An American firm is punished, but China’s food safety problems run much deeper

WALMART, an American supermarket chain, has been having a tough time recently in China, one of its fastest growing markets. On October 25th it reopened 13 stores in the south-western region of Chongqing which were closed for two weeks as punishment for mislabelling a pork product. Chinese officials have recently had a pang of food-safety conscience, and a big foreign firm has offered an easy target.

Food-related scandals, often exacerbated by official negligence or corruption, can cause major political embarrassment in China. In the approach to the Olympic games in Beijing in August 2008, the leadership’s efforts to create an image of a safe and hygienic China led to the suppression of news about a widespread contamination of milk products with melamine, a chemical that can be toxic. By the time the central government admitted the problem in September that year, tens of thousands of babies had been affected and several had died.

Public anger over the incident hastened the passing of a food-safety law in 2009 which was intended to tighten standards, improve supervision and impose tougher penalties on violators. It appears to have done no more to alleviate public anxiety than did the execution in 2007 of a former head of the State Food and Drug Administration for taking bribes to certify products as safe. Toxic foodstuffs continue to be sold. This year the authorities announced a renewed campaign against the use of the steroid clenbuterol after it was discovered in pork products in March. The chemical can make meat leaner, but can also be the cause of heart palpitations, diarrhoea and muscle tremors.

By comparison, Walmart’s offence in Chongqing was minor. Officials said it had mislabelled ordinary pork and sold it as a pricier organic product. But in addition to closing its stores, the company was fined more than $575,000. Two Walmart employees were arrested and another 25 are being investigated. The company’s head in China and a senior vice-president resigned (though Walmart denies any link). A 60-member team was sent to Chongqing to investigate, and its Asia chief executive apologised to the mayor.

With more than 350 stores in the country and nearly 100,000 employees (as well as tough Chinese competitors), Walmart offers a tempting target to officials. It has been punished 21 times in Chongqing since 2006 for a variety of wrongdoings, ranging from false advertising to selling out-of-date food. But Caixin, a Chinese magazine, reported on its website that the latest sanctions against Walmart had been the toughest imposed by the Chongqing authorities on any retailer in recent years. It said aspects of the government’s treatment of Walmart were “worryingly” out of keeping with the spirit of the law, not least the principle that punishment should fit the crime.

Some commentators in China have pointed out that Chongqing has a special interest in appearing tough on such issues. Its party chief, Bo Xilai, has been waging a high-profile (critics say ruthless) campaign against organised crime in the region. Mr Bo has also been promoting communist values of egalitarianism, thrift and honesty (his son’s schooling: Harrow and Oxford). His ardently nationalist supporters cheered the crackdown on Walmart. They hope Mr Bo will take a top position in Beijing during a sweeping shuffle of the Chinese leadership late next year. A commentary on Utopia, a Chinese website that champions Mr Bo, said the Walmart case had demonstrated Chongqing’s “resolute attitude” towards food safety and its determination that every violation should be punished severely.

It is unlikely that many Chinese are similarly convinced. The Walmart case followed close on the heels of another food scandal that seems to shock the public far more: the production and extensive use of “gutter oil”, mainly in restaurants. The term refers to recycled cooking oil, which is often retrieved from drains where it is dumped by restaurants after use. Floating to the top, it is scooped up and recycled, using chemicals to disguise the smell. Such oil can contain carcinogens and toxic mould. Even Xinhua, the government’s news agency, called gutter oil “the most nerve-jittery problem of late” concerning food safety, and one that showed “a really nasty reality of Chinese food today”.

Last month the police said they had arrested 32 people for producing the oil and had seized 90 tonnes of it in 14 provinces. Cynicism is widespread, even in the state-controlled media which reported that an estimated 2m tonnes of the slop are consumed annually in the country by unwitting diners. This is said to be equivalent to about one-tenth of the total used by restaurants. The mysterious death last month of Li Xiang, a reporter investigating the phenomenon, fuelled suspicions among Chinese internet users of an attempt by criminals to silence him.

The government is nervous of the public’s deep mistrust of its ability to supervise the food market (even officials admit that detecting gutter oil can be tricky). On October 19th the prime minister, Wen Jiabao, chaired a cabinet meeting that acknowledged, according to a government release, “great public dissatisfaction” with a lack of honesty in commercial dealings and called for stepped-up efforts to teach people sincerity. Mr Wen has an uphill task in his remaining 17 months at the helm.