The Origins of Time Zones and Why China Uses Only One

 The Origins of Time Zones and Why China Uses Only One

Birth of modern time zones

Before the 19th century, most towns used local solar time, setting clocks by the sun so that noon meant the sun was at its highest point in the sky. This worked locally but created confusion once railways and telegraphs connected distant cities that each kept slightly different times.​

In the 1870s, Canadian engineer Sir Sandford Fleming proposed dividing the globe into 24 standard time zones, each 15 degrees of longitude wide, to synchronize time for railways and communication. Railroads in North America informally adopted time zones in 1883, and the 1884 International Meridian Conference in Washington, D.C., endorsed a global system anchored on the Greenwich meridian, making coordinated time zones an international norm.​

How time zones are structured

The basic idea is that Earth rotates 360 degrees in roughly 24 hours, so each 15‑degree slice corresponds to one hour of time difference. In practice, political borders, economic links, and social convenience shift these ideal boundaries so countries rarely follow the lines exactly.​

Many large countries adopt multiple time zones to match local daylight cycles and daily routines, as seen in the United States and Russia, while some smaller or more centralized states choose a single zone for simplicity. A few governments, such as China’s, keep a single official time across very wide east‑west distances, accepting large differences between clock time and solar time in some regions for political or administrative reasons.​

Historical time zones in China

During the early 20th century, the Republic of China experimented with multiple zones to reflect its wide territory. In 1918 a plan from the Central Observatory divided China into five zones (Kunlun, Sinkiang‑Tibet, Kansu‑Szechwan, Chungyuan, and Changpai), with offsets ranging from UTC+5:30 to UTC+8:30, and these zones were formally ratified in 1939.​

Because of the Second Sino‑Japanese War, a single “Kansu‑Szechwan Time” (UTC+7) was designated as national wartime standard to simplify coordination, but after 1945 the five‑zone system was reinstated nationwide. On the island of Taiwan, which later came under separate administration, the term “Chungyuan Standard Time” linked to UTC+8 continued to be used for decades, reflecting continuity with one of the original zones.​

Decision for one China time zone

After the establishment of the People’s Republic of China (PRC) in 1949, the new central government abolished the five‑zone system and declared a single official time for the entire country at UTC+8, commonly called Beijing Time. This effectively aligned national time with the political capital in Beijing and ended formal recognition of western time zones at the national level.​

Sources discussing the period note that the Chinese Communist Party leadership viewed a unified time standard as part of broader efforts to strengthen national unity and central authority after years of war and fragmentation. Concentrating on one time made it easier for central planners to run nationwide campaigns, schedule transport and broadcasts, and symbolize that the whole country followed a single political and administrative center.​​

Rationale and local adaptations

The one‑time‑zone policy carries several practical advantages: a single clock time simplifies nationwide scheduling for government, state‑owned enterprises, media, and transportation, and reduces confusion in domestic travel. It also serves a symbolic function, reinforcing the idea of a unified nation operating under one central authority despite regional diversity.​​

However, China’s vast size means that solar noon in far‑western regions such as Xinjiang can be two or more hours offset from Beijing Time, so sunrise and sunset may occur very late by the clock. In response, people and institutions in these regions often use informal “local time” (commonly about two hours behind Beijing Time) in daily life and business, even while official documents and railways still use the national standard.​

時區的起源與中國為何只使用一個標準時間

 時區的起源與中國為何只使用一個標準時間

現代時區的形成

在工業革命前，大多數城鎮按照太陽位置決定時間，只要太陽到達中天就是中午，因此每個地方都有略為不同的「地方時間」。 當鐵路與電報把城市緊密連結後，這些細小差異造成列車時刻與通訊上的混亂，也帶來安全與管理上的風險。​

19 世紀 70 年代，加拿大工程師桑福德・弗萊明提出將地球按經度劃分為 24 個時區、每區相差 1 小時的標準時間構想，以便統一鐵路和通訊時刻。 1883 年北美鐵路公司率先採用四個標準時區，隔年在華盛頓召開的國際子午線會議支持以格林威治子午線為基準的全球時間體系，現代時區制度由此逐漸在世界各地推行。​

時區劃分的原則與現實

理論上，地球 24 小時自轉一圈 360 度，因此每 15 度經度差不多對應 1 小時的時差，這是 24 個時區的基本邏輯。 然而實際邊界並不完全沿著經線，而是常常配合國界、交通網絡與經濟生活做出調整。​

許多幅員遼闊的國家會採用多個時區，以便讓各地作息大致符合日出日落，例如美國與俄羅斯即有多個時區。 也有一些國家或地區基於行政與象徵上的考量，刻意採用單一時區，中國就是最典型的例子之一。​

中國在 1949 年前的多時區制度

民國初年，隨著現代交通與氣象觀測的發展，中國也開始討論標準時間的劃分。 1918 年，北京中央觀象臺提出將中國劃分為五個時區的方案，分別命名為崑崙、新藏、隴蜀、中原與長白，時差從 UTC+5:30 到 UTC+8:30 不等，1939 年由國民政府正式加以確認。​

因中日戰爭的需要，當局一度規定以 UTC+7 的「隴蜀時間」作為戰時全國統一標準，以利軍政調度，戰後才恢復五時區制度。 戰後納入中華民國管轄的臺灣，以及後來分治後的臺灣地區，長期沿用屬於中原時區的 UTC+8，「中原標準時間」一詞在當地使用至 21 世紀初仍可見。​

中華人民共和國改採單一北京時間

1949 年中華人民共和國成立後，新的中央人民政府不久即取消原有五個時區的劃分，宣布全國統一採用 UTC+8，並以「北京時間」為名。 這項決策使東起黑龍江、西至新疆的廣大地區在法律上都遵守同一個時刻標準，無論地理經度差異多大。​

中共領導層將統一時間視為重建國家、強化中央權威與象徵全國一體的重要手段之一。 在計畫經濟與高度集中管理的年代，單一時區也有利於全國性政治運動、工作制度與廣播節目的統一編排，使各地對中央作息節奏有更直接的對齊。​​

單一時區的利弊與地方調整

從行政角度看，單一時區的好處包括：簡化全國鐵路與航空時刻表、減少公文與溝通時的換算負擔，以及讓全國媒體與機關以同一時間節奏運作。 在象徵意義上，一個標準時間也被視為「全國同時同刻」的具體呈現，強化「整個國家在同一時間運行」的想像。​​

缺點是中國東西跨度極大，西部如新疆一帶的太陽中天時刻與北京差距可達兩小時以上，造成日出與日落在時鐘上顯得非常晚。 因此，新疆等地在維持官方北京時間的同時，學校、商店和民眾常以較北京時間晚約兩小時的「新疆時間」或「地方時間」安排實際作息，形成一地雙時間並行的日常實踐。

When Flames Consume: Navigating Bank and Insurance Responses to a Burnt-Down Mortgaged Flat in Hong Kong

When Flames Consume: Navigating Bank and Insurance Responses to a Burnt-Down Mortgaged Flat in Hong Kong

Hong Kong's banking and insurance sectors are among the most mature in Asia, characterized by stringent regulations, robust risk management, and a focus on protecting financial interests. When a mortgaged flat is completely destroyed by fire—a rare but devastating event—the interplay between banks, insurers, and homeowners becomes critical. This article outlines the step-by-step processes followed by banks and insurance companies, drawing on established practices under the oversight of bodies like the Hong Kong Monetary Authority (HKMA) and the Insurance Authority (IA). It also explores the profound impacts on the homeowner, from financial repercussions to emotional tolls.

 Steps Taken by Insurance Companies

Insurance plays the frontline role in such disasters. In Hong Kong, fire insurance is mandatory for mortgaged properties, as banks require it to safeguard their loans until full repayment. Policies typically cover damage from fire, lightning, explosions, and sometimes allied perils like water damage from firefighting efforts.

1. **Immediate Notification and Assessment**: The homeowner must notify the insurer as soon as possible, ideally within 24-72 hours, providing details of the incident. Insurers like AIG or AXA require evidence such as photos of the damage, incident reports from building management or the fire department, and proof of ownership. A loss adjuster is appointed to inspect the site and confirm the extent of damage— in this case, total destruction.

2. **Claim Processing and Valuation**: The insurer evaluates the claim based on the policy's sum insured, which is often set to the property's rebuilding cost or market value at the time of the mortgage. For a complete burnout, this could involve structural engineers assessing if any salvageable elements remain. Processing can take weeks to months, depending on complexity.

3. **Payout Distribution**: Crucially, since the property is mortgaged, the bank is listed as the "mortgagee" or "loss payee" in the policy. The insurer disburses the payout directly to the bank to cover the outstanding mortgage principal and interest. Any excess funds are then released to the homeowner.

 Steps Taken by Banks

Banks, such as HSBC or Bank of Communications, prioritize recovering their loaned capital while complying with legal obligations.

1. **Notification and Verification**: The homeowner or insurer informs the bank of the incident. The bank verifies the claim through the insurer and may conduct its own assessment to ensure the payout aligns with the loan terms.

2. **Application of Insurance Proceeds**: Upon receiving the funds, the bank applies them to the mortgage balance. If the payout fully settles the loan, the bank discharges the mortgage, releasing any legal charge on the property (or what's left of it, like the land title).

3. **Handling Shortfalls or Surpluses**: If the insurance payout falls short (e.g., due to underinsurance), the homeowner remains liable for the difference, potentially leading to continued payments or asset sales. Conversely, surpluses are returned to the owner. Banks may also advise on rebuilding loans or property redevelopment.

4. **Post-Incident Support**: In major events, like the recent Tai Po fire in 2025, banks might offer temporary relief, such as payment holidays, though this is discretionary.

 Impact on the Homeowner

The destruction of a home is traumatic, and the financial and emotional impacts are amplified by the mortgage.

- **Financial Ramifications**: If adequately insured, the homeowner could emerge debt-free with surplus funds for rebuilding or relocation. However, underinsurance—a common pitfall—leaves owners facing massive debts. In the Tai Po incident, payouts reached HK$2.08 billion, but individual shortfalls could burden families. Government relief, such as the HK$100,000 per affected flat in recent cases, provides some cushion.

- **Emotional and Practical Challenges**: Beyond finances, homeowners face displacement, loss of personal belongings (often covered separately under home contents insurance), and bureaucratic hurdles. Rebuilding requires navigating building codes and approvals, which can delay recovery.

- **Long-Term Effects**: Credit scores may suffer if mortgage payments falter, and future insurability could rise in premiums. Yet, Hong Kong's mature systems ensure transparency, with the IA overseeing fair claims handling to mitigate disputes.

In summary, while banks and insurers act swiftly to protect their interests, the process underscores the importance of comprehensive coverage. Homeowners should review policies annually to avoid pitfalls in this high-stakes scenario.

當火焰吞噬：香港銀行及保險業應對抵押公寓火災毀滅的導航

當火焰吞噬：香港銀行及保險業應對抵押公寓火災毀滅的導航

香港的銀行及保險業是亞洲最成熟的行業之一，以嚴格監管、穩健風險管理和保護財務利益為特徵。當抵押公寓完全被火災摧毀——這是罕見但毀滅性的事件——銀行、保險公司和業主之間的互動變得至關重要。本文概述銀行和保險公司遵循的步驟，借鑒香港金融管理局（HKMA）和保險業監管局（IA）等機構的既定實務。同時探討對業主的深遠影響，從財務後果到情緒負擔。

 保險公司的步驟

保險在這種災難中扮演前線角色。在香港，抵押物業必須購買火險，因為銀行要求以此保障貸款直至全額償還。 保單通常涵蓋火災、閃電、爆炸損壞，有時包括滅火用水損壞等相關風險。

1. **即時通知及評估**：業主須盡快通知保險公司，理想情況下在24-72小時內，提供事件詳情。像AIG或AXA等保險公司要求證據，如損壞照片、大廈管理處或消防局的事件報告，以及業權證明。 委任損失評估員檢查現場，確認損壞程度——在此情況下為完全毀滅。

2. **索償處理及估值**：保險公司根據保單的保額評估索償，保額通常設定為物業的重建成本或抵押時的市值。 對於完全燒毀，可能涉及結構工程師評估是否有殘餘可挽救元素。處理可能需數週至數月，視複雜度而定。

3. **賠償分配**：關鍵的是，由於物業抵押，銀行被列為保單中的「抵押權人」或「損失受款人」。 保險公司直接將賠償支付給銀行，以涵蓋未償還抵押本金及利息。任何剩餘資金則釋放給業主。

 銀行的步驟

像匯豐或交通銀行等銀行，優先收回貸款資本，同時遵守法律義務。

1. **通知及驗證**：業主或保險公司通知銀行事件。銀行透過保險公司驗證索償，並可能進行自身評估，確保賠償符合貸款條款。

2. **應用保險收益**：收到資金後，銀行將其應用於抵押餘額。 若賠償完全結清貸款，銀行解除抵押，釋放物業（或殘餘如土地業權）的任何法律負擔。

3. **處理短缺或盈餘**：若保險賠償不足（例如因保額不足），業主仍需負責差額，可能導致持續付款或資產出售。 反之，盈餘退還業主。銀行也可能建議重建貸款或物業重新開發。

4. **事後支援**：在重大事件中，如2025年大埔火災，銀行可能提供臨時紓困，如付款假期，雖為酌情處理。

 對業主的影響

住宅毀滅是創傷性的，抵押放大財務及情緒影響。

- **財務後果**：若保險充足，業主可能無債一身輕，並有盈餘資金重建或搬遷。然而，保額不足——常見陷阱——留下巨額債務。 在大埔事件中，賠償達20.8億港元，但個別短缺可能負擔家庭。 政府紓困，如近期每受影響單位10萬港元，提供緩衝。

- **情緒及實際挑戰**：除財務外，業主面對流離失所、個人財物損失（通常由家居內容保險另行涵蓋），以及官僚障礙。重建需導航建築規範及審批，延遲恢復。

- **長期影響**：若抵押付款延誤，信用評分可能受損，未來保險費率可能上升。然而，香港成熟體系確保透明，IA監督公平索償處理以減輕爭議。

總結而言，雖然銀行及保險公司迅速行動保護自身利益，但過程強調全面保障的重要性。業主應每年檢討保單，以避免此高風險情境的陷阱。

自行車墳場的幽靈：中國共享單車崩潰與電動車即將到來的清算

  自行車墳場的幽靈：中國共享單車崩潰與電動車即將到來的清算

在2010年代中期，中國的城市街道充斥著無樁共享單車的狂熱活力，這是共享經濟承諾的象徵。像Ofo和小黃車（Mobike）這樣的企業迅速竄紅，籌集數十億風險資本——Ofo單獨就獲得超過20億美元，而Mobike則籌得9億美元——推動數百萬輛單車在各大城市快速部署。 這原本是解決最後一哩路運輸的創新方案，卻迅速淪為混亂。到2018年，市場已達飽和，單車過剩導致廣泛拋棄。巨大的「自行車墳場」——生鏽、破損和扣押的單車堆積如山——在上海和杭州等城市湧現，這是無節制增長的鮮明證據。 盜竊和破壞加劇了危機；Mobike在2019年單獨損失超過20萬輛單車。

崩潰的原因多方面。超過70家初創企業的激烈競爭驅動「單車洪水」策略，公司優先考慮市場主導而非盈利，往往忽略維護和用戶押金等運營現實。 監管空白允許這種狂熱，但隨著損壞單車和未退押金（總計數億元人民幣）的投訴增加，當局以扣押和限制單車數量進行打擊。財務上，模式不可持續：Ofo一度估值45億美元，卻在2018年申請破產，負債達19億美元，留給數百萬用戶損失慘重。 Mobike稍好一些，在2018年併入美團，但最終在2020年停止獨立運營。 後果？投資者數十億損失、廢棄單車的環境浪費，以及關於補貼驅動炒作而無需求驗證的教訓。

快進到2025年，這場慘劇的回聲在中國電動車（EV）產業迴盪，這是另一個國家支持的雄心之寵兒。補貼和政策推動中國成為全球EV主導者，生產能力現在遠超國內需求——某些細分市場過剩估計達30-50%。 像比亞迪這樣的企業蓬勃發展，但一群較小玩家在數十億政府補助、低息貸款和稅收優惠的支持下，陷入殘酷的價格戰，將利潤壓至極薄。 第十四個五年計劃預示到2026年結束直接補貼，暴露了這場繁榮的脆弱性。 出口雖熱絡，但國外關稅和全球需求放緩風險國內庫存過剩。

相似之處驚人：兩個產業都乘著資本湧入和政策偏愛的浪潮，導致過度投資而無相應消費者採用。共享單車忽略城市空間限制；電動車忽視充電基礎設施瓶頸和電池回收挑戰。正如單車墳場象徵過剩，我們可能很快看到「電動車垃圾場」——未售車輛在倉庫積灰，加上補貼追回，可能將損失膨脹至數兆元。

這軌跡預示嚴峻清算。電動車領域每年超過2000億元人民幣的巨額政府補貼，將化為壞帳，壓垮公共財政並侵蝕對國家主導增長的信任。 與此同時，這場狂熱的策劃者——精明的企業家和高管——可能逃避後果。高層人物攜財移居英國和歐洲的報導並不罕見；想想Ofo創辦人戴威崩潰後轉戰海外新事業，或類似電動車大亨瞄準倫敦和巴黎的金簽證。他們在梅菲爾啜飲拿鐵，而中國納稅人為廢棄夢想買單。

中國電動車傳奇不必重蹈單車覆轍，但若無迅速整合和需求導向改革，它風險同樣恥辱的結局：創新的墳場，散落野心的殘骸。

The Ghost of Bike Graveyards: China's Shared Bicycle Collapse and the Looming EV Reckoning

The Ghost of Bike Graveyards: China's Shared Bicycle Collapse and the Looming EV Reckoning

In the mid-2010s, China's urban streets buzzed with the frenetic energy of dockless shared bicycles, a symbol of the sharing economy's promise. Companies like Ofo and Mobike exploded onto the scene, raising billions in venture capital—Ofo alone secured over $2 billion, while Mobike pulled in $900 million—fueling a rapid deployment of millions of bikes across major cities. What began as an innovative solution to last-mile transportation quickly devolved into chaos. By 2018, the market had reached saturation, with an oversupply of bikes leading to widespread abandonment. Gigantic "bike graveyards"—vast piles of rusted, broken, and impounded bicycles—sprouted in cities like Shanghai and Hangzhou, a stark testament to unchecked growth. Theft and vandalism exacerbated the crisis; Mobike alone lost over 200,000 bikes in 2019 to such issues.

The reasons for this collapse were multifaceted. Intense competition among over 70 startups drove a "bike flood" strategy, where companies prioritized market dominance over profitability, often ignoring operational realities like maintenance and user deposits. Regulatory voids allowed this frenzy, but as complaints mounted over damaged bikes and unreturned deposits (totaling hundreds of millions of yuan), authorities cracked down with impoundments and caps on bike numbers. Financially, the model was unsustainable: Ofo, once valued at $4.5 billion, filed for bankruptcy in 2018 amid $1.9 billion in debts, leaving millions of users out of pocket. Mobike fared slightly better by merging with Meituan in 2018 but ultimately ceased independent operations by 2020. The fallout? Billions in investor losses, environmental waste from scrapped bikes, and a lesson in the perils of subsidy-fueled hype without demand validation.

Fast-forward to 2025, and echoes of this debacle resonate in China's electric vehicle (EV) sector, another darling of state-backed ambition. Subsidies and policies have propelled China to global EV dominance, with production capacity now vastly outstripping domestic demand—overcapacity estimated at 30-50% in some segments. Companies like BYD thrive, but a swarm of smaller players, buoyed by billions in government grants, low-interest loans, and tax breaks, are locked in a brutal price war that has slashed margins to razor-thin levels. The 14th Five-Year Plan signals an end to direct subsidies by 2026, exposing the fragility of this boom. Exports are booming, but tariffs abroad and softening global demand risk a domestic glut.

The parallels are uncanny: Both industries rode waves of capital influx and policy favoritism, leading to overinvestment without proportional consumer uptake. Shared bikes ignored urban space limits; EVs overlook charging infrastructure bottlenecks and battery recycling challenges. Just as bike graveyards symbolized excess, we may soon see "EV dumps"—warehouses of unsold vehicles gathering dust, compounded by subsidy clawbacks that could balloon losses into trillions of yuan.

This trajectory portends a harsh reckoning. Massive government subsidies, already exceeding 200 billion yuan annually in the EV space, will evaporate into write-offs, straining public coffers and eroding trust in state-directed growth. Meanwhile, the architects of this frenzy—shrewd entrepreneurs and executives—may evade the fallout. Reports of high-profile figures relocating to the UK and Europe with fortunes intact are not uncommon; think of Ofo's founder Dai Wei, who pivoted to new ventures abroad after the collapse, or similar EV moguls eyeing golden visas in London and Paris. They sip lattes in Mayfair while China's taxpayers foot the bill for scrapped dreams.

China's EV saga need not mimic the bicycle bust, but without swift consolidation and demand-focused reforms, it risks the same ignominious end: innovation's graveyard, littered with the husks of ambition.