Going Up In Smoke
June 30, 2008
In the land where fireworks were
invented,
the ancient industry is struggling to survive
Chen
Tiezhong will likely spend the Fourth of July worrying about the future of his sprawling
fireworks factory. China, where fireworks were invented, is running short of ports
from which to ship the dangerous cargoes abroad.
China's fireworks industry provides 98 percent of
America's overall needs, and 80 percent of the pyrotechnics needed for professional
displays. But the U.S. fireworks business stands to lose $25 million to $30 million
this year because of lost orders, says Julie Heckman, executive director for the American
Pyrotechnics Association.
A Missouri firm says it backed out of some shows
because of the shortage. Meanwhile, some Chinese factories are being pushed close to
bankruptcy.
"Our factory will be forced to close, whether
we want it or not," said Chen Tiezhong at his sprawling 500 employee operation in
Liuyang in central Hunan province.
His factory is one of 900 around this small city
that is known as China's fireworks capital. A traffic circle features a massive
metal sculpture of rockets soaring and bursting into flower-like shapes.
The Chinese word for fireworks is "yanhua"
or "smoke flowers."
Most of the factories are far from town, tucked
safely away among the farms in surrounding hills and valleys. Chen rattles off a
litany of woes: micro-thin profit margins, rising labor costs and soaring prices for raw
materials.
Now, the closure of some Chinese ports to fireworks
may be the final straw.
In February, a blast at a fireworks warehouse led to
a ban on fireworks shipments at the southern port of Sanshui, Guangdong province, which
previously handled 20 percent of China's pyrotechnic exports.
Then, in late March, officials stopped fireworks
shipments at Nanshan, another Guangdong port, after inspectors found explosives that had
been declared as something else.
Guangdong may not allow fireworks shipments to
resume, because the province is trying to shift its economy to more sophisticated goods.
Adding to the industry woes, China has ordered major
ports such as Shanghai and Hong Kong to suspend shipments of explosives as part of
tightened security ahead of August's Beijing Olympics.
"It's been extremely difficult," Chen
said. "There is simply no way out even if we're willing to pay 10,000 yuan
(more than U.S. $1,400) extra for each container."
In China, 30 to 40 percent of fireworks for overseas
customers have not shipped, forcing many of the country's 7,000 factories to curtail or
even stop taking orders, said Liu Donghui, the secretary-general of China-based
International Fireworks Association.
On the U.S. end, 10 percent to 15 percent of orders
didn't show up, said Heckman.
China ordinarily sends 9,000 shipping containers of
fireworks a year to the U.S., she said, and the shortfall "is by far the most
difficult challenge the U.S. fireworks industry has had to face."
Matt Sutcliffe of Premier Pyrotechnics Inc. in
Richland, Mo., realized six weeks ago that he would run short and have to cancel some
shows.
He said he contacted every company he knew to pick
up the slack, but "No company that I talked to said they could take additional
shows."
Heckman said this year's shortage would probably go
largely unnoticed by Independence Day spectators because retailers and pyrotechnicians
will be sharing their stockpiles.
"As competitive as this industry is, we bleed
red, white and blue, and we'll do anything to try to make certain each community gets
their Fourth of July Independence Day show," she said.
Liuyang's factories alone produced $1 billion worth
of fireworks last year, some $430 million of it to meet overseas orders, the association's
Liu said.
Chen's Southern Fireworks Manufacture Co. includes a
cluster of long single-story concrete buildings. Inside, women sitting at concrete
tables paste together rocket tubes with labels in Russian. Some stick fuses into
loaded fireworks and bind them together.
Most of the work is done by hand because machines
can overheat or throw sparks, Chen said.
Red strips of paper glued to each building door
carry a Buddhist inscription for good luck.
"It's getting harder and harder to find people
who will do this work," said Chen.
"They think it's too dangerous. They can
find work in other factories that don't deal with explosives."
The most dangerous job is loading the gunpowder.
This work is done in 130 small concrete buildings, little bunkers scattered around
the site or partially dug into hillsides.
"Only one person works in each structure,"
Chen said.
"If there's an explosion, there will be little
or no damage to the surrounding buildings and workers."
At Jinlian Fireworks Manufacturing and Export Co.,
also in Liuyang, U.S. sales once accounted for one-third of the business, but that's going
to change.
"We are not taking overseas orders," said
Song Wei, a manager. "We dare not."
Only one shipping company, Denmark-based AP
Moeller-Maersk, is willing to transport fireworks used in U.S. shows.
The shipping problems are likely to hit hardest at
smaller makers, and this may be the government's intention.
It's often the small companies that embarrass the
country by employing children, polluting or producing shoddy goods.
But Chen said he can't imagine the government
allowing so many businesses to collapse in an industry with centuries-old roots in Chinese
culture, and put so many people out of work.
"If we're not making fireworks," he said,
"we'll have nothing to eat.