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Rapid growth strains services like schools, housing, health
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LAST week, Li Ting took half a day off work to take her 4-month-old daughter to hospital for a checkup and vaccination. She also took her husband and mother along to share in queuing for registration, payment, the health exam and the inoculation. The whole trip took two hours.
“Last month, we left my mother at home, and my husband and I spent almost 4 hours at the hospital,” says Li, 30. “We had no idea of the difficulties involved, so this time we made a detailed plan in advance, with tasks clearly assigned to each of us.”
As population mushrooms in Shanghai, so, too, long lines. For everything from medical care to going to a movie theater, from using some lavatories to registering for schools, it’s a case of stand in line and wait your turn.
The city’s resident population — defined as people with hukou, or official residency permits, and those without hukou who have been lived in this city for over 6 months — increased in the last two decades by 10 million to about 24 million.
The number is expected to exceed 30 million before 2030 if the government does not take steps to rein in growth, according to the latest Blue Book on Social Development of Shanghai.
The Blue Book is published by the Shanghai Academy of Social Sciences.
The expansion is largely due to what is called the “floating” population, comprised largely of migrants. That group has been growing at an average annual rate of 11.4 percent. It rose to 9.6 million in 2012 from 1.23 million in 1993, according to the report.
The “floating” population comprised about two-fifths of the city’s inhabitants in 2012, compared with only 8.9 percent in 1993. In suburban districts such as Songjiang, Jiading and Qingpu, migrants outnumber the census-registered population.
The Blue Book concluded that such rapid growth challenges the city’s public services, resources, environment and social stability.
It also highlighted what it called “city diseases,” such as traffic jams, housing shortages, lack of classroom space and crowded health facilities.
Li and her family are not alone in the queues.
In 1990, there were 44 doctors for every 10,000 patients. In 2011, the ratio had dwindled to 23 doctors for the same number of patients.
Education is another victim of rapid growth. Some parents and grandparents wait outside schools overnight to be near the front of the queue to register children in classes.
Some people in Shanghai are calling for tighter population controls to slow the trend.
The city has undertaken some steps in its population policies since the 1990s. Before 1993, quotas for residency permits were allocated to enterprises and public institutions. Between 1994 and 2002, incoming people could obtain hukou after 3 to 5 years if they invested in Shanghai.
In 2002, Shanghai introduced the residence permit system to slow population growth, granting permanent residency based on applicants’ professions, achievements and contributions to the city. Several modifications have been made to the policy to make it fairer but still difficult for people wanting to reside in Shanghai.
The current system has had some effect on limiting entry of relatively well-educated people, but has had little effect on poverty-stricken rural migrants who are desperate for urban jobs.
The Blue Book urged more reform of Shanghai’s population policy.
It’s not surprising that Shanghai, with its prosperous economy and glitzy urban life, is a magnet for people from all over the country.
But many who come here seeking the life of their dreams find reality quite a different story. High living costs, urban stress and a sometimes unwelcoming social environment can make city life hard.
Mark Wang, a media worker, says he is considering returning to his small hometown in Shandong Province after living in Shanghai for about two years.
“Everything is so expensive here,” he complains.
He rents an old apartment of only 30 square meters in Xuhui District for 3,000 yuan (US$483.87) a month. The rent has gone up each year, adding 200 to 300 yuan to his tight budget. After rent, food, clothing and transport costs, Wang says he has no money left and he sees no prospect of a pay raise anytime soon.
For Li Mei, 42, who came here from Anhui Province, the decision is made. She’s staying.
Li has worked as an ayi, or domestic helper, in Shanghai for more than 10 years.
“The education system here is much better than in my hometown, and I can earn more,” she says.
Her husband works on construction sites, and her son attends a local middle school.
Li admits that living costs in Shanghai are high, leaving her no room to save.
“I will not leave the city,” she vows. “I will use every means to survive here.”
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