The photos that got Wang, a 23-year old model in China, in serious trouble

We live in a world that’s anything but shy of conflicts. That’s why I’m constantly amazed by how much we citizens of the world share many similarities in our taste in uniforms. We love babes in police uniforms, I mean, both Americans (Hello, Magic Mike!) and Chinese, except, while posting sexy photos of oneself wearing, or almost wearing, a police uniform on the social media can get one a few followers and likes, or, with some luck, the status of the “Internet sensation,” in China, that can actually get one some sweet jail time. That’s how “dignified” the Chinese police uniform is. Or not.

That’s what happened to Wang, a 23-year old model who was convicted on the charge of “fraud” — for the lack of an appropriate translation for zhaoyaozhuangpian zui, or 招摇撞骗罪 — and sentenced to 9 months in prison with a one-year reprieve by a district court in Beijing earlier this week. A few months ago, Wang posted on Weibo as @馨儿徽安:

I became a police officer in my hometown, and everything is starting from zero, so I’m learning very hard. As a jinghua (or a “police flower,” a term used in China to refer to female police officers — author), I have a lot of presure on me… Jinghua is just a title. I use these titles such as “jinghua” or “model” for business negotiations at the dinner table, and get deals and investment.

To this post, Wang also attached three photos of herself wearing a police reniform and bikinis.

Wang was reported to Weibo by a user and her post was flagged as “false information” by the website’s administrator. The post was taken down by Wang shortly after, and by then it had been reposted and commented on for hundreds of times, which was, however, pretty inconsequential considering Weibo’s 300 million users.

It’s unusual for somebody to be prosecuted for a post that has so little impact. In fact, Wang is reported to be the first in China who has been sentenced to prison for posing as a police officer online. Many people expressed on Weibo that they think the punishment she received is too severe for her deed. “I don’t think [Wang] should have been punished so severely. Wang was just wearing a police uniform; she didn’t con anybody out of money,” as @笔者楚觉非V commented on Weibo.

The problem with the case, however, is not just about the degree of punishment, but about principles too. What really constitutes “fraud” in China is unclear, both in principle and in this specific case. As a netizen @lucan路璨 has pointed out, Wang has stated in her profile (and her account is “verified” for her identity) that she’s a model. If she did reveal her true identity, that means that she didn’t have the serious intent to mislead others to believe her false identity as police officer. In that case, her posing would be a performance — Wang herself also stated herself that she did it just “for fun” — rather than serious impersonation, or fraud.

If that’s the case, Wang shouldn’t be punished for “fraud,” an opinion shared by some netizens, such as @lucan路璨, who wrote, “Please tell me which law prohibits people from wearing police costume?” Technically, @lucan路璨 was right. Wang’s “uniform” was just a “costume” that she kept after a photo shoot where she was hired to pose in it. So where should we draw the line between performance and fraud? Or, in other words, where should we draw the line between speech and action, for performance is a form of speech, while impersonation is an act?

Now, speech can be the basis for legal action in China, but many Chinese are aware of the lack of freedom of speech in China and their expressions of grievances and demands for the rights to free speech are not rare in online discourse in recent years. However, unfortunately, few have brought up the issue of speech in the debates surrounding Wang’s case. (I have made some comments on Weibo about Wang’s case and free speech. The responses I got were pretty negative and off the point.)

A couple of people did bring up the idea of “thought crime.”

One of them is @NOD净化者, who wrote, “Faint. Only when there’s a victim who has been conned and when her action resulted in serious consequences should we use the Criminal Law. Should we prosecute people for thought crimes?”

@NOD净化者‘s comment is in response to the comments by a user who claims to represent “Central China University Law School Student Union” (@华中大法学院学生会), who supported the court’s decision because “many countries have criminal laws that include crimes of impersonating public servants.”

However, even if the question of speech is put aside, the truth is, Wang is not in trouble just because she’s an impostor, but also because she’s a “slut.” Not only her originally post attracted much criticism, but even after she was convicted, many continued to attack her unsympathetically:

This whore wants a good reputation. Die! — @东坑家人.

[Wang] deserted morality for fame? So sad. — @-必修课.

Look, [you’re] obsessed to be famous, and can’t you be famous in jail now? This is what you get by following the fad. — @zeeyorl

Stupid, you deserve it. Hahaha… Still want to show off, want to be famous? — @红烬Ash

It is safe to read these allegations as misogynistic vent of anger, jealousy, and hatred, from both men and women. Sexism, coupled with the good old authoritarianism, are what Wang is truly up against.

@笔者楚觉非V‘s comment seems to have hit the hail on the head here:

As to her indecent poses, they got her in jail because she tarnished the image of people’s police force. [However,] imagine if Wang was dressed up as a nurse, a teacher, or a maid; would she be punished like this? No. They’re all occupations, but are treated so differently. Why?

The logic behind this hypocrisy is that it’s acceptable to degrade nurses, teachers and maids — occupations traditionally taken by women — but it’s a crime to degrade police officers — an occupation traditionally taken by men — remember? A woman police officer is sexualized as a “police flower” — and, more importantly, an occupation that represents the state and its (masculine) power over its people.

The truth is, Wang’s offense doesn’t lie in her posing as what she is not. There have been plenty of images of beautiful young women and men posing as police officers “with dignity” in the public space but no one would have even bothered to ask whether they are models or real police officers. There’s also plenty of sexy photos that can be considered way more indecent than her photos floating online, but rarely anybody has gotten into trouble with the law for them. (“What if she didn’t wear any clothes? What would that be? Pornography, body art, or body painting… I want to ask how many years can she get for that?” as @烦人先生2447486305 asked.) Wang’s offense lies in her juxtaposing an image of a desired — sexually objectified — young woman with the image of the police force. At the same time, she dared to do so with a certain “shameless” spectacle. And that — THAT is the worst HUMILIATION thrown in the face of the stern-faced paternal state. (Even the name of her crime, zhaoyaozhuangpian zui, screams out this frustration of a self-righteous patriarch. Literally, zhaoyao means to bluff, to show off, or to parade. Zhuangpian means to con, to trick, or to swindle.)

“Don’t you repeatedly make fun of the system. [Remember,] the system has power,” as netizen @林水邑风 wrote. Read: if you dare to disgrace the state, you’re going to jail.

A police officer checking an ID in Guangzhou. Image credit: Yangcheng Wanbao

A local paper Yangcheng Wanbao reported last week that from March 16, anybody in public places of Guangzhou, the capital city of Guangdong Province, may be subject to police’s random questioning and search. The paper warns its readers to bring their papers with them when they go out in case they are stopped and interrogated by the police. The news, once came out, stirred up quite some commotion among those who live in Guangzhou and even made the national news. Many people feel uneasy that they can be detained by the police just because they forget to bring their papers with them.

An online poll by Nanfang Zhoumo, a progressive magazine, shows that two-thirds of the 6,775 respondents oppose this practice, while a little over one-fifth support it. In the same poll, of the 3,253 people who responded, more than one fifth reported that they had been asked for their National Residential IDs by the police in public places.

The law enforcement in China, as most government agencies, used to have unquestionable authority. This is common in a society under authoritarian rule. but in China, obeying authorities is also expected in the culture dominated by Confucian teaching for centuries.

This is no longer true nowadays. Many Chinese are not afraid to publicly express their opinions or even challenge public policies and the practices of the law enforcement and government agencies. The legality of Guangzhou police force’s stops-and-frisks practice, for instance, has been challenged by the public online as, if not illegal, at least inappropriate.

“Without a complete legal system in place to restrict (the police’s) power, citizens’ rights can be infringed,” as a reader of Nanfang Zhoumo points out. “Why should citizens sacrifice their rights for public security?” s/he asks, adding “is this evidence that the law enforcement is ineffective or an excuse of expanding their power?” A reader agrees with her/him, insisting that “there has to be an effective legal system to guard against the abuse of power.”

Of course, nobody is against public security. In fact, those who support stops and frisks make their point clear that citizens bear the responsibility to cooperate with the police force because their goal is to protect the public. However, many critics of stops and frisks point out that the ambiguity of the policy in terms of the specifics of “public security” and the lack of protocol undermine the claimed vague purpose of ensuring public security. Besides, the police have never explained clearly why it is necessary to start this practice now.

Indeed, although the Guangzhou police have repeatedly reassured the public that their officers would only stop those who look or act “suspiciously,” they have never specified what exactly constitutes looking and/or acting “suspiciously.” The police’s actions, it seems, are solely based on arbitrary judgment which can open up opportunities for abuse of power and discrimination.

“What is ‘looking and acting suspiciously’?” a reader asks, and then adds, “we see abuse of power quite frequently nowadays; he who has a mind to beat his dog will easily find his stick.”

“So somebody must be suspicious just because the police say so? Is this how citizens act as the masters (of the state)?” a reader also responds with suspicion.

Many people are also unhappy about the fact that police officers are not even required to show their credentials to stop or search somebody as long as they wear a uniform. “Even if citizens are willing to cooperate, the police officers must show their papers before they interrogate and search anybody,” a reader writes.

The unpopularity of the practice surely reflects the public’s cynicism in the law enforcement, whose enforcement of laws is often arbitrary. Many Chinese nowadays simply do not trust the police force to be fair and just. “I don’t like this practice; if you offend an officer personally, you’ll be in big trouble,” a reader writes. Relating to his/her personal experience, a reader complains: “The police are like bosses; I’ve been stopped and I wasn’t happy!”

Perhaps the most worrisome implication of stops and frisks is that as part of the police routine, they may indicate the government’s tighter control of its people in the name of public security (although public security has always been used as a rationale for the violation of civil rights and political oppression in China). “That sounds like the secret service,” as a reader comments.

Despite the public complaints, the practice continues to be part of Guangzhou police’s daily routine. That’s basically how things are these days in China. People can rant almost however they want behind their computer screens, but making things to change in reality is still a very difficult task.

It could get worse. “Is this going to extend to the whole country? Scary!” worried, a reader asks. Well, s/he can rest assured to see stops and frisks in other Chinese cities under clearly stated policies or otherwise. Beijing police, for example, have been randomly checking people’s National Residential IDs for years. Those who do not have a Beijing Residential ID or a temporary residential permit to live in Beijing can be “deported” from the capital.

So, people in Guangzhou should feel fortunate, for as long as they have their Residential IDs ready, or if they can recite their ID numbers, addresses, and other personal information without a blink of an eye upon the police’s requests, they are completely free. In a police state, “everyone is a suspect,” to use a reader’s words, unless you can prove your innocence, which you surely can, can’t you?

The news was first released in a Weibo post by Jilin City Traffic Police Department and soon was deleted. On October 9, China Radio International’s English website posted two articles about the incident, which have been deleted as well. However, some overseas Chinese and English media outlets such as powerapple.com, a UK-based forum for Chinese living overseas, BBC and The Guardian had picked up the news before it was apparently blocked in China.

AWOL is a serious offense in military punishable by death penalty in China. So why did they do it? The reason is unclear because no official report has been issued and no medium has access to the families of the AWOL soldiers since they have been taken away by the authority. However, many have speculated. For instance, according to The Guardian, the Hong Kong-based Information Centre for Human Rights and Democracy suspected that the soldiers were unhappy about the early discharge of two of them. However, most media and Chinese who read the news on social media now believe that the forced eviction of Yang Fan’s family by the local authority in Hongsheng Village close to Fushun City in Liaoning Province adjacent to Jilin Province triggered the soldiers’ deserting.

Many Chinese netizens expressed regret for these four soldiers. “It was turn for the soldiers to take up a gun and protect (their family who were) evicted by force, but regrettably the four of them were stopped on their way, not being able to go home and stop the barbaric eviction,” a Weibo user writes. Blog posts that repost the news from other powerapple.com have been widely circulated on Weibo. Although the main text is copied from powerapple.com, many bloggers added their own titles to comment on the incident. “The Wake of Chinese Soldiers Digs the Grave of Those Evict by Force,” on title reads.

Powerapple.com published the four soldiers’ personal profiles on a popular social networking site qzone.qq.com. The 18-year old Lin Penghan’s latest update was posted more than a year ago. This post, titled “Transient Footsteps,” a short prose about unrequited love, now has 4,454 reads and 265 comments.

Some of these visitors expressed tender sadness in their comments. “Take care on the way,” one comment reads. “Goodbye,” another reads.

Some other visitors showed regret and discontent. “Cruel youth, a confused generation… The older generations have ruined all your resources. They are guilty,” one comment reads. Another reads, “You just left like this. How regrettable. This is China. I want to know why! Everything is understood in silence! Bless your family.”

Yet some others saw the young soldiers as heroes. “Proud sons of China,” one comment reads. “What is truth[?] Why shot dead three of them on the spot and then blocked the information[?] Cruel reality. China’s proud sons,” another reads.

The sympathy for the soldiers from Chinese netizens is obvious, although usually deserting and/or defecting soldiers are despised in China’s rather militant culture cultivated by the Communist Party, especially in the early years of the People’s Republic. To many Chinese netizens, the soldiers are not the perpetrators. Rather, they are seen as victims and, perhaps more so, as a sort of tragic heroes who tried and failed to change their and others’ fate. And this sentiment has come from Chinese public’s growing anger towards forced evictions and sympathy towards the victims.

Forced evictions by local authorities have plagued many villagers and towns people across China for many years. In China, the state owns the land and sells the right to use to business and individuals. The recent years’ skyrocketing real estate value in China has encouraged local governments to sell off (the use right of) land to developers to increase revenue. Corruption is often involved in these dealings as well.

However, very often, the existing residents or farmers who farm the land do not get the compensation they are entitled to. As a result, conflicts often happen when the two sides, the authority and the residents or farmers, cannot strike a deal. In many cases, local authorities and developers resort to force to evict the former dwellers or farmers of the property.

Powerless compared to local authorities and rich developers, residents and villagers often protest against forced evictions by refusing to move, self-immolating, and some with violence.

Those who refuse to move are called “dingzihu” or “nail households” and there have been constant struggles between them and local governments or developers in both urban and rural areas.

Faced with local authorities’ injustice, some residents and villagers expressed their anger and despair with self-immolation. Countless cases of villagers setting themselves on fire to protest against forced eviction have been reported in Fenggang, Jiangxi Province, Ezhou, Hubei Province, Zhuzhou, Hunan Province, Xinhua, Jiangzu Province, Ningbo, Zhejiang Province… There have been so many such tragedies that I cannot even give a complete list of those that happened this year, after “The State-Owned Land and Housing Acquisition and Compensation Regulations” (The Regulations) issued by The Central Government came into effect in January, which stipulates that administrative or violent forced evictions are illegal.

But the law does not seem to have stopped some local officials and developers from violently evicting residents. In September, hundreds of villagers were evicted by more than 300 thugs hired by the Haozhou City in Anhui Province and became homeless. Information was also suppressed. A villager said that the thugs threatened that they would beat him up when they saw that he was taking photos.

Some of these forced evictions resulted in injuries and even deaths. This September, 57 officials received administrative penalty and 31 were charged with criminal offense in Changchun Province for their involvement in 11 forced evictions that caused injuries and deaths. One of the worst cases happened in March, when 48-year old resident Liu Shuxiang, a dingzihu, was killed from suffocation when she was buried in rubbles after 18 excavators tore a few buildings down.

Angered and having so power to resist, some villagers resort to violence. In Wuhan, a young man named Zou Bing injured two of the 30 plus hired by a District in Wuhan City who assaulted and injured his mother in the process of evicting her. One of the injured died in the hospital and earlier this month, Zou was sentenced to death with a two-year reprieve.

Collective protests against forced evictions also have been seen more often across China. Al Jazeera English reported a villagers’ protest in a village named Liuxiazhuang in September. The scene is simply heart-wrenching. Another protest-turned-into-riot in late September also caught the attention of international media. The riot broke out in Lufeng, Guangdong Province, and lasted for four days. Netizens in China showed support for the protesters and anger towards the corrupted local authority and developers.

So, back to what happened in Jilin. Chinese public believe that the three slain young soldiers, seen by many as still “kids,” left the base to help their team leader protect his family against violence, with violence. In today’s China, it is seen as heroism more than anything else. Although Chinese public’s awakening is encouraging, the lurking thirst for violent justice is nevertheless quite worrying.

• In case of paternity testing, refusal of testing establishes the other party’s position;
• Yields and accretions of premarital personal property is not considered common property;
• The property purchased by the parents of one party in the marriage for this party is considered personal property of this party;
• Immovable property purchased by one party before marriage belongs to the registered owner;
• In case of contested divorce, the articles concerning property settlement in the premarital agreement are void.

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Yao Jiaxin, a junior at Xi’an Conservatory of Music, who was sentenced to death for intentional homicide, was executed today. On the night of October 22, 2010, while driving in his own sedan, Yao hit and injured Zhang Miao, a 26-year old mother who was riding an electric bike. As he saw that Zhang was trying to get his plate number, Yao panicked and stabbed Zhang repeatedly to death with a knife. Yao was convicted and sentenced to death earlier this year. The Supreme Court approved his death penalty today, and he was executed afterwards.

Yao Jiaxin’s has been a high-profile case for many reasons. First of all, as a college student, he had his own car. When the media reported his case, many thought that his parents were powerful officials, which didn’t turn out to be the case. He was seen as a second Li Qiming, the son of Baoding City’s Police Deputy Chief Li Gang. Last October, Li Qiming killed a college student in an accident and claimed that his dad was Li Gang so nobody could touch him. Li Qiming’s case invoked waves of criticism from Chinese public, who are fed up with government officials’ abuse of power. Exposed by the media not long after Li’s case, Yao’s case fueled this anger in the public and took it to another level, especially when his victim was a powerless woman from a village who worked as a helper at a small restaurant. The public opinion, sadly, was predominated by the request for death penalty.

Another reason this case has attracted so much public attention has to do with the violent nature of the crime and the criminal’s identity as a young and promising college student. Yao was said to be a quiet young man, a gentle young pianist. Yet, in order to avoid responsibilities, he chose to kill an innocent injured woman with such violence. The public was shocked by his selfishness and lack of morality. The public has directed the blame on mostly the declining morality in Chinese society in general in Chinese’s crazy for material wealth. Others also blamed Yao’s parents and schools for not doing a good job and raised a “demon” in him. Yet others pointed out the unjust laws under which injuring someone in a car accident costs the responsible driver more than killing someone. Thus there’s a saying in China that “killing is better than injuring.”

As the public’s cry for Yao’s execution was getting louder every day, some Chinese, mostly intellects and law scholars, called for lenience and proposed to use death penalty cautiously if not banning it all together in China. However, the voice of this group of people seemed to be quite weak in the overwhelming discourse on the opposite side. Some angry netizens even accused those who opposed death penalty of being “wumao” (“fifty cents”) or the minions of those in power.

Yao’s execution today triggered another surge of online discourse. On weibo.com, Sina’s weibo (microblogging) site, Yao Jiaxin’s father, Yao Qingwei, has been posting weibos since Yao was convicted. Today, in one of his weibos he writes:

药家鑫之父药庆卫：Yao Jiaxin was executed today. We were waiting at home [for the notice] to bring back his body, but who knows that the Court didn’t let us view his body, but only asked us to wait for his ashes. I said for my child that he wouldn’t donate organs, because Professor Kong (Kong Qingdong, professor from Peking University – author’s notes) said that “Yao Jiaxin looked like a murderer,” and I was worried that Yao Jiaxin’s organs would do harm to others. I only wish that Yao Jiaxin’s death will wash away all of his sin, leaving nothing to harm this world.

Many netizens have responded to Yao Qingwei’s weibo. The sarcastic bitterness in this weibo and Yao Qingwei’s personal tragedy of losing a son won him sympathy from many netizens.

Microblogger 周伟良 writes:

In the end, both family were hurt. Yao papa, please accept my condolence.

Another, 斯凯迪歪, writes:

Yao Jiaxin was a criminal, but Yao Qingwei is only a father. Just as @贺卫方 said, we can sentence a person to death penalty by law, but can’t we refrain from celebrating the execution of one of us with a public fiesta? In the same sense, we can feel that our demand was met, but can’t we stop shouting out our opinions on the weibo of a father who just lost his son?

Others criticized the authority for their insensitivity to Yao’s family. For instance, 梁嘉璟_Ken writes:

Why not show some respect to the family of the deceased?! Even the family of the executed!

蔡文狄vendy writes:

This is helpless. Chinese laws are this inhumane. The belief in “an eye for an eye” has been deeply rooted in China. Live well, and be a model for China’s more humane laws in the future.

Some netizens, unsurprisingly, suspect that there’s some sort of conspiracy on the part of the authority to harvest Yao’s organs for sale.

Microblogger 天涯赵瑜 writes:

Is it true as what they say that they wouldn’t let the family to get close (to the body), and take the opportunity to sale the organs of the executed criminal? What are the facts? If this is real, then it’s really unfair. Yao Jiaxin was executed, and has been punished for his crime, but not releasing the body to his parents is just too much.

There are also netizens who condemn death penalty as an inhumane, such as 蔡一哲, who writes:

Killing to stop killing. Bloody law! No human rights!

象考拉一样地生活着 writes:

Also Yao Jiaxin committed a crime, what happened has happened. Taking another perspective, I think: 1. Chinese law is not humane enough. 2. Public discourse sometimes can destroy people. 3. I see many netizens’ indifference, but although his parents were at fault, with so much pain after they lost their son, they deserve some condolence from others. Isn’t it that hard?

The microblogging above is right. Many netizens still believe that Yao’s father deserved the pain of losing a son because it’s his fault to have raised such a “beast.”

A timeline of Yao Jiaxin’s case

October 20, 2010 – Yao Jiaxin drove a sedan and hit Zhang Miao, who was riding on a electric bike moving in the same direction. Injured, Zhang tried to record Yao’s plate number. Panicked, Yao stabbed Zhang repeatedly to death with a knife and fled the scene afterwards. Later that night, Yao hit another two pedestrians, and was caught by passersby when he tried to run.

October 22, 2010 – Yao was arrested for the second hit-and-run accident, but he did not confess the first accident and the killing of Zhang.

October 23, 2010 – Accompanied by his parents, Yao turned himself in for killing Zhang. He was detained by the Xi’an police that night.

November 25, 2010 – Approved by the Xi’an prosecutorial authority, Yao was officially arrested for intentional homicide.

January 11, 2011 – Yao was charged with intentional homicide by Xi’an Prosecutor’s Office.

March 23, 2011 – Yao was tried in Xi’an Intermediate People’s Court for intentional homicide. He expressed remorse, and his attorney defended him by claiming his action as “passion killing” instead of intentional homicide.

April 22, 2011 – Xi’an Intermediate People’s Court ruled Yao guilty of intentional homicide. Yao was sentenced to death penalty, deprived of political rights for life, and responsible for a compensation of 45498.5 yuan to the victim’s family.

May 20, 2011 – Shannxi Province Superior People’s Court dismissed Yao’s appeal and sustained the original ruling. Yao’s sentence of death penalty was submitted to the Supreme Court for approval.

June 7, 2011 – The Supreme Court approved Yao’s death penalty. Yao was executed.

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The recent criminalization of drunk driving, and the Deputy Chief Justice of China, Mr. Zhang Jun’s comments on the interpretation of the Law have triggered such heated debates. Under the 8th Amendment to the Criminal Law passed by the Standing Committee of the People’s Congress on February 25, 2011, drunk driving is a criminal offense, and the driver is subject to imprisonment and a fine. Since the Amendment became effective on May 1, many drunk driving arrests have been reported across China, including a high-profile case involving, Gao Xiaosong, one of China’s best-known song-writers and producers.

At a national conference on criminal law held on May 10, Chief Justice Zhang Jun commented on the 8th Amendment that where criminal cases are involved, the courts at all levels must be “cautious” and “not to interpret the 8th Amendment literally.” He emphasized that the judgment should be in line with the amended Law on Road Traffic Safety (Xihua). In other words, Zhang interpreted that to determine drunk driving as a criminal offense, the court needs to consider each incident of offense. Following Zhang’s interpretation, the judgement should be based on the severity of the consequence of the driver’s action, which is determined by whether the action has caused an accident and, if yes, the severity of the accident.

Zhang’s comments and his interpretation of the 8th Amendment to the Criminal Law immediately stirred up debates both in the legal circles and in the public. For instance, an article on opinion.hexun.com presented two opposing views from two attorneys. Liu Changsong, attorney, argued that “any interpretation of the law on the substance rather than wording is not interpreting the law, but creating it.” Liu pointed out that the making of this Law was based on extensive research and public deliberation. In response to the severity argument, Liu argued that the severity of the consequences of the driver’s action should be based on the blood alcohol concentration, rather than whether the driver has caused accidents or the severity of the accidents.

Liu’s view is supported by law professor Wang Mingliang at Fudan University in Shanghai. Wang pointed out that dangerous driving is an offense by action that does not require its causing severe accidents to be punished as a criminal offense. Wang held that drunk driving does not equal traffic offenses whose judgment is determined by the severity of the accident.

On the other hand, Sun Ruizhu, attorney, argued that it is unreasonable to treat all drunk driving cases equally. “When a man drives after having a bottle of beer,” he said, “he hasn’t caused others loss of property or lives, nor has he hurt others’ will, but he is judged as a criminal and prosecuted by the Criminal Law, and this is not reasonable according to common sense.” He also argued that there is a tendency of severe punishment in the Chinese legal system, and “this reliance on severe punishment is a sign of short-sightedness in managing the country.”

These two views represent the division in the legal circles on new issues such as this one. In a way, they reflect the tension between the traditional tendency to contextualize legal cases in China, which heavily depends on the judge’s opinions, and the “Western” judicial tradition that is strictly based on the written law.

In public media, many netizens are critical of Zhang’s comments and attitude. For Chinese public, Zhang’s comments are no more than excuses for those in power, that is, government officials, rich business people, and celebrities, to get away with their irresponsible acts. In deed, several high profile drunk driving cases in the past few years involved these privileged citizens. As a blogger 肚大乃容 wrote, Zhang’s comments are to first help the powerful and the rich drunk drivers get away with their crimes, and second, to confuse the local low enforment and turn “rule of law” to “rule of man.” He jokingly complained that “some say that China’s laws are the best laws in the world, but the ones who practice law–the judges–have the least power to execute law” because they have to follow the Deputy Chief Justice’s order. Exasperated, this blogger concluded his post with the following passage:

One is one, and two is two; in front of the clear stipulation of the law, as the leader of the highest judicial entity of the country, why did [Zhang] have to conjure up a different interpretation? As a driver, as a Chinese citizen, I very much hope that this Deputy Chief Justice can work a bit harder, and give us some examples of what types of drunk driving are not considered criminal offenses and are not punishable, so that we can firmly abide by the law in our daily lives!

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Before I get into this issue, let me first give you some background. China has a severe shortage in organs for transplantation. It is reported that of the 1.5 million patients in China who need a transplant, only 10 thousand of them will receive one. Few organs used for transplantation are from voluntary donors upon death. Most of the transplants are from living donors, who are often related to the patients or recruited on the black market. Last year, throughout China, only 28 registered donors’ organs are harvested after their death. In 2009, the Red Cross launched a campaign for organ donation in ten provinces and cities across China, but the results were quite insignificant.

Registering organ donors with driver’s license application is part of the government’s effort to help solve the problem of organ shortage in China. However, the idea, which has worked well in countries such as the U.S., the U.K., and Australia, has faced with tremendous resistance from many Chinese. So what went wrong?

It certainly has to do with culture. Many Chinese believe that having to think about death when getting a driver’s license is inauspicious. In fact, emotionally, many Chinese can’t accept even the suggestion of the possibility of accident and death when they get their driver’s license.

A blogger wrote:

I am an “atheist,” but I believe this intent [to donate organs] can easily affect my mood, easily affect me so that when I drive later I won’t feel “sunny.” So, no matter how lightly the Health Ministry said [the intent] is “completely voluntary,” reasonably, I won’t sign up for this intent.

Another wrote:

Getting a driver’s license is also like starting a new chapter in life, especially for young people, another coming of age ceremony. At this ceremony, everybody is giving good wishes. If at this moment, the driver is asked to fill out an intent form for organ donation in case of an accident, it will make people uncomfortable, and even fearful.

To some people, asking about organ donation when getting a driver’s license equals to suggesting, as a blogger put it, “driving to death!”

This view is so pervasive in China that even a self-claimed physician wrote in his blog that asking drivers to sign the donor agreement “will depress people immediately, and leave scars in their hearts.” Then he continues to go down a slippery-slope road:

When they drive in the future, they will always think about one day their organs are going to be taken out. The thought of it makes me anxious. Once you sign the agreement, you’ll have to carry the burden for your life. How can someone live like this!! Very inauspicious.

This sort of panicky responses to the donor registration, although border on absurdity, are not rare online.

On a deeper level, organ donation is stigmatized in Chinese culture because it poses as a threat or contempt to the tradition of ancestor worship. In tradition Chinese culture, the body is a gift from the ancestors, and thus should be revered. Dismemberment is considered an insult to the ancestor and a very unfortunate thing that can happen to the deceased. There is a saying in Chinese, “siwuquanshi,” meaning “death without a whole body.” This is considered one of the most severe punishment and the most unfortunate fate for a person.

This notion of preserving body is one of the reasons why many Chinese oppose organ donation, like this blogger:

Personally I believe, organ transplantation should not exist. Our bodies and the skin are given by our parents. How can we give them away easily?

Another blogger, although agrees that organ donation is a “good thing,” admits that he won’t do it himself:

I am a conservative man from the countryside, even if I wanted to donate, I don’t think my parents would agree. Being filial should be put ahead of everything else, so I have to listen to my parents, our bodies, hair and skin are taken from our parents, we can’t decide on our own, had better think twice. So in the end, my opinion is that I won’t donate, but I don’t know if you will.

Although cultural traditions are a strong force in this debate, many observers believe that they can be overcome over time with education and as information about organ transplantation is more available for the public to access. However, this is only what it takes for Chinese public to accept the new policy. What’s more difficult to overcome are the public’s distrust in all levels government, public health and healthcare agencies, and the law enforcement and the fear that has grown out of this distrust. This distrust and fear are deeply rooted in China’s overall social and political climate as it charges forward with one of the most fast growing market economy in the world. The tension created in this climate has been an underlying cause of the growing anxiety in the Chinese public.

Some people criticized the organ donation system in China of being irresponsible and inefficient. They contribute the shortage to organs to the inefficient system rather than Chinese people’s unwillingness to donate. In fact, some people have lost faith in the entire organ donation system in China.

In response to this news one 163.com, a netizen wrote about her/his frustrating experience in the past when (s)he tried to register for donate marrow due to the inefficiency, poor management, and even indifference of the staff of China Marrow Donor Program. (S)he waited for a long time for the Red Cross to arrange the screening test, paid for it, which was very expensive, and donated some more money. Finally, (s)he’s registered. But after (s)he relocated to another city, she could not update her information and nobody with the Red Cross seemed to care to help her. She wrote:

[I] looked up their phone number online and called the Red Cross in Suzhou Province and the Red Cross in Jiangsu Province many times, requesting to update my contact information, but neither agency provided the service. They said they would contact me. They seemed to be very impatient with me, and hung up on me even before I finished talking. I don’t know how they could contact me without knowing my new contact information. Initially I thought donating stem cells could help saving lives and maybe a family, and thought it was worth it. But I was so naïve. In this system, it’s difficult! So, don’t just publicize the China Marrow Donor Program, or say that there’s a shortage of organs. We have to see what caused this, [what] caused us to lose the sense of security or compassion!

[S]he recounted another story she read, in which a corneal donor’s family tried to contact a hospital to harvest the organ, but because the doctors were not on duty, the donor’s family could only watch the corneal expire. After that, the family cancelled all of their organ donation registrations. mly412 wrote, “No matter what, now when they want me to register, I won’t. I’m afraid that my kindness gets trampled. Even after death one would be trampled by these lame people and this lame system.”

Organ transplantation costs 150,000 to 200,000 yuan ($21,500-$28,600) in China, and the whole process lacks transparency. Many Chinese worry that the hospitals will take this opportunity to make a profit on the donors. Many even think that it’s likely that the hospitals will put profit before people’s lives. A netizen wrote:

From now on, drivers must be careful! If you get into a serious accident and are sent to a hospital. The hospital checks online that you’re a donor, then they’ll stop saving you and announce that you’re dead. Then they will have organs for sale! The hospital can make a fortune!

Unfortunately, paranoid as it sounds, this is not an opinion of the minority. A netizen commented on 163.com:

Who can ensure that those in need can receive these organs for free, and ensure that these organs are not sold[?]

Another netizen wrote:

Even the dying are not spared. Whom did they donate their organs to? Who got the money?

And another wrote:

If there are cases where people are murdered for their organs, I won’t be surprised.

Some blame it to the declining moral principles in China as everybody is rushing to get rich. A blogger wrote:

In today’s China, there are beastie deeds happening every day, the milk powder scandal, the swage oil scandal, violent demolishing of residence, government corruption, and lastly the beef scandal and so on, countless facts all prove how low humanity has fallen in China today, far below the moral bottom line.

Behind all the fears is common people’s feeling of social injustice and a sense of powerlessness in a social system that is largely submitted to individuals’ power.

A netizen wrote:

I don’t want this to happen: when our car collides with that of a lingdao (government official), when we are sent to the hospital at the same time at the same time, the lingdao is more seriously injured, but I’m the one who dies and he lives. My families come, and they produce the agreement, I’m “beiziyuan” (“voluntaried” or forced to become voluntary).

In Chinese, bei denotes the passive voice. Like in the post above, I often see people use something like beisiwang (made dead), or beiziyuan. Chinese netizens’ coinage of these phrases in the passive voice shows how powerless they feel.

This feeling of powerlessness is expressed by another netizen:

This is horrifying, please don’t play us. I can’t be in charge of my organs. […] Surely this production line can create infinite profit. Your life is no longer controlled by you.

I have to note that this feeling of powerlessness and paranoia in these posts are more than just reaction to this single policy but is a ramification of the loss of confidence and trust in government and any governmental or social institutions in the general public in China today. Many netizens directly criticized the government and other institutions for their lack of ethics and credibility. A netizen wrote:

First fix government officials’ hearts, doctors’ ethics, traffic police’s professionalism, 120’s (emergency number) ethics, and then put (the policy) in practice. First elevate government’s credibility, its trustworthiness, elevate government agencies’ authority, and then put [the policy] in practice.

In their comments on the news, two netizens wrote:

– Is it possible that somebody has an accident on a trip, and when the family get there the organs are already taken.”

– Right, right. Those who can still be saved won’t be saved but get donated, the credibility in China is so low, why do we have to meet the international standard, our lives haven’t met the international standard!”

The latter comment is directed to the Health Ministry’s citation of other countries’ similar practice.

Finally, a netizen called for the government officials to first set the examples themselves before they require others to donate organs:

All these years, how many public servants and party members voluntarily donated organs? Or, as the entity that proposed this policy, how many people in the Health Ministry set the first examples? […] This time, can the staff members in the Health Ministry and other government agencies set an example for the common people?

I won’t claim that these quotations represent the public opinion on this issue in China completely and accurately, but I believe that they do reveal some serious social tensions in China. Personally, I hope this policy will be carried out. (Here I need to clarify with additional caution that this is a voluntary measure, and it is the drivers’ decision to make if they are willing to be a donor.) However, according to Huang, at this point, the policy is only a “concept.” Because other links in the organ donation system such as the process of getting the family’s consent and notarization still need to be improved, registering for donation alone will not likely to solve the problem of organ shortage in China. Nevertheless, Chinese public’s resistance to the policy, although based partly on panicky speculations and fear, is understandable and needs to be taken seriously, for a nation living in such anxiety, fear, and feeling of disfranchisement and insecurity is not going to go very far.

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