Will the Boat Sink the Water?: The Life of China's Peasants (24 page)

In the aftermath of the attack, the authorities of Linquan County issued a public letter, claiming that the action taken on April 3 was “correct and timely,” “in accordance with the law,” and “supported by their superiors” and that there should be no “murmurs against the action” and so on and so forth.

Seven years later, in 2001, we were able to interview one of the arrested, Wang Yongming, a law-abiding peasant who had been minding his own business, and even was a member of the village committee. When the police arrived, he was busy repairing the pig pen and was not at all concerned, feeling that he was the last person in the village with any reason to be alarmed at the appearance of the police. So Wang Yongming was stunned when two policemen stopped in front of him and hustled him into a police van without so much as a by-your-leave.

Wang Yongming and the other detainees, all with their hands bound behind their backs, were taken to the Baimiao Township security station, where they all were beaten. One of the detainees had ventured to protest, and was punished by having boiling water poured over his head. Soon, the detainees were moved to the Linquan County detention center. As they got out of the police van, they were kicked into a kneeling position and whipped with braided cable wires. After the whipping, they were shackled and made to run three rounds in the yard, with whips urging them on. Later they had to pay 7 yuan each for the use of the shackles. That same night, the detainees were all hustled into a cell, where Wang Yongming endured more agony

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when boot-shod policemen stepped on his hand. After two days of detention, inexplicably, Wang Yongming was moved in with death row inmates, who in their own sadistic fury and despair beat him, tore at his hair, knocked his head against the wall, and tortured him in every possible way. The guards looked on nonchalantly.

Wang Yongming was incarcerated for eight days and then kicked out—he not only got no explanation, but was actually forced to pay a fee toward his keep during his wrongful imprisonment! As a parting shot he was told, “No blabbing, mind you!” Seven years had passed since then, but the marks of the bruises left by the shackles were still clearly visible on his ankles. Thus the Linquan County authorities’ swift crackdown on what they referred to as the “Baimiao Township incident.”

The Clandestine Trips to Beijing

Most of the peasants who had crossed the border into Henan to avoid arrest were too scared to return to their village, and eked out a living as migrants. The hardier ones ventured back by night, only to find their fields untended and their households looted of their few pitiful possessions during their absence.

One day the village representatives—Wang Junbin (the army veteran), Wang Xiangdong, Wang Hongchao, and Wang Hongqin, who had all been in hiding in Henan Province— managed to elude the spies from their own county and got together to confer. Reviewing the situation, the four men decided that they had no choice but to report the facts of the crackdown on the so-called “Baimiao Township incident” to the Party Central Committee in Beijing. It was decided that Wang Junbin would stay behind to keep an eye on things, while Wang Hongchao, Wang Xiangdong, and Wang Hongqin hopped on a

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bus to Zhengzhou, the Henan provincial capital, whence they could catch the train to Beijing.

It was Wang Hongchao’s and Wang Xiangdong’s second trip to Beijing. On their arrival the three made a beeline for the Petitions and Appeals Offices of the Party Central Committee and the State Council, situated near the Yongdingmen Railway Station. But when they got there whom should they find lying in ambush for them but security officers from their own home county, who immediately pounced on them. The three men were dragged away, furiously denying the false accusations, but once having fallen into the hands of their own county security, they were helpless. The security officers promptly hauled them back to Anhui Province, where they were accused of snatching two handguns and fifteen cartridges from the police and planning an attack on Beijing itself. They were taken not to their native Linquan County but to Taihe County, the home of the Linquan County Party boss, Zhang Xide, their nemesis and the hand behind this illegal arrest.

In Taihe County, Wang Hongchao and his two companions were detained and tortured for two months, a painful, humiliating, and terrifying experience beyond imagination. Their hands were tied behind their backs twenty-four hours a day. To eat they had to get down to their knees and lick from the bowl set before them. At the call of nature, they were forced to pull down their pants with their manacled hands and relieve themselves as best they could. At night they could only lie on their sides, their bodies crushing one arm or the other. The punishment was designed to strip them of all human dignity, to make them lose all power of thinking, and turn them into passive creatures at the beck and call of their masters—while also transforming them into brutalized dogs who would attack on their masters’ orders.

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Through the summer of 1994, Wang Hongchao, Wang Xiangdong, and Wang Hongqin languished in detention and the army veteran Wang Junbin bided his time in Henan, unaware of what had happened to his friends. Then there was an unexpected turn of events: Yu Guangxuan, who held the honorary post of vice president of the Linquan County People’s Consultative Conference,* got word of what had gone down in Wang Village—from the peasants’ trip to Beijing, to Zhang Xide’s “repayment” letter, to the foiled clandestine police action on the night of April 2, to the crackdown on the following day, to the illegal arrests in Beijing and the secret detention in Taihe County. It was a clear case of taking revenge on the peasants for making appeals and petitions. Yu Guangxuan decided he was not going to stand by with his hands folded and let the situation continue.

One Sunday, he took a bus to neighboring Xincai County, in Henan, found a post office, and sent off a telegram to General Secretary Jiang Zemin, in which he detailed the facts in the Baimiao Township incident. The cost of the long telegram was equivalent to two months’ household expenses for Vice President Yu. Of course the post office personnel at Xincai understood the momentous implications of sending such a telegram, but as the story did not pertain to their own locality, there was no risk, so it was dispatched straight to Beijing.

Vice President Yu of the county People’s Consultative Conference later found out how, after arriving Beijing, his telegram made the usual trip up the bureaucratic ladder to the top, and then downward step by step until it landed back in the hands of Linquan County’s own Party boss, Zhang Xide.

Zhang was furious, and ordered an immediate investigation

* The Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference, abbreviated CPPCC, is a political advisory body consisting of both Party and non-Party members, who are representatives of different segments of the population, and advise the Party and the government on policies.

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as to who had sent that telegram. The job was not as easy as one might imagine. The fact was, when Yu Guangxuan sent the telegram he had anticipated just such an outcome, and did not sign his own name but instead signed himself “Wang Hongqin.” Of course, according to the investigators whoever had sent the telegram could not be Wang Hongqin, because he was languishing in detention in Taihe County jail, with his hands manacled behind his back twenty-four hours a day. So Wang was the first to be eliminated from the list of suspects. In order to further confuse the issue, the vice President had added the phrase “retired cadre” to the name Wang Hongqin. In vain did Zhang Xide’s henchmen comb the population of Wang Village—they could not find a single retired cadre named Wang or otherwise. But they found a retired worker Wang Hongzhang. Even though a retired cadre was a world apart from a retired worker, and the last characters for the names were different, still it was good enough for the Linquan County public security. One day, Wang Hongzhang was told to report at his work unit. He had been owed his pension for a long time, so Wang went forth cheerfully, expecting to be paid. The minute he walked in the door, county security seized him. Poor Wang Hongzhang had no idea what they were talking about when they asked him about a telegram, but his denials only elicited beatings.

This unexpected arrest gave rise to a further twist in the unfolding comedy of errors: the unintended effect of rousing another man who heretofore had not concerned himself with village affairs so far, Wang Hongling. During the police raid of April 3, Wang Hongling’s wife had been arrested and shackled like the rest. His brother, Wang Hongbin, who tried to defend his sister-in-law, had been poked with an electric prod and seriously hurt. And now here was Wang Hongzhang, wrongfully arrested for something he’d had nothing to do with. The thing was, Wang Hongling, Wang Hongbin and Wang Hongzhang

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were all brothers who would die for each other. Wang Hongling worked at a job in Henan County. With one brother still recovering from a brutal beating and the other brother under wrongful arrest, Wang Hongling had had enough. He decided to do something not only for his brothers but for all his compatriots in Wang Village. He gave up his well-paid job and looked up Wang Junbin, the army veteran still in hiding in Henan. The two men teamed up together and successfully recruited fifty-six peasants from Wang Village. This group made its way to Beijing in June of 1994. It was the third attempt of the peasants of Wang Village to get their message out and see justice done.