by Ans Hooft
In the Netherlands, we know the BOA – a special enforcement officer, best to understand as a kind of neighborhood cop. Ans Hooft introduces us to a similar profession in Shanghai.
These are busy times for the bao’an, the security guards. They are deployed everywhere in the city, and it seems there is an endless supply of them.
One of the key themes of the Two Sessions 2025, the annual meeting of China’s NPC and CPPCC lawmakers where the national agenda is set, is the improvement of housing and poor living conditions. The dilapidated old homes, including beautiful shikumen and lilong houses, mostly lack private bathrooms or kitchens, and the living space is tiny. Maintenance has been neglected, so there are leaks and pests. Still, people live in the heart of the city and form tight-knit communities.
But 21st-century China – ambitious and wealthy – has decided this is no longer acceptable. Of course, this transformation has been going on for a while; most of the old town has already been demolished. But now it’s the fewer and fewer remaining historic houses turn. Residents are being relocated to proper apartments with private kitchens and bathrooms. Nothing to complain about, except that they’re far away from everything and everyone.
Ask anyone, and they’ll say they’re satisfied and that their new home is a big improvement. Would I want to live in one of those old homes, sharing a toilet with twenty neighbors? No, of course not.
But still, security guards are everywhere during the relocation process. In our lovely Former French Concession, more and more buildings are being bricked up. Quaint little shops, food stalls, cobblers, residents, everything must go to make way for beautification and redevelopment. As soon as a tenant moves out, the front of the building is sealed off with bricks. It looks grim. Recently, though, a slightly friendlier version has appeared: the bricks are plastered white, and a creative city worker paints a cheerful mural on it — a dumpling shop, a woman out for a stroll, or a bicycle loaded with flowers. It’s quite creative and colorful, and helps prevent the street from looking like a ghost town. In the Netherlands, such walls would be covered in graffiti within days — but not here. In many other countries, a street like this would feel unsafe, but not here.
During this process of “renewal” – to use a more diplomatic term than eviction or expropriation – bao’an are stationed everywhere, just in case. A bao’an is not a police officer and does not carry a weapon. Today, I took a walk to see what’s left of my favorite shops. A few are empty but not yet bricked up, and the doors are still open. In each of these empty spaces, a guard sits on a stool. On the street corner too, and even in that charming little lane we love to walk through. It is adjourned with red banners wearing complicated slogans about progress. In five years, our beautiful neighborhood will be unrecognizable, and there’s nothing we can do about it.
There’s another reason the guards are so busy. Three bao’an are lined up on the steps in front of the sealed-off entrance of a popular gym in my neighborhood. Rumors had already been circulating that the gym was struggling: China’s economy is sputtering, and some businesses are going under. The guards (they’re always men) stand rigidly in black uniforms, now with black face masks for added effect. Further down, by the garage exit, another man stands perfectly straight. On the neighboring café’s terrace, two more sit ready for action. And on the opposite corner, yet another one stands, pretending to be indifferent. Imagine just having bought an annual gym membership, or worse, a five-year plan.
These are uncertain times. The streetscape is changing, businesses are closing, and youth unemployment is so high that the government no longer publishes the numbers. Right now, becoming a bao’an might just be your best bet: a job with real career prospects. Take your pick; line up on a stoop, sit on a stool, or stand at a corner. A job with security and a sharp uniform, in the most beautiful neighborhood of Shanghai.
Ans Hooft has lived in Shanghai for 17 years and shares curious observations from her daily life with the readers of ChinaNU+. She is the author of Lockdown in Shanghai:
https://www.boekenbestellen.nl/boek/lockdown-in-shanghai/62959
