If the Chinese can organize for earthquakes they should be more than competent to do what has been thought to be impossible in the State of NY.
No Chinese bettor would have respect for a government run betting operation that is closed on days tracks are running that bettors want to bet because the King, Andrew Cuomo, may chose to go pray , while others wish to bet.
Help us please as you are better organizers than we have been since NY opened its OTBs, "public benefit corporations."
Social Media in China Fuel Citizen Response to Quake
Reuters
A man repaired a tent outside his quake-damaged house last month in Sichuan Province, China.
By DAN LEVIN
Published: May 11, 2013
LUSHAN, China — Wang Xiaochang sprang into action minutes after a deadly earthquake jolted this lush region
of Sichuan Province last month. Logging on to China’s most popular
social media sites, he posted requests for people to join him in aiding
the survivors. By that evening, he had fielded 480 calls.
Related
-
After Quake, Donors Shun Aid Groups Run by China (April 23, 2013)
-
Surviving China’s Latest Earthquake, but Afraid to Go Home (April 21, 2013)
Never mind that the government had declared that the narrow mountain
roads to Lushan were open only to authorized rescue vehicles. Two days
after the April 20 earthquake, Mr. Wang was hitchhiking with 19
gear-laden strangers to this rubble-strewn town. While the military
cleared roads and repaired electrical lines, the volunteers carried
food, water and tents to ruined villages and comforted survivors of the
temblor, which killed nearly 200 people and injured more than 13,000.
“The government is in charge of the big picture stuff, but we’re doing
the work they can’t do,” Mr. Wang, 24, a former soldier, said recently,
standing outside the group’s tent, which was cluttered with sleeping
bags, work gloves and smartphones.
The rapid grass-roots response to the disaster reveals just how far
China’s nascent civil society movement has come since 2008, when a
7.9-magnitude earthquake in Wenchuan,
not far from Lushan, prompted a wave of volunteerism and philanthropy.
That quake, which claimed about 90,000 lives, provoked criticism of the
government for its ham-handed relief efforts. Outrage mounted in the
months that followed over allegations of corruption and reports that the
parents of dead children had been detained after protesting what many
saw as a cover-up of shoddy school construction. Thousands of students died in school collapses during the quake.
Like the government, which honed its rescue and relief efforts after the
Wenchuan earthquake, the volunteers and civil society groups that first
appeared in 2008 gained valuable skills for working in disaster zones.
Their ability to coordinate — and, in some instances, outsmart a
government intent on keeping them away — were enhanced by Sina Weibo,
the Twitter-like microblog that did not exist in 2008 but now has more
than 500 million users.
“Civil society is much more capable today compared to 2008,” said Ran
Yunfei, a prominent democracy activist and blogger, who describes Weibo
as a revolutionary tool for social change. “It’s far easier now for
volunteers to share information on what kind of help is needed.”
One of those transformed by the Wenchuan earthquake was Li Chengpeng, a
sports commentator from Sichuan turned civic activist. When the Lushan
earthquake hit, Mr. Li turned to his seven million Weibo followers and
quickly organized a team of volunteers. They traveled to the disaster
zone on motorcycles, by pedicab and on foot so as not to clog roads,
soliciting donations via microblog along the way. What he found was a
government-directed relief effort sometimes hampered by bureaucracy and
geographic isolation.
Two days after the quake, Mr. Li’s team delivered 498 tents, 1,250
blankets and 100 tarps — all donated — to Wuxing, where government
supplies had yet to arrive. The next day, they hiked to four other
villages, handing out water, cooking oil and tents.
Although he acknowledges the government’s importance during such
disasters, Mr. Li contends that grass-roots activism is just as vital.
“You can’t ask an NGO to blow up half a mountain to clear roads and you
can’t ask an army platoon to ask a middle-aged woman whether she needs
sanitary napkins,” he wrote in a recent post.
The government, however, prefers to rely on state-backed aid groups to
deliver supplies and raise money, largely through the Red Cross Society
of China. But that organization is still reeling from a corruption
scandal in 2011 that severely damaged its reputation and spurred greater
support for nongovernmental charities, which are generally thought to
be more transparent.
Faced with a groundswell of social activism it feared could turn into
government opposition, the Communist Party has sought to turn the Lushan
disaster into a rallying cry for political solidarity. “The more
difficult the circumstance, the more we should unite under the banner of
the party,” the state-run newspaper People’s Daily declared last month,
praising the leadership’s response to the earthquake.
Still, the rise in online activism has forced the government to adapt.
Recently, People’s Daily announced that three volunteers had been picked
to supervise the Red Cross spending in the earthquake zone and to
publish their findings on Weibo.
Yet on the ground, the government is hewing to the old playbook.
According to local residents, red propaganda banners began appearing on
highway overpasses and on town fences even before water and food
arrived. “Disasters have no heart, but people do,” some read. Others
proclaimed: “Learn from the heroes who came here to help the ones struck
by disaster.”
Liao Wenbing, an official with the Sichuan Provincial Transportation
Bureau, described the slogans as a natural response from the people.
“They feel the need to express gratitude to the government and the
party,” he said, in an emergency tent filled with maps and cooled by
electric fans.
Critics, however, consider the ubiquitous propaganda part of a
well-honed crisis script used by the government to guide public opinion.
According to a directive issued by the Central Propaganda Department
last month, Chinese newspapers and Web sites were “forbidden to carry
negative news, analysis or commentary” about the earthquake. The
directive was obtained by the Web site China Digital Times, based in Berkeley, Calif.
Analysts say the legions of volunteers and aid workers that descended on
Sichuan threatened the government’s carefully constructed narrative
about the earthquake. Indeed, some Chinese suspect such fears were at
least partly behind official efforts to discourage altruistic citizens
from coming to the region.
Despite warnings to stay away, so as not to obstruct roads and become a
burden to rescuers, plenty of people found a way into the disaster zone.
“I was really surprised at how many volunteers showed up despite the
government’s announcement saying they weren’t needed,” said Li Huaping,
47, a well-known political dissident from Shanghai, who was helping to
set up 50 tents for use as temporary classrooms.
Mr. Li acknowledged that the government had done a good job but noted
instances in which volunteers were indispensable to the relief effort,
including a group that set up a water filtration system in a sports
center swimming pool just hours after the quake.
Each volunteer brings something unique to the effort. After seeing the
posting by Mr. Wang soliciting help, Li Yong, a 24-year-old hairdresser,
used his allotted vacation days to deliver supplies. It was the least
he could do, he said, to repay those who saved him during the 2008
earthquake, which killed nine of his relatives.
“I was too young then to make a difference,” he said. “Now I can.”
Social Media in China Fuel Citizen Response to Quake
Reuters
A man repaired a tent outside his quake-damaged house last month in Sichuan Province, China.
By DAN LEVIN
Published: May 11, 2013
LUSHAN, China — Wang Xiaochang sprang into action minutes after a deadly earthquake jolted this lush region
of Sichuan Province last month. Logging on to China’s most popular
social media sites, he posted requests for people to join him in aiding
the survivors. By that evening, he had fielded 480 calls.
Related
-
After Quake, Donors Shun Aid Groups Run by China (April 23, 2013)
-
Surviving China’s Latest Earthquake, but Afraid to Go Home (April 21, 2013)
Never mind that the government had declared that the narrow mountain
roads to Lushan were open only to authorized rescue vehicles. Two days
after the April 20 earthquake, Mr. Wang was hitchhiking with 19
gear-laden strangers to this rubble-strewn town. While the military
cleared roads and repaired electrical lines, the volunteers carried
food, water and tents to ruined villages and comforted survivors of the
temblor, which killed nearly 200 people and injured more than 13,000.
“The government is in charge of the big picture stuff, but we’re doing
the work they can’t do,” Mr. Wang, 24, a former soldier, said recently,
standing outside the group’s tent, which was cluttered with sleeping
bags, work gloves and smartphones.
The rapid grass-roots response to the disaster reveals just how far
China’s nascent civil society movement has come since 2008, when a
7.9-magnitude earthquake in Wenchuan,
not far from Lushan, prompted a wave of volunteerism and philanthropy.
That quake, which claimed about 90,000 lives, provoked criticism of the
government for its ham-handed relief efforts. Outrage mounted in the
months that followed over allegations of corruption and reports that the
parents of dead children had been detained after protesting what many
saw as a cover-up of shoddy school construction. Thousands of students died in school collapses during the quake.
Like the government, which honed its rescue and relief efforts after the
Wenchuan earthquake, the volunteers and civil society groups that first
appeared in 2008 gained valuable skills for working in disaster zones.
Their ability to coordinate — and, in some instances, outsmart a
government intent on keeping them away — were enhanced by Sina Weibo,
the Twitter-like microblog that did not exist in 2008 but now has more
than 500 million users.
“Civil society is much more capable today compared to 2008,” said Ran
Yunfei, a prominent democracy activist and blogger, who describes Weibo
as a revolutionary tool for social change. “It’s far easier now for
volunteers to share information on what kind of help is needed.”
One of those transformed by the Wenchuan earthquake was Li Chengpeng, a
sports commentator from Sichuan turned civic activist. When the Lushan
earthquake hit, Mr. Li turned to his seven million Weibo followers and
quickly organized a team of volunteers. They traveled to the disaster
zone on motorcycles, by pedicab and on foot so as not to clog roads,
soliciting donations via microblog along the way. What he found was a
government-directed relief effort sometimes hampered by bureaucracy and
geographic isolation.
Two days after the quake, Mr. Li’s team delivered 498 tents, 1,250
blankets and 100 tarps — all donated — to Wuxing, where government
supplies had yet to arrive. The next day, they hiked to four other
villages, handing out water, cooking oil and tents.
Although he acknowledges the government’s importance during such
disasters, Mr. Li contends that grass-roots activism is just as vital.
“You can’t ask an NGO to blow up half a mountain to clear roads and you
can’t ask an army platoon to ask a middle-aged woman whether she needs
sanitary napkins,” he wrote in a recent post.
The government, however, prefers to rely on state-backed aid groups to
deliver supplies and raise money, largely through the Red Cross Society
of China. But that organization is still reeling from a corruption
scandal in 2011 that severely damaged its reputation and spurred greater
support for nongovernmental charities, which are generally thought to
be more transparent.
Faced with a groundswell of social activism it feared could turn into
government opposition, the Communist Party has sought to turn the Lushan
disaster into a rallying cry for political solidarity. “The more
difficult the circumstance, the more we should unite under the banner of
the party,” the state-run newspaper People’s Daily declared last month,
praising the leadership’s response to the earthquake.
Still, the rise in online activism has forced the government to adapt.
Recently, People’s Daily announced that three volunteers had been picked
to supervise the Red Cross spending in the earthquake zone and to
publish their findings on Weibo.
Yet on the ground, the government is hewing to the old playbook.
According to local residents, red propaganda banners began appearing on
highway overpasses and on town fences even before water and food
arrived. “Disasters have no heart, but people do,” some read. Others
proclaimed: “Learn from the heroes who came here to help the ones struck
by disaster.”
Liao Wenbing, an official with the Sichuan Provincial Transportation
Bureau, described the slogans as a natural response from the people.
“They feel the need to express gratitude to the government and the
party,” he said, in an emergency tent filled with maps and cooled by
electric fans.
Critics, however, consider the ubiquitous propaganda part of a
well-honed crisis script used by the government to guide public opinion.
According to a directive issued by the Central Propaganda Department
last month, Chinese newspapers and Web sites were “forbidden to carry
negative news, analysis or commentary” about the earthquake. The
directive was obtained by the Web site China Digital Times, based in Berkeley, Calif.
Analysts say the legions of volunteers and aid workers that descended on
Sichuan threatened the government’s carefully constructed narrative
about the earthquake. Indeed, some Chinese suspect such fears were at
least partly behind official efforts to discourage altruistic citizens
from coming to the region.
Despite warnings to stay away, so as not to obstruct roads and become a
burden to rescuers, plenty of people found a way into the disaster zone.
“I was really surprised at how many volunteers showed up despite the
government’s announcement saying they weren’t needed,” said Li Huaping,
47, a well-known political dissident from Shanghai, who was helping to
set up 50 tents for use as temporary classrooms.
Mr. Li acknowledged that the government had done a good job but noted
instances in which volunteers were indispensable to the relief effort,
including a group that set up a water filtration system in a sports
center swimming pool just hours after the quake.
Each volunteer brings something unique to the effort. After seeing the
posting by Mr. Wang soliciting help, Li Yong, a 24-year-old hairdresser,
used his allotted vacation days to deliver supplies. It was the least
he could do, he said, to repay those who saved him during the 2008
earthquake, which killed nine of his relatives.
“I was too young then to make a difference,” he said. “Now I can.”
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