Where The Coal Is Stained With Blood

A coal miner carries a sack of coal back home after his shift at a small mine in China's Shanxi Province on November 29, 2006.
Peter Parks / AFP / Getty Images
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According to accounts in the state-controlled media, such small mines, which account for a third of China's total coal output, are commonly subcontracted by local governments to individuals. With some 17,000 of these small mines now operating (as well as thousands of illegal mines), supervision by government authorities is virtually nonexistent. To maximize profits, mine owners ramp up production far above sanctioned levels, exceed the regulated number of miners and neglect safety equipment and procedures. Mine owners often bribe local officials into turning a blind eye to their practices and have been known to ship corpses to other provinces to escape regulations requiring them to report any accident in which more than three miners die.

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A glimpse of the hellish conditions in which millions of Chinese miners work can be seen in the documentary Yuan Shan (Distant Mountain), by filmmaker Hu Jie. Although the film was made more than 10 years ago, industry observers say conditions have changed little in China's private mines. Shot in Qinghai province, near Tibet, the film shows miners working in tunnels so low that they crouch at the coal face, dressed in little more than loincloths. After they fill their quota, the miners have to turn and crawl hundreds of yards, pulling a basketful of coal twice their body weight. The only illumination comes from candles in small lamps attached to the miners' heads--but Chinese mines are particularly prone to gas explosions, says Munro, making naked flames extremely dangerous.

The accident at Zuoyun, where Old Zhao recovered the bodies of dead miners, sums up everything that is wrong with China's mining sector. Media reports in the wake of the disaster put production from the mine, licensed to produce only 90,000 tons a year, at roughly four times that amount. And according to accounts in China's state-owned media, which gave the accident widespread coverage--another sign of Beijing's concern--the mine operators broke numerous other safety regulations, including the number of miners allowed in the mine and the depth at which they worked. But the principal operator of the mine, according to the press reports, felt protected by the fact that his brother was the senior Communist Party official in the area, responsible for supervision of mining. When news of the collapse emerged, the media have alleged, the contractors tried to cover up the seriousness of the accident by reporting that only five men were trapped, a delay the authorities say impaired rescue operations. On Feb. 26, a provincial court in Shanxi sentenced Li Fanyuan, who it said was owner of the Zuoyun mine when the accident happened last May, to 16 years in prison on charges relating to his responsibility for the deaths.

Such practices leave central-government officials fuming helplessly. After the string of accidents that left more than 100 miners dead in November, Li, Beijing's top official in charge of work safety, alleged that in one case, in which 32 died, local officials had ignored an order to close a shaft. "With local governments as backstage supporters, unscrupulous mine owners just keep operating illegally," Li was quoted as saying in the state-run English-language China Daily. "This is a direct challenge to the authority of state laws and regulations."

It is a challenge that the state does not yet know how to meet. So long as China's economy continues its giddy growth, the country's thirst for coal will continue to grow. China derives about 70% of its energy needs from coal, and production has nearly tripled in the past five years to meet soaring demand. High oil prices have added to coal's attraction. Beijing has plans to open 35 to 40 coal-powered electricity-generating plants annually in the next few years and to build two plants to convert coal to liquid fuel.

All that spells more Hummers and luxury condominiums in Beijing and Shanghai for Shanxi's coal barons. The cash to buy their cars and toys will come from the sweat--and perhaps blood--of men like Xie Daibing. Xie, originally from the remote and dirt-poor province of Gansu, on the border with Tibet, works in a mine less than a mile from the shaft in Zuoyun County where the 57 miners drowned. "No, I'm not scared," he says, although he looks it, a frown creasing his forehead and his fingers restlessly juggling his cigarette pack and lighter. Xie says he's confident that the central government is doing its best to protect miners. "I hear the government regulations say that production at illegal mines will be stopped and the mines blown up. I'm sure the State Council in Beijing will order that." It may. The question is whether anyone in Zuoyun County will listen.