Gentrification of Farmers’ Markets in Beijing
3 am, in a dimly lit street in Beijing, the silence was broken out by a family of vendors waking up to set up stalls for fresh foods and breakfasts. 4 am, mini-trucks and three-wheelers started to line up behind the narrow entrance of the street loaded with fresh vegetables and fruits. 5 am, the first wave of buyers, “early birds” who are either purchasing agents or the grandmas walked into the scene. Suddenly the set is alive with creative advertising and bargaining, as well as the delicious sizzling of fried breadstick, bake-rolls, and various breakfasts in between buying spurs. 8am, after an exhausting but exhilarating shopping trip, buyers left with bags of merchandize and a happy smile knowing they got amazing deals while merchants were also content for there are barely anything left to sell from their stalls meaning they made a hefty profit.
This was the morning farmers’ market in Beijing. And I used to be the kid that wonders from stall to stall to drool for the amazing little gadgets for sale and listen to the bizarre stories people exchanges.
Surely, this was not the only side of the market: filled with grime and clogged drain by poor piping, the floor is never dry, and if you ponder long enough, you could identify the moldy smell from the fishy smell in the air.
This cannot be good with health standards, which is why in recent years the Beijing government has taken action to regulate the farmers market in a larger act to “‘beautify’ its traffic-clogged streets” (Guardian 2018). The 2017 fire in the outskirts of Beijing due to an unregulated and overcrowded factory accelerated this process. However, even before the fire, traditional farmers’ markets are diminishing. Due to the harsh nature of the job, almost all vendors in the farmers' markets are mobile population outside Beijing. With the prospering economics outpacing the city planning in early 2000, citizens started to blame the mobile population for the “urban diseases” such as overpopulation and air pollution in Beijing (Shiwuzq). Naturally, the farmers market that once provided convenience for the citizens became an obstacle for Beijing to join the other international metropolis. Although some argue the necessity to gentrify the farmers’ market to erase the bad image for the city, I believe we should focus on preserving the original farmers’ market (while improving small areas to follow hygiene practices) because it provides a stable intercultural symbiosis between the vendors and the merchants.
The city relies on the migrant population to function, many of whom are laborers and small business owners. During the mass eviction of tenants of the “low-end population” which is another term the government uses for mobile population following the 2017 fire, the result “is felt instantaneously, as food delivery and courier services are now paralyzed” (Hyperallergic 2018). Similarly, the “high-end population” of the city have experienced or will experience major inconveniences as their go-to farmers’ markets closes and they suddenly find themselves needing to walk an extra mile to get a supposedly “cleaner” but way more expensive and less tasty McDonald breakfast or dinner. On the other hand, the vendors of the farmers’ markets are in much worse conditions. Eviction pushes them farther away from the capital, meaning they would take a longer commute while sustaining the condition without heating devices in the winter (such is the case in Beijing’s suburbs). Some of them had provided the city food for 20 years, had to choose between either leaving the capital and going back to the countryside or entering supermarket chains but getting paid one-third of their original income as vendors (Shiwuzq). Therefore, the gentrification of the original farmers’ market is quite literally a lose-lose situation.
Not only does gentrification presents unnecessary trouble, it also mercilessly wipes out the authentic cultural values associated with the farmers’ market. A traditional motto sums it up well “Greatest hermit reside into the noisiest farmers’ markets.” This motto implies diversity within the market. Due to the communicative nature of the farmers’ markets, cultural hubs emerge from it, where people from diverse backgrounds can freely discuss politics and arts without worrying about censorship. In fact, Jane Jacobs, widely regarded as one of the foundational experts on urban sociology, believes it is these authentic interactions between the different social classes that produces vitality and attraction of the city (Shiwuzq). By gentrifying the farmers’ markets into regulated corporate supermarkets, we not only lose the competition of the vendors, but the unique culture of the city, which essentially, is what makes the metropolitan stands out.
It is interesting to note that some farmers’ markets are not influenced by this act, such as the “Sanyuanli” market near the embassy district. Instead of being demolished, it became a cultural scenic spot. But looking more closely at this market, it provides only the surface experience of the traditional markets in Beijing. The eye-watering price and large variety of cheese which would shame a Paris boulangerie clearly shows the targeting population is not the local population, but instead the tourists.
The reason behind the success of the “Sanyuanli” market spurs discussion about the authenticity of the cultural farmer’s market. In recent years, many cultural hubs built on old factories or cultural ruins starts to appeal to consumers. They certainly are better than simply demolishing the old structure and build skyscrapers on top of it, and it connects consumers with creative artists. However, the emphasis on authenticity is merely on the surface. As Sharon Zukin wrote in “Naked City,” in order to appeal to cultural consumers, they “[preserve] the look and the experience of authenticity rather than preserving the community that lives there” (245). To put it in another way, the “Sanyuanli” market is merely a transformable shell only accessible to those privileged who favors authentic urbanism now.
Looking across the globe, similar problem plagues San Francisco. Famous for its diversity of art and cultures, the actual diversity of its population had diminished as housing prices soar and communities of color driven out. Instead, the “People of colour and their beloved cultural contributions are then replaced by simulacra (to employ Jean Baudrillard’s term): superficial images and faux experiences of Latinx, African American and Asian “street cultures” curated by corporations and accessible only to particularly privileged patrons” (Lin 65). This commercialized explanation not only distorts the uniqueness of the cultures, but it also distances the different social classes and races. In addition, by eliminating the people from the equation, the gentrification process widens the wealth gap between the social classes, potentially leading to conflicts.
Fortunately, the example of Rotterdam Market Hall shows the gentrification doesn’t necessarily equate to a loss of culture. Quickly became a scenic spot in Rotterdam, the Market Hall attracts net visitor amount of eight million per year (mvrdv). This establishment differs from the “Sanyuanli” market by actually selling unique local products. Although it is still commercialized and geared toward tourism, it nonetheless provides a viable solution to preserve the authentic culture and the people during gentrification.
Work Cited
https://www.mvrdv.nl/news/1015/market-hall-an-economic-success
https://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/socal/reader.action?docID=665419&ppg=1
https://dirt.asla.org/2016/09/30/jane-jacobs-the-case-for-diversity/
https://hyperallergic.com/417275/beijing-mass-evictions-migrants-artists/
