By Yu Jie

August 10, 2008
BEIJING
Mr. Zhao from the neighborhood public security bureau showed up at my door a few days ago with several plainclothes police officers. He was proposing a “free car service” that promised to “make life easier” during the Olympic Games.

Based on instructions from top officials, the police would provide my wife and me free access to a car and driver for all our errands during August.

“Considering the high gasoline prices and the restrictions on cars running on the street during the Olympic Games here, this should be a win-win situation,” said Mr. Zhao. “You don’t have to pay for gas, and we can drive you any time you want.

“I want to assure you that you will feel very safe in our car.”

Mr. Zhao emphasized the word “safe.” And the implication was clear: I wouldn’t be safe refusing his offer.

What Mr. Zhao meant by “win-win” was that I could ride in his car for free while the police could monitor my movement so I did not stir up trouble.

As an independent writer who is active in the Protestant house church movement, in which people worship in private houses, I have had many dealings with Mr. Zhao and his subordinates. I know their ways.

The public security bureau has always operated outside the law. They can be merciless toward those who dare to challenge communist rule. In the past, they threatened to create a traffic accident that would easily make me disappear. But this time, they were polite and thoughtful.

I knew very well that this offer was another excuse to monitor me, restrict my activities and infringe on my rights. But if I didn’t cooperate and got into a direct confrontation with them, they could put me under house arrest.

24-hour command center

I took the easy route and agreed. Starting on July 30, plainclothes police officers set up their presence in front of my house. They converted a small room in my apartment building into a command center. They worked in three shifts, each staffed with two police officers. The public security bureau also hired a security guard from the building management company and a young driver, both of whom were responsible for tending to my needs 24 hours a day.

Each time I needed to go out, the security guards and the driver would run in to the command center and report my request to the police officers. Then the officers would come out and inquire about the destination of my trip or the nature of my errands. Following their permission, the driver would start the car and politely invite me to get in. They would drive my wife and me to the supermarket, and even help us carry groceries.

I guess I shouldn’t complain too much about this “privilege.” Compared with other dissidents in the city, I’m in a much more comfortable situation.

During the past weeks, Beijing police have rousted many Chinese people seeking to complain about government mistreatment. Some were out-of-towners who had come to the capital to file petitions against injustices committed by local governments. Some were Beijing residents whose houses had been demolished by developers without proper compensation. They were all forced to leave Beijing so as not to become an eyesore during the Olympic Games.

A member of an underground church to which I belong has long been a victim of police harassment. Last week, the head of a local public security bureau knocked on his door and kindly offered him a nicely paid temporary job: He can wear a red armband and become a neighborhood patrol guard during the Olympic Games.

As one can see, the government is using both carrots and sticks to silence the voices of dissidents in the city.

I’m not the only one to complain about my trampled freedom and human rights. Even police officers in front of my building are whining. During my casual chats with them, I have learned that they are not overjoyed by the Olympic Games either. Their workload has doubled or tripled, and they had to undertake all sorts of so-called anti-terrorist training. Several officers told me that they are not proud of
having to watch over writers like me. They are simply carrying out orders.

“We have no choice,” one officer told me. “It’s our job. If possible, we will try not to disrupt too much of your daily life.”

The cost of monitoring writers and dissidents such as me can be staggering. Take my case alone. Within a 24-hour period, there are a total of six police officers at the “command center.” A security guard and a driver also work three shifts to follow me and drive me around. That adds another six people. In other words, 12 people are stationed outside my house.

In Beijing alone, there are at least a dozen similar cases. With the money spent on monitoring dissidents, we could have helped build several schools in areas hit by the recent earthquake.

The Beijing Games
I have no interest in the Olympic Games. I believe the Olympic Committee is a corrupted international organization. With the various scandals involving drugs, the modern Olympic Games have ended up harming the health of athletes, rather than benefiting them. The commercialization of the Games has betrayed the original Olympic spirit.

Beijing shouldn’t have been selected to host the Olympic Games anyway because the city doesn’t have the resources and conditions. At the moment, China should invest the money in the country’s education and public health systems, rather than building gigantic and glamorous stadiums to show off its status and save face.

I believe it is my right as a Chinese citizen to dislike the event. But this viewpoint would never be published in the Chinese media.

Eight years ago, when Beijing was first selected by the Olympic Committee to host the Games, many Chinese truly felt proud and excited.

Many Beijing residents, including Hu Jia, an AIDS activist and human-rights advocate, took to the street to celebrate. Hu said he cried over the news. But eight years later, Hu has been arrested for exposing China’s human rights abuses to Western governments and media. He has been sentenced to 3 years for what the government called subversive activities.

For ordinary Beijing residents, the Olympic Games have not brought any joy. Instead, many are dissatisfied. Everywhere you go, you see soldiers with loaded guns patrolling the street. Missiles have been installed near the Bird’s Nest (Olympic stadium), where the opening ceremony took place. Taking the subway or the bus is like going to the airport; one has to undergo all sorts of strict security checks. Beijing no longer belongs to its residents.

The whole city has been plunged into a state of extreme fear.

To many Chinese, the Olympics have become a symbol of bad luck.

Yu Jie is a Beijing-based independent writer and literary critic who has run afoul of Chinese authorities in part because of his activity in China’s house church movement.