The old punishments are still the best. Beijing's Vice Mayor has been "reassigned" somewhere in China's remote western region. Politically speaking, that is the equivalent of being transferred to the dark side of the moon. His sin was in
bungling the rollout of the city's new traffic-improvement plan. Beijing's subway system has roughly tripled in size since I moved away in 2004, yet street and highway traffic continues its stranglehold, so the city is considering a wide range of aggressive measures to combat the problem. Word that new-car registrations would be severely limited in 2011 led to a rash of panic buying in December and sealed the vice mayor's fate.
Anecdotally, I can attest to the seductive power automobiles have on the "average" Chinese consumer. While visiting Beijing earlier this month, I had dinner with two of the city's newest and proudest car owners. They are friends I have known since 2002, when both worked at my gym. They have since married, bought a dog, and live in a modest apartment block not far from the intersection of the South Third Ring Road and Line 5 of the subway system. They drive a new Chinese model that looks like a 1999 Nissan Sentra and cost roughly US$12,000. While it might be a "status" symbol, the car does not exactly reflect their professional achievement: he has a low-level sales position while she is between jobs as they consider starting a family. Both acknowledged that their parents often help them make ends meet.
Their neighborhood is what I like to call the "real" Beijing: densely settled and thoroughly urban but seemingly cut off from the political, international, historical, academic, diplomatic, economic, post-Olympic, and/or touristic dazzle of much of the city. Bus service is excellent (so long as you don't mind crowds), and taxis are everywhere; even before the subway stretched this far, I could not imagine why anyone would want to own a car here. I tiptoed around the issue and carefully asked when they drove. He shrugged in response as if the answer were obvious: "to work, to the store..." but later conceded his commute can take nearly two hours, roughly twice as long as by public transportation.
Whatever the motivations, they seem to be shared by many of my friends' neighbors. The small square wedged between their apartment block and its twin was never designed to accommodate anything more than foot traffic but is regularly jammed with more than a dozen parked cars.
Automakers are not as alarmed by the prospect of new restrictions as one might imagine, apparently because
they cannot satisfy current demand.