Discontent and protest are on the rise across China. Zhou Yongkang, China's Minister of Public Security, reported recently that in 2004 there were 74,000 "mass incidents"—demonstrations, riots and other acts of civil disobedience. That's an average of 200 a day; a worrisome number for China's leaders, who, at a plenary session of the Chinese Communist Party last week, reaffirmed their calls to build a "harmonious society." If the leaders put so much emphasis on social harmony, why does unrest persist?
The short answer, say Chinese officials, is the divide between rich and poor, and especially the growing unhappiness among farmers and other peasants who have been left behind by China's rapid economic development. But this is only a partial explanation. Rather than poverty, it is the farmers' sense of powerlessness that sows the seeds of discontent. The central government has promised reforms that would give farmers more control over their lives. Those promises have been broken by corrupt local officials bent on keeping power and wealth for themselves.
In my work monitoring elections in China's countryside, I witnessed this situation firsthand near the city of Jinan, where a farmer who had been elected by villagers to be their chief was beaten up by people suspected to be cronies of the local government's defeated candidate. Similar events unfolded this summer, when farmers in the Pearl River Delta village of Taishi tried to orchestrate a recall motion to oust a village chief. Although the villagers had the law on their side and had collected the requisite number of signatures, their efforts failed.
The village chief enjoyed the support of higher-ups in the local bureaucracy. Before farmers could formally file the motion, many were harassed and beaten by so-called village guards. Seven members of the recall committee resigned, and 300 others asked for their names to be taken off the petition they had signed. Violence had replaced the peaceful exercise of the law.
Incidents like this happen because local officials, especially at the county and township levels, have interests apart from the work of governing. Since the taxation reforms of 1993, China's central government has taken the majority of tax revenue for itself and has left many local institutions without sufficient resources. In small, poor places, cadres want better working conditions, better incomes and better education. Since they don't get money from Beijing, they collect it from the farmers, many of whom are too poor to pay fees, taxes and other levies. This burden has been a classic cause of rural unrest. Faced with excessive fees, farmers complain to higher authorities, petition Beijing, sue the local government or, in more radical cases, surround government buildings and burn offices.
More recently, village officials have found new ways to line their pockets. China's booming real estate market makes rural land a valuable asset. Local governments increasingly depend on land sales as their main source of revenue. But in order to sell village property, they need to control the townships. This means making sure that their allies are elected as village chiefs. And, as was the case in Taishi, it can also mean attempts to rig local elections. In China's countryside, new alliances of élites have emerged among township officials, companies, high-ranking cadres, village leaders and the hired fists they employ to do their dirty work, and whom farmers call "the black force." These alliances rule by controlling the ways laws are implemented, and through violence. Farmers who don't obey can be fined, beaten, jailed, even killed.
Peasants are increasingly trying to protect their rights through the courts or other institutions. Occasionally they win lawsuits, recall elected officials or win support from higher authorities. Mostly, they lose, dashing expectations that the poor can get justice in modern China. This instability puts Beijing in an awkward position. China's leaders speak of "serving the people" and "building a harmonious society." But Beijing also sees clearly that the survival of its regime depends on the local governments maintaining stability and order. Without that, who is left to protect the Party's kingdom?
The central government tries to balance its support of local officials with its protection of the legitimate interests of common people. Sometimes Beijing punishes local governments in order to defuse popular tension, sometimes it allows local governments to pursue their interests freely. But as unrest continues to mount, how long will Beijing be able to strike this balance without real political reform?