CHAPTER 23
On the global map of markets
and economies, modern China is a place with a number of contradictions. It is a
country in the “primary stage of socialism” crossed with extensive capitalist
endeavors. While observers marvel at the speed of China to climb from rags to
riches within 30 years, overtaking the gross domestic products (GDPs) of Japan,
Germany, France, and Britain with a mammoth population load of 1.3 billion, the
speed of growth is also accompanied by criticisms—in environmental pollution,
bad labor conditions, authoritarian state control, cheap copycat manufacturing,
and product safety.
For those interested in the
social studies of finance, the area study of China is a good case to illustrate
that the old dichotomous boundary between “Western economies” and “indigenous
economies” (or “emergent economies”) should be challenged. On one hand, global
markets are connected through similar procedural protocols (Clark and Drift
2005)
and electronic trading platforms (Knorr Cetina and
Bruegger 2002) between New York, London, Abu Dhabi, Shanghai, and Tokyo alike.
On the other hand, in an age of pluralism and multiple modernities (Gray 2002),
very different political backdrops, ideologies, social structures, and
cultures can be at work at different sites. On a hot summer Friday after the
commodity futures market closes, traders in London may go to pubs to socialize
and relax, but exchange staff members in China attend occasional political
workshops, such as those under the nationwide movement “On Preserving the
Advancedness of the Communist” (baochi
gongcandangyuan xianjinxing) in 2005, to fulfill their roles as members of the
Communist Party. As portrayed by Ellen Hertz (1998), stock traders in Shanghai
are mobile across national boundaries and various social orders. They adopt
concepts and terminologies from Western markets, are aware of their position
relative to the world, yet live in a sociocultural environment with significant
differences from European-American societies. In the empirical reality of globalization,
what is native and what is foreign now becomes a heterogeneous amalgam. The
heated debate of economic anthropologists in the i96os-7os between universal
market mechanisms and indigenous social orders, or between Western and non-Western
economies (Caliskan 2005:10), now appears to be too restrictive. A more
versatile view is demanded for those who wish to understand the geographies of
finance after the 2000s.
This chapter will start with
a brief summary on the history of China’s modern financial markets, and some
factual description on the markets of mainland China, Hong Kong, and Taiwan. It
proceeds to one short section on Hill Gates’ two-tier theoretical framework,
which provides helpful insights on China’s economic and social structure
throughout the ancient, republican, and communist periods. Then the main part
will portray four aspects of Chinese markets: first, the relationship between
public and private sectors; second, regionalism and local clusters; and third,
examples of market transactions in the form of commission fees. The ending of
the chapter is a conclusion on the infiltration of politics in Chinese markets,
and a short discussion on cultural essentialism.
The content is largely drawn
from the author’s ethnographic study on China’s futures markets in 2005.
Through examples from a narrow asset class, namely commodity futures,1
this chapter seeks to explore broader generic properties that are applicable to
other asset classes such as stocks, bonds, or real estate. The discussion can
serve as background knowledge that may help the reader to understand other
specific issues in Chinese markets, such as shareholder reform of state-owned
enterprises (SOEs), issues encountered by foreign direct investment (FDI),
market bubbles, and overshoots. The fieldwork involved included a one-month
internship in a commodity futures exchange, a ten-week internship in a futures
brokerage firm, participant observation in four industry training courses and
three industry conferences, and 33 semi-structured interviews. The fieldwork
was conducted from May to December 2005 in the futures industry of China. The
primary fieldwork locations were Beijing and two out of three cities with
futures exchanges in China: Shanghai, Dalian, and Zhengzhou; some interviews
and conferences also took place in Tianjin, Shenzhen, and Hong Kong. Fieldwork
access was first realized from attending industry conferences, and further
access was obtained by gaining the trust of gatekeepers and snowballing. To
protect certain field subjects, some personal particulars have been altered,
and the names of futures exchanges are presented as P, Q, and R.
The precursor of modern
markets in China can be dated back to the Qing dynasty in the 1820S-30S, with
silver ingot futures originating from Ningbo (Du 1996: 3-4; Shen 2003: 114).
Stock trading in China can be dated back to the 1860s (Fung 2002; Zou 2010),
whereas the first stock exchange was founded under the control of European and
American merchants in 1892 in Shanghai (another stock exchange was established
in 1891 in Hong Kong, which was ceded as a British colony in 1842). From late
Qing (before 1911) to the Republic of China (1911-45), a number of exchanges
trading on stock, bond, and future were established under colonial or
nationalistic appeals (Shen 2003: 116). Examples include a series of Japanese
exchanges in northeast Manchuria and Shanghai (Lei 1981), a ring of Chinese
merchants led by Yu Qiaqing in Shanghai in 1914, and the Peking Securities
Exchange led by Chinese merchant Wang Jingfang (under the support of republican
leader Sun Yat-sen) in 1918. A spectacular market boom and bust, namely the
Trust and Exchange Crisis, took place in Shanghai in 1921 in which over a
hundred exchanges flourished and dwindled within two years. That was followed
by the 1930s when government bonds became more popular than stocks. However,
the early Chinese markets were frequently disrupted by wars and the economic
turmoil of the country in the 1930s and 1940s, restraining them from steady
development. After the Communists took over China in 1949, the production, pricing,
and distribution of commodities were taken over by a system of state control,
planned economy, and agricultural communes. Banks and private companies were
turned into state enterprises, and during the Cultural Revolution (1966-76)
under Communist ideologies market trading became a social evil of the past.
Stock markets did not resurface until 1990.
When China entered the
reform era after 1978, there was a heated debate over stock markets under a
socialist country. The People’s Bank of China started a strategic research
group on stock markets in 1984, and over-the-counter stock trading started in
1986. To keep domestic and foreign capital in separate compartments, Chinese
common stocks were divided into a dual system of “A” shares and “B” shares. “A”
shares are common stock only available to domestic individuals, institutions,
and legal persons—excluding those from overseas, Hong Kong, Macau, or Taiwan.2
“B” shares were launched in October 1991 to absorb international capital, and
were unavailable to domestic Chinese individuals until 2001.3 Two
stock exchanges were opened: the Shanghai Stock Exchange (SHSE) in December
1990 and the Shenzhen Stock Exchange (SZSE) in July 1991 in the southern city
of Shenzhen.4
As of December 2010 the
market capitalization of the stock exchanges in Chinese societies are: Shanghai
(SHSE) $2.72 trillion, Shenzhen (SZSE) $1.3 trillion, Hong Kong (HKEx) $2.71
trillion, and Taiwan (TWEX) $0.82 trillion. Shanghai has 894 listed companies,
Shenzhen has 1,169, Hong Kong has 1,413, and Taiwan has 784. The percentage of
those who trade stock out of the whole population is 9.4 percent for mainland
China (126 million out of 1.34 billion in 2010); around 28 percent for Hong
Kong (2 million out of 7 million in 2007); and around 68 percent for Taiwan
(15.16 million out of 23.17 million in 2010).
Commodity futures is a niche asset type,
with over 60 commodity futures exchanges opening over mainland China in 1992-4,
but eventually most exchanges were closed down by the central state except
three: the Shanghai Futures Exchange (SHFE), the Dalian Commodity Exchange
(DCE), and the Zhengzhou Commodity Exchange (ZCE). A new China Financial
Futures Exchange (CFFEX) was opened in Shanghai in 2006 on pioneering index
futures products. As of 2010 the niche futures market of mainland China had a
total deposit amount of around $31 billion, and total transaction amount of
over $23.5 trillion. In Hong Kong, the Hong Kong Futures Exchange is a subsidiary
under the Hong Kong Exchanges (HKEx) Group. There are two other niche exchanges
on commodities and futures: the Chinese Gold and Silver Exchange Society, which
was founded in 1910 with open-outcry trading still going on, and the Hong Kong
Mercantile Exchange, which is a young exchange on electronic trading. In Taiwan
the exchange for trading futures is the Taiwan Futures Exchange (TWFE).
Gates (1996) provides a helpful economic and
ideological framework from Marxist materialism to analyze China’s economy and
society. She suggests that since the late imperial times in the Song dynasty
(960-1279 ad), the economy of China has
been running on dual modes of production: the tributary mode of production
(TMP), and the petty-capitalist mode of production (PCMP). In the late imperial
times, the TMP was made up of an elite class of Confucian scholar-officials,
who operated a national bureaucracy and extracted “surpluses” from the masses
(Huang 1997:117). Merchants had a long history of being repressed over the
dynasties (Yuan 1948), and there was a wide gap of class and status between
merchants in the PCMP and scholar-officials in the TMP (see Ho 1954).5
Gates suggests that in the post-1949 period, rather than being abolished, the
TMP was partially replaced by nationalist officials in Taiwan and by Communist
cadres in mainland China. In contrast, the PCMP is made up of the commoner
classes who make a subsistence living. They distribute the surpluses that
remained from the TMP by means of wage labor and “patricorporations”—a hierarchical
system made up of kinship and gender (Hertz 1998: 13). Gates argues against
Marx’s view that late imperial China belonged to a broad “Asiatic mode of
production,” where a stagnant empire “vegetat[ed] in the teeth of time” (Gates
1996: 18-19). Instead, within the PCMP, dynamic wage labor, markets, private
property, and classes were already present far back in imperial times. However,
a large part of surpluses from the PCMP were “channeled to officials” in the
TMP, in contrast to being channeled to capitalists in the industrial revolution
of Europe (Gates 1996: 39). What makes the Chinese economy different from its
American or European counterparts are not essentialist “Chinese
characteristics” just because this economy is “Chinese.” The difference comes
from a longitudinal development of the TMP/PCMP economic formation that had
been in motion for over a thousand years in history, which is both a heritage
and a burden not shared by European or American counterparts. Gates also
dissolves the historical sharp breaks between “feudal China” pre-1949 and
“sprouts of capitalism” after 1978, as sometimes held by Chinese official
historiography or historians in China (Huang 1997: 119). Gates’ analysis
suggests that the dual economy of TMP/PCMP is evolving in continuity from the
late imperial times, nationalist period, Maoist era, to the current economic
reforms. This framework helps to explain why contrasting properties—such as
moral- ism, kinship ties, and social harmony on the one hand, and calculative
and ruthless competition on the other—seem to coexist in China’s economy (Huang
1997: 117). From my empirical field observations, vast differences in status
and income between the public and private sectors of the futures industry seem
to echo with Gates’ distinction between the TMP and PCMP.
Stepping into the futures
markets of China in 2005, one can quickly identify several sectors: state
regulatory officials and exchange staff, foreign bankers and brokers, domestic
brokerage firms, and investors. There is a clear sense of hierarchy according
to the above order. The order is usually observed in conference seating plans,
arrangement of program speakers, media headlines, and lists of contributors’
names. A field subject from the Futures Industry Association of China (FIA)
once explains to me, “It took us a few years to get our market structure
right—the CSRC [China Securities Regulatory Commission] guan [governs] the three exchanges; the three exchanges guan the members of exchanges; the member firms guan their clients”
While staff members from
industry associations present this vertical line of power and governance
(Figure 23.1) as an achievement, exchanges and regulators in Hong
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Regulatory bodies
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Exchanges
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governance
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Brokerage Firms
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Investors
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V
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figure 23.1 How Brokers and Iindustry Associations of
China’s Futures Markets Perceive the Market Structure
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Regulators
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Investors
Brokers
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Exchanges
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Regulation
Infrastructure
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figure 23.2 How the Hong Kong Stock Exchange Presents its
Market Structure to the Local Media
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Kong usually present their
“market structure diagrams” with private firms occupying a central space where
competition takes place (Figure 23.2). The public and quasi-public institutions
tend to place their own organizations modestly on the side, indicating that
their job is to provide regulation and supporting infrastructure. They use
words such as “partnership,” “cooperation,” “support,” or “check and balance”
on the public-private interface. As Hong Kong, Taiwan, and the Chinese faction
of Singaporean markets are Chinese societies with market perceptions different
from Figure 23.1, I do not take the cultural essentialist discourse that the
vertical hierarchy is a unique “characteristic of Chinese markets.”
The vertical hierarchy can
be observed in exchange P from the organization of material space, income
distribution, and the perception of identities. Walking around the building of
exchange P, one can quickly sense an air of status division embodied in the
physical space. The building has three floors. The ground floor and foyers are
open for public access; the lower floors (basement, first floor, and second
floor east wing) are used by around 300 trading floor representatives (also
known as “red jackets”) of the member firms; the upper floors (second floor
west wing and third floor) are used by 140 staff members of the exchange. On
the lower floors, a typical red jacket who works on the 1/F trading floor in
2005 earns around RMB 800-1,400 a month. Her local manager, who may come to the
second floor east wing offices from time to time, earns around RMB 2,500-8,000
a month. On the upper floors, a mid-level exchange staff member working in
marketing or research earns around RMB 15,000-40,000 a month. Most of the time
the two sectors work in separate spaces, eat separately, and use separate
lavatories, and there is an immense social distance between them. The red
jackets have lunch at the basement fast food shop, or order takeaway lunch
boxes from nearby fast food shops. In contrast, the exchange staff members have
an upper floor canteen, which is out of bounds for most of the members, where
staff members are served with meals designed by dieticians.
Occasionally I joined
several red jackets for lunch in the basement canteen, and walked around the
members’ reading room and office area during lunch hours (11:30
a.
m.-1:30 p.m.). It is an area where brokers, clients,
and red jackets hang around, chat, smoke, read newspapers, and take afternoon
naps. Once I asked a few red jackets:
siu: What is the job of the huangmajias (yellow jackets) on the trading floor?
red jacket: They are there to guan (govern over) us.
In the Chicago exchanges, members of the
exchange such as dealers and traders have a higher status than the exchange
staff. When the two come across each other, say in the washrooms, members may
not bother to speak to the exchange staff. Yet it is the opposite way around
in China’s futures markets; the red jackets readily submit to the authority of
the yellow jackets and the exchange staff. I mentioned the Chicago washroom
scenario to some red jackets, and they were bemused by the contrast. One red
jacket says, “That’s not too surprising. Officials in America are there to
provide services (fuwu); officials in China are here
to govern (guan)"
Who owns the three futures
exchanges: are they public or private? In name the exchanges operate upon a
cooperative membership (huiyuanzhi), where the private futures
companies are supposed to own the exchange. Yet experienced traders and
brokers cannot give a definite answer to the question of whether futures
exchanges are public or private. A staff member of an exchange confirms to me
that futures exchanges used to be SOEs (guojia qiyie) in the past, but in 2005 the state clarified the new
status of the futures exchanges as shiye danwei, which is a surprise to some brokers and traders. The
term shiye danwei refers to a range of social
organizations that are neither SOEs, private enterprises (minying qiyie), nor non-government organizations (NGOs).
They are institutions that provide public services, such as hospitals,
schools, utilities, agricultural supporting services, and news media.6
The term has been widely translated as “public service units" yet domestic
scholars suggest that the translation is inadequate to illustrate their full
properties. Therefore I prefer translating the term shiye danwei as “vocational units” in this chapter.
Vocational units can carry
out one or more of the following functions: execute governance functions
(e.g., hospitals actively enforce state policies of birth control); provide
community services; and engage in profit-making activities (Fan 2004). These
three functions are often intermingled, and the weighting between governance,
community service, and profit-making in an organization can fluctuate. The mix
depends on policy shifts and the organization’s sources of income.7
Arguably, there is no clear boundary between the roles of governance, service,
and profit-making; vocational units have integrated properties in the
quasi-public, quasi-private space in the market.
One incident during my fieldwork internship
reveals interesting properties of quasipublic institutions. In autumn 2005,
the China Futures Association organized a series of career talks called “Grand
Lectures on Futures” (qihuo
dajiangtang) as a roadshow event around major universities in the country. For each
career talk, a couple of key industry figures gave an introduction. A few
brokerage companies are there to distribute company brochures and answer
questions from students. As a brokerage firm intern, one evening I attended one
of these career talks. The lecture hall was jam-packed with hundreds of eager
graduates-to-be. Without giving much thought to it, at first I had assumed my
role as a junior intern was to do marketing, recruitment (competing for
potential talents), and brand-building work for my brokerage firm, which is a
private company. I also understood that the association promoted awareness and
understanding about the industry among university students, which is a public
service to the whole industry. I started handing out company pamphlets to all
the students I could reach at the back of the hall. But the act turned out to
be inappropriate—I was quickly stopped by a staff member from the association.
Later on a colleague explained to me that my act was embarrassing; less because
of disturbing the event’s logistics and more because of my misunderstanding of
the real purpose of that event:
XX [name of our brokerage company] is already a great
brand. We don’t really need to do any marketing among the students; the
graduates will eagerly compete for our vacancies. We go there j ust to show our
support and give face to the Association . . . Why do they organize the talks?
By now most employees currently working in the industry have already passed
the qualification exams. The Association is trying to get more fresh graduates
to sit for this year’s exams, collecting more exam fees.
I apologized to both my
colleague and the association’s member of staff. This incident is interesting
to the ethnographer: in this case the quasi-public industry association engaged
in profit-making activities (earning exam fees), while the private brokerage
companies are there to provide supportive community service as a favor, and for
free. It is an example that demonstrates that vocational units can flexibly
merge the roles of governance, service, and profit-making. When income is
decreasing, it is possible to give a higher priority to profit-making
activities. It is also possible for the roles of service and profit-making to
swap and overflow across the public and private sectors. When the quasi-public
sector chooses to focus on profit-making activities, sometimes the non-
profitable role of service can overflow to the private sector through the
exchange of favors, that is, “giving face.”
The nature of the flexible quasi-public,
quasi-private organization (Francis 2001) creates both benefits and problems.
Compared with some Eastern European countries that took up shock therapy (see
King 2007), I suspect such elastic institutions in China can provide extra
flexibility to cope with potential crises in post-Communist market reforms.8
When faced with disruptions like inflation or shortage of supply, flexible
organizations in China may be able to summon creative ways to generate their
own income streams, or create alternative channels of supply and demand to
become relatively self-sufficient, ensuring that the functions of governance
and public service will not grind to a total halt and fail when difficulties
accumulate. However, in the process of market construction, quasi-public
organizations also introduce extra uncertainties and risks in the market
environment, and create problems of fairness. Unclear definitions of
responsibilities and rights give quasi-public organizations a possibility of
cherry-picking, channeling more attention to profit-making activities and
possibly partially neglecting service and governance, or leaving them for
organizations lower in the power hierarchy (e.g., private firms) to deal with,
as part of those nonprofitable functions. This can sometimes consume the
resources of the private sector, weakening their potential
for building a strong and healthy industry.
Sometimes it is simply confusing for organizations to decide who should do
what.
The second generic property
of Chinese markets is the formation of regional clusters, which are made up of
an aggregate of heterogeneous state bureaus, SOEs, private firms,
entrepreneurs, projects, and funds. These regional clusters often show
characteristics of proximity cliques, as described under the framework of
social network analysis (for example, see Scott (2000: 114-120) and Burt (1995,
2005)). Agents from the same geographical location or within the same industry
in the same province tend to stay in frequent contact with each other. They
have mutual common contacts, share overlapping information sources, and create
a mini social environment that sometimes tend to produce similar viewpoints.
Such informal structures can be recognized by the high density of social
connections within a local subnet. Sometimes cliques also show features of centrality,
as the capital factions are aligned around charismatic leaders.
Depending on the degree of
economic development, these regional clusters can range from close proximity
cliques that exclude outsiders to extensive and dynamic economic cooperation
zones. As some regional clusters aspire to incorporate a wide belt of cities
(for example, the Yangzi Delta and the Pearl Delta), they tend to grow beyond
proximity cliques or local social relationships to achieve a more open and
pluralistic form of economic cooperative zones. In the 2000s, three leading
national zones can be identified in China’s financial sector. The first one is
the Yangzi River Delta, which is led by Pudong in Shanghai, Hanzhou, Suzhou,
and Nanjing, and extends to the northern Zhejiang province and southern
Jiangsu province. The second one is the Pearl River Delta, led by Hong Kong,
Shenzhen, Guangzhou, and the Guangdong province in the south. The third one is
the Beijing-Tianjin-Hebei area in the north, which carries the advantage of
being the political headquarters of China. State-enterprise coalition and guanxi (relationship) connections remain important, yet in
these mature economic zones entrepreneurship is no longer strictly tied to
land-based resources and the local officialdom. Companies adopt principles of
modern management and formal institutions, and become adaptive and open to
outsiders. They also take on the organizational structure of capital-based
national conglomerates or joint ventures with foreign enterprises, which
enables them to extend their scope beyond regionalism.
However, in many provinces
and municipalities, regional state-enterprise clusters remain the most
important socioeconomic structures. I come across a vivid case in my fieldwork
that illustrates the properties of a closed form of proximity clique. In summer
2005, futures exchange Q was preparing a draft set of trading rules for a
“coming-soon” commodity derivative product. The product had already passed its
first phase of product design, yet it had been caught in a long and uncertain
process for more than ten years, pending approval by the China Securities
Regulatory Commission (CSRC). The set of trading rules has concrete mechanisms
covering issues in contract specification, risk management, and hedging. Yet
when it comes to the section on market-making, the rules become intriguingly
abstract and vague. The clauses state principles such as “equivalence in
rights and obligations” and “for the market’s liquidity and efficiency.”
However, the actual obligations and benefits for market-makers are left open,
to be specified between the exchange and individual market-makers in individual
agreements. A sample of such an agreement is included in the appendix of the
draft document of trading rules, with most of the clauses subject to
modifications, and all the numerical parameters left blank. The blank items
include the minimum transaction volume that a market- maker needs to fulfill,
the maximum response time for giving bid/ask quotes, and the discount on
commission fees. The main text of the rules carries an explanatory clause,
stating that such an arrangement can “contribute to the stability of the
trading rules, while leaving flexibility against market changes.”
This appears to be an extreme form of
interpretative flexibility. “Rules” are left as a stable but empty husk, while
the judgment between legitimate and transgressive behavior is passed on to the
appendix and individual agreements, subject to a constantly shifting framework
on a case-by-case basis. According to some newspaper columnists, the market-making
arrangement of exchange Q, while not formally approved by the CSRC, is silently
endorsed when the trading volume of products E and F fall to dangerously low
levels. Some designated market-makers, mainly from the local province, enjoyed
extremely low commission fees on exchange Q that literally approached zero. A
few brokers and analysts have voiced out their discontent in separate
interviews:
Take the example of exchange Q. A
significant proportion of their trading volumes on E and F (futures products)
are fabricated by market makers, who are aligned by the exchange itself. When
the exchange and its market makers get into a close pact, outsiders find it
extremely unfavourable to trade there. You cannot peer through the volume of
“real” transactions.
(Futures analyst,
interviewed by the author)
We rarely trade products E and F. Those
people just draw their own funds to do it [produce trading volume]. Their
prices are not linked up with international levels, and pricing is not a
self-initiated market mechanism. We do not want to be eaten up by fraudsters .
. . exchange P is much better, but we still hear occasional cases.
(Futures analyst, interviewed by the author)
The relationship between
exchange Q, its market-makers and its members can be summarized by Figure
23.3. The relationship between the exchange and most of its members is defined
by a set of trading rules equally applicable to all members—represented by the
thick dotted line. Meanwhile, the market-making system of products E and F is a
temporary add-on feature devised by exchange Q. A handful of market-makers
(denoted by “MM” in the diagram) enter into individual agreements with Eechange
Q. Each individual agreement may be different—represented by the thin lines of
variable lengths. This market segment is spanned by the flexible and contingent
association between exchange Q and the market-makers. The ring of market-makers
can be understood as an exceptional mode of market mechanism, initiated by the
exchange as an “exception- handling” mechanism to deal with the survival crisis
of low liquidity. The market-makers
 |
 |
 |
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All Other Traders / Members
figure 23.3 The Relationship
between Exchange Q and its Members
are happy to accept their
exceptional status, as the result of case-by-case negotiation enables them to
take advantage of their special status to enjoy lower commission fees. Notice
that in this exceptional mode, the actors are actively establishing a ring of
relationships. Such a ring was formed in order to obtain protection, benefits,
better judgment in calculation, and for future prospects. Both sides enter the
symbiotic relationship for survival purposes. The case of exchange Q is a
regionalized coalition formed across the public-private boundary for local
benefits, where outsiders find it difficult and unfair to compete, and it is
not a sustainable way of development on a long run.
David Wank’s (1999) study of
enterprises in Xiamen verifies that regional clusters are not a unique feature
in the futures industry; they are significant in the general business
environment of China. Wank finds that it is often difficult to have a clear-cut
definition of whether an enterprise is private or public, and ambiguity can
exist in many forms. To reach genuine understanding of how businesses in China
run, it is more important to start from the context of the social
environment—namely how enterprises establish relationships (guanxi) with the local government bureaus, instead
of tracing policy and legal documents on property rights.
Between the macro-level of
economic zones and microlevel of local cliques, market movements are often
comprehended on a mesa-level in terms of “capital factions” (zijin paixi). In times of volatile movements in the
futures markets, it is common for the industry discourse to identify who the
“main force” (zhuli) is behind the longs (duotou) and the shorts (kongtou). These capital factions can be identified by
geographical locations, such as the Sichuan faction, Zhejiang bang (gang), Shanghai faction, or Henan province; by state-owed
industry enterprises, such as food and oils, animal feed, or nonferrous metals;
or by being affiliated with the names of powerful government bureaus. During
the 1990s, capital factions used to carry strong tones of regionalism or
personal heroism, and they clashed violently in the futures markets, especially
during corner events— which means to control a significant proportion of a
particular commodity, and manipulate its price movements to obtain abnormal
profits.9
A spectacular event called
“Event 327,” which happened in the futures markets in 1995 can illustrate the
intensity of such clashing regionalism. The incident occurred on the Treasury
bond futures market in the Shanghai Securities Exchange. It took place on the
futures contract No. 327, whose underlying asset was a Chinese Treasury bond
issued in 1992 with a par value of 100 renminbi, coupon rate 9.5 percent, and
maturity date in June 1995. The Shanghai International Securities Co. Ltd.
(SISCO) (affiliated with the Shanghai municipal government) was betting a
declining market on contract No. 327, because SISCO got information that
Beijing was going to issue 150 billion yuan of T-bonds. However, to the
surprise of SISCO, on February 21, 1995, the Ministry of Finance announced that
two-thirds of the bond issuance would be shelved. On February 23, 1995, the
Liaoning Guofa Co. Group Ltd. (owned by local financial institutions in the
northeast province Liaoning) and the China Economic Development Trust and
Investment Co. (CEDTIC, owned by the Ministry of Finance) switched from short
to long positions. Others followed suit. To struggle against the rising prices
of futures contract No. 327, within the last eight trading minutes on February
23, 1995, SISCO shorted bond futures worth 1,460 billion yuan (about $180
billion; another version says 211 billion yuan, $26 billion), equivalent to
one-third of China’s GDP in 1994. Prices were driven down to turn SISCO’s
position from a loss of 6 million yuan to profits of 1 billion yuan, but the
regulators decided to roll back all the trades made in the last 7.5 minutes of
the trading day. To make matters worse for SISCO, on February 25 the Ministry
of Finance announced that the coupon payout rate of the underlying T-bond would
be raised from 9.5 percent to 10.38 percent, and the repayment of principal and
interest on each par value of 100 yuan would be raised from 128.5 to 148.5
yuan. With a debt of $120 million mostly owed to the Industrial and Commercial
Bank of China (ICBC), in April 1995 SISCO was merged with Shanghai Shenyin
Securities Co. Ltd., which was majority owned by ICBC, to become Shanghai
Shenyin International Securities Co. Ltd. (SSIS). Two years later in February
1997, Guan Jinsheng, leader of SISCO, was accused of seemingly irrelevant
corruption charges from 1992-4 and sentenced to 17 years imprisonment; he was
released on bail for “medical treatment” in 2003. On the other hand, according
to Yuan (2002), CEDTIC, as the leader of the long factions, should have made
approximately 7 billion yuan of profits out of Event 327. However, CEDTIC had
rolled up a debt of over 7.6 billion yuan instead. The journalist Yuan Jian and
a few futures bloggers believed that the actual profits were reaped by someone
working in CEDTIC through “rat trading”—a dishonest practice by brokers in
which they carry out a client’s trade using their own account at the best
timing, then trade between their own account and the client’s account to pocket
the difference in price (Li 2004; Neftci and Menager-Xu 2006: 250-4; Suen et
al. 2005: 80-1; Yao 1998: 103-6; Wu 2006; Zhang J. 2001).
Domestic industry critics
and academics often used the term “subjectivity” (zhutixing) to describe the futures markets (see Ju 2006; Ouyang
2006: 80). The term carries a translated Marxist sense, as ascribed from
“revolutionary subjectivity”—a term widely used during the Cultural Revolution
in the i950s-60s. In the 2000s, the public sector of the futures markets is
said to “have a strong subjectivity,” meaning that as a more established sector
it is able to take initiatives, make decisions, draw resources, and play a more
active role. The private sector is described as having “a weak subjectivity,”
being weaker in terms of financial strength, social and political resources,
and having a fragmented market structure that is difficult to mobilize. Private
entrepreneurs complain that “futures companies have now fallen to the status
of laboring for the exchanges” (Hong 2007).
In China historically the
prices of commodities are embedded within political and communal contexts. In
1992-4 futures exchanges were typically constructed with provincial and
municipal governments as lead players. Usually it was the local government that
takes the lead to align a consortium of regional state-owed structures (such as
the food and oils distribution system, state reserve bureau, economic bureaus,
and telecom bureaus) to establish a local commodity exchange.10 The
early 1990s was the time when local governments had “increased
responsibilities, less centrally allocated resources to achieve them, and
greater autonomy to devise solutions” (Wank 2002: 101); national regulation
and entry barriers were nearly nonexistent, enabling the local governments to
take things into their own hands. From local governments’ points of view, a
commodity futures exchange was an attractive project because it brought
business opportunities to the local state bureau. Benefits included the
accumulation of capital (as membership fees, commission fees, and margins), the
initial construction works and services, plus business opportunities for local
enterprises. More importantly, it could become a favorable item on the local
official’s political resume. Success would produce a political showcase of
“socialist economic reform.”
Local governments are in a much better
position than the private sector to take up the role as principal initiator of
the organizing committee. It is they who are able to mobilize highly
heterogeneous local (difang) resources to form the
aggregate needed for a commodity futures exchange. Such resources include land
use, construction works, government permits, public utilities,
telecommunication infrastructure, SOEs, ports and logistics, state reserve, and
delivery warehouses. Many of the above elements were partially controlled or
redistributed by state cadres (Guthrie 2000; Wank 2002). The local governments
can be highly flexible and creative in utilizing their resources. For example,
when exchange P first started its simulated futures trading and forward
trading, the original site was a building rented from the local branch of the
Ministry of Information Industry, with the extra benefit of good
infrastructural support on a major local telecom exchange hub. When we study
the construction of exchanges, a theory of the firm applicable here is one in
which we define a firm by its nonhuman assets (Hart and Moore 1996). Tangible
assets relevant to exchanges are the physical location and equipment;
intangible assets are things like reputation for honesty, enforceable trading rules,
and, above all, market depth (Hart and Moore 1996: 55). Since modern China, in
its social organization, has a weak basis of credit, mutual trust, and legalism
to start with, political authority becomes a possible substitute when it comes
to issues of trust. That is also why exchanges fully initiated and supported by
a local government can gain better trust from investors and traders, and
kick-start their market depth. However, this also tends to intensify the
inequality between the public and private sectors.
In the futures markets,
commission fees are charged on a double-tier basis, which further illustrates
that the market is “compartmentalized” across the public-private boundary. For
every transaction conducted through a trading seat, the corresponding member
firm pays a fixed commission to the exchange as specified in the standardized
futures contract; for every transaction conducted, a client also pays a
commission to his/her brokerage firm as specified by the terms of agreement
between them.
Table 23.1 shows the
commission fees in 2004-6. In practice the percentages paid to the three
exchanges vary widely, as they depend on a number of conditions. Commission
fees charged by the exchanges can differ a lot from the standardized “list
price” as specified in the standardized contract. In special time frames such
as promotional periods of a new futures product, discounts (marked by + in
Table 23.1) are given in the form of announcements and circulars to members.
Starting from 2004 the three exchanges employ a measure of rebates (fanhui) to some member firms. Those who reach the
top few ranking positions in trading volume can receive an annual bonus of RMB
200,000-800,000 from an exchange, significantly lowering the actual level of
commission fees they paid to the exchange. As a consequence, brokerage firms
who are eager to secure these rebates are willing to give further commission
discounts to their volume clients, or even have their commission fees waived.
Some field subjects argue that the practice of annual bonuses from the
exchanges is, in effect, aggravating the price war in brokerage commission
fees.
In addition, the amount of
commission fee charged to the trading client depends on the client’s size of
capital, trading volume, and the nature of the transaction. Volume traders, day
traders, and speculators enjoy lower fees than small-scale, infrequent hedgers.
Fees can differ across geographical regions. For example, fees are more
expensive in the well-off southern provinces or in remote provinces such as
Xinjiang, where brokerage service is a scarce resource; whereas fees can be
lower in Beijing where competition between brokers is fierce. Brokerage firms
from regions such as Shandong or Heilongjiang have tried to negotiate
cartel-like systems of floor rates. Some are able to
464
LUCIA LEUNG-SEA SIU
|
Table 23.1 Commission fees in China's futures markets
(2004-6, schematic sketch)
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Sources: Field subjects, newspaper
reports, regional industry associations, and the three exchanges.
Note: All commission fees were
on “single-sided" [danbian] transactions, e.g., the opening or closing of a position.
* The SHFE
commissions are specified in fractions of current price of 2005.
+ Some
exchanges offer discounted rates for specified periods of time.
** PTA was a new product
listed in December 2006.
uphold a floor price system
for some time, but in many cases secret breaching of agreements make them
useless. In terms of trading channels, phone and floor trading are more
expensive than electronic trading.
Despite all the
differentiating conditions and exceptions, the general picture is that most of
the transactions come from volume clients, and the brokerage firms usually
charge commission fees in the lower range of Table 23.1. Hence, usually more
than half (50 to 85 percent) of their commission income goes to the treasury of
the exchanges. That ratio is remarkably high, as compared with the reported 1
percent in Japanese commodity futures exchanges (Luo 2007). Although the total
number of staff members working in the three exchanges is less than 5 percent
of those working in the futures
brokerage firms,11 in 2001 the
three exchanges made a total profit more than three times that of all the 180 +
futures brokerage firms put together.12 There exists an uneven
distribution of profit-making opportunities across the public-private
boundary. The brokerage firms are exposed to fierce market competition and
thin profit margins. In contrast, the three futures exchanges are relatively
shielded from the rough waters and enjoy much higher profit margins. The two
sectors operate in two separate compartments, and direct competition between
them is impossible.
The above discussion shows
that the Chinese market is deeply infiltrated by the state structure and
political power, and the state occupies an important role in the hierarchical
market makeup. Regulatory officials often adopt the position that they
“monitor and manage” (jianguan ^^, to regulate) the
markets, such that market stability could be sustained; members of the private
sector also accepted such a market makeup, and many of them expect the state to
take action when market crises occurred. (Such a position is in contrast to
their counterparts in Hong Kong, the US, or the UK, where neoclassical
discourses such as “free” markets and “non-intervention” are often used by
regulatory officials.)
Political power is an utmost foundation for
market construction, because it is necessary to provide access to material,
organizational, and legal resources for running futures exchanges. The evidence
of strong political support is also essential to foster public trust in a
market. Under such a market structure, prices are extremely sensitive to policy
news; state enterprises are major players of the markets; and regional
governments often serve as “guardian angels” of local futures exchanges and
local futures companies. Sometimes the infiltration of political power might
lead to problems of corruption, but infiltration itself was not equivalent to
corruption. The state structures are simply the most essential parts of the
futures markets, and must be present in this form of market construction. In
fact, the state structures and the markets are closely symbiotic: communism
had been commodified, capitalism had been politicized, and both were mutually
infiltrating each other in the actual social institutions. State structures and
cadres are an integral part of the markets.
In the markets I often came across the
discourse of “Chinese characteristics” (Zhongguo tese) and the “China factor” (Zhongguo yinsu). When used by domestic futures people, I found the term
“Chinese characteristics” bundled with a mixture of ambiguous meanings that
deserve some clarifications here. Sometimes the market people used the phrase
“constructing futures markets with Chinese characteristics” to express
nationalistic sentiments and resentment against foreign imperialism. In
private discussions, some field subjects related their attitude to the economic
history of 1870-1945 (when domestic markets were heavily controlled by colonial
powers), or the hegemonic control of Third World economies by the International
Monetary Fund (IMF) in recent decades—from a perspective of political economy,
this was a valid precaution grounded upon issues of power and national interests.
The discourse could also be entangled with official political propaganda, as
the verbatim was adopted from former state leader Deng Xiaoping’s political
directive in 1982: “to construct socialism with Chinese characteristics.” In
speeches in industry conferences, the phrase “construction of futures markets
with Chinese characteristics” could be read as a supportive statement toward
the state’s economic directives. “Chinese characteristics” can have a third
meaning related to cultural essentialism—that Chinese markets are essentially
different from markets elsewhere. Some field subjects adopted a strong form of
essentialism and believed that it was impossible for any foreigners to gain
genuine understanding of China’s markets. Some field subjects emphasized that
“Chinese characteristics” and “situations of the country” (guo- qing) were beyond the grasp of outsiders. Only
the Chinese, by virtue of ascribed identity, have the right to claim a better
understanding of Chinese markets. The first two meanings of “Chinese
characteristics” are understandable in their respective context, but this third
meaning is a problematic attitude that deters communication and understanding
about markets. Merton (1972) has made a clear argument why such claims should
not stand for any social groups in general. While outsiders are likely to be
hindered by cultural gaps and foci of vested interests, it is also likely that
insiders can be influenced by biases such as myopic perspectives (Merton 1972:
44), or the aggrandizement effect—that is, overestimating the prestige of
one’s own social group (Caplow 1964: 213-16; Merton 1972: 17). Given enough
training, exposure, and insights, competent knowledge is attainable by both
insiders and outsiders. “Chinese characteristics” indeed exist for Chinese
markets, just like Russian, Indonesian, Italian, American, and French
characteristics exist in the respective markets. Nonetheless, local
characteristics should still be eligible for analysis, discussion, comparison,
and understanding by insiders and outsiders alike. In fact, fuller
understanding is more likely to arise from the synthesis of the perspectives of
both insiders and outsiders (Merton 1972: 36-44). Being racially Chinese does
not guarantee a better understanding of Chinese markets. In the light of the
diasporic paradigm when multiple Chinese markets (mainland China, Taiwan, Hong
Kong, Singapore, and overseas Chinese) are taken into account, what constitutes
“Chineseness” is constantly shifting and drifting (Ang 1998). It is impossible
to obtain a single orthodox definition of “Chinese characteristics” of “Chinese
markets” based on cultural essentialism.
Notes
1. A commodity is a good or
service traded across a market without qualitative differentiation. A
commodity future contract is a standardized contract to buy or sell an
agricultural
product (such as soybean), a metal (such as
copper), or an energy product (such as fuel oil) in a pre-agreed time in the
future. A future contract is issued by a futures exchange, which has specified
the terms of the standardized contract.
2.
Except those who get approval on the “Qualified Foreign
Institutional Investor” (QFII) list.
3.
“H” shares, “N” shares, and “S” shares are stocks of
Chinese companies listed in offshore stock exchanges.
4.
In August 1992 an extremely popular initial public
offering (IPO) in Shenzhen attracted great crowds queuing for subscription
forms, which ended up in allegations of unfair allocation and angry crowds
rioting against the municipal government. The CSRC was established afterwards
as the state regulator.
5.
Ho (1954) finds that while Europe was beginning to
undergo industrial revolution in the eighteenth century, the richest group of
merchants in China at that time, the salt merchants of Yangzhou, spent most of
their profits overcoming their inferior class status. Instead of reinvesting
their capital for further production and trade, they channeled their funds to
the education of their offspring (to turn them into the upper class of
scholar-officials); distributed the wealth through their kinship network (to
fulfill the moral value of filial piety); and, for a few notorious merchants,
spent their riches in extravagant gestures such as sprinkling gold powder on
spectacular mountaintops.
6.
As of the end of 2005, China has 1.25 million shiye danwei with a total of over 30.35 million
employees. Over half of the employees work in the education sector, and the
education, health-care, and agricultural service sectors comprise over three
quarters of the employees (Pang and Tang 2007).
7.
The assets of shiye danwei are legally considered state assets. State bureaus
often appoint state cadres to leading positions in vocational units.
8.
One common problem was the vacuum left between a
retreating state and a weak private sector in terms of management and
obligations. See King and Szelenyi (2005). See also King (2007) for the adverse
effects of shock therapy in former Soviet states.
9.
During the 1920s-30s under the regime of the Republic
of China, similar capital factions were also extremely active. In the late
1920s, there were over 100 futures exchanges in Shanghai and southern China
(Chen and Zuo 1994; Liu 2007; Ma and Meng 2005; Xiao 1986; Zhu 1998).
10.
The paradigm of a group of merchants forming an early
exchange like the Chicago Board of Trade did not appear in mainland China in
the 1990s, although the paradigm once appeared in Hong Kong (1891 for stocks,
1910 for precious metals; Fung 2002) and Shanghai (1920, commodities and
stocks).
11.
Rough estimate only. Field subjects tell me that around
20,000 people worked in China’s futures industry, and the three exchanges have
a total of 800 members of full-time staff; that is only 4 percent of the
private sector’s population.
12.
According to a news report by Song (2002), the three
futures exchanges made a total profit of ¥300 million (£20 million) in 2001.
The 180 + futures brokerage firms made a total profit of ¥50 million (£3.33
million) in the second half of 2001, and incurred a total loss of ¥52 million
(£3.47 million) in the first half of 2002. For comparison, a rough projection
is that the 180 + futures brokerage firms would have made a total profit of
¥100 million (£6.67 million) in 2001.
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