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Already Chen has become a political lightning rod in the U.S. "This Administration has been very weak on China," says Representative Frank Wolf, a Virginia Republican and longtime critic of the Chinese government. "I think they're afraid of the Chinese." Wolf's statement and similar words by other critics reflect an enduring tension in U.S. foreign policy between protecting strategic interests and defending the democratic principles that Americans believe make their nation exceptional.
U.S.-China relations have enjoyed stability in recent months, despite Washington's grumbling over Beijing's vocal territorial claims in the South China Sea. Wang's asylum attempt was resolved quickly, allowing Xi Jinping to enjoy a successful visit to Washington, where he and Obama bonded over a shared love of basketball. China went along with a U.N. condemnation of North Korea's recent rocket launch, and Beijing and Washington appear willing to join--perhaps for the first time--in sensitive negotiations on Iran's nuclear program. And perhaps most significant, China has agreed to widen the yuan's trading band, bringing hope that U.S. business can compete with Chinese exports made even cheaper by an undervalued currency. Yet Beijing-Washington ties are fragile. After Chen left U.S. custody, Chinese Foreign Ministry spokesman Liu Weimin said, "China requests that the U.S. apologize over this issue, thoroughly investigate this matter and hold responsible the people involved and guarantee that things like this will not happen again."
But China has lost face during the Chen episode. A state obsessed with stability can only be humiliated when a blind man evades what is supposed to be the world's most comprehensive security apparatus, one that received $100 billion in funding last year, according to official figures. Beijing has been responding to the crises by buttressing its legitimacy. In recent weeks, in response to the Bo imbroglio, the state-controlled media has foisted on a cynical public clumsy articles on the need for party unity. Then on April 24, the government's mouthpiece People's Daily published a speech by China's security czar, Zhou Yongkang, insisting that the law in China "should always adhere to the party's cause first ... and determinedly resist forces hostile to China's socialist political system, as well as erroneous political views in the West." For China's embattled corps of lawyers, this mockery of rule of law is nothing new. "The government often breaks the law, using the excuse of maintaining stability," says Beijing lawyer Liu Xiaoyuan, who has defended high-profile dissidents like artist Ai Weiwei.
What must surely spook China's leaders is the passion of a motley group of activists who met online and were spurred by Chen's case to pursue a justice that China's legal framework promises. These are not veteran dissidents or political provocateurs like 2010 Nobel Peace Prize winner Liu Xiaobo or artistic agitator Ai. He Peirong, the woman who picked up Chen in Shandong this April and drove him to Beijing, is a mild-mannered English teacher who first went online in 2008 only to discover an alternate reality in which Tiananmen wasn't just a square but a bloody stain on modern Chinese politics. Another of Chen's supporters manufactures sex toys for export to the U.S.--and now also makes Chen Guangcheng bumper stickers.