An embezzlement of public funds, and on such a grand scale, a violation of the law, and he gets demoted! Why? Isn’t this sacrificing the pawn to save the queen?

At a press conference earlier this week, the state-run oil company Sinopec announced that it had completed its internal investigation into the recent “high-priced liquor scandal,” which continues to draw teeth-gnashing in China’s press and on the internet. The investigation team found that Lu Guangxu (鲁广余), the now former general manager of the enterprise’s Guangdong branch (who has been demoted but retained), had deceived the company last year when a public complaint about his conduct prompted top management to order a “self-examination and correction” of his behavior.
What does that mean? That Sinopec dealt with a complaint about one of its most senior managers by instructing that official to investigate himself.
The sheer buffoonery of this approach seems still to escape Sinopec, which has, after its CEO publicly wrote off the scandal as an instance of “the conduct of a single individual disgracing millions,” ordered an enterprise-wide campaign of “self-examination and correction.”
Understandably, this outcome has irritated and concerned many Chinese.
A web user in Beijing wrote today:

An embezzlement of public funds, and on such a grand scale, a violation of the law, and he gets demoted! Why? Isn’t this sacrificing the pawn to save the queen?

Another from Zhangzhou City in Fujian province wrote in frustration:

Crap! It’s these guys who have pushed oil prices up so high! The Chinese people have already lost faith!

“Who would dare believe this government?” asked another, to which a user in Anhui province responded: “Only idiots would believe, those old Party grandfathers. It’s you all who are fools, and you all who still think that the people should go on being fools.”
Writing in today’s The Beijing News, journalist Wei Yingjie (魏英杰) addresses these and other concerns about the Sinopec case, arguing that the results of the internal investigation bode ill for the future.

“Is the High-Price Liquor Scandal ‘One Individual’s Wrong’?”
April 27, 2011
The Beijing News
By Wei Yingjie (魏英杰)
We finally have a result in the handling of the ‘high-priced liquor scandal’ at Sinopec, [in which more than one million yuan in state funds were found to have been applied inside the state-run enterprise for the purchase of Chinese Maotai-brand liquor], a scandal that has raged for days. Lu Guangxu, [the general manager of Sinopec’s Guangdong branch], will be “demoted but retained [by the company] for use,” and he will personally pay back the cost of the 1.3. million yuan worth of alcohol, which has already been consumed.
The CEO of Sinopec said recently in his assessment of the so-called ‘high-priced liquor scandal’ that this amounted to “the conduct of a single individual disgracing millions.” But was this really just a wrong committed by a “single individual”? What was it that allowed this individual to do wrong?
Judging from this recent outcome, it does seem that Lu Guangxu has shouldered this high-priced liquor scandal as “an individual.” But there are things about this outcome that remain unsatisfying. For example, the investigation [by Sinopec] found that Lu Guangxu justified his purchase of the alcohol in question by saying it was for a company business event. Well, does this use of the money amount to the embezzlement of public funds or not, and does it or does it not amount to conduct in violation of the law and disciplinary rules? So is an amount topping a million yuan not subject to financial stewardship? Could Lu Guangxu just spend it as he pleased? Even if this was not coordinated conduct of some sort, this certainly must show that Sinopec’s internal financial management system has serious problems.
Moreover, it has emerged that as early as October last year, Sinopec received notice from a member of the public about Lu Guangxu’s conduct. Lu reportedly found a way to hoodwink inspectors following up on these reports. Hence, Sinopec’s investigation team [for the recent liquor scandal] has concluded that “Lu Guangxu deceived the organization.”
There is no doubt that Lu Guangxu’s deceptions are a part of the story, but the person about whom there were reports was Lu Guangxu himself, so how could top management at Sinopec deal with this by instructing him to carry out an investigation of his own conduct? How can problems not go wrong with this sort of “self-rectification” of one’s own behavior? If the investigation team [dealing with the liquor scandal] fails to address questions about this method of oversight, the public must be concerned about the possibility of similar problems in the future. How will Sinopec maintain checks on the conduct of the bosses of its various branches? If there are no inside informants to break cases like Lu Guangxu’s wide open, does that mean problems go unaddressed?
Most regrettable is the fact a blind eye has been turned on these public concerns. The investigation team holds Lu Guangxu accountable on three counts, namely severe violations of the company’s internal management and oversight mechanisms, daring to make purchases without collective study by Sinopec’s leadership team and in the absence of supervision, and finally, employing deception to put off investigation by his superiors, thereby doing serious damage to Sinopec’s reputation. On the surface, certainly, these violations can be chalked up to “individual conduct.” But if Lu Guangxu is capable as an individual of committing all of these deceptions, shouldn’t that prompt much more serious reflection on the management mechanisms in place at Sinopec?
We are told that Sinopec has ordered a strengthening of internal management, including immediate self-examination and correction throughout the entire enterprise. But this was exactly the method used to respond to questions about Lu Guangxu’s conduct in October last year. Clearly, if responsibility for this scandal is borne by a single individual, and the need for deeper institutional change is shrugged off, the outlook for this “self-examination” is poor.

We wrote yesterday about how a scheduled 500-person lecture at the University of International Business and Economics in Beijing by CMP fellow Xiong Peiyun (熊培云) was suddenly “cancelled” earlier this month and moved to a small venue with an audience of just 30 or so students and faculty. As a video of a sharp rebuttal to Xiong’s talk by Fan Zemin (樊泽民), the deputy director of the university’s Student Affairs Division, made the rounds on the internet, the focus of the incident turned to the ideological rift between China’s conservative so-called “left” and its reformist so-called “right.”
But the Xiong-Fan face-off was not the only exchange across ideological lines last week. Also getting some attention was an editorial spat between Wang Wen (王文), the head of the editorial desk at the Chinese-language Global Times, generally known for its nationalistic bent, and the poet and essayist Ye Fu (野夫). Wang’s articles were: “What China’s Liberal Camp is Most Lacking” and “There Aren’t So Many Bad People on This Earth: Another Discussion with Mr. Ye” And Ye Fu’s responses were: “What China’s Authoritarians Are Most Lacking: A Response to Wang Wen” and “The World Always Has a Few Bad Guys: A Response to Wang Wen.”
In his first essay, which prompted the exchange, Wang Wen issues a series of character attacks against academics and journalists he views as representatives of China’s so-called liberal faction, or ziyoupai (自由派). His words are what S.I. Hayakawa once called “snarl words,” full of emotional implications and associations rather than substance.
Pretending to a courtesy that masks a deeper nastiness, Wang chooses to identify none of the people he sets up as examples of the general churlishness and depravity of “liberal” or “reformist” figures in China. He speaks to the reader, as though in a whispered aside, of a certain “very famous professor from the Pearl River Delta” who verged on shouting at a forum on universal values. Then there is “the chief editor of a certain famous special ‘weekly supplement’ launched by a certain newspaper” who, Wang intimates (like the big-mouth gossip who vouches secrecy before spilling all), had possibly carnal relations with a female student from Taiwan ten years ago after delivering a “harangue” to adoring students.
Then, in a further act of pretended grace, Wang actually confesses that a couple of liberals are not so bad. By that point, however, he has successfully confuted moral righteousness and intellectual substance. And how can liberal thinkers possibly have valid points to make if their personal conduct is so odious?
Wang’s conclusion is the conservative mantra: “Let’s take our time.” China is a big and complicated place, after all. And what is needed, above all else, is stability.
In his rebuttal to Wang’s arguments, Ye Fu (野夫) tells the story of how he met Wang at a dinner hosted by a friend, how the two were amiable but had widely diverging views, so that he saw real friendship as impossible. Then, earlier this month, Ye came across an online video on China’s t.m4.cn website in which television pundit Sima Nan (司马南) and Wang Wen speak about the detention of artist Ai Weiwei (艾未未).
In the video, Sima Nan speaks first about Ai Weiwei, saying all Chinese must respect the law before launching into a political argument about how the CCP has led the People’s Republic of China for 60 years and “we should have confidence in this political system” — implying that Ai has incurred guilt by opposing China’s political system. Wang Wen then proceeds to attack Ai Weiwei on the notion of what constitutes “art.” “Is that really art?” Wang asks, noting that Ai Weiwei has exposed himself in public before. “If that’s really art, then anyone can become an artist.”

Taken aback by the video, Ye posted about it on his microblog. He writes of his thinking at the time: “From the standpoint of basic human decency, Mr. Fatty [Ai Weiwei] still belongs to the missing, and the government hasn’t given an accurate statement [on his case], so for these two to sing and strum and pick on the case like this, I can’t help but feel is a bit wicked. So I made a microblog post about this and mentioned for good measure the organization Wang was associated with [Global Times] . . . ”
Wang Wen was apparently upset with the publicity Ye gave to the video on his microblog, and with the mention of the Global Times, so he called Ye’s mobile and asked, quite politely according to Ye, that the post be removed. Ye obliged, and the two pledged to get together for drinks at some later date. Subsequently, Ye saw Wang Nan’s “magnum opus” on the problem with liberals — in which he actually referred to his exchange with Ye Fu over the microblog post — and he decided he had to respond openly. He first sent Wang Wen a text message to let him know that his rebuttal was in the works, to which Wang Wen responded: “So long as it is fair-minded, I will listen.”
Ye Fu’s response can be found in partial form below. But first a partial translation of Wang Wen’s essay.

“What China’s Liberal Faction is Most Lacking”
Wang Wen (王文)
In recent years I’ve tackled a number of issues on which I’ve deviated to the left, and I’ve often reflected on my own value tendencies. Am I a “leftist” or a “rightist”? Sometimes I’ve called myself a “center leftist” (中左). But sometimes my views on politics and the economy tend to the “right”, tending to be overly liberal (自由化), and the pain and anger hit home on a number of domestic political, economic and social issues . . .
Still, as I’ve grown older, that anger [I once felt as a college student] has slowly sapped away, like that saying that says if you haven’t experienced rage by the age of 30, you’re done for, and if you’re never enraged after the age of 30, you’re done for too. I think I really have passed the age of rage. But this certainly isn’t just a question of age, but stems also from an inherent recognition that what Chinese society needs right now is stability, and further from the doubts and spontaneous disappointment I have felt in recent years as I’ve come into contact with a number of reformists (or they might be called the “liberal faction” or the “right wing”).
My first recollection of disappointment came ten years ago from a chief editor at a certain famous special “weekly supplement” launched by a certain newspaper, which was dedicated to exposing the negative side of society. This was not long after I joined the media world, at a salon in which many young media professionals and students participated. This chief editor, who at the time has already stepped down, was of course someone that the “young men and women” of the media world worshipped, particularly a pretty young female student from Taiwan. As the chief editor delivered a harangue, the female student sat at his side, admiration gleaming in her eyes. Not long after, this chief editor began patting the student’s small hands and soft shoulders [as he spoke]. A bit later, escaping everyone’s notice, he led the female student by the hand to sit off to one side. After that, he led the female student away from the restaurant. I don’t intend to waste any words here speculating about what plot followed on after this, but this sort of situation impacted me quite strongly. How could this person act like this? . . .
The second disappointment that deeply affected me came from a salon at which the issue of “universal values” was discussed. That was around 2007, and the phrase was quite the rage in the intellectual world at the time. That conference probably brought together most all of the top reform faction personalities in China (顶级的改革派人士). At the time I met a rather bigshot professor of journalism studies and quite reverentially offered my business card. To my surprise, he immediately fired back with: “You guys are too nationalistic, in the end all #!*# together with the government.” This wasn’t the first time I had received such ungracious treatment.
In 2008, I was invited to take part in some project for media professionals put together by the U.S. Department of State. There I met the head of the editorial department of a certain southern [Chinese media] group that claimed it wanted to publish China’s best newspaper. Over there he was regarded by his fellows as a kind of central base camp of the “liberal faction” (自由派). I quite professionally exchanged name cards with him and earned in exchange the words: “Ah, that angry youth paper of yours.” This prompted an embarrassed colleague from his newspaper group who was also there to promptly apologize to me on his behalf. They said to him, “I think you should apologize to Wang Wen.” But to this day I’ve never received his apology. Still, I’ve kept his name card.
I ran into that journalism studies professor again at a forum held a year later. The discussion at the time was about how to raise our discourse power (话语权) in China. One of the views I expressed in my talk was that Chinese leaders should extend to domestic media more of the opportunities for exclusive interviews that they now so easily give to overseas media. This professor severely opposed this idea before I had even gotten my words out, saying that if this were done domestic media would “definitely come to blows.” I understood his remark to mean that these exclusive interview opportunities were neither permitted for nor suited to domestic media, and only overseas media were qualified to get them.
Coming back to that meeting about “universal values,” a very famous professor from the Pearl River Delta area gave a talk there. The first thing they said was that some people don’t believe there is such a thing as universal values in the world. “I think this is so ridiculous. I propose right now that we ask anyone present who does not believe democracy and freedom are universal values to please leave!” His speech bordered on crazy shouting, and [when he said this] I could barely keep from spitting out the water I had just swigged. Is that what he calls democracy and freedom?
. . .
I’m not saying that the character and conduct of all reform faction (liberal faction) scholars disappoints me. There are many who deserve my respect. For example, Ma Licheng (马立诚), whom I’ve spoken of at length several times, an old man of sophistication. There is Brother Xu Zhiyuan (许知远), who always keeps his words in check at gatherings of lots of people, and always listens to what others have to say. That kind of character and conduct are worthy of my imitation. But I must say that many of the liberal faction folk I’ve come across belong to that type of which we say they are “lenient with themselves, and strict with others” (宽于律己、严于律人). They are flush with criticism of our government and our society, and they hold that criticism is the first duty of the intellectual. Moreover, they believe that China is rife with ills and defects and reforms must be stepped up.
I can agree with this viewpoint, but I’m still of the view that you can’t sweep up heaven and earth if you can’t keep your own house in order. If you haven’t straightened yourself out, how can you expect others to keep to the straight and narrow? Shouldn’t you examine yourself first, and see whether you personally uphold these principles of democracy and freedom you support? Are you not speaking of democracy in a way that is itself despotic? Are you not yourself unintentionally fishing for glory with all of your insincere baloney?

The following is Ye Fu’s response to Wang Wen’s first essay. It is structured as a series of “comments” or “readings” on blocks of text from Wang’s piece. Unfortunately, I have not translated it all, but Chinese readers are very much encouraged to turn to the original.

“A Response to Wang Wen: What China’s Totalitarian Faction Most Lacks”
Ye Fu (野夫)
After seeing this essay [from Wang Wen], and seeing the delicacy and fairness of this passage [about our exchange], I decided this was a matter of personal virtue and public virtue, and that I must write to discuss [this issue with him]. So I sent him a text message in the morning and asked whether I could openly respond. I cared about friendship, I said, so I thought I would ask first. He responded that so long as I argued even-handedly, he was willing to listen. And so follows the discussion below . . .
ORIGINAL TEXT: Still, as I’ve grown older, that anger [I once felt as a college student] has slowly sapped away. But this certainly isn’t just a question of age, but stems also from an inherent recognition that what Chinese society needs right now is stability, and further from the doubts and spontaneous disappointment I have felt in recent years as I’ve come into contact with a number of reformists (or they might be called the “liberal faction” or the “right wing”).
COMMENT: You agree with stability preservation (维稳), you have doubts and disappointments about the liberal faction, and you’ve decided not to be angry. What does your original anger about social ills have to do with the reform (liberal) faction? Is it because the liberal faction is also angry about social ills, so you are no longer angry? Or is it that all these things that made you angry are the doing of the liberal faction? Any darkness, injustice or corruption is something than angers Man and God — this has nothing to do with left or right. Perhaps all joy and anger you feel must be defined against the liberal faction. Can that make for a stable society?
ORIGINAL TEXT: My first recollection of disappointment came ten years ago from a chief editor at a certain famous special “weekly supplement” launched by a certain newspaper, which was dedicated to exposing the negative side of society. This was not long after I joined the media world, at a salon in which many young media professionals and students participated. This chief editor, who at the time has already stepped down, was of course someone that the “young men and women” of the media world worshipped, particularly a pretty young female student from Taiwan. As the chief editor delivered a harangue, the female student sat at his side, admiration gleaming in her eyes. Not long after, this chief editor began patting the student’s small hands and soft shoulders [as he spoke]. A bit later, escaping everyone’s notice, he led the female student by the hand to sit off to one side. After that, he led the female student away from the restaurant. I don’t intend to waste any words here speculating about what plot followed on after this, but this sort of situation impacted me quite strongly. How could this person act like this? . . .
COMMENT: Assuming this isn’t all just a fabrication, of what possible relevance is this chief editor’s girl-chasing? How did it possibly harm you, or impact your political convictions? Did you have your own eye on the “soft shoulders” of that female Taiwanese student? She didn’t protest herself at her shoulders being touched, so brother, how could you get jealous about this? Is there a national law or regulation against patting someone’s hand? You’ve characterized this chief editor as a representative of the liberal faction, and he ruined those soft shoulders you had your eye on, and so now you have to go up against reformists? What is the logical connection between the personal virtue of a chief editor and the public virtue of liberals or reformists? So if I offer a few examples of rapists who ardently adored Chairman Mao, can I then use that as a criticism of you guys over on the left?
ORIGINAL TEXT: The second disappointment that deeply affected me came from a salon at which the issue of “universal values” was discussed. That was around 2007, and the phrase was quite the rage in the intellectual world at the time. That conference probably brought together most all of the top reform faction personalities in China (顶级的改革派人士). At the time I met a rather bigshot professor of journalism studies and quite reverentially offered my business card. To my surprise, he immediately fired back with: “You guys are too nationalistic, in the end all #!*# together with the government.” This wasn’t the first time I had received such ungracious treatment.
COMMENT: On this matter, most of the professor’s behavior can be chalked up to poor poise and grace, but as to his assessment of your noble newspaper, this is something you’ve already been quite proud of, so why do you find this hurtful? If you are angry because of this, you should know it’s only because this professor doesn’t worship your noble paper, and what does this have to do with the views of the liberal faction? Why do you not consider why it might be that your noble paper suffers disdain in this way?
ORIGINAL TEXT: In 2008, I was invited to take part in some project for media professionals put together by the U.S. Department of State. There I met the head of the editorial department of a certain southern [Chinese media] group that claimed it wanted to publish China’s best newspaper. Over there he was regarded by his fellows as a kind of central base camp of the “liberal faction” (自由派). I quite professionally exchanged name cards with him and earned in exchange the words: “Ah, that angry youth paper of yours.”
COMMENT: The impoliteness of these people toward you is not because you’ve done something wrong. They have no quarrel with you. As chief editor, shouldn’t you really think about why it is your noble paper has such a deplorable reputation? What they are showing contempt for is the media where you work. Just as you mock the Southern Daily Group, they are mocking your noble paper. But the media profession makes its bread by conscience, and if you really think your noble paper is doing right, then you should find in their criticism the honor you seek — and why again should this upset you? If this makes you feel you’ve been treated impolitely or in an undignified way, you can just think of yourself as the good bird getting the best tree. Why is it I wonder that society does not dishonor journalists at People’s Daily, but you guys always get it?
ORIGINAL TEXT: I ran into that journalism studies professor again at a forum held a year later. The discussion at the time was about how to raise our discourse power (话语权) in China. One of the views I expressed in my talk was that Chinese leaders should extend to domestic media more of the opportunities for exclusive interviews that they now so easily give to overseas media. This professor severely opposed this idea before I had even gotten my words out, saying that if this were done domestic media would “definitely come to blows.” I understood his remark to mean that these exclusive interview opportunities were neither permitted for nor suited to domestic media, and only overseas media were qualified to get them.
COMMENT: Again, a personal story of indignity suffered, having nothing to do with the liberal ideas of the professor in question. You criticize Chinese leaders for not respecting you “major domestic media”, but you should see from this how they actually score you guys in their own hearts. In a country where a press law hasn’t even been made, you don’t demand that media be independent, or that there be freedom of the press, you only demand that leaders have a good opinion of you big media, so of course this arouses scorn. The People’s Daily system of which you are part has already dominated enough of the discourse power and reporting power [in China], and still you whine like a concubine. Do you think that’s fair to the small media proliferating all over [China]?

FRONTPAGE IMAGE: “Mao stamp” by Karen Horton and the Goddess of Democracy in Hong Kong’s Victoria Park by iafos, both available at Flickr.com under Creative Commons license.

On April 18, CMP fellow Xiong Peiyun (熊培云), a young scholar who is also one of China’s most prominent bloggers and columnists, was scheduled to deliver a well-publicized lecture at the University of International Business and Economics in Beijing. The title of Xiong’s lecture, which was sponsored by Phoenix Online, was “Will this Society of Ours Be Good?” (这个社会会好吗?). Unexpectedly, the 500-person lecture was “cancelled” at the last minute, though it eventually went ahead in a much smaller university venue, with an audience of just around 30 students and faculty.
After Xiong concluded his downsized lecture, Fan Zemin (樊泽民), the deputy director of the university’s Student Affairs Division — one of the men many now suspect was behind the sudden cancelation — issued an insulting rebuttal in which he refused to address Xiong as “teacher.”

With respect to Mr. Xiong Peiyun. Why do I not call you ‘teacher’? Because I am a teacher here at the University of International Business and Economics. This is the first time I’ve met you face to face, sir. What I know of you is still from your time at Window on the South magazine. First of all, a moment ago you said you left Window on the South some time ago. Well, I feel that what you delivered to us today lacks sufficient depth of thought, lacks sufficient depth.

Fan’s critique hardly lived up to the rigor to which he somewhat patronizingly pretended, however. He offered no specific criticisms, but instead indicted the lecture on the grounds that “these ideas don’t represent China’s mainstream, or this society’s basic essence.”
“This is certainly not the standpoint of mainstream values,” Fan continued, to which Xiong interjected with a wry smile, drawing laughter from the small audience: “Yes, I think the Party still comes first in that respect.”
Fan then summarized his three objections to Xiong’s talk as follows: “First, the subject is unclear. Second, there’s no logical quality to it. Third, the entire speech has no thinking in it.”
The lecture, its cancellation, and the itchy session that followed it became a hot spot of internet discussion in China late last week, and it quickly became for many a textbook case of the sharp divisions between more liberal thinking scholars like Xiong and conservative Party loyals like Fan.
This, in fact, was not the only tense exchange of the week. We also refer readers to the editorial spat between Wang Wen (王文) — “What China’s Liberal Camp is Most Lacking” and “There Aren’t So Many Bad People on This Earth: Another Discussion with Mr. Ye” — and Ye Fu (野夫), whose contributions to the back-and-forth included, “What China’s Authoritarians Are Most Lacking: A Response to Wang Wen” and “The World Always Has a Few Bad Guys: A Response to Wang Wen.”
A video of Fan’s rebuttal, in which Xiong can be seen smiling uncomfortably in the background, is still available at Youku. Chatter about Fan Zemin’s remarks, however, were quickly scrubbed from the internal BBS at the University of International Business and Economics (UIBE).

One open letter by a UIBE student addressed to Fan Zemin expressed strong objection to his words and actions, and called on all to preserve the integrity of the school and get rid of “this stinky fish that has spoiled the academic climate of UIBE.” In clear defiance of Fan’s own characterization of himself as a “teacher,” the student addressed him as “Mr.”

Respectable Mr. Fan Zemin:
Hello! Why do I address you as ‘mister’ and not as teacher? Because I am a student the University of International Business and Economics. I have just seen a number of images and reports about your criticism on April 18 of Mr. Xiong Peiyun’s lecture at UIBE, and I would like to discuss with you your viewpoints and thought logic, which are at many points unsuitable.
Owing to reasons you and I both know, but that I can say that you cannot say, you changed the location of the lecture, this with the hope that you would have complete power in your own hands to control the whole process of the talk and minimize the scope and impact of the lecture’s content. I can understand that the thought, logic and conduct of that group of people you represent has been like this for the past century. And we can also say that your basic objective was achieved even before you delivered your speech. But all that has happened after tells us that often times when someone of middling abilities shoots for a lofty goal that goes against common sense and basic principles, the result runs sharply counter to what this person originally intended.

Among the student‘s several criticisms of Fan’s remarks was the following:

You said in your remarks that the points Mr. Xiong made “did not represent the mainstream and basic essence” or are “certainly not the standpoint of mainstream values.” Must an individuals views represent the mainstream and basic essence? Personal viewpoints have a right to be in line with the mainstream, and of course they have a right to not be in line with the mainstream. Moreover, from the history of the rule of our dear Party one can see that the non-mainstream views at any given time tend to become the mainstream views in the space of one or two decades . . . I don’t oppose the fact that you represent those people who seek to use public institutions [such as media] to advance their own mainstream values, but I firmly believe under the principle of substantiating [arguments] with facts that every viewpoint should have a channel for expression within the framework of our laws and regulations.

I won’t go into detail about the arguments made by Xiong Peiyun in the lecture in question. But here are a few rough strokes.
Xiong speaks particularly about the recent Yao Jiaxin (药家鑫) case and the problem of violence and justice in Chinese society. One of his central concerns is how, as he understands the case, Yao, the son of a military official, has “become a symbol” and is being dealt with on this basis rather than through an impartial legal system. In other words, he is little more than a political pawn.
Here is one portion of Xiong’s remarks on the case:

I certainly believe that our society needs to progress, that a number of bad people do need to be punished. But in this process, there is no need to take a person, a very humble life, and he is a life, and elevate him to a higher political plane, and then carry out a political trial movement against him. What am I trying to say?
In this process, he has not only been turned into a symbol, but the entire so-called trial has been transformed into a kind of ritual. And what other problems are there as well? I’m saying that as we’ve paid such great attention to this case, as we’ve focused so much on whether or not he should die, we’ve actually forgotten a great many things behind the scenes. For example, no deeper questions have been asked about why was he involved in a traffic accident at the time, or what the media’s position has been. On the night I took part in the Phoenix TV segment [I spoke about earlier], for example, one of the participants was the elderly gentleman Lu Tianming (陆天明), who was quite worked up. He said that Yao Jiaxin must certainly be sentenced to death. I hadn’t gone that night to talk about whether or not he should be sentenced to death, and only after I went did I see that Phoenix TV’s headline at the time read, “Should Yao Jiaxin Be Sentenced to Death?” This was the topic everyone was to discuss. They never notified me of that, and had I known this was what would be discussed I would have refused to go. When I saw that the topic was about whether the sentence should be death, I said I was not a judge and that anything I had to say on the matter was without significance.

More generally, Xiong also voices his concern about what might be called the violent fabric of Chinese society today. He suggests, essentially, that there is an absence of basic respect for individual rights and dignity that creates an atmosphere of escalating violence with no working mores or mechanisms for mediation and arbitration. Here are Xiong’s own words:

“Speaking of the negative aspects of this society. The entire twentieth century [in China] has, as we all know, a foul reputation. During that century too many violent episodes occurred. Now too we see many violent things occurring, like the way today’s lecture was suddenly cancelled, partly cancelled, and they say someone made trouble. This sort of riot [against the lecture itself] is a kind of violence. I’ve discovered over the past few days that a number of extreme websites have dubbed myself, old [economist] Mr. Mao Yushi (茅于轼) and others as “slaves of the West” (西奴) and said we must be hung. They even used head shots of us and stuck red triangles over them. I have no idea what I could have done to make them bear such a deep grudge. I don’t know what Mao Yushi could have done to deserve such enmity. But this sort of violence is really awful . . .
I think this is an awful phenomenon. This sort of violence, this omnipresent violence, there is so much of this violence. It is online too, and from our major boulevards to our villages you can witness violence at any time. Aside from the cases of violent demolition and removal led by the government, there are many other cases arising from our society. I’m talking not just about government violence but about social violence. Social violence always has a profound impact on us. Some suffers a personal collapse, for example, everything goes wrong in their life, and they drive out on the streets and mow down life after life. In case after case, men brandish knives and murder children. Look at the recent case of Zhou Yuxin (周宇新), whose life they say took a turn for the worse, so he murdered his wife, his children, and his parents, and who even had to drive back in the midst of his escape to murder his elderly father-in-law . . . Cases like this one, I think, if we ask whether this society of ours is healthy, give us the first part of the answer, that this society is a mess and that we constantly see these heinous acts of depriving others of their lives, or what we could call torture. This is the dark side of our society. But of course I acknowledge that there are bright things [about our society] as well. What we are talking about today are the bad things in this society. And I hope we can gain some ground in this respect.
The other thing is that our whole society has an air of oppressiveness about it. I remember the time when I was living overseas [in France]. I’m not saying things overseas are necessarily great. But I believe the people are extremely courteous and mild in attitude. Let’s say, for example, that you’re walking through a building and come to a [glass] door and someone else is coming through the other way. Perhaps five or ten meters before the door, they will wait for you to pass. When people meet they often embrace. But I think that the distance between people in China is extremely vast . . . If you’re on a bus and someone steps on your foot, according to your understanding this person should apologize, but this person won’t apologize. I’ve seen it happen before where the first person will confront the second person about not apologizing and the other will say, look, why don’t I just inflict more harm on you? In the end, they’ll bring each other down fighting. We should recognize how this society [of ours] is brimming with this sort of air of oppressiveness, this unexplainable hatred. There is no shortage of things like this.

Last week, China Central Television and other Chinese media reported on a scandal at the state-run oil company Sinopec that involved the expenditure of more than a million yuan for the purchase of high-end Chinese liquor that sources say was used privately by company executives.
Shortly after the story broke, stemming originally from the posting online of a number of receipts from Sinopec detailing the purchases, Sinopec’s Guangdong branch reportedly held three meetings around basically two agendas. The first was an order to clean house, meaning that a thorough internal investigation would be carried out to find out exactly who had aired out the company’s dirty laundry. The basic assumption was that the wrongdoer was someone inside the organization, an “inside ghost” (内鬼), and they would be dealt with severely once the company had gotten to the bottom of it.
The second matter up for discussion, involving of course the company’s external relations people, was how to deal with the media. The result was a strict prohibition against any company employee speaking to the media without express approval from Sinopec.
Given all of this fishing about, one has to be concerned about what exactly might happen to this whistle blower if they are found out. And experience tells us that informants are generally subjected to all sorts of reprisals once they have been exposed.
We may all remember the case of Li Changhe (李长河), the former politics and law committee secretary of the Henan city of Pingdingshan, who hired muscle to kill the wife of a township official, Lu Jing (吕净), after Lu blew the whistle on his corrupt activities. Lu Jing’s wife was brutally murdered, and Lu was severely injured in the attack. Then there was Zhang Zhi’an (张治安), the former top district leader in the city of Fuyang, Anhui province — known as the “White House secretary” — who ordered police, prosecutors and discipline inspectors under his thumb to jail Li Guofu (李国福), a real-estate company executive, after Li spoke out about Zhang’s problems. Li Guofu eventually died an “unnatural death” in the custody of local authorities.
As corruption cases involving officials and the bosses of state-run enterprises (like former Sinopec chairman Chen Tonghai) continue to happen, calls for the control of corruption have grown steadily louder, and discipline inspection organs and society in general have grown to have much greater respect for the contributions of whistle blowers.
For the media, these inside informants are key sources of information, and without their help it is almost impossible to imagine breaking open many cases of corruption. The most famous inside informant, of course, was that source known in the United States as “Deep Throat” (深喉), who helped the Washington Post unravel the Watergate scandal in 1972. Deep Throat was identified only a few years ago as a former deputy director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
In a clear mark of progress, China’s National People’s Congress in 2005 ratified the United Nation’s 2003 Convention Against Corruption. In this international law, now in effect in China, Article 33 concerns the protection of informants. It reads: “Each State Party shall consider incorporating into its domestic legal system appropriate measures to provide protection against any unjustified treatment for any person who reports in good faith and on reasonable grounds to the competent authorities any facts concerning offences established in accordance with this Convention.”
While China does not yet have a law protecting the act of whistle-blowing on unlawful activities, both Article 41 of our constitution and the United Nations Convention Against Corruption are sufficient to establish that whistle-blowing is a lawful activity. Well then, why is it that even today these courageous people are routinely branded with the label “inside ghost”, as though their acts were somehow shameful? This tells us that the institutions and individuals vested with special powers and privileges not only remain unchecked by the law, but they uphold the spirit of lawlessness in their actions and values.
[As a state-run enterprise with powerful backing], a large-scale enterprise like Sinopec is in a rather privileged position. If there are collusive acts of corruption within the organization, with the benefits shared out among those involved, shining light on these problems could be extremely difficult. This tells us just how important it is that informants, whose information we depend on in such cases, receive protection from anti-corruption officials and the public. They are in difficult positions indeed.
This editorial originally appeared in Chinese in Southern Metropolis Daily.