s sediment comes from China;

* At least initially cause problems by restricting the amount of flooding that takes place most importantly in Cambodia and Vietnam; and

* Lead to the erosion of river banks.

Proposed dams below China

So China%26rsquo;s dam-building plans are worrying enough, but the proposed new mainstream dams would pose even more serious concerns. In contrast to what has occurred in China, and until very recently, there have been no firm plans for the construction of dams on the mainstream of the Mekong below China. This situation has changed over the past three years. Memoranda of Understanding have been signed for 11 proposed dams: seven in Laos; two between Laos and Thailand; and two in Cambodia. The proposed dams are being backed by foreign private capital or Chinese state-backed firms. Government secrecy in both Cambodia and Laos means that it is difficult to judge which, if any, of these proposed dams will actually come into being. Attention and concern have focused on two sites: Don Sahong at the Khone Falls in southern Laos and Sambor in north-eastern Cambodia. The reason for this attention is that if built these dams would block the fish migrations that are essential to insure the food supplies of Laos and Cambodia.

Those built at sites higher upstream would cause the least damage to fish stocks, but if, as currently seems possible, the most likely dams to be built would be at Don Sahong and Sambor, the costs to fish stocks could be very serious. This is because unanimous expert opinion judges that there are no ways to mitigate the blocking of fish migration that would occur if these dams are constructed. None of the suggested possible forms of mitigation %26mdash; fish ladders, fish lifts, and alternative fish-passages %26mdash; are feasible for the species of fish in the Mekong and the very large biomass that is involved in their migratory pattern. Fish ladders were tried and failed at the Pak Mun dam on one of the Mekong%26rsquo;s tributaries in Thailand in the 1990s.

Why are the governments of Laos and Cambodia contemplating the construction of dams that seem certain to have a devastating effect on their populations%26rsquo; food security? The answers are complex and include some of the following:

* A lack of knowledge at some levels of government;

* A readiness to disregard available information on the basis that it may be inaccurate; and

* A belief or conviction that fishing is %26ldquo;old-fashioned%26rdquo;, whereas the production of hydroelectricity is %26ldquo;modern%26rdquo;.

In Cambodia%26rsquo;s case, and in particular in relation to the proposed dam at Sambor, the fact that a Chinese firm is seeking to construct the dam raises the possibility that prime minister Hun Sen is unready to offend the country that has become Cambodia%26rsquo;s largest aid donor and Cambodia%26rsquo;s %26ldquo;most trusted friend%26rdquo;. In Laos, the proposal for a dam at Don Sahong is very much linked to the interests of the Siphandone family for whom southern Laos is a virtual fief. Of all the proposed dam sites, Don Sahong is the most studied in terms of knowledge of fisheries so that it can be safely said that the planned dam would wreak havoc on a migratory system that involves fish moving through the Hou Sahong channel throughout the year, movement that takes place in both directions, upstream and downstream.

In the face of the threats posed by both the Chinese dams and those proposed for the downstream stretches of the river, there is no existing body able to mandate or control what individual countries choose to do on their sections of the Mekong. The agreement establishing the Mekong River Commission (MRC) in 1995 does not include China or Burma, and though the latter%26rsquo;s absence is not important, the fact that China is not an MRC member underlines the body%26rsquo;s weakness. In any event, the MRC members%26rsquo; commitment to maintaining the Mekong%26rsquo;s sustainability has not overcome their basic commitment to national self-interest. A prime example of this is the manner in which the Lao government has proceeded in relation to the proposed Don Sahong dam. For at least two years while the dam was under consideration there was no consultation with Cambodia. Similarly, so far as can be judged, Cambodia%26rsquo;s consideration of a possible dam at Sambor has taken place without consultation with the governments of either Laos or Vietnam.

At the moment the best hope is that both the Cambodian and Lao governments will abandon their plans for Sambor and Don Sahong. If they do not, the future of the Mekong as a great source of food, both through fish and agriculture, is in serious jeopardy. At the time of writing the intentions of the Lao and Cambodian governments remain uncertain.

Concern about dams in China and the LMB is given added importance in the light of worries associated with the likely effects of climate change in the region through which the river flows. Research suggests there will be a series of challenges to the Mekong%26rsquo;s future ecological health. Until recently concerns about the likely impact of climate change tended to focus on the ongoing reduction in the size of the glaciers from which its springs in the Himalayas and which feed it as the result of snow melt. But while there is no doubt that a diminishment in size of the glaciers feeding the Mekong is taking place, recent research has suggested that a more immediate serious threat to the river%26rsquo;s health will come from sea-level changes, particularly as rising levels could begin to inundate large sections of Vietnam%26rsquo;s Mekong Delta. To what extent the threat posed by rising sea levels will be affected by another predicted development linked to climate change %26mdash; greatly increased precipitation leading to more flooding during the wet season %26mdash; is not yet clearly established. But research is pointing to a greatly increased precipitation that is likely to cause major increases in flooding in the future, possibly as early as 2030.

Against the pessimistic views outlined in this article perhaps the best that can be hoped for is that once serious consequences begin to become apparent advice can be offered to mitigate the worst effects of the developments taking place. Where once it was appropriate to write of risks, when assessing the Mekong%26rsquo;s future it is now time to write of fundamental threats to the river%26rsquo;s current and vital role in all of the countries of the Lower Mekong Basin.

Milton Osborne is visiting fellow at the Lowy Institute. He has been associated with the south-east Asian region since being posted to the Australian embassy in Phnom Penh in 1959. Osborne is the author of 10 books on the history and politics of south-east Asia, including The Mekong: turbulent past, uncertain future (2006) and Southeast Asia: an introductory history.

An earlier version of this article was published as %26quot;The Mekong River Under Threat,%26quot; The Asia-Pacific Journal, 2-2-10, January 11, 2010. It is used here with permission.

This article draws on the author%26rsquo;s Lowy Institute Paper 27, 2009. See the complete paper here. To read the complete paper, it is necessary to type in the current year after entering the site.

Homepage image shows the proposed location of the Sambor Dam, Kratie province, Cambodia. Photograph by Carl Middleton, International Rivers.

Greenpeace recently discovered genetically modified (GM) ingredient Bacillus thuringiensis (Bt) in Nestl%26eacute;-branded baby cereal in China. According to the organisation, Nestl%26eacute; has promised not to use GM ingredients in the European Union, Australia, Russia and Brazil, but has different standards in China, where it refuses to make the same commitment. Its report has sparked off another round of public debate over the safety of GM food.

The Chinese authorities are pushing ahead with research into, and application of, GM technology. Many experts believe its benefits outweigh any harm it may cause, describing the changes as a %26ldquo;second green revolution%26rdquo; that will ensure food security. Faced with this blind optimism, I find I must protest. Besides the potential impact on ecosystems and food safety, I fear that the large scale planting of GM crops, particularly those controlled by multinationals, will affect China%26rsquo;s food sovereignty and even food security. Poorly managed, it may rock the very foundations of China%26rsquo;s ability to feed itself. A look at agriculture in Argentina will illustrate.

Until 1996, traditional agriculture in Argentina provided food security for the nation, with no need for government subsidy. But the introduction of GM soya beans has virtually destroyed the industry. Fields used for growing lentils, peas and mung beans have been turned over wholesale to GM soya-bean production. Crops from Monsanto, an agriculture biotech company based in the United States, accounted for 99% of soya bean production in Argentina by 2002. The country%26rsquo;s unthinking adoption of foreign inventions meant it ignored the need to develop its own technology and, by the time it woke up to the threat to its own food security, it was too late to stop using Monsanto%26rsquo;s crops.

In fact, the widespread use of GM crops did not, as experts imagined, cut down on the use of pesticides and herbicides and improve rural environments; quite the opposite. GM soya-bean crops actually need special treatment; besides the usual liberal quantities of chemicals and fertiliser, a weed-killer named Roundup is used. This chemical treats wild plants and even other crops as weeds, leaving only the biotech firm%26rsquo;s own soya-bean plants alive. Roundup killed off Argentina%26rsquo;s other crops and, according to some, caused mutations in livestock. In humans, long-term contact with the chemical has also been found to causes health problems, including nausea, diarrhoea, vomiting and skin damage.

Argentina is the proof that multinational biotech firms can cause a nation to lose its food sovereignty. But this has not halted the advance of such firms; rather, they are continuing their global expansion. For long, Brazil resisted GM technology but the companies have allegedly bought off officials, planted large areas with GM crops and put pressure on government. Today, traditional agriculture in Brazil is under immediate threat.

Having conquered Argentina and Brazil, the GM giants started their attack on China%26rsquo;s farming sector, where there are huge profits to be made. The US Department of Agriculture supports the overseas expansion of biotech firms such as Monsanto and DuPont and even helps promote their products in countries including China, where they claim their %26ldquo;Roundup Ready 2%26rdquo; will increase harvests by up to 11%. In the second quarter of 2009, Monsanto%26rsquo;s sales income reached US$4 billion (27 billion yuan), up 8% year-on-year. Gross profits were US$2.5 billion (17.1 billion yuan), up 14% on the previous year.

Huge quantities of GM seeds have %26ldquo;invaded%26rdquo; China, causing great damage to local agriculture. China is the largest market for US soya-bean exports and, according to an industry website, imported 15.4 million tonnes of GM-soya beans in 2008 %26ndash; 41% of total imports. Meanwhile, higher costs mean domestic soya-bean crops fail to sell. Last year non-GM soya-bean crops in Heilongjiang, in north-east China, were selling for less than the cost of planting, and 40% of the harvest did not sell at all. Sixty-eight soya-bean processing firms in the province have ceased work, while supermarkets in provincial capital Harbin stock GM-soya bean products almost exclusively.

Once the United States has control of China%26rsquo;s staple foods, China will have little say in the matter. The GM seeds imported by China are planting problems for the future. But the GM giants%26rsquo; ambitions do not stop with the seeds %26ndash; it is China%26rsquo;s 1.2 million square kilometres of farmland that gets them excited. If they can extract a few extra yuan for each kilogram of seeds sold, there will be hundreds of millions of US dollars in profit to be made, even before they start selling the associated chemicals, pesticides, fertilisers and herbicides.

This is another Opium War; an expropriation taking place behind a high-technology smokescreen. The GM giants estimate that, by 2012, the agricultural biotechnology market will allow them to take home US$7.3 billion to US$7.5 billion (49.8 billion yuan to 51.2 billion yuan), leaving China with the ecosystem and food security risks inherent in an addiction to a %26ldquo;new opium%26rdquo;.

So what should China do? The government has already invested 26 billion yuan (US$3.8 billion) in attempting to keep up with US biotech firms but this does not get to the root of the problem. The real threat to food security is not in the seeds, but in the people. Cheap grain prices and high production costs mean that farmers abandon their fields for urban jobs; that is the real threat to food security. When frost, drought and pest-resistant GM seeds appear on the market, farmers are naturally happy to spend a little extra to save some work. But, even if yields increase in line with expert predictions, there will still only be an extra US$6 (41 yuan) of income per 667 square metres of rice. There will be no great changes in food production and we will have paid the licensing fees for nothing.

China has always been an agricultural nation; a state built on the soil, by the farmers. Increasing food production requires restoration of degraded land, the recirculation of nutrients, better ecological balance and increased incomes for farmers, who will then grow more crops. If we ignore these facts and blindly adopt GM technology, we are simply giving up our food sovereignty. We need to learn lessons from Argentina and Brazil and be alert to the dangers of %26ldquo;biological invasion%26rdquo; by the GM giants.

Jiang Gaoming is a professor and PhD tutor at the Chinese Academy of Sciences’ Institute of Botany. He is also vice secretary-general of China Society of Biological Conservation and board member of China Environmental Culture Promotion Association.

Homepage image by DawnOne

Tibetan grasslands constitute one of the most important grazing ecosystems in the world. Since 2000, when China began its %26ldquo;Western Development Strategy%26rdquo;, the global significance of the Tibetan plateau region has been widely recognised, both as the %26ldquo;third pole%26rdquo; %26ndash; a water tower upon which around 40% of the world%26rsquo;s population depend %26ndash; and as a geographic region with a unique natural and cultural heritage.

Traditional pastoralism, and to a lesser extent subsistence hunting, have been practiced in this high-altitude, fragile ecosystem for over 5,000 years. However, climate change is now leading to historically unprecedented pressures. For example, at the centre of the plateau at the source of the Yellow River, over one-third of the grasslands have transformed into semi-desert conditions.

The Chinese government has introduced a number of policies aimed at reversing this trend and protecting the ecology and biodiversity of the grasslands over the last decades. Since the 1980s, these have included the assignment of property rights and the fencing of rangeland. As the Western Development Strategy began, the first programme to be adopted and implemented was a nationwide environmental restoration program. The %26ldquo;farmland to forest%26rdquo; policy, or %26ldquo;grain to green%26rdquo; (tuigeng huanlin), which converted steep cultivated land to forest, was one of the most important initiatives. In grassland areas, it is known as the %26ldquo;pastures to grassland%26rdquo; policy (tuimu huancao). The basic premise of this policy is that a decade of respite from livestock grazing is necessary for degraded grassland to be restored to its natural state, and therefore domestic livestock %26ndash; and their herders %26ndash; should be moved away. Now, new fencing is being erected at an unprecedented rate in rural grassland areas.

However, this policy has been recently overshadowed by another attempt to conserve the region, known as %26ldquo;ecological migration%26rdquo; (shengtai yimin). Since the mid 1990s, %26ldquo;ecological migration%26rdquo; has been used to describe the planned relocation of people from areas under environmental pressure. It was adopted as official state policy in 2002. The major target of this policy has been the Sanjiangyuan (%26ldquo;Three river sources%26rdquo;) region of Qinghai, situated in the centre of the Tibetan plateau, which encompasses the headwaters of three major Asian rivers: the Yellow River, the Yangtze River, and Mekong River. In 2003, the area became the second-largest nature reserve in the world, as well as the highest and most extensive wetland protected area.

Now, tens of thousands of families have been asked to move from these fragile grassland areas and adopt new livelihoods in farming, or to live in new towns. In Qinghai, for example, 35 resettlement communities have already been built and 51 more are under construction. According to government plans, over 100,000 people (17% of the region%26rsquo;s population) will have been relocated from Sanjiangyuan by the start of this year, with the aim of restoring the grassland ecosystem.

However, these resettlement projects have raised serious concerns, mainly among academics, about the policy and its effects on minority groups in China. According to some scholars, these kinds of projects have historically been as much about the urbanisation of nomadic peoples (in this case, mostly ethnic Tibetans and Mongolians), as they have been about protecting the environment. Moreover, recent studies have suggested that overgrazing may not in fact be the major driver of environmental degradation

In her article for chinadialogue tomorrow, %26ldquo;Restoring the grasslands?%26rdquo;, Emily Yeh reviews recent Chinese government grassland policies and relocation programmes. Yeh writes that recent studies suggest the environmental and social benefits of such measures have been overstated. Later in the week, Judith Shapiro looks in detail at the tragic history of the Lakota Sioux in the American state of South Dakota, and asks what China can learn from the sad history of Native American resettlement.

Beth Walker is a researcher at chinadialogue%26rsquo;s %26ldquo;the third pole%26rdquo; project

Homepage image by reurinkjan

In 2003, China introduced a new programme, known as %26ldquo;retire livestock and restore grassland%26rdquo; (tuimu huancao), which called for grazing removal in order to halt and reverse severe grassland degradation. This scheme established various types of fenced zones, including those in which grazing is to be closed for several months annually (a form of rotational grazing), and those where grazing is to be banned for five or 10 years %26ndash; or in some cases, permanently.

The seasonal rotational grazing and seeding aspects of tuimu huancao resemble other grassland policies, which have been implemented since the 1980s due to concerns about widespread degradation. These have included a number of technical solutions, including the eradication of pikas (a type of rabbit), subsidisation of permanent winter homes, building of fences, provision of livestock shelters and planting of supplemental winter fodder.

In addition to stressing technical interventions, these policies included the extension of the household responsibility system %26ndash; which gave farmers rights to their fields %26ndash; from agricultural to pastoral areas. The rationale for promoting the privatisation of use-rights to winter pasture was based on the assumption that this would give herders the proper incentives both to better manage their land and also to become more efficient market producers, thus raising their standard of living. The possibility of having poorer families with fewer livestock rent their pastures to families with more livestock as an income generating strategy for the former is also considered a benefit in some areas.

As is the case with many policies, implementation of tuimu huancao varies widely. In the Tibetan Autonomous Region (TAR), interventions in line with previous policies, such as seeding of grass, are stressed. Herders would prefer to use the fencing material provided by the project to reserve higher productivity alpine marsh meadows for use as winter or emergency fodder. However, officials %26ndash; who determine which areas will be fenced %26ndash; follow the policy of fencing off only lower-productivity alpine meadows and sandy areas, for various lengths of time, in order to improve them. This difference, stemming from different understandings of local grassland ecology, leads to a lack of local enthusiasm for the project, as does lack of compensation for loss of grazing areas, particularly where it has been promised to local herders.

Attempts at seeding appear not to be very successful thus far, particularly in the drier western areas of the TAR. In some parts of Sichuan province%26rsquo;s Ganzi prefecture, tuimu huancao has taken the form of distinctive concrete-post fencing along the highway, some of which does not even form full enclosures. However, local residents must guard the valuable fence from thieves, lest the fence goes missing when officials come to inspect.

While some aspects of tuimu huancao extend previous policies by focusing on technical measures to improve herders%26rsquo; management of their pastures, other components of the programme are quite different from previous policies, insofar as they seek to remove pastoralists from the land entirely. This dramatically different form has been implemented in the core area of the Sanjiangyuan (%26ldquo;the source of the three rivers%26rdquo;) National-level Nature Reserve in Qinghai, a region which has been dubbed China%26rsquo;s %26ldquo;water tower,%26rdquo; and is considered vital to the country%26rsquo;s ecological security. Here, tuimu huancao is being implemented in conjunction with ecological migration, with herders to settle for 10 years, or permanently, in towns.

According to provincial government plans, those who resettle voluntarily in groups and who permanently give up livestock herding are to be given 80,000 yuan (US$11,718) as compensation, as well as 8,000 yuan (US$1,172) of grain subsidies over five years; those who voluntarily resettle as individual households and who give up herding for at least 10 years are given 40,000 yuan (US$5,859) and 6,000 yuan (US$879) as grain subsidies; and finally herders who had moved ahead of project implementation because of deteriorating environmental conditions are to receive 20,000 yuan (US$2,930) compensation packages and 3,000 yuan (US$439) of grain subsidies per year.

Several different goals have been linked to the combination of tuimu huancao and ecological migration: a significant improvement in the region%26rsquo;s ecology, as well as the standard of living of the pastoralists. Furthermore, the State Council%26rsquo;s %26ldquo;White Paper on China%26rsquo;s Policies and Actions for Addressing Climate Change%26rdquo; explicitly lists tuimu huancao as a climate adaptation strategy. To what extent, though, are these goals likely to be met? Evidence to date suggests that the ecological benefits are questionable while the social costs are high.

For tuimu huancao and ecological migration to improve grassland degradation in any given area, several conditions must hold true: grasslands must be degraded; overgrazing must be a primary cause of the problem; and removal of grazing must be able to move the ecosystem out of its undesirable state. However, a number of scientists (for example, see Richard Harris, %26ldquo;Rangeland Degradation on the Qinghai-Tibetan Plateau%26rdquo;, available here) have questioned sweeping statements about pervasive degradation across the plateau. Indeed, some of the data on which commonly cited statistics about the extent of degradation and the rate at which it is increasing is based, appear to be from undocumented and methodologically dubious surveys.

Recent attempts to more rigorously quantify the extent of degradation have had conflicting results. Thus, while overgrazing in the past or present is undoubtedly a key driver of vegetation change in some areas, other factors such as climate change %26ndash; and interactions between multiple factors %26ndash; may also play important roles. To date, few rigorous studies have been conducted to investigate these multiple interacting factors, or the extent to which ecosystems can transition to other states under conditions imposed by various interventions. Much work remains to be done in demonstrating the ecological effects of grazing removal in areas where it is being implemented.

Furthermore, there are reasons to believe that tuimu huancao in its various forms will not be a win-win solution for both rangeland health and climate-change adaptation. Large-scale boundary fencing, together with use-rights privatisation, reduces mobility across the landscape. (Although small-scale fencing for reserve pasture or fodder production is generally welcome). This could potentially increase vulnerability to devastating snowstorms, which climate-change models predict will become more frequent and severe. In addition, such fencing can have negative effects for migratory wildlife, as well as for local livelihoods, as a result of the uneven spatial distribution of rangeland resources.

A study conducted by Chinese scientists in Sichuan%26rsquo;s Ruo%26rsquo;ergai county found that the number of herders facing lack of water availability tripled after household rangeland allocation. (See Yan Zhaoli et al, %26ldquo;A review of rangeland privatization and its implications in the Tibetan Plateau%26rdquo;, available here). Furthermore, recent ecological evidence from warming and grazing experiments on the eastern Tibetan plateau suggests that the presence of moderate grazing actually helps control the expected effects of global warming on reduction of biodiversity and rangeland quality. Experimental warming leads to decreased species richness, including of medicinal plants, as well as decreased biomass, including palatable biomass. However, these effects are dampened in the presence of grazing (see articles by Julia Klein, available here). These results suggest tuimu huancao may not be adaptive for climate change.

Studies to date of those who have been resettled through ecological migration also suggest that the benefits of resettlement for improving the livelihoods of herders are overstated. Some who have voluntarily resettled have expressed regrets about doing so, saying they did not realise the extent to which everything in their new town-based lives must be purchased with cash. For many families, government compensation has been inadequate, especially as inflation drives up costs while subsidies remain the same. In one study conducted in Golok, the annual income of those resettled in towns was reportedly lower than their earlier subsistence income, while expenditures were higher; those interviewed also stated that their health conditions had declined after resettlement, because of changes in living conditions as well as diet.

Contributing significantly to the problems is the fact that the Tibetan ex-pastoralists do not have Chinese language and other skills needed to earn an income in the towns. While some are employed as unskilled construction labourers, or have found work in new income opportunities, such as breeding and selling Tibetan mastiffs, most are subsisting only on temporary subsidies and income from digging caterpillar fungus.

Those who do not have the labour power to dig caterpillar fungus are the worst off. Participants of skills training workshops have often still been unable to find work. Once subsidies run out, problems stemming from this unemployment and under-employment will be exacerbated. Indeed, social problems have already emerged, with resettlement areas quickly earning nicknames such as %26ldquo;robber villages,%26rdquo; purportedly because former pastoralists, idle and without income, have resorted to theft.

At the same time, in many parts of the Sanjiangyuan area, it is primarily those families with few or no livestock who have resettled. Some of their pastures are still being grazed by other families, thus undermining the original ecological rationales of the program. Given all of these factors, in many areas, tuimu huancao and ecological migration seem unlikely to be successful in living up to their worthy environmental and social goals. Instead, they may neither improve rangeland conditions nor enhance climate adaptation, while also having negative effects on local livelihoods.

However, much more rigorous empirical work remains to be done to examine the causes and extent of rangeland degradation, the socioeconomic and ecological effects of current policies, and the best measures to enhance local capacity to adapt to global climate change on the Tibetan plateau.

Emily Yeh is assistant professor of geography at the University of Colorado, Boulder. Educated at MIT and the University of California, Berkeley, she has conducted research on property rights, natural resource conflicts, environmental history, emerging environmentalisms and the political economy and cultural politics of development and land-use change in Tibet.

Homepage image by Ba Tu. Sign in Inner Mongolia reads tuimu, or %26ldquo;retire livestock%26rdquo;.

Until the 1980s the Mekong River flowed freely for 4,900 kilometres from its 5,100-metre-high source in Tibet to the coast of Vietnam, where it finally poured into the South China Sea. The Mekong is the world%26rsquo;s twelfth longest river, and the eighth or tenth largest, in terms of the 475 billion cubic metres of water it discharges annually. Then and now it passes through or by China, Burma (Myanmar), Laos, Thailand, Cambodia and Vietnam. It is south-east Asia%26rsquo;s longest river, but 44% of its course is in China, a fact of capital importance for its ecology and the problems associated with its governance.

In 1980 not only were there no dams on its course, but much of the river could not be used for sizeable, long-distance navigation because of the great barrier of the Khone Falls, located just above the border between Cambodia and Laos, and the repeated rapids and obstacles that marked its course in Laos and China. Indeed, no exaggeration is involved in noting that the Mekong%26rsquo;s overall physical configuration in 1980 was remarkably little changed from that existing when it was explored by the French Mekong Expedition that travelled painfully up the river from Vietnam%26rsquo;s Mekong Delta to Jinghong in southern Yunnan in 1866 and 1867. This was the first European expedition to explore the Mekong from southern Vietnam into China and to produce an accurate map of its course to that point.

Since 2003, the most substantial changes to the Mekong%26rsquo;s character below China have related to navigation. Following a major program to clear obstacles from the Mekong begun early in the present decade, a regular navigation service now exists between southern Yunnan and the northern Thai river port of Chiang Saen. It is not clear whether the Chinese, who promoted the concept of these clearances and carried out the work involved, still wish to develop navigation further down the river, as was previously their plan. To date, the environmental effects of the navigation clearances have been of a limited character.

The Mekong plays a vital role in the countries of the Lower Mekong Basin (LMB): Laos, Thailand, Cambodia and Vietnam. (Burma is not within the basin). In all four LMB countries the Mekong is a source of irrigation. In Vietnam%26rsquo;s Mekong Delta the annual pattern of flood and retreat insure that this region contributes over 50% of agriculture%26rsquo;s contribution to the country%26rsquo;s GDP. For all four LMB countries the Mekong and its associated systems, particularly Cambodia%26rsquo;s Great Lake (Tonle Sap), are a bountiful source of fish, with the annual value of the catch conservatively valued at US$2 billion. More than 70% of the Cambodian population%26rsquo;s annual animal protein consumption comes from the river%26rsquo;s fish. Eighty per cent of the Mekong%26rsquo;s fish species are migratory, some travelling many hundreds of kilometres between spawning and reaching adulthood. Overall, eight out of 10 persons living in the LMB depend on the river for sustenance, either in terms of wild fish captured in the river or through both large and small-scale agriculture and horticulture.

Since the 1980s, the character of the river has been steadily transformed by China%26rsquo;s dam-building program in Yunnan province. The important changes that had taken place on the course of the river since 1980 and up to 2004 were outlined in the Lowy Institute Paper, River at Risk: The Mekong and the Water Politics of Southeast Asia. In 2010 three hydroelectric dams are already in operation and two more very large dams are under construction and due for completion in 2012 and 2017. Plans exist for at least two further dams, and by 2030 there could be a %26ldquo;cascade%26rdquo; of seven dams in Yunnan. Even before that date and with five dams commissioned, China will be able to regulate the flow of the river, reducing the floods of the wet season and raising the level of the river during the dry. In building its dams, China has acted without consulting its downstream neighbours. Although until now the effects of the dams so far built have been limited, this is set to change within a decade, as discussed below.

For despite the limited environmental costs of the dams China has so far completed, and of the river clearances to aid navigation, this state of affairs will change once China has five dams in operation. And the costs exacted by the Chinese dams will be magnified if the proposed mainstream dams below China are built.

Even if no dams are built on the mainstream below China, the cascade to which it is committed will ultimately have serious effects on the functioning of the Mekong once the dams are used to control the river%26rsquo;s flow. This will be the case because the cascade will:

* Alter the hydrology of the river and so the current %26ldquo;flood pulse%26rdquo;, the regular rise and fall of the river on an annual basis which plays an essential part in the timing of spawning and the migration pattern. This will be particularly important in relation to the Tonle Sap in Cambodia, but will have an effect throughout the river%26rsquo;s course;

* Block the flow of sediment down the river which plays a vital part both in depositing nutrients on the agricultural regions flooded by the river and also as a trigger for fish migration %26mdash; at present well over 50% of the river%26rsquo;s sediment comes from China;

* At least initially cause problems by restricting the amount of flooding that takes place most importantly in Cambodia and Vietnam; and

* Lead to the erosion of river banks.

Proposed dams below China

So China%26rsquo;s dam-building plans are worrying enough, but the proposed new mainstream dams would pose even more serious concerns. In contrast to what has occurred in China, and until very recently, there have been no firm plans for the construction of dams on the mainstream of the Mekong below China. This situation has changed over the past three years. Memoranda of Understanding have been signed for 11 proposed dams: seven in Laos; two between Laos and Thailand; and two in Cambodia. The proposed dams are being backed by foreign private capital or Chinese state-backed firms. Government secrecy in both Cambodia and Laos means that it is difficult to judge which, if any, of these proposed dams will actually come into being. Attention and concern have focused on two sites: Don Sahong at the Khone Falls in southern Laos and Sambor in north-eastern Cambodia. The reason for this attention is that if built these dams would block the fish migrations that are essential to insure the food supplies of Laos and Cambodia.

Those built at sites higher upstream would cause the least damage to fish stocks, but if, as currently seems possible, the most likely dams to be built would be at Don Sahong and Sambor, the costs to fish stocks could be very serious. This is because unanimous expert opinion judges that there are no ways to mitigate the blocking of fish migration that would occur if these dams are constructed. None of the suggested possible forms of mitigation %26mdash; fish ladders, fish lifts, and alternative fish-passages %26mdash; are feasible for the species of fish in the Mekong and the very large biomass that is involved in their migratory pattern. Fish ladders were tried and failed at the Pak Mun dam on one of the Mekong%26rsquo;s tributaries in Thailand in the 1990s.

Why are the governments of Laos and Cambodia contemplating the construction of dams that seem certain to have a devastating effect on their populations%26rsquo; food security? The answers are complex and include some of the following:

* A lack of knowledge at some levels of government;

* A readiness to disregard available information on the basis that it may be inaccurate; and

* A belief or conviction that fishing is %26ldquo;old-fashioned%26rdquo;, whereas the production of hydroelectricity is %26ldquo;modern%26rdquo;.

In Cambodia%26rsquo;s case, and in particular in relation to the proposed dam at Sambor, the fact that a Chinese firm is seeking to construct the dam raises the possibility that prime minister Hun Sen is unready to offend the country that has become Cambodia%26rsquo;s largest aid donor and Cambodia%26rsquo;s %26ldquo;most trusted friend%26rdquo;. In Laos, the proposal for a dam at Don Sahong is very much linked to the interests of the Siphandone family for whom southern Laos is a virtual fief. Of all the proposed dam sites, Don Sahong is the most studied in terms of knowledge of fisheries so that it can be safely said that the planned dam would wreak havoc on a migratory system that involves fish moving through the Hou Sahong channel throughout the year, movement that takes place in both directions, upstream and downstream.

In the face of the threats posed by both the Chinese dams and those proposed for the downstream stretches of the river, there is no existing body able to mandate or control what individual countries choose to do on their sections of the Mekong. The agreement establishing the Mekong River Commission (MRC) in 1995 does not include China or Burma, and though the latter%26rsquo;s absence is not important, the fact that China is not an MRC member underlines the body%26rsquo;s weakness. In any event, the MRC members%26rsquo; commitment to maintaining the Mekong%26rsquo;s sustainability has not overcome their basic commitment to national self-interest. A prime example of this is the manner in which the Lao government has proceeded in relation to the proposed Don Sahong dam. For at least two years while the dam was under consideration there was no consultation with Cambodia. Similarly, so far as can be judged, Cambodia%26rsquo;s consideration of a possible dam at Sambor has taken place without consultation with the governments of either Laos or Vietnam.

At the moment the best hope is that both the Cambodian and Lao governments will abandon their plans for Sambor and Don Sahong. If they do not, the future of the Mekong as a great source of food, both through fish and agriculture, is in serious jeopardy. At the time of writing the intentions of the Lao and Cambodian governments remain uncertain.

Concern about dams in China and the LMB is given added importance in the light of worries associated with the likely effects of climate change in the region through which the river flows. Research suggests there will be a series of challenges to the Mekong%26rsquo;s future ecological health. Until recently concerns about the likely impact of climate change tended to focus on the ongoing reduction in the size of the glaciers from which its springs in the Himalayas and which feed it as the result of snow melt. But while there is no doubt that a diminishment in size of the glaciers feeding the Mekong is taking place, recent research has suggested that a more immediate serious threat to the river%26rsquo;s health will come from sea-level changes, particularly as rising levels could begin to inundate large sections of Vietnam%26rsquo;s Mekong Delta. To what extent the threat posed by rising sea levels will be affected by another predicted development linked to climate change %26mdash; greatly increased precipitation leading to more flooding during the wet season %26mdash; is not yet clearly established. But research is pointing to a greatly increased precipitation that is likely to cause major increases in flooding in the future, possibly as early as 2030.

Against the pessimistic views outlined in this article perhaps the best that can be hoped for is that once serious consequences begin to become apparent advice can be offered to mitigate the worst effects of the developments taking place. Where once it was appropriate to write of risks, when assessing the Mekong%26rsquo;s future it is now time to write of fundamental threats to the river%26rsquo;s current and vital role in all of the countries of the Lower Mekong Basin.

Milton Osborne is visiting fellow at the Lowy Institute. He has been associated with the south-east Asian region since being posted to the Australian embassy in Phnom Penh in 1959. Osborne is the author of 10 books on the history and politics of south-east Asia, including The Mekong: turbulent past, uncertain future (2006) and Southeast Asia: an introductory history.

An earlier version of this article was published as %26quot;The Mekong River Under Threat,%26quot; The Asia-Pacific Journal, 2-2-10, January 11, 2010. It is used here with permission.

This article draws on the author%26rsquo;s Lowy Institute Paper 27, 2009. See the complete paper here. To read the complete paper, it is necessary to type in the current year after entering the site.

Homepage image shows the proposed location of the Sambor Dam, Kratie province, Cambodia. Photograph by Carl Middleton, International Rivers.

Greenpeace recently discovered genetically modified (GM) ingredient Bacillus thuringiensis (Bt) in Nestl%26eacute;-branded baby cereal in China. According to the organisation, Nestl%26eacute; has promised not to use GM ingredients in the European Union, Australia, Russia and Brazil, but has different standards in China, where it refuses to make the same commitment. Its report has sparked off another round of public debate over the safety of GM food.

The Chinese authorities are pushing ahead with research into, and application of, GM technology. Many experts believe its benefits outweigh any harm it may cause, describing the changes as a %26ldquo;second green revolution%26rdquo; that will ensure food security. Faced with this blind optimism, I find I must protest. Besides the potential impact on ecosystems and food safety, I fear that the large scale planting of GM crops, particularly those controlled by multinationals, will affect China%26rsquo;s food sovereignty and even food security. Poorly managed, it may rock the very foundations of China%26rsquo;s ability to feed itself. A look at agriculture in Argentina will illustrate.

Until 1996, traditional agriculture in Argentina provided food security for the nation, with no need for government subsidy. But the introduction of GM soya beans has virtually destroyed the industry. Fields used for growing lentils, peas and mung beans have been turned over wholesale to GM soya-bean production. Crops from Monsanto, an agriculture biotech company based in the United States, accounted for 99% of soya bean production in Argentina by 2002. The country%26rsquo;s unthinking adoption of foreign inventions meant it ignored the need to develop its own technology and, by the time it woke up to the threat to its own food security, it was too late to stop using Monsanto%26rsquo;s crops.

In fact, the widespread use of GM crops did not, as experts imagined, cut down on the use of pesticides and herbicides and improve rural environments; quite the opposite. GM soya-bean crops actually need special treatment; besides the usual liberal quantities of chemicals and fertiliser, a weed-killer named Roundup is used. This chemical treats wild plants and even other crops as weeds, leaving only the biotech firm%26rsquo;s own soya-bean plants alive. Roundup killed off Argentina%26rsquo;s other crops and, according to some, caused mutations in livestock. In humans, long-term contact with the chemical has also been found to causes health problems, including nausea, diarrhoea, vomiting and skin damage.

Argentina is the proof that multinational biotech firms can cause a nation to lose its food sovereignty. But this has not halted the advance of such firms; rather, they are continuing their global expansion. For long, Brazil resisted GM technology but the companies have allegedly bought off officials, planted large areas with GM crops and put pressure on government. Today, traditional agriculture in Brazil is under immediate threat.

Having conquered Argentina and Brazil, the GM giants started their attack on China%26rsquo;s farming sector, where there are huge profits to be made. The US Department of Agriculture supports the overseas expansion of biotech firms such as Monsanto and DuPont and even helps promote their products in countries including China, where they claim their %26ldquo;Roundup Ready 2%26rdquo; will increase harvests by up to 11%. In the second quarter of 2009, Monsanto%26rsquo;s sales income reached US$4 billion (27 billion yuan), up 8% year-on-year. Gross profits were US$2.5 billion (17.1 billion yuan), up 14% on the previous year.

Huge quantities of GM seeds have %26ldquo;invaded%26rdquo; China, causing great damage to local agriculture. China is the largest market for US soya-bean exports and, according to an industry website, imported 15.4 million tonnes of GM-soya beans in 2008 %26ndash; 41% of total imports. Meanwhile, higher costs mean domestic soya-bean crops fail to sell. Last year non-GM soya-bean crops in Heilongjiang, in north-east China, were selling for less than the cost of planting, and 40% of the harvest did not sell at all. Sixty-eight soya-bean processing firms in the province have ceased work, while supermarkets in provincial capital Harbin stock GM-soya bean products almost exclusively.

Once the United States has control of China%26rsquo;s staple foods, China will have little say in the matter. The GM seeds imported by China are planting problems for the future. But the GM giants%26rsquo; ambitions do not stop with the seeds %26ndash; it is China%26rsquo;s 1.2 million square kilometres of farmland that gets them excited. If they can extract a few extra yuan for each kilogram of seeds sold, there will be hundreds of millions of US dollars in profit to be made, even before they start selling the associated chemicals, pesticides, fertilisers and herbicides.

This is another Opium War; an expropriation taking place behind a high-technology smokescreen. The GM giants estimate that, by 2012, the agricultural biotechnology market will allow them to take home US$7.3 billion to US$7.5 billion (49.8 billion yuan to 51.2 billion yuan), leaving China with the ecosystem and food security risks inherent in an addiction to a %26ldquo;new opium%26rdquo;.

So what should China do? The government has already invested 26 billion yuan (US$3.8 billion) in attempting to keep up with US biotech firms but this does not get to the root of the problem. The real threat to food security is not in the seeds, but in the people. Cheap grain prices and high production costs mean that farmers abandon their fields for urban jobs; that is the real threat to food security. When frost, drought and pest-resistant GM seeds appear on the market, farmers are naturally happy to spend a little extra to save some work. But, even if yields increase in line with expert predictions, there will still only be an extra US$6 (41 yuan) of income per 667 square metres of rice. There will be no great changes in food production and we will have paid the licensing fees for nothing.

China has always been an agricultural nation; a state built on the soil, by the farmers. Increasing food production requires restoration of degraded land, the recirculation of nutrients, better ecological balance and increased incomes for farmers, who will then grow more crops. If we ignore these facts and blindly adopt GM technology, we are simply giving up our food sovereignty. We need to learn lessons from Argentina and Brazil and be alert to the dangers of %26ldquo;biological invasion%26rdquo; by the GM giants.

Jiang Gaoming is a professor and PhD tutor at the Chinese Academy of Sciences’ Institute of Botany. He is also vice secretary-general of China Society of Biological Conservation and board member of China Environmental Culture Promotion Association.

Homepage image by DawnOne

Tibetan grasslands constitute one of the most important grazing ecosystems in the world. Since 2000, when China began its %26ldquo;Western Development Strategy%26rdquo;, the global significance of the Tibetan plateau region has been widely recognised, both as the %26ldquo;third pole%26rdquo; %26ndash; a water tower upon which around 40% of the world%26rsquo;s population depend %26ndash; and as a geographic region with a unique natural and cultural heritage.

Traditional pastoralism, and to a lesser extent subsistence hunting, have been practiced in this high-altitude, fragile ecosystem for over 5,000 years. However, climate change is now leading to historically unprecedented pressures. For example, at the centre of the plateau at the source of the Yellow River, over one-third of the grasslands have transformed into semi-desert conditions.

The Chinese government has introduced a number of policies aimed at reversing this trend and protecting the ecology and biodiversity of the grasslands over the last decades. Since the 1980s, these have included the assignment of property rights and the fencing of rangeland. As the Western Development Strategy began, the first programme to be adopted and implemented was a nationwide environmental restoration program. The %26ldquo;farmland to forest%26rdquo; policy, or %26ldquo;grain to green%26rdquo; (tuigeng huanlin), which converted steep cultivated land to forest, was one of the most important initiatives. In grassland areas, it is known as the %26ldquo;pastures to grassland%26rdquo; policy (tuimu huancao). The basic premise of this policy is that a decade of respite from livestock grazing is necessary for degraded grassland to be restored to its natural state, and therefore domestic livestock %26ndash; and their herders %26ndash; should be moved away. Now, new fencing is being erected at an unprecedented rate in rural grassland areas.

However, this policy has been recently overshadowed by another attempt to conserve the region, known as %26ldquo;ecological migration%26rdquo; (shengtai yimin). Since the mid 1990s, %26ldquo;ecological migration%26rdquo; has been used to describe the planned relocation of people from areas under environmental pressure. It was adopted as official state policy in 2002. The major target of this policy has been the Sanjiangyuan (%26ldquo;Three river sources%26rdquo;) region of Qinghai, situated in the centre of the Tibetan plateau, which encompasses the headwaters of three major Asian rivers: the Yellow River, the Yangtze River, and Mekong River. In 2003, the area became the second-largest nature reserve in the world, as well as the highest and most extensive wetland protected area.

Now, tens of thousands of families have been asked to move from these fragile grassland areas and adopt new livelihoods in farming, or to live in new towns. In Qinghai, for example, 35 resettlement communities have already been built and 51 more are under construction. According to government plans, over 100,000 people (17% of the region%26rsquo;s population) will have been relocated from Sanjiangyuan by the start of this year, with the aim of restoring the grassland ecosystem.

However, these resettlement projects have raised serious concerns, mainly among academics, about the policy and its effects on minority groups in China. According to some scholars, these kinds of projects have historically been as much about the urbanisation of nomadic peoples (in this case, mostly ethnic Tibetans and Mongolians), as they have been about protecting the environment. Moreover, recent studies have suggested that overgrazing may not in fact be the major driver of environmental degradation

In her article for chinadialogue tomorrow, %26ldquo;Restoring the grasslands?%26rdquo;, Emily Yeh reviews recent Chinese government grassland policies and relocation programmes. Yeh writes that recent studies suggest the environmental and social benefits of such measures have been overstated. Later in the week, Judith Shapiro looks in detail at the tragic history of the Lakota Sioux in the American state of South Dakota, and asks what China can learn from the sad history of Native American resettlement.

Beth Walker is a researcher at chinadialogue%26rsquo;s %26ldquo;the third pole%26rdquo; project

Homepage image by reurinkjan

In 2003, China introduced a new programme, known as %26ldquo;retire livestock and restore grassland%26rdquo; (tuimu huancao), which called for grazing removal in order to halt and reverse severe grassland degradation. This scheme established various types of fenced zones, including those in which grazing is to be closed for several months annually (a form of rotational grazing), and those where grazing is to be banned for five or 10 years %26ndash; or in some cases, permanently.

The seasonal rotational grazing and seeding aspects of tuimu huancao resemble other grassland policies, which have been implemented since the 1980s due to concerns about widespread degradation. These have included a number of technical solutions, including the eradication of pikas (a type of rabbit), subsidisation of permanent winter homes, building of fences, provision of livestock shelters and planting of supplemental winter fodder.

In addition to stressing technical interventions, these policies included the extension of the household responsibility system %26ndash; which gave farmers rights to their fields %26ndash; from agricultural to pastoral areas. The rationale for promoting the privatisation of use-rights to winter pasture was based on the assumption that this would give herders the proper incentives both to better manage their land and also to become more efficient market producers, thus raising their standard of living. The possibility of having poorer families with fewer livestock rent their pastures to families with more livestock as an income generating strategy for the former is also considered a benefit in some areas.

As is the case with many policies, implementation of tuimu huancao varies widely. In the Tibetan Autonomous Region (TAR), interventions in line with previous policies, such as seeding of grass, are stressed. Herders would prefer to use the fencing material provided by the project to reserve higher productivity alpine marsh meadows for use as winter or emergency fodder. However, officials %26ndash; who determine which areas will be fenced %26ndash; follow the policy of fencing off only lower-productivity alpine meadows and sandy areas, for various lengths of time, in order to improve them. This difference, stemming from different understandings of local grassland ecology, leads to a lack of local enthusiasm for the project, as does lack of compensation for loss of grazing areas, particularly where it has been promised to local herders.

Attempts at seeding appear not to be very successful thus far, particularly in the drier western areas of the TAR. In some parts of Sichuan province%26rsquo;s Ganzi prefecture, tuimu huancao has taken the form of distinctive concrete-post fencing along the highway, some of which does not even form full enclosures. However, local residents must guard the valuable fence from thieves, lest the fence goes missing when officials come to inspect.

While some aspects of tuimu huancao extend previous policies by focusing on technical measures to improve herders%26rsquo; management of their pastures, other components of the programme are quite different from previous policies, insofar as they seek to remove pastoralists from the land entirely. This dramatically different form has been implemented in the core area of the Sanjiangyuan (%26ldquo;the source of the three rivers%26rdquo;) National-level Nature Reserve in Qinghai, a region which has been dubbed China%26rsquo;s %26ldquo;water tower,%26rdquo; and is considered vital to the country%26rsquo;s ecological security. Here, tuimu huancao is being implemented in conjunction with ecological migration, with herders to settle for 10 years, or permanently, in towns.

According to provincial government plans, those who resettle voluntarily in groups and who permanently give up livestock herding are to be given 80,000 yuan (US$11,718) as compensation, as well as 8,000 yuan (US$1,172) of grain subsidies over five years; those who voluntarily resettle as individual households and who give up herding for at least 10 years are given 40,000 yuan (US$5,859) and 6,000 yuan (US$879) as grain subsidies; and finally herders who had moved ahead of project implementation because of deteriorating environmental conditions are to receive 20,000 yuan (US$2,930) compensation packages and 3,000 yuan (US$439) of grain subsidies per year.

Several different goals have been linked to the combination of tuimu huancao and ecological migration: a significant improvement in the region%26rsquo;s ecology, as well as the standard of living of the pastoralists. Furthermore, the State Council%26rsquo;s %26ldquo;White Paper on China%26rsquo;s Policies and Actions for Addressing Climate Change%26rdquo; explicitly lists tuimu huancao as a climate adaptation strategy. To what extent, though, are these goals likely to be met? Evidence to date suggests that the ecological benefits are questionable while the social costs are high.

For tuimu huancao and ecological migration to improve grassland degradation in any given area, several conditions must hold true: grasslands must be degraded; overgrazing must be a primary cause of the problem; and removal of grazing must be able to move the ecosystem out of its undesirable state. However, a number of scientists (for example, see Richard Harris, %26ldquo;Rangeland Degradation on the Qinghai-Tibetan Plateau%26rdquo;, available here) have questioned sweeping statements about pervasive degradation across the plateau. Indeed, some of the data on which commonly cited statistics about the extent of degradation and the rate at which it is increasing is based, appear to be from undocumented and methodologically dubious surveys.

Recent attempts to more rigorously quantify the extent of degradation have had conflicting results. Thus, while overgrazing in the past or present is undoubtedly a key driver of vegetation change in some areas, other factors such as climate change %26ndash; and interactions between multiple factors %26ndash; may also play important roles. To date, few rigorous studies have been conducted to investigate these multiple interacting factors, or the extent to which ecosystems can transition to other states under conditions imposed by various interventions. Much work remains to be done in demonstrating the ecological effects of grazing removal in areas where it is being implemented.

Furthermore, there are reasons to believe that tuimu huancao in its various forms will not be a win-win solution for both rangeland health and climate-change adaptation. Large-scale boundary fencing, together with use-rights privatisation, reduces mobility across the landscape. (Although small-scale fencing for reserve pasture or fodder production is generally welcome). This could potentially increase vulnerability to devastating snowstorms, which climate-change models predict will become more frequent and severe. In addition, such fencing can have negative effects for migratory wildlife, as well as for local livelihoods, as a result of the uneven spatial distribution of rangeland resources.

A study conducted by Chinese scientists in Sichuan%26rsquo;s Ruo%26rsquo;ergai county found that the number of herders facing lack of water availability tripled after household rangeland allocation. (See Yan Zhaoli et al, %26ldquo;A review of rangeland privatization and its implications in the Tibetan Plateau%26rdquo;, available here). Furthermore, recent ecological evidence from warming and grazing experiments on the eastern Tibetan plateau suggests that the presence of moderate grazing actually helps control the expected effects of global warming on reduction of biodiversity and rangeland quality. Experimental warming leads to decreased species richness, including of medicinal plants, as well as decreased biomass, including palatable biomass. However, these effects are dampened in the presence of grazing (see articles by Julia Klein, available here). These results suggest tuimu huancao may not be adaptive for climate change.

Studies to date of those who have been resettled through ecological migration also suggest that the benefits of resettlement for improving the livelihoods of herders are overstated. Some who have voluntarily resettled have expressed regrets about doing so, saying they did not realise the extent to which everything in their new town-based lives must be purchased with cash. For many families, government compensation has been inadequate, especially as inflation drives up costs while subsidies remain the same. In one study conducted in Golok, the annual income of those resettled in towns was reportedly lower than their earlier subsistence income, while expenditures were higher; those interviewed also stated that their health conditions had declined after resettlement, because of changes in living conditions as well as diet.

Contributing significantly to the problems is the fact that the Tibetan ex-pastoralists do not have Chinese language and other skills needed to earn an income in the towns. While some are employed as unskilled construction labourers, or have found work in new income opportunities, such as breeding and selling Tibetan mastiffs, most are subsisting only on temporary subsidies and income from digging caterpillar fungus.

Those who do not have the labour power to dig caterpillar fungus are the worst off. Participants of skills training workshops have often still been unable to find work. Once subsidies run out, problems stemming from this unemployment and under-employment will be exacerbated. Indeed, social problems have already emerged, with resettlement areas quickly earning nicknames such as %26ldquo;robber villages,%26rdquo; purportedly because former pastoralists, idle and without income, have resorted to theft.

At the same time, in many parts of the Sanjiangyuan area, it is primarily those families with few or no livestock who have resettled. Some of their pastures are still being grazed by other families, thus undermining the original ecological rationales of the program. Given all of these factors, in many areas, tuimu huancao and ecological migration seem unlikely to be successful in living up to their worthy environmental and social goals. Instead, they may neither improve rangeland conditions nor enhance climate adaptation, while also having negative effects on local livelihoods.

However, much more rigorous empirical work remains to be done to examine the causes and extent of rangeland degradation, the socioeconomic and ecological effects of current policies, and the best measures to enhance local capacity to adapt to global climate change on the Tibetan plateau.

Emily Yeh is assistant professor of geography at the University of Colorado, Boulder. Educated at MIT and the University of California, Berkeley, she has conducted research on property rights, natural resource conflicts, environmental history, emerging environmentalisms and the political economy and cultural politics of development and land-use change in Tibet.

Homepage image by Ba Tu. Sign in Inner Mongolia reads tuimu, or %26ldquo;retire livestock%26rdquo;.

Old truck tyres never die, they just turn into sandals. For decades, that has been the tradition in Ethiopia, where everyone from farmers to guerrilla fighters has fashioned worn-out road rubber into cheap, long-lasting footwear.

But now, thanks to a young woman entrepreneur who has combined the internet%26rsquo;s selling power with nimble business practices more often associated with Asian countries, the idea has been turned into an unlikely international hit. By adding funky cotton and leather uppers to recycled tyre soles, Bethlehem Tilahun Alemu has sold many thousands of pairs of handmade flip-flops, boat shoes, loafers and Converse-style trainers to foreign customers.

In the run-up to Christmas, workers at the soleRebels %26ldquo;factory%26rdquo; %26ndash; a small house on the outskirts of the Ethiopian capital %26ndash; were frantically cutting, sewing and gluing to fulfil internet purchases from customers as far away as Canada and Australia. Alemu%26rsquo;s brother packed pairs of cotton and suede trainers into a box about to be couriered to Amazon.com, the company%26rsquo;s main customer, which receives the shoes in the United States three to five days after placing its bulk order. %26ldquo;We are sitting in Addis Ababa but acting like an American company,%26rdquo; said Alemu, an excitable 30-year-old former accountant who is fond of reeling off the numbers that illustrate her firm%26rsquo;s rapid growth.

Just five years after start-up, soleRebels employs 45 full-time staff who can produce up to 500 pairs of shoes a day. More will be hired after February once the footwear range, priced between US$35 and US$65, goes on sale online in the United Kingdom and Japan on Amazon%26rsquo;s new footwear website javari.co.uk. The company%26rsquo;s sales target for 2010 is an impressive US$475,000 but Alemu%26rsquo;s ultimate goal %26ndash; one she seems deadly serious about %26ndash; is far loftier: to become %26ldquo;the Timberland or Skechers of Africa%26rdquo;.

The success of soleRebels, which has thrived in the global market with no outside support other than a government line of credit to help meet large orders, is challenging preconceptions both about Ethiopia and the best way to lift its people out of poverty.

Abroad, the landlocked east African country still suffers from an image of a hungry and often helpless nation, with six million people requiring food relief and billions of US dollars of aid each year. But where some might see despair Alemu saw inspiration. While brainstorming for an Ethiopian-flavoured product that could be produced in a sustainable manner, she remembered the truck-tyre sandals, which were used by local fighters who repelled Italian soldiers many decades ago, as well as the rebels who marched into Addis Ababa in 1991 and today run the government. %26ldquo;Recycling is a way of life here %26ndash; you don%26rsquo;t throw things away that you can use again and again,%26rdquo; she said. %26ldquo;I wanted to build on that idea.%26rdquo;

At the time, other Ethiopian shoe companies were struggling to compete with cheap imports from China. SoleRebels decided to concentrate instead on the export market, where Alemu reasoned that customers would pay good money for uniquely designed products. She found a supplier who could deliver old truck tyres and tubes, and hired women to spin, weave and dye pieces of locally grown cotton, jute and hemp, using skills passed down through generations.

Tracking international shoe fashion trends on the web, Alemu designed a range of footwear. Some are simple cotton-covered or leather covered flip-flops and sandals with names like Class Act and Gruuv Thong. The bestselling Urban Runner takes inspiration from the classic Converse All Star %26ldquo;lo-top%26rdquo; trainer, with a piece of inner tubing for the toecap and organic cotton-covered footbeds. Virtually all the materials are locally sourced, including the camouflage material used on some shoes, which is cut from old army uniforms.

After receiving international fair-trade certification, Alemu began bombarding US stores and websites with emails and samples. Shops such as Whole Foods and Urban Outfitters agreed to stock the shoes, which were imported duty-free into the United States under the African Growth and Opportunity Act, helping prices stay competitive. As word spread, individual customers began buying directly from the soleRebels website — a Christmas order from Canada included a scanned trace of the customer%26rsquo;s foot — with the shoes usually arriving by courier from Ethiopia within a week. But business really took off when Amazon signed up as a customer.

Alemu is an evangelist for the online business model, saying it allows the company %26ldquo;to understand the market needs and demands in real time%26rdquo;. SoleRebels negotiates directly with retailers, doing everything from ordering processing to credit collection itself, and ensures most of the final sales price remains in Ethiopia. As a result, Alemu said, she can pay her staff between US$1.90 a day for trainees and US$11 a day for experienced artisans %26ndash; good wages by local standards. In turn, the government earns more taxes, spurring more development.

%26ldquo;In Ethiopia we have become used to taking money from the west, to always getting help,%26rdquo; said Alemu. %26ldquo;That does not make for a sustainable economy. We need to solve our own problems.%26rdquo;

The success has enabled soleRebels to begin construction of a solar-powered factory near the current workshop, to allow for expanded production. While it will better showcase the company%26rsquo;s eco-friendly methods, that%26rsquo;s not the main reason customers like the shoes, Alemu said. %26ldquo;People buy soleRebels because they are good, not just because they are %26lsquo;green%26rsquo; or from Ethiopia. Our product speaks for itself.%26rdquo;

www.guardian.co.uk/

Copyright Guardian News and Media Limited 2010

Homepage image by Oriolus

Hans-Martin Schulz, a German geologist, is co-founder of Gas Shales in Europe, a project funded by the oil and gas industry to explore the potential for development in Europe. %26ldquo;We are making the first steps in research,%26rdquo; he says. %26ldquo;It%26rsquo;s hard to estimate, at this point, what will happen.%26rdquo;

National and international energy policies will dictate how much gas is extracted, but there is no doubt that countries from Poland to China want to get in on the act. On November 17, 2009, US president Barack Obama and China%26rsquo;s president Hu Jintao launched the US-China Shale Gas Resource Initiative, which aims to use experience from the US to assess China%26rsquo;s shale gas potential.

But gas has its critics. It is about 30% less carbon intensive than oil and 50% less than coal, but it still emits carbon, which makes it less desirable than renewable energy resources. Fracturing the rock requires large quantities of water laced with chemicals, which critics fear could leak into groundwater and aquifers. Shale developments have been blamed for contaminating wells and the death of livestock exposed to potassium chloride in the water used to fracture the rock; this has led regulators to consider buffer zones around reservoirs and aquifers.

There has been no outcry in places such as the American states of Texas and Louisiana, where lawmakers have long supported the oil and gas industry. Indeed, Louisiana is offering tax incentives for people to install fuelling equipment that will allow vehicles to run on compressed natural gas. But in the north-eastern states, where the mood is less welcoming, Chesapeake Energy recently abandoned plans to drill in the New York watershed, which supplies unfiltered water to nine million people. %26ldquo;Why go through the brain damage of that, when we have so many other opportunities?%26rdquo; says Aubrey McClendon, its chief executive.

The Riverkeeper, a New York environmental group, has called for a permanent ban on drilling in ecologically sensitive areas such as the state%26rsquo;s Catskills region. But local governments are torn, given the number of jobs shale developments create at a time of high unemployment. A study by IHS Global Insight reported that gas contributed $385 billion to the US economy in 2008 and more than $180 billion in labour income alone; by comparison, the coal industry contributed $79.9 billion. More than 30 US states boasted at least 10,000 jobs directly or indirectly attributable to the gas industry.

At the end of 2008, the US department of energy (DoE) says domestic proven gas reserves rose by 3% to reach their highest level since the US Energy Information Administration (EIA) first reported them in 1977. Discoveries of 29.5 trillion cubic feet (835.3 billion cubic metres) of gas during 2008 represented the sixth consecutive annual increase, with reserves from shale reservoirs up 51% over 2007.

%26ldquo;It is very significant,%26rdquo; says Richard Newell of the EIA. Under most scenarios of future energy and climate legislation, US natural-gas production will increase during the next 20 years. But further ahead, the picture becomes less clear. By 2050, if the United States built more nuclear and wind-generating capacity and managed to capture and store the carbon emitted from coal-fired power stations, then it would be cheaper to use those technologies than to burn more gas and capture its carbon emissions, Newell says. %26ldquo;The size of the role natural gas would play depends on the availability of those other options.%26rdquo;

In its favour, he notes, gas-fired power stations can be built faster and more cheaply than coal equivalents and offer a better fit with renewable sources because they are easier to turn on and off to supplement wind and solar when the wind drops and the sun doesn%26rsquo;t shine. %26ldquo;Price is the main impediment,%26rdquo; Newell says.

And natural gas prices are unpredictable. In recent months, when gas fell below US$3 per million British thermal units (mBtu) %26ndash; a seven-and-a-half-year low %26ndash; that hardly seemed a cause for concern. But as recently as 2008, US gas prices reached a record US$13.69 per mBtu. Even at US$3.20 per mBtu, however, developing shale gas is profitable.

%26ldquo;Every square inch of my district has natural gas under it,%26rdquo; says Tim Murphy, a US congressman, referring to Pennsylvania%26rsquo;s Marcellus Shale, which runs from New York to Tennessee. %26ldquo;It%26rsquo;s going to have an impact on the whole nation.%26rdquo; T Boone Pickens, the 81-year-old oilman who has become a spokesman for the natural-gas industry, told the US congress in October that the United States has more natural gas than all the oil in Saudi Arabia. If the country converted 6.5 million of its heavy trucks to run on that gas, it could reduce its oil imports from OPEC producers by 2.5 million barrels a day.

To make that happen, Murphy says the United States must create incentives for public gas refuelling stations, or in-home gas refuelling, and plug-in vehicles. This can be funded, he argues, from the additional revenues the government will receive from gas producers if they have incentives to increase output. %26ldquo;It%26rsquo;s a solution that grows upon itself.%26rdquo;

The biggest believers are in the Haynesville Shale formation of Louisiana, where last year gas projects produced US$3.9 billion in household earnings and accounted for 33,000 new jobs, according to Loren C Scott %26amp; Associates, an economic consultancy. It estimates state and local tax revenues increased by at least $153.3 million in 2008 as a result. %26ldquo;It%26rsquo;s going to turn this parish upside down over the next five to 10 years,%26rsquo;%26rsquo; says Tommy Craig, of the Community Bank of Louisiana. Deposits are already up 25% from late 2007.

Mike Smith is one of the few spending his windfall. Whereas others have run only to a new pick-up truck, he does not have a wife or children, so the money is his to spend. He has bought a couple of large-screen televisions and invested some of his payout, buying stock in Ford Motor Company when it hit $2 a share %26ndash; %26ldquo;I have a bunch of it,%26rdquo; he says. But after years of thrift, even he has mostly held on to the money, using it for necessities such as medical bills. He was able to pay upfront to have a cancerous growth removed from the side of his nose, rather than cover the costs in instalments.

Other big winners from the shale rush remain cautious about spending their signing bonuses, despite the promise of royalty cheques once production begins. The Marshburn family, who own some 160 hectares, including a share in the most productive Haynesville well to date, are one example. Mike Marshburn, a 59-year-old former rodeo star in a black cowboy hat and a shiny silver buckle he won as a rider in the 1970s, has already banked his bonus but continues to work on the gas fields as a contract welder, while raising bucking bulls on the side.

His wife, Celia, a retired schoolteacher, lifts up her boots to reveal holes in the soles. And their daughter, Mila, 25, is working her way through 14-hour days in nursing school, despite her family%26rsquo;s sudden wealth. %26ldquo;I just tell my friends, %26lsquo;Hey, that%26rsquo;s my parents%26rsquo; money. I%26rsquo;m going to make my own way.%26rsquo;%26rdquo; Her mother wants to create a beach on the lake their home overlooks, while her father has his eye on a new bull. But they are biding their time. %26ldquo;If these royalty cheques are big enough, I might retire,%26rdquo; Mike says.

Smith%26rsquo;s bonus will carry him through retirement, regardless of how big his royalty cheques turn out to be. His contract guarantees him 20 to 25% of what the company receives for gas under his land, and production is due to begin within months. He has a twinkle in his blue eyes when he talks of the dreams he can now afford to live out %26ndash; hunting bears in Alaska; golfing at the Masters in Augusta, Georgia; seeing the vast expanses of Wyoming and Montana; building a new home amid the pine trees on his acreage. %26ldquo;I%26rsquo;m more or less a homebody,%26rdquo; he says. %26ldquo;I think it%26rsquo;s time I get out.%26rdquo;

In the meantime, he is training his nephew to take over the business so that he can retire next year. And on the weekends, he still heads out of town, to hunt on his land, among the pine trees and the well pads.

Shale oil next?

US energy companies may be able to use technologies they acquired in the hunt for shale gas to tap oil trapped in dense rock formations.

Oil is often harder to extract, given its viscosity and bigger molecules, so engineers are tweaking the process. %26ldquo;We believe this is going to be game-changing technology,%26rdquo; said Mark Papa, chairman of EOG Resources. %26ldquo;We believe there is enough oil in rock across the US and Canada to be of significant impact.%26rdquo;

While increasing the size of the world%26rsquo;s third-largest oil production base would be difficult, success could slow the decline in US oil output that has continued since the 1970s. Papa believes the process will prove economic with oil prices at US$45 to $50 a barrel, compared with around $80 today.

While nobody knows how much oil might be freed by the new techniques, Edward van den Heuvel, commercial opportunity manager for Shell Chemicals, said that on average about a third of the oil in a field is recovered. With two-thirds of the oil left in the ground, it makes sense to revisit reserves once believed to be trapped in impermeable rock.

The biggest success so far has been in the Bakken Formation of Montana and North Dakota, where there are an estimated 3.65 billion barrels of recoverable oil. Bill Albrecht, vice-president of Occidental Petroleum, the biggest US independent, says: %26ldquo;There is a huge resource here.%26rdquo; But the technique needs refining before it will win widespread adoption. %26ldquo;Relative to gas, it%26rsquo;s still an emerging technology,%26rdquo; he admits.

Sheila McNulty is the Financial Times%26rsquo;s US energy correspondent.

http://www.ft.com/home/uk

Copyright The Financial Times Limited 2010

Homepage image from Chesapeake Energy