National Stadium, national honour

‘National honour’ is a serious force here that can sometimes lead to blundering monumentalism. (Not unique to China, of course. Think of the Millennium Dome.) And while you’d expect Beijing, the national capital preparing for the 2008 Olympic games, to be vulnerable to nationalistic follies, I witnessed an impressive level-headedness around these projects.

A key figure in the Olympic preparations is Qiu Chuang, a chief engineer in the government’s premier consulting body CIECC – and, in a coup for the CIOB, the new chairman of CIOB North China. At 37, Qiu speaks good English, having earned, among several degrees, an MSc in Construction Economics & Management from University College London and a diploma in arbitration from the College of Estate Management. He gets lost driving us to the National Stadium site, probably because, having got such a senior figure trapped, I’m peppering him with questions.

It seems the government has been scaling back costs on its Olympic plans. The equestrian centre was going to cost 0.5bn RMB (or Yuan - the current exchange rate is almost 16 Yuan to the pound) but discussions are underway to cut that to something in the region of 0.2bn RMB. They have decided against building a new tennis centre on the grounds that the old one will do. And the National Stadium, the famous Bird’s Nest designed by Herzog & de Meuron, will no longer have a roof over the centre, only over the stands.

Even more fundamentally, though, two years ago the authorities rethought how to procure the facilities, focusing not just on the visual impact and basic specs, but on the long-term operational viability too. Assisted by some international consultancy, the officials decided to adopt a Build-Operate-Transfer (BOT) model for the facilities, and Qiu Chuang has spent the last two years finding BOT partners for the bulk of them. BOT has been used for hydro projects in China but never for sports facilities.

The advantage of BOT is that it reduces the state’s investment risk. Despite his modesty, Qiu admits that he is China’s foremost expert on BOT sports facilities. And I discovered him!

When we’re finally at the site HQ the main contractor’s chief engineer on the project, Wu Zhixin FCIOB, launches into a brisk report. (The main contractor, CITIC, is a 65% shareholder in the joint-venture (JV) set up to build the stadium and operate it for 30 years. Other partners are Beijing Urban Construction Group, 30%, and the American-based Golden State Holding Group, 5%.)

Swiss architects Herzog & de Meuron won the design competition in 2003, and it’s easy to see why. Amid a predictable collection of futuristic ashtrays and bicycle helmets, the Bird’s Nest is compellingly organic. The nest effect, made structurally possible by Arup, will be achieved with steel: 24 primary box girders 1200mm wide, with secondary members attached irregularly. Wu Zhixin says all the curling and twisting called for by the design will make fabricating the 42,000 tonnes of steel correctly the most risky aspect of the project.

It will be fabricated offsite, which will take between six and nine months, and they are budgeting 370 days for installation.

They broke ground on Christmas Eve 2004, and they expect to have the substructure finished next month, the superstructure done by October, the steel erection finished by September 2006, and the fit-out complete by New Year’s Eve 2007.

the authorities have rethought how to procure olympic facilities, focusing not just on impact, but on long-term operational viability

To make their nests, birds stick twigs together with saliva. But at the National Stadium, the spaces between the steel will be filled with inflated ETFE cushions (ethylene-tetra-fluoro-ethylene). Light, clear and weatherproof, this is the same material used on the Eden project and the Kingsdale School in south London. The roof will have a second layer of PTFE underneath (poly-tetra-fluoro-ethylene) to protect spectators from the Beijing summer sun. German firm Covertex won the roofing contract.

Finally we get on site. Activity is concentrated on piling and creating the podium substructure. We’re told there are about a thousand workers currently on day and night shifts. That number will peak at 5000, probably in October. I’m so wide-eyed I can’t take anything in, except how quiet it is. All I can hear is faint hammering as labourers chisel away at pile caps.

Fortunately for you, dear reader, the CIOB president, Geoff Wright, who is construction director for developer Hammerson in his day job, registers the scene with the cool eye of a client, and I will rely on his impressions to convey what we saw going on that day at one of China’s most important construction jobs.

In no particular order, here are his thoughts:

• The pile caps they are removing without the aid of power tools are between 1m and 2m high, which seems a waste. Miscalculation or design change?
• Apart from a few tower cranes, there is no mechanical plant. On a similar site in the UK there would be compressors making a racket and diggers and dumpers whizzing around so that getting run over would be a real hazard. Evidence of China’s inexhaustible labour force?
• There are no temporary lighting rigs in sight, which you’d expect if they run a night shift. Maybe they use big torches?
• The site is very tidy but some falling hazards wouldn’t be allowed back home.
• The workers are housed in a compound on the far side of the site. I am curious as to conditions.
• The programme makes sense, but the JV has split the construction as if it’s a big cake, so CITIC, for instance, does a third of the concrete, half the steel and membrane roof, three-quarters of the finish, etc, as opposed to splitting the work by trade. Wright says the last time he saw this was at a German shopping centre 15 years ago. It leads to potential problems in handover, split responsibility and joining all the bits together.

After the site visit we’re treated to lunch. I had requested we eat in the canteen so I could witness life on site for ordinary people. As ever our hosts bent over backward to accommodate, but not in the way I’d expected. They usher us to the management restaurant, which is deserted. At the front, there is a large round table, borrowed from a restaurant, laid with a fancy cloth and set sumptuously. As always there is the usual four-minute pow-wow about who should sit where to honour seniority and to facilitate communication, and then the chef brings out six dishes. Three are workers’ fare: stir-fried bean shoots, chicken wings, and fried bean curd. Three are just for us: spicy beef, baked fish with garlic and ginger, and fresh steamed vegetables. Great Wall Wine, the patriot’s tipple, flows.

Formal drinking in China takes the form of targeted, one-to-one toasts, and if the initiator proclaims “Gambei!”, you drain your glass with him as a sign of mutual trust. It’s exhilarating, but you have to keep an eye on the refills. There is laughter, stoked by a mischievous Geoff Wright. Lui Mengjiao, nursing a sore throat after eight days organising, translating and mopping up after our gaffes, has been hit with a few ‘gambeis’ and is helpless with laughter, mouth wide behind her hand and a tear zigzagging down her cheek. We leave in high spirits, wishing them good luck.