New Models Needed for Sustainable Development of Western China

Young monks at Songzalin Monastery participate in a religious debate. The strong presence of Tibetan Buddhist culture attracts tourists to the area from all corners of the globe.

China’s rapid economic development over the past two decades has occurred mostly along the eastern seaboard, leaving much of the country’s vast western territory badly impoverished and underserved. This unequal distribution of wealth is spurring the largest migration in human history as millions of poverty-stricken westerners head to cities to claim their share of the pie. As a consequence, Chinese policymakers, development agencies, and environmental groups are now scrambling to find a workable solution to the country’s “rural problem.”

One of the most-promoted plans for bolstering China’s rural economy centers around the tourism industry. Planners reason that if enough urban wealth can be transferred to the countryside through spend-happy vacationers, villagers will not need to move to the cities to make a living. In recent years, the Chinese government has worked to actively promote tourism by setting up national parks and building new roads and airports throughout western China. They have even extended national holidays to encourage travel over longer distances. These efforts have resulted in a more than 20 percent growth in China’s tourism industry, with expansion occurring even more rapidly in some areas.

Unfortunately, the country’s approach to tourism has often done more to destroy the villages and ecosystems in question than to improve the quality of life for local residents. The challenges posed by these developments are nowhere more clearly evidenced than in the Diqing Tibetan Autonomous Prefecture in northern Yunnan province, a region that has been consciously and fervently developed by private tourism investors and government development bureaus alike.

In the 1920s and 30s, botanist, explorer, and National Geographic writer Joseph Rock described the then-sleepy Tibetan region of northern Yunnan as “a garden fit for the gods.” Such romantic descriptions inspired British novelist James Hilton to pen his famous 1933 novel Lost Horizons about the mythic land of “Shangri-La,” untouched by crowds and the questionable morals of the modern world.

The streets of Shangri-La’s old town have been ‘restored’ to resemble rural villages, and residents are required to wear traditional clothing in order to preserve the Shangri-La mystique.

Drawing on the popularity of Hilton’s writings, in 2001 the tourism industry of northern Yunnan lobbied to have the prefecture renamed “Shangri-La” in an effort to attract visitors to the “untouched” region. In conjunction with the rechristening of the city, the “Shangri-La Airport” was built in 1999. Promotional websites have been quick to take advantage of this new identity, portraying a region unspoiled by modern development: “Whenever the autumn comes, many kinds of birds will be here. They…fly over and stay around the tents of herdsmen casually. Everything here makes harmonious natural scenery.”

But the region’s reality is much more chaotic and “modernized” than the marketing mythology would lead tourists to believe. According to local tour guides, growth of the regional tourism industry has occurred far more rapidly than elsewhere in China, with some estimates topping 40 percent growth per year. Uttara Sarkar Crees, an ecotourism planner who came to Yunnan from Nepal nearly two decades ago, remembers the city of Zhongdian when it was a small dusty village. Today, it is a bustling urban area with paved roads, Internet cafes, and top-end hotels.

This breakneck growth has been achieved largely through mass tourism and heavy government involvement, leading to degradation of the region’s fragile grasslands and other terrain and creating alienation among local residents. Tsebho R, a native guide for the Shangri-La Travel Company, which leads 12–44 day treks through Tibetan villages and monasteries, describes the negative impact the government attention has had on both the social and ecological integrity of the region: “The government is trying to be involved in everything, fencing off our villages, sacred mountains, and public lands, and requiring entrance fees for visitors. Almost half of the money that used to go to the horsemen and the families when we first started these tours now goes to the government in entrance fees. This is not good for the villages and it also discourages tourists, who are not interested in visiting an artificial-feeling park.”

The new Banyan Tree resort is attempting to create tourism with minimal ecological and social impact by using traditional architecture and hiring local villagers to work on the site and lead tours.

This kind of top-down mass tourism creates an imbalanced economic dynamic, according to Tsebho. “The locals are also starting to be confused by the tourism. They see tourists and they don’t see human beings—they see only money. They demand payment for everything; they are getting too commercialized.”

But ecotourism planner Crees argues that if the government is to blame for the ecological and social damage caused by rapid tourism development, it can also be an important player in developing more-responsible approaches to Shangri-La’s development. “Currently,” she explains, “the government judges the tourism industry based on pure numbers—numbers of tourists, GDP numbers, numbers of trips taken—regardless of what the tour operators are actually doing.” According to Crees, this “bigger is better” mentality is misinformed: “In terms of real stability of income and ecology, 20 people traveling for three days is actually less sustainable than 1–2 people traveling for 20 days.” Crees believes tourism is part of the solution to the region’s rural poverty and ecological damage, but cautions that it has to be the “right kind” of tourism.

A mother and granddaughter prepare food for tourists at their home in Hamagu village outside Shangri-La’s capital. Homestays are often a component of the ecotourism model.

In response to feedback from Crees and other ecotourism operators, the Chinese government has begun making some changes in its annual inspection of tour agencies—for instance, by adding “criteria points” for safety, environmental impact, and proactive work in local communities, such as schools, scholarships, and trainings. But this may not be enough to ensure Shangri-La’s escape from the dangers of the modern world. For this, Chinese authorities, infamous for their massive development projects ranging from the world’s largest dam to the highest railway, will need to learn that bigger is not always better, and incorporate these lessons into a holistic, sustainable development plan.

Lila Buckley is assistant executive director of the Global Environmental Institute, a Worldwatch Institute affiliate based in Beijing. All photos courtesy Lila Buckley.