Beijing covers up a crackdown
The protest erupted over plans for a wind-power plant that used village lands and required significant landfill in a bay where the people have for generations made a living fishing. Before that, nearby village land had been used for the construction of a coal-fired power plant.
June 27, 2006
by Howard W. French, The New York Times
in International Herald Tribune
SHANWEI, China When the police raked a crowd of demonstrators with gunfire last December in the seaside village of Dongzhou, a few miles from this city, Chinese human rights advocates denounced the action as the bloodiest in the country since the killings in and around Tiananmen Square in Beijing in 1989.
Villagers said at the time that as many as 30 people had been killed, and that many others were missing. The authorities have said little or nothing about the episode, concentrating instead on preventing any accounts of it from circulating widely in the country.
In the limited coverage that was allowed, officials blamed villagers for the unrest.
Six months later, there has been no public investigation of the shootings. Instead, the government has quietly moved to close the matter, prosecuting 19 villagers earlier this month in a little-publicized trial. Seven were given long sentences after being convicted of disturbing the public order and of using explosives to attack the police. Nowhere in the verdict is there any mention of the loss of life.
Outside court, villagers say, the authorities have privately acknowledged the deaths of three residents during the protest. Many say they suspect that more were killed, citing a witness account of a pile of bodies, and details about people who remain missing, but they say they have been warned not to cite a higher figure.
Indeed, residents of the village, in Guangdong Province near Hong Kong, say they have been warned not to talk to outsiders at all. Given the fact that journalists, lawyers, human rights workers and other independent observers have been kept away from Dongzhou, a definitive death toll may never be established.
Whatever the lingering uncertainty, the handling of the protest and its aftermath stand out as a prominent example of how China deals with localized unrest, which has been rising in the countryside.
The protest erupted over plans for a wind-power plant that used village lands and required significant landfill in a bay where the people have for generations made a living fishing. Before that, nearby village land had been used for the construction of a coal-fired power plant.
But that is not the story that Beijing, which has a long tradition of establishing official histories, wants the world to hear. Dongzhou, it seems, has been consigned to the annals of forgettable minor incidents rather than the milestone it undoubtedly is in the wave of unrest over land issues that has swept the Chinese countryside.
Even six months after the deaths, pressure to deny the truth of the matter remains intense. In dozens of telephone conversations and in interviews with the handful of villagers who were willing to slip away from home and risk speaking with a foreign reporter here, residents of Dongzhou say their telephones are tapped, and entry and exit from their village tightly controlled. One phrase, "We are scared to death," was repeated over and over.
"My phone is tapped, and our conversation is being monitored," one man said hastily before hanging up. "The police may arrive even while we're still talking. I can say I don't think the villagers are guilty at all. What we did is try to regain our lawful rights over the land."
Villagers said relatives of those who had been tried were monitored especially closely. The police promptly pay visits to those who make phone calls outside the village, warning them of trouble if they speak about the December shootings. A $200 reward has been offered to informers, many said. Travel permits to Hong Kong - where many here have relatives and where there is a free press - have been barred for the entire village.
Despite their fears, and whether or not their relatives were accused of a crime, many villagers talked. They described the recent two-and-a-half-day trial as a farce that offered no real opportunity for most to defend themselves.
All but one of the villagers were too poor to hire their own counsel, and lawyers provided by the state asked few questions, called no witnesses and presented no evidence on behalf of the accused. Sometimes, villagers said, the lawyers urged the defendants to admit their "guilt."
One man, refusing to admit guilt, said that an oral confession cited by the judge had been beaten out of him in detention, but that he had refused to sign it, according to a villager who attended the trial. The court ignored his protest.
"Even a child can understand this trial was unfair," said one woman, who would not give her name for fear of reprisals. "We don't think they are guilty, because everyone knows what happened on Dec. 6.
"There were killings when the government opened fire. I'm afraid I can't say anything more to you, because every telephone in Dongzhou is tapped."
The authorities have made equally strenuous efforts to keep outsiders from offering help to the villagers.
In the past few years, China has seen the emergence of public-spirited lawyers who seek out civil rights cases in the countryside and volunteer their services to peasants in disputes over land or other matters.
In a growing number of such cases, including Dongzhou, the government has threatened the lawyers with hardball tactics, including the threat of suspending their law licenses, arrests and the implicit threat of violence.
"Local governments are very determined to prevent the involvement of outside lawyers, especially those from Beijing, because if they can control the local lawyers, keep them under their will, the trial will remain completely under their control," said one civil rights lawyer from Beijing, who was turned away from Dongzhou in December.
"The authorities publicly told the villagers they could hear all of their conversations and warned if you talk to outsiders you will be arrested," the lawyer said. "It was an open threat. The villagers were really scared, and the authorities controlled the entrance from the expressways and beat people who tried to enter."
While the convicted villagers have the right to appeal, most said they saw little point and spoke of being exhausted and demoralized.
Villagers said that work on the wind plant resumed the day after the protest and was racing toward completion.
"This village has been pacified as if nothing ever happened here," said one man. "The government hasn't given us a single cent for the land it took, let alone for the sea they filled in and the mountains they blasted for rocks. We dare not ask for more, because they've made it clear: if you oppose the government, they'll show their true colors."
Villagers said at the time that as many as 30 people had been killed, and that many others were missing. The authorities have said little or nothing about the episode, concentrating instead on preventing any accounts of it from circulating widely in the country.
In the limited coverage that was allowed, officials blamed villagers for the unrest.
Six months later, there has been no public investigation of the shootings. Instead, the government has quietly moved to close the matter, prosecuting 19 villagers earlier this month in a little-publicized trial. Seven were given long sentences after being convicted of disturbing the public order and of using explosives to attack the police. Nowhere in the verdict is there any mention of the loss of life.
Outside court, villagers say, the authorities have privately acknowledged the deaths of three residents during the protest. Many say they suspect that more were killed, citing a witness account of a pile of bodies, and details about people who remain missing, but they say they have been warned not to cite a higher figure.
Indeed, residents of the village, in Guangdong Province near Hong Kong, say they have been warned not to talk to outsiders at all. Given the fact that journalists, lawyers, human rights workers and other independent observers have been kept away from Dongzhou, a definitive death toll may never be established.
Whatever the lingering uncertainty, the handling of the protest and its aftermath stand out as a prominent example of how China deals with localized unrest, which has been rising in the countryside.
The protest erupted over plans for a wind-power plant that used village lands and required significant landfill in a bay where the people have for generations made a living fishing. Before that, nearby village land had been used for the construction of a coal-fired power plant.
But that is not the story that Beijing, which has a long tradition of establishing official histories, wants the world to hear. Dongzhou, it seems, has been consigned to the annals of forgettable minor incidents rather than the milestone it undoubtedly is in the wave of unrest over land issues that has swept the Chinese countryside.
Even six months after the deaths, pressure to deny the truth of the matter remains intense. In dozens of telephone conversations and in interviews with the handful of villagers who were willing to slip away from home and risk speaking with a foreign reporter here, residents of Dongzhou say their telephones are tapped, and entry and exit from their village tightly controlled. One phrase, "We are scared to death," was repeated over and over.
"My phone is tapped, and our conversation is being monitored," one man said hastily before hanging up. "The police may arrive even while we're still talking. I can say I don't think the villagers are guilty at all. What we did is try to regain our lawful rights over the land."
Villagers said relatives of those who had been tried were monitored especially closely. The police promptly pay visits to those who make phone calls outside the village, warning them of trouble if they speak about the December shootings. A $200 reward has been offered to informers, many said. Travel permits to Hong Kong - where many here have relatives and where there is a free press - have been barred for the entire village.
Despite their fears, and whether or not their relatives were accused of a crime, many villagers talked. They described the recent two-and-a-half-day trial as a farce that offered no real opportunity for most to defend themselves.
All but one of the villagers were too poor to hire their own counsel, and lawyers provided by the state asked few questions, called no witnesses and presented no evidence on behalf of the accused. Sometimes, villagers said, the lawyers urged the defendants to admit their "guilt."
One man, refusing to admit guilt, said that an oral confession cited by the judge had been beaten out of him in detention, but that he had refused to sign it, according to a villager who attended the trial. The court ignored his protest.
"Even a child can understand this trial was unfair," said one woman, who would not give her name for fear of reprisals. "We don't think they are guilty, because everyone knows what happened on Dec. 6.
"There were killings when the government opened fire. I'm afraid I can't say anything more to you, because every telephone in Dongzhou is tapped."
The authorities have made equally strenuous efforts to keep outsiders from offering help to the villagers.
In the past few years, China has seen the emergence of public-spirited lawyers who seek out civil rights cases in the countryside and volunteer their services to peasants in disputes over land or other matters.
In a growing number of such cases, including Dongzhou, the government has threatened the lawyers with hardball tactics, including the threat of suspending their law licenses, arrests and the implicit threat of violence.
"Local governments are very determined to prevent the involvement of outside lawyers, especially those from Beijing, because if they can control the local lawyers, keep them under their will, the trial will remain completely under their control," said one civil rights lawyer from Beijing, who was turned away from Dongzhou in December.
"The authorities publicly told the villagers they could hear all of their conversations and warned if you talk to outsiders you will be arrested," the lawyer said. "It was an open threat. The villagers were really scared, and the authorities controlled the entrance from the expressways and beat people who tried to enter."
While the convicted villagers have the right to appeal, most said they saw little point and spoke of being exhausted and demoralized.
Villagers said that work on the wind plant resumed the day after the protest and was racing toward completion.
"This village has been pacified as if nothing ever happened here," said one man. "The government hasn't given us a single cent for the land it took, let alone for the sea they filled in and the mountains they blasted for rocks. We dare not ask for more, because they've made it clear: if you oppose the government, they'll show their true colors."
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