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Justice loses meaning when cops serve money
By Wan Lixin |
August 4, 2010, Wednesday
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Print Edition
Print Edition
LAST week a reporter in Beijing found himself on a police wanted list online for having authored a series of exposes.
He had to hide out in three different places for the next three days.
When this incident became public knowledge, the overwhelming public fury forced a dramatic turn of events, and last Friday local police from Zhejiang flew to Beijing to make an official apology to Qiu Ziming, the once wanted man.
In his articles for the Economic Observer, reporter Qiu alleged that Zhejiang Kan, a listed company, was guilty of shoveling state assets into private pockets in its "restructuring," insider trading, and other sins.
Instead of investigating the accused for the alleged crimes, local public security bureau in Suichang, Zhejiang Province, tried to terrorize the whistleblower into silence by putting him on the wanted list.
On July 27 Qiu was tipped off that he was on an internal police online wanted list for "damaging the business credit" of Zhejiang Kan.
The Beijing-based newspaper issued a statement strongly condemning the practice of suppressing media supervision by abusing public power.
China's top administration for the press also weighed in by reasserting reporters' rights in newsgathering.
Although similar instances have occurred before - in 2006 Foxconn sued a reporter for 30 million yuan (US$4.4 million) for a negative report, and in 2008 local police in Xifeng, Liaoning Province, traveled to Beijing to nab a reporter for "defamation" of local Party chief - these events in no way lessen the significance of the "wanted" incident.
"It is unprecedented for police to list as wanted someone suspected of untrue reporting," said Xu Xu, legal adviser to China National Radio.
A more reasonable means would be to allow the two parties to state their cases in a civil court of justice, and let the judges decide.
Commenting on the case, the latest issue of Century Weekly points out that the power to arrest somebody lies with the prosecutor or the court.
Thus, local police can issue arrests warranty only when local prosecutors have established evidence of "damages to business credit."
This is clearly impossible in the absence of any investigation into the case.
Thus innovative local police hit upon the clever idea of entering the reporter on a wanted list in order to place him in a sort of criminal detention.
But according to law, criminal detention can occur under seven circumstances, and none of them can apply in Qiu's case.
The fatal nexus
In other words, the police itself is eminently guilty of grave irregularities when listing Qiu as wanted. A law-enforcing entity is trampling on laws to discourage a reporter from prying into the dark recesses of a public company.
Local police's readiness to silence reporters by using such desperate means betrays their eagerness to please commercial interests, affording ample room for imagination about Kan's reported hints that "the government will help tackle many problems for us."
As professor Zhan Jiang from Beijing Foreign Studies University commented recently, the case "reflects local interest groups' intention to suppress media supervision through legal means."
This kind of affinity between local police (government) and business can only be cultivated through exchange of something they need from each other.
In other words, officials can trade the power vested in them for something more tangible from the business.
It is an open secret that many officials have business interests through their family, their relatives, or their friends.
The recent scandal about Zijin Mining's pollution scandal (an acid leak in Fujian Province that polluted a river) is a telling case.
It has been revealed that many former officials have been courted, and offered sinecures at the company.
Thus, unlike BP whose share prices have plummeted since the Gulf of Mexico oil spill, Zijin stocks have actually see a rally after regulatory pledge of a "thorough investigation."
In coal-rich Shanxi Province, many officials have stakes in local coal mines.
One of the recently tried case involved Hao Pengjun, former Party secretary of Puxian County's coal bureau.
Hao was sentenced to life imprisonment for, among many other charges, possessing 170 million yuan worth of real estate and 127 million yuan in savings account.
Hao himself was also one of the biggest coal mine owners in the region.
When Huang Songyou, former vice-president of the Supreme People's Court, got life for taking millions in bribes early this year, law professor Liang Huixing said he was shocked and felt "insulted" by the affront to the law.
Contagion of graft
As a matter of fact, when the police and the judiciary are perceived as no more than a source of livelihood, there are few reasons why their authority should not be monetized, just like power in other sectors.
Last Monday, Pan Huashan, a senior judge with the Zhejiang Higher People's Court, was arrested for murdering and dismembering a man involved in a law suit.
Pan had received 1 million yuan from the victim, but failed to give a verdict in the man's favor, as he had promised.
These cases are all depressing commentaries on why governments at different levels are eagerly prostituting themselves in the service of local business, ostensibly in the name of GDP.
Seen in this light, the "wanted" reporter scandal is more an indicator of a norm rather than an exception.
That's why we have every reason to expect that official apologies should be, rather than the denouement, the beginning of a long-anticipated probe into the alleged shady dealings.
He had to hide out in three different places for the next three days.
When this incident became public knowledge, the overwhelming public fury forced a dramatic turn of events, and last Friday local police from Zhejiang flew to Beijing to make an official apology to Qiu Ziming, the once wanted man.
In his articles for the Economic Observer, reporter Qiu alleged that Zhejiang Kan, a listed company, was guilty of shoveling state assets into private pockets in its "restructuring," insider trading, and other sins.
Instead of investigating the accused for the alleged crimes, local public security bureau in Suichang, Zhejiang Province, tried to terrorize the whistleblower into silence by putting him on the wanted list.
On July 27 Qiu was tipped off that he was on an internal police online wanted list for "damaging the business credit" of Zhejiang Kan.
The Beijing-based newspaper issued a statement strongly condemning the practice of suppressing media supervision by abusing public power.
China's top administration for the press also weighed in by reasserting reporters' rights in newsgathering.
Although similar instances have occurred before - in 2006 Foxconn sued a reporter for 30 million yuan (US$4.4 million) for a negative report, and in 2008 local police in Xifeng, Liaoning Province, traveled to Beijing to nab a reporter for "defamation" of local Party chief - these events in no way lessen the significance of the "wanted" incident.
"It is unprecedented for police to list as wanted someone suspected of untrue reporting," said Xu Xu, legal adviser to China National Radio.
A more reasonable means would be to allow the two parties to state their cases in a civil court of justice, and let the judges decide.
Commenting on the case, the latest issue of Century Weekly points out that the power to arrest somebody lies with the prosecutor or the court.
Thus, local police can issue arrests warranty only when local prosecutors have established evidence of "damages to business credit."
This is clearly impossible in the absence of any investigation into the case.
Thus innovative local police hit upon the clever idea of entering the reporter on a wanted list in order to place him in a sort of criminal detention.
But according to law, criminal detention can occur under seven circumstances, and none of them can apply in Qiu's case.
The fatal nexus
In other words, the police itself is eminently guilty of grave irregularities when listing Qiu as wanted. A law-enforcing entity is trampling on laws to discourage a reporter from prying into the dark recesses of a public company.
Local police's readiness to silence reporters by using such desperate means betrays their eagerness to please commercial interests, affording ample room for imagination about Kan's reported hints that "the government will help tackle many problems for us."
As professor Zhan Jiang from Beijing Foreign Studies University commented recently, the case "reflects local interest groups' intention to suppress media supervision through legal means."
This kind of affinity between local police (government) and business can only be cultivated through exchange of something they need from each other.
In other words, officials can trade the power vested in them for something more tangible from the business.
It is an open secret that many officials have business interests through their family, their relatives, or their friends.
The recent scandal about Zijin Mining's pollution scandal (an acid leak in Fujian Province that polluted a river) is a telling case.
It has been revealed that many former officials have been courted, and offered sinecures at the company.
Thus, unlike BP whose share prices have plummeted since the Gulf of Mexico oil spill, Zijin stocks have actually see a rally after regulatory pledge of a "thorough investigation."
In coal-rich Shanxi Province, many officials have stakes in local coal mines.
One of the recently tried case involved Hao Pengjun, former Party secretary of Puxian County's coal bureau.
Hao was sentenced to life imprisonment for, among many other charges, possessing 170 million yuan worth of real estate and 127 million yuan in savings account.
Hao himself was also one of the biggest coal mine owners in the region.
When Huang Songyou, former vice-president of the Supreme People's Court, got life for taking millions in bribes early this year, law professor Liang Huixing said he was shocked and felt "insulted" by the affront to the law.
Contagion of graft
As a matter of fact, when the police and the judiciary are perceived as no more than a source of livelihood, there are few reasons why their authority should not be monetized, just like power in other sectors.
Last Monday, Pan Huashan, a senior judge with the Zhejiang Higher People's Court, was arrested for murdering and dismembering a man involved in a law suit.
Pan had received 1 million yuan from the victim, but failed to give a verdict in the man's favor, as he had promised.
These cases are all depressing commentaries on why governments at different levels are eagerly prostituting themselves in the service of local business, ostensibly in the name of GDP.
Seen in this light, the "wanted" reporter scandal is more an indicator of a norm rather than an exception.
That's why we have every reason to expect that official apologies should be, rather than the denouement, the beginning of a long-anticipated probe into the alleged shady dealings.
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