Throwback Thursday: Spring Festival Fireworks Go Off With... a Whimper

Throwback Thursday takes a look back into Beijing's past, using our 11-year-strong blog archives to glance at the weird and wonderful of yesteryear.

Let us begin with an excerpt from a forgotten foreigner's diary:

"It's 2015 and I'm on my kitchen stool. The smoke outside of the fifth-floor window is so thick it's hard to make out the building shapes. Here it was again, this time right under my balcony and lasted for the whole two minutes. I haven't been outside for three weeks now and I am running out of food. Luckily, my ex-roommate left construction worker's earmuffs that I sleep in, which leaves my neck sore but it's the only way I can get some rest. 'You'll need that,' he said nodding his head with lips pressed tightly together. I see what he meant now..."

Sound familiar? If so, you've probably called Beijing home for at least two years. Though these days we wake up to find that the city has changed overnight and all our favorite bars have disappeared, some regulations have helped improve our quality of life more than the others, despite some initial reluctance to say goodbye.

So here goes: What is one thing that no Chinese New Year celebration should be without?

That's right, fireworks.

We're not talking about the pretty colorful ones, but the full-on exploding-minefield type that threaten to give you a New Year heart attack if you turn the corner at the wrong moment. While everyone else cleared off back in the day to see dear old Ma and Pa in the village, Beijingers enjoyed (read: suffered) weeks of empty streets and the unique terror of having firecrackers surprise-exploding near them. Part of that surprise came from the fact that amongst the sea of red paper and trash, it was very difficult to tell which of the boxes had already been discarded and which ones were going to blow up at any moment.

As the ancient wisdom goes: "Everything our parents said was good, is bad. Sun, milk, red meat... college,” and fireworks were no exception. Back in December of 2017, the use and sale of fireworks was banned inside the Fifth Ring Road, though this wasn't the first time. Back in 2005, a 13-year-long ban on the firecrackers was actually reversed, allowing Beijingers once again to revel in blowing the bejeesus out of the streets as long as pollution levels and other conditions were met).

Fines for usage of fireworks nowadays range from RMB 100 to RMB 200 for an individual (up to RMB 500 if the offense is considered serious) and RMB 1,000-5,000 for an organization (up to RMB 30,000 in special cases, which we assume to mean the accidental setting on fire of entire skyscrapers). 

Besides the most obvious negative outcomes – unending trash in the streets, blown-off fingers, and a myriad of other trigger-happy accidents, the letting off of fireworks also had a huge impact on the already questionable air quality. For example, there were AQI readings of over 1,000 were recorded in Xizhimen during Spring Festival 2015.

Yet even before they were banned, the popularity of fireworks appeared to drop significantly, with a 74 percent decrease in sales between 2017 and 2012, suggesting that fewer Beijingers wouldn't want to set off fireworks even if they were allowed to.

Fast forward to 2019 and Beijing is almost entirely firework-free, leaving locals to finally enjoy their Spring Festival holidays in peace and quiet. If you do happen upon loud popping noises around the city, they're most likely coming from electronic fireworks (yes, they're really a thing), and while loud, you're unlikely to lose your hand, vision, or regular heartbeat by turning the wrong corner.

Check out all our Chinese New Year coverage here.

More by this author here.
Email: tautviledaugelaite@thebeijinger.com

Photos: Flickr, SCMP, BBC, China Daily, BCBarrick