Li Guilian proudly shows off the intricate stone carving under the eaves of the entrance to her dilapidated traditional courtyard house in China's capital.
“Look at the wonderful artwork, this is the mythological crane, this is a pen holder and brush, indicating the house owner was an intellectual,” says Li, 56, pointing at details of the house her grandparents bought a century ago.
Then an air of despondency clouds her face. The local area where she grew up and lives — rows of courtyard houses criss-crossed with alleyways called hutongs — has been slated for demolition.
“No one has consulted us. They just force people to move when they want,” she says, lamenting the fate of the historical area at the hands of district authorities and developers.
Like Li, tens of thousands of residents in Beijing's charming but run-down old city districts are facing the fate of being forced to move out of the homes they have lived in for decades and effectively driven out of town.
Some of these houses are several hundred years old, but Beijing is now going through the biggest wave of destruction since the Cultural Revolution (1966-1976), with swathes of old buildings being razed at a rapid pace.
Whereas precious relics were destroyed due to anti-feudal ideologies in the Cultural Revolution, the current transformation is due to the pull of power and money as land prices rocket in the run-up to the Olympic Games in 2008.
The government's decision to prioritize economic development over heritage protection and its monopoly over land rights have led to the current situation, experts say.
Despite the government announcing several policies in recent years to preserve certain parts of old Beijing from urban development, mass-scale demolition goes on unabated in protected zones, often under the name of “renovation” projects.
Collusion between property developers and officials is common, residents claim, as officials often get a share of property developers' lucrative profits.
For example, in 2002, the Beijing municipal government approved a protection plan for 25 historical districts, yet a few years on, many residents in these areas were told their houses were “hazardous” and had to be demolished.
Residents say they are simply helpless in the face of political and financial power.
Ding Ai, who lives just on the edge of the Forbidden City, says her neighbors were beaten by thugs because they refused to move for a property development project.
“They have this robber mentality,” says Ding, a campaigner for the protection of historical houses. “Many houses are not unsafe, why should they have to move?”
“It's all motivated by profits,” sighs Zhang Jinian, another campaigner. “Their priority is not to preserve our heritage.”
The Olympic Games, seen by the government as an opportunity to showcase a modern and glitzy China, has provided the perfect excuse to get rid of anything perceived as old and decaying, they say.
“They just want to chase out poor people and let the rich people in,” Zhang says.
Ordinary hutong residents are paid compensation for their homes, but the amount is often only adequate for an apartment 25km or further outside the central city.
Architect and urban planner Wu Hwa believes that, in the process of trying to buff up its image by “renovating” the old districts of Beijing, authorities are actually destroying the natural charm and life of the historical capital.
“Things are often better off when they are left alone, they have their own charm. Why do we have to make changes, just to get the opposite result?” Wu says.
Residents living in the hutongs, who know the stories behind the historical buildings, have their own ideas of how to rejuvenate the streets they are familiar with.
In the western district of Xuanwu, where numerous former homes of famous revolutionaries and intellectuals are located, residents say renovating the century-old houses and creating a heritage trail could bring in tourism incomes.
“We should make the most of our historical roots,” says hutong resident Hu Jinhua.
The Beijing Cultural Relics Bureau, while expressing hopes to protect the historical residential areas, says its hands are often tied because it can only protect individual buildings that are officially designated historical relics.
“Ordinary courtyard houses and hutong's come under the jurisdiction of the ministries of construction and planning ... . If they were under the Cultural Relics Bureau, demolition would be prohibited,” says Deputy Director Kong Fanzhi.
But as it is, the residents can only lament the demise of the heritage that they are so proud of but will soon have to sacrifice to make way for new property development.
“I feel this is part of the blood that flows in my body — it is not just a property, but the elixir of China's culture and the pride of our country's wisdom,” says the despondent Li.
“Now we're just like a floating leaf in the sea — completely helpless,” she says, sitting next to an aged carved wooden door frame, a poignant reminder of the house's glorious past.
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