靳东疑暗讽金星
After the desert turns green, harder work begins_我的网站
一 |
At 29, Shi belongs to a new generation of desert-control workers equipped with drones, machines and remote irrigation systems. An earth auger can now do in a day what once required about 200 laborers, while a single phone can control drip irrigation across more than 1,000 mu (about 66.67 hectares) of woodland.
For the older Shi's generation, the challenge was getting trees to survive in moving dunes. For the grandson, it is figuring out how to make those forests healthier and more resilient for decades to come.
Their story captures a broader shift in desert control along the southern edge of the Maowusu Desert in northwest China's Shaanxi Province: turning shifting sand into forest was only the beginning.
In 1986, Shi Guangyin, Shi Jianyang's grandfather, led more than 300 villagers into Langwosha, a sandy area in Dingbian County in Yulin City. He had raised 60,000 yuan (about 17,377 U.S. dollars at the time) by selling his family's 84 sheep and borrowing from relatives and banks to contract 3,500 mu of barren sandy land.
The early setbacks were severe. Strong winds destroyed about 90 percent of the saplings in the first year, and about 80 percent of those planted the following year failed to survive.
After seeking advice from forestry experts, Shi and the villagers laid out checkerboard-shaped barriers on windward slopes to hold the sand in place, then planted trees, shrubs and grasses within them. Sapling survival rates rose to about 80 percent.
Over the next four decades, Shi and those working alongside him treated 250,000 mu of sandy and saline-alkali land, with more than 53 million trees and shrubs taking root.
Greening the Maowusu Desert is part of a much larger national undertaking. It is one of the three major battlefronts of China's Three-North Shelterbelt Forest Program, a decades-long effort to curb desertification across northern China.
China has made desertification control a national ecological priority. Since 2023, the country has stepped up efforts under the program, with greater emphasis on systematic restoration and on consolidating earlier gains.
Decades after the first trees took root, a new challenge emerged. Poplars planted decades ago for their rapid growth began reaching the end of their life cycle, with large numbers of trees dying, while forests dominated by a single species were more vulnerable to pests and disease.
Making a forest was one challenge. Keeping it healthy for another generation is another.
Shi Jianyang grew up watching his grandfather and father work to hold back the sand. His father, Shi Zhanjun, spent years planting trees alongside Shi Guangyin before dying in a road accident in 2008 while transporting saplings.
As a boy, Shi Jianyang sometimes resented the work that had taken his father. He spent summer holidays in makeshift tents in the sandy land, eating meals gritty with sand. During planting season, his father would return home with painful blisters in his mouth.
Yet he eventually chose forestry himself.
After studying forestry technology in university, Shi returned home in 2020 and began working in desert control. His team, initially made up of just seven or eight young locals, later brought in university graduates with expertise in soil science, landscaping and pest control.
The younger generation faced a different question: not simply how to make trees survive, but how to make a forest last.
Shi and his team spent more than 40 days in a 5,000-mu woodland setting up sample plots, measuring rainfall, studying soil microorganisms and tracking tree lodging. They proposed renewing aging forests with better-planned forest structures and expanded the planting of Mongolian pine, a long-lived evergreen species that had been successfully tested locally.
To date, about 50,000 mu of land has been planted with Mongolian pine. As some trees fail to survive and require replacement in subsequent planting seasons, the cumulative area of planting operations has reached about 65,000 mu.
Technology has also changed daily work. Drones patrol forests from the air, mechanized equipment dig planting pits, and irrigation can be managed remotely. Sapling survival rates, which Shi Guangyin's generation had raised to about 80 percent through improved sand-control and planting methods, have climbed further to about 92 percent with greater mechanization and more precise management.
Shi said the changes can be felt on the ground. Strong sandstorms have become rare, winds are weaker inside the forest, and the ground stays moist longer after rain. Summer days beneath the trees also feel cooler, while morning dew appears more often. The changes lead him to rethink desert control.
His approach also reflects a broader effort in China's desert regions to link ecological restoration with local livelihoods, giving communities a stronger economic stake in protecting restored land.
With his grandfather's support, Shi and his team have been looking for ways to make better use of the restored land as ecological conditions improve. They have developed potato seedlings suited to sandy soil, promoted greenhouse farming, and set up a livestock cooperative, while increasingly growing potatoes, watermelons and peppers on land once prone to losing water and nutrients.
Shi has also turned to livestreaming e-commerce to market potatoes and other local farm produce, while developing forest-based health and leisure projects. More than 2,000 local residents have seen their incomes rise steadily as farming, livestock breeding and other businesses have developed.
"We used to fear the sand and keep away from it. Now we understand it and know how to make use of it," Shi Guangyin said. "Today, there are opportunities to make a living everywhere in this sandy land."
Across Yulin, forest coverage has risen from 1.8 percent in 1949 to 34.8 percent, while shifting dunes that once encroached on villages have been brought under control.
For Shi Jianyang, however, the green landscape is not proof that the work is finished. "Planting a tree is not difficult," he said. "The difficult part is looking after it for decades."
The grandfather generation learned how to stop the sand. The young generation is learning how to make what grew there last.
。
二 | 7月28日，国际足联官宣成立全资商业子公司“国际足联前进企业”（FIFA Forward Enterprise，简称 FFE），把世界杯、女足世界杯、世俱杯等顶级赛事的转播、赞助、票务、特许经营等商业权益一股脑打包，统一运营。更刺激的是，FFE 初始估值约 200亿美元，计划向私人资本出售最多 21% 的少数股权、募资 42 亿美元，领投方是约书亚·库什纳（特朗普女婿的弟弟）旗下的 Thrive Eternal 基金，摩根大通当顾问。还给了个“最后通牒”：211个会员协会，9月19日前表决，同意每家最高拿 4000 万美元，不同意就维持原状。欧足联当场炸了。7月30日，55个成员协会一致投票，只要 FFE 提案还在，欧洲国家队就抵制一切国际足联赛事，包括男足、女足世界杯和世俱杯。
三 | 声明写得火药味十足：“足球的灵魂和治理不是可交易的资产”“没有人有道德权威去出售他们仅仅作为信托持有的东西”。很多球迷第一反应：这不就是乒乓球界的 WTT 吗？确实，论“长相”，两者几乎一个模子——都是联合会成立商业子公司，集中打包商业权益 + 赛事运营。WTT 2019 年由国际乒联（ITTF）创立，2021 年起接管全部赛事商业开发；FFE 也是这个套路。甚至连“血缘”都连得上：当年帮 WTT 搭商业架构的菲利普·勒弗洛赫，正是前 FIFA 首席商务官、前欧足联市场总监。这套玩法，本就是从足球圈流出去的。但形似，神不似。核心差别只有两个字：所有权。WTT 是 ITTF 的“亲儿子”。一开始 ITTF 100% 持股，后来也只是把一笔 286 万美元的债务转成 15% 股权，ITTF 至今握着 85%。
四 | 双方签了 15 年主许可协议，WTT 每年向 ITTF 交许可费、分红利；商业计划要 ITTF 执委会年审，账目审计上交，还有明确的终止条款。说白了，WTT 是联合会伸出去的“手”，绳子始终攥在自己手里，而且截至前几年还连年亏损——盘子小、风险自家担。FFE 却不是“手脚”，而是“卖股份”。
五 | 它要把估值 200 亿的商业化身子里 21% 的股权，换 42 亿美元现金塞进外部私募的口袋。对方不是来帮忙运营的 IMG 式服务商，而是拿着钱、天然要回报最大化的股东。FIFA 嘴上说“保留独家控制权”，但 21% 的大股东绝不会只当看客；更扎眼的是，这笔钱来自带美国政治标签的基金，过程还在密室里构思、用 deadline 逼票，谁最终获利完全不透明。这正是欧足联怒吼“出卖灵魂”的地方。所以问题来了：乒乓球能这么干，足球为什么被抵制？答案不在“结构”，而在“规模、控制与地缘”。第一，盘子天差地别。WTT 那点商业价值，连年亏、奖金池才千万级；FFE 是全球最值钱的体育 IP 之一，200 亿美元估值。
六 | 动心的还是背景成谜的美国资本——这天然触发“世界杯被买断”的主权焦虑。第二，谁在创造这笔钱。足球的真金白银，大头来自欧洲的俱乐部和联赛（欧冠、英超、西甲）。欧洲贡献最多价值，却被 FIFA 用 211 票“多数决”拿走统一打包出售。
七 | WTT 时代，乒乓球没有能与之抗衡的商业联赛中心，ITTF 说了算，自然没人掀桌。
八 | 第三，权力结构本就对立。欧足联本身就是巨头，长期与 FIFA 明争暗斗（欧超联赛风波、世俱杯扩容全是导火索）。FFE 是压垮骆驼的最后一根稻草。乒乓球界没有第二个“欧足联”来叫板。第四，收买与分化。因凡蒂诺给小协会每家两三千万美元，把 211 家拆开；欧洲孤军抵制，但偏偏欧洲是价值与荣誉的核心，所以这份“抵制”才致命。结论：FFE 不是 WTT 的复制，而是它的激进化版本——把“集中运营”升级成了“部分私有化”。球迷反感的从来不是商业化本身（WTT 也在狂奔商业化），而是把一项运动当成可交易资产、还卖给背景成谜的外部资本。足球这场“灵魂之争”，剥开理想主义的包装，本质还是权力与利益的再分配。至于欧足联的抵制是真是假、能撑多久，9月19日之后，见分晓。看足球上咪咕视频！（罗掌柜）
Current article:http://cuozubeishenjingli.cfd/mm5937/20260826/4146.html
Published on:01:45:06
