For Ma Liang, the week-long 2006 Chinese Spring Festival holiday was a dismal affair. No
firecrackers. No banquets. No visitors. And very little time spent
with his family.
This is the capital of northeast China's Liaoning Province, a city formerly lined with
industrial smoke stacks, and now plagued by falling productivity
and rising unemployment after market-oriented reforms were
launched.
The municipal authorities, with various aid programs, have made
many attempts to assist workers laid off by ailing State-owned
enterprises (SOEs).
Ma Liang's story is not uncommon. He is 45, the breadwinner in a
family of three, and lost his job two months before the festive
season.
He worked in the boiler room of a State-owned company until last
October, when he was told there was "no need for you to come here
any longer."
The family found it difficult to survive on the 600 yuan (US$75)
his wife made doing odd jobs. And in the cold winter, the family's
company-financed heating service was also cut off.
"The previous spring festivals always meant co-workers visiting
each other and family reunions," he told China Daily. But
this year, he is unemployed, and no longer has any colleagues to
visit.
Ma even felt ashamed to face his two nieces because he didn't
have money for their yasuiqian (money given to children during
spring festival).
"My wife does not allow me to tell others that I've lost my job
for fear that they would look down on me as incapable," Ma said. "I
myself feel ashamed."
To minimize expenses over the holiday period, Ma sent his
teenage daughter to live with his brother while his wife, who lost
her job a decade earlier, took care of her paralyzed mother. The
three were at different places during the holiday.
"(Losing my job) is like cutting off my blood vessels," Ma said.
"I can't even afford fireworks. They are meaningless, after
all."
Like Ma, many in the once booming industrial powerhouse of the
nation are in a similar situation: Laid off in their 40s or 50s,
with aged parents to take care of and children in school to support
at the same time.
Even though the municipal government took measures last year to
create new positions, organize training, offer small loans to help
with start-up ventures, and encourage firms to employ the laid-off
workers, some women in their 40s and men in their 50s are unable to
compete with the surplus of younger workers.
Ma's case is even worse. "I am one of the youngest of the group
of people who got their contracts terminated," he said. "There were
more than 20 of us, and none of us were given a reason why we had
to go." Now, even though he believes the old job was "really
suitable" for him, he must figure out what to do next.
When he was laid off, Ma was paid out 30,000 yuan (US$3,750) by
his employer. But the amount was much lower than he was expecting,
and according to his calculation, his annual expenditure including
medical expenses, heating and his child's tuition would amount to
roughly 23,000 yuan (US$2,800).
During the Spring Festival even eggplant was a luxury for Ma and
his family because vegetable prices doubled and even tripled during
the festival season.
Almost four months after he was laid off, his former employer
still hasn't issued him the certificate necessary for welfare and
assistance for unemployed workers from the government.
Around the same time, authorities announced that the country's
registered unemployment rate had dropped to under 5 percent. Of the
5 million retrenched workers from State-owned enterprises
nationwide, 1 million of those in their 40s and 50s had the
opportunity to return to work.
The municipal government also pledged a number of preferential
policies for unemployed workers. Prior to the festival, the
government promised to provide small amounts of cash and daily
goods to needy households over the holiday period. But without a
proper certificate, Ma was temporarily ineligible for any such
assistance.
But he is confident that he will get the help he deserves before
long, when the paperwork gets done. He told China Daily: "My
biggest wish in 2006 is for the government to approve a small loan
so that I can start a business and truly enjoy the preferential
policy promised to unemployed workers."
Even for those who do receive unemployment benefits from the
government, like Wang Xiaoming, life has not been much easier, as
she strives to achieve certain things such as securing an apartment
for her family.
The former Shenyang automobile remanufacturing worker spent the
2006 Spring Festival just as she does every year: preparing
dumplings with the whole family and watching the annual gala on
CCTV, the national broadcaster.
Travel? To Wang, this was unheard of. Even booking a New Year's
Eve banquet at a local restaurant was beyond her imagination. "We
just don't have the resources," she said.
Wang was laid off shortly before she reached retirement age. She
could get by on her monthly unemployment benefit of around 500 yuan
(US$60); but her 26-year-old son, unmarried, hasn't been able to
find an ideal job and continues to depend on his parents.
In northeast China, the so-called rust belt of the nation, it is
common for unemployed young people to survive off their parents'
income, some of whom themselves are unemployed and covered only by
a meagre welfare program.
In early 2005, Wang decided she could no longer put up with the
living conditions of her family three adults cramped into a small
one-bedroom apartment and purchased a new apartment in
installments, which they hoped could also serve as a stake for
their son's marriage.
But in order to cover the deposit, the woman had to borrow
40,000 yuan (US$5,000) in cash from others, and allow the creditor
to keep her bank-book, which won't be returned to her until the
debt is repaid.
To begin with, without any income, the woman and her husband had
to work odd jobs to make a living. It was not until last September
that Wang's future started to look brighter: She found a job doing
cleaning work in a wealthy residential neighborhood. But she got
the job only by lying about her age.
"See, I was 53, and they said they were only recruiting people
under 45," she said. Age discrimination is still rampant in the
Chinese labor market, and a proper solution to the problem is yet
to be found.
Wang's daughter prepared dozens of photocopies of her mother's
ID indicating that she fell within the 38 to 45 age bracket, hoping
it would make it easier for her mother to re-enter the job
market.
"You don't even need to fake the ID. A bogus photocopy will
suffice," Wang said. "However old you want to be, I can make you be
it (that age)." In fact, the other five cleaners working with Wang
all offered false age identifications. A 64-year-old woman claimed
to be 11 years younger than her real age.
The job requires a cleaner to work 42 hours a week for 400 yuan
(US$50) a month. The employer did not sign a contract with the
workers and often delayed paying them under the pretext of
financial difficulties, the employees said.
But Wang still treasures the job. "I just think myself lucky
that I could find something," she said. Her 60-year-old husband, in
contrast, was turned down every time he applied for a job.
When asked about her New Year's plan, the woman said she was
ready to face another tough year. But the couple hope that by 2007
they might pay off the debts to their friends and get back onto
welfare. And according to the plan, their son will hopefully get
married. "Life will hopefully get easier by then," she said.
By that stage, as some national lawmakers are trying to do right
now, China will hopefully have equal opportunity laws in place and
discrimination in the job market will be outlawed such as age
discrimination against people in the bracket just before the legal
retirement age.
In the real market, discriminatory attitudes can be evaded, as
Wang's case demonstrates. But age discrimination affects many
people and is an insult to China's constitution and rule of
law.
(China Daily April 7, 2006)