【中文标题】中国怎么就说不听
【原文标题】Why China Won’t Listen
【来源地址】http://www.nytimes.com/2011/11/16/opinion/why-china-wont-listen.html?_r=2&ref=opinion
【登载媒体】纽约时报
【译 者】罗霄
【翻译方式】 人工
【声 明】 欢迎转载，请务必注明译者和出处 bbs.m4.cn。
中国怎么就说不听
陈敏
中国 广州
中国政府经常纵容甚至是鼓励权力滥用以及执法官员不经法律程序的处罚。这就是维系这个政权的内在的罪恶原因，这个政权把自身的存续看到无比重要，甚至高于人权和法律原则。
当世界上其他地方的人们都可以毫无顾忌的批评中国的人权记录，为什么中国还会是这个样子？为什么中国政府只对某些形式的抗议做出反应，而与此同时，冷漠地忽视其他一些抗议呢？从中国各个层级的领导人看待他们的威信、声誉和权力的方式中，我们可以找到答案。
想想陈案吧，这是一个人权倡导者，他和他的家人被软禁在家中，公众最近得到消息：陈六岁的女儿将被允许离开家，去上学，这个让步似乎是一个宽大处理的暗示。但在10月23号，一群前往拜访陈的网络活跃分子遭当地的流氓野蛮袭击。目击者在网上称，袭击似乎是经过精心准备的，这表明陈的苦难还远没有结束。
为什么当局不简简单单地让陈和他的家人出去呢？最关键的原因是面子。当局明白他们一直以来的所作所为是不公且非法的。但他们将那些活动分子的聚集视作冒犯，而且给予粗暴回应，因为政府丢不起这个脸——这会削弱其在公众眼中的权力。
在当今中国，卑劣的镇压是日常现象。官员们特别是底层官员，从来没有尊重法制、合法程序和人身保护权的习惯。如果要他们各种情况下都遵守法律，并为之负责的话，大部分人都会丢掉乌纱帽，基层组织会因此陷入停顿，并且威胁到整个政府的管控体制。这就是原因，即便当权者清楚这些低级官员的所作所为，他们通常视而不见——只要他们能够掩盖得了这些罪恶，同时公众不至于愤怒。
当公众的愤怒出现，另外一个控制机制——高级官员的介入——便启动了。2010年九月江西省因强拆而导致的自焚出现后，这个机制就启动过。高级别领导以玩忽职守为名解除了当地党政领导的职务。
但是陈的案子明显够不上大领导介入的级别，但同时中国官场的另一条规则出场了：绝不屈服于外国势力。在这种情况下，中央政府绝不会让步，并且呼吁越起劲，情形就会越糟糕。在中央政府的眼里，像江西自焚的这种本土问题和陈案有明显的差别，政府在陈案中察觉到了外国的干涉。
美国国会通过修正案，表达对陈的支持，同时国务卿希拉里最近也再一次演讲中批评了对陈的软禁。中国将这些视作无法容忍的打脸行为。
北京并不是不加区分地拒绝所有这些“干涉”。中国和美国通过外交渠道进行人权对话。但是中国领导人认为这样的对话不应当公之于众。
中国人告诉美国人，如果你给我面子我就跟你讲道理，如果解决这个问题对我有利，我就会考虑考虑，但是不要指望我屈于压力而作出让步。
这样的让步将会导致对于政权合法性的质疑。一旦这个问题发酵，政府就会迫于无奈，没有其他选择，只能采取极端措施，而没有什么——理性、人性或法律——能够阻止。
此时，事情就转变为了“主权”问题，中国政府所谓的“主权”意思就是绝对的，不可以谈判的统治之权，高于一切。主权出场，问题就无所谓对与错，只有输和赢。
22年前的天安门也有相同的逻辑。抗议者只不过要求对话，但政府顽固地予以拒绝，因为它不愿意开一个先例。对中国的领导们来说，“管理”就是完全的控制。允许人民与政府平起平坐会颠覆这个体制。
这也可以解释陈案，但有一个重要的分别：在89年，政府拒绝开一个向国内大众的要求屈服的先例，今天，政府拒绝开一个向美国压力屈服的先例。
中国和美国讨论了那么多年的人权问题，但令人困惑的是，美国领导人依然对中国政府的思维方式如此无知。以前的很多引人注目的事件都秘密地解决了。陈案可能也已经以这种方式解决了——并非由于公众的压力。
我欢迎美国的政治家关注中国的人权状况。但是我有一个请求：考虑我们领导人的思维模式的时候，请更周全一点、更灵活一点、跟圆滑一点。这样的话，你们——还有我们——可能会取得更多的成功。
陈敏是《南方周末》的前主笔及《中国改革》杂志的前总编。本文由David-Liu从中文译出。
THE Chinese government often tolerates, and even encourages, abuses of power and extrajudicial punishments by law enforcement officials. These are the underlying evils that sustain a regime that values its own preservation above all else, including human rights and the rule of law.
But how is this possible in a world where outsiders feel free to criticize China’s human rights record? Why does the Chinese government respond to some forms of protest, while stonily ignoring others? The answer can be found in the way the Chinese leaders, at all levels, think about their authority, their reputations and their power.
Consider the case of Chen Guangcheng, a human rights advocate who has been under house arrest with his family in Shandong Province. Recently, the public received news that his 6-year-old daughter would be allowed to leave the house to attend school, a concession that seemed to signal more lenient treatment.
But then, on Oct. 23, a group of Internet activists who had set out to visit him were brutally attacked by a local mob. Witnesses who described the attack on the Internet said it appeared to have been well planned — a sign that Mr. Chen’s ordeal was not yet over.
Why won’t the authorities simply let Mr. Chen and his family go? The most critical reason is mianzi, or “face,” as it is usually translated in English.
The authorities know that what they have been doing is unjust and illegal. But they saw the gathering of activists as an affront, and responded harshly because the government could not afford to lose face — which would undermine its power in the public’s eyes.
Petty cruelties and crackdowns are everyday occurrences in today’s China. Officials, especially low-level ones, have never cultivated respect for the rule of law, due process or habeas corpus.
If they were held accountable for strictly following the law in all cases, most would probably lose their jobs, bringing the state apparatus at the local level to a halt and endangering the system of government control. That is why, even though the powerful know what lesser officials do, they usually turn a blind eye — as long as they can cover up the misdeeds and the public doesn’t become outraged.
When public outrage does ensue, another mechanism of control — intervention by senior officials — sometimes occurs. That happened in September 2010 after a man set himself on fire to protest a building demolition in Jiangxi Province. High-level leaders fired a party boss and mayor for negligence.
But the case of Mr. Chen evidently didn’t qualify for such intervention, because another rule of power in China came into play: Never seem to bend to the demands of foreign powers. In such cases, it is the central government that digs in its heels, and the louder the outcry grows, the worse the situation becomes. In the government’s eyes, there is a stark difference between a homegrown problem like the one in Jiangxi and a case like Mr. Chen’s, in which the government perceives foreign meddling.
Congress has passed an amendment expressing support for Mr. Chen, and Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton recently criticized his house arrest in a speech. China saw these developments as an intolerable slap in the face.
Beijing does not indiscriminately reject all such “interference”; China and the United States conduct a dialogue on human rights through diplomatic channels. But Chinese leaders believe such dialogue belongs behind closed doors.
The Chinese are saying to Americans, if you grant me face, I can be reasonable; if solving the problem will help me, I’ll consider it. But don’t expect me to make concessions under pressure.
Such concessions would call into question the regime’s legitimacy. And once the issue is survival, the government is in effect cornered, leaving it no choice but to resort to drastic measures from which nothing — sense, humanity or law — can dissuade it.
The problem turns into one of “sovereignty,” which in the Chinese government’s vocabulary means the absolute, non-negotiable right to rule over a billion subjects. When sovereignty is in play, there is no longer a right or wrong side of an issue, just winning or losing.
A similar logic was involved 22 years ago at Tiananmen Square. The protesters there asked for nothing more than dialogue, but the government stubbornly refused because it didn’t want to set a precedent. To Chinese leaders, “governing” means absolute control. Allowing the people to become a rival to the government might bring down the system.
The same is true in Mr. Chen’s case, but with an important difference: in 1989, the government refused to set a precedent of yielding to popular demand at home. Today it refuses to set a precedent of yielding to American pressure.
China and the United States have been discussing human rights issues for so many years that it is baffling that American leaders remain so clueless about the Chinese government’s mind-set. Previous high-profile cases were resolved behind the scenes. Mr. Chen’s case should have been approached this way, too — not through public pressure.
I welcome American politicians’ concerns about China’s human rights situation. But I have one request: please be a bit more considerate, a bit more flexible, and a bit more tactful about our leaders’ mind-set. That way, you — and we — might have more success.
Chen Min is a former editorial writer for Southern Weekend newspaper and a former managing editor of China Reform magazine. This essay was translated by David Liu from the Chinese.
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发表于 2011-11-17 01:55
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发表于 2011-11-17 09:14
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