China’s crushing of independent lawyers is a blow to rule of law

Champions chained

Why Xi Jinping fears the experience of uppity Taiwan

Jun 15th 2017

SHORTLY after he took over as China’s leader in 2012, Xi Jinping had some encouraging words—at least, so they seemed to some of China’s eternally beleaguered liberals. It was essential, said Mr Xi, “to ensure that all citizens are equal before the law, to respect and guarantee human rights, and to enable citizens to enjoy extensive rights and freedoms in accordance with the law.” His exhortation was aimed at the rapidly growing middle class that wanted the Communist Party to rule with a lighter and fairer touch. Without their support, officials feared, the party’s grip on power would be in jeopardy.

But it turns out that Mr Xi is even more fearful of giving the middle class freer rein than he is of upsetting them. Three years later, in 2015, he launched a sweeping clampdown on hundreds of legal activists, the boldest of whom state media label sike lawyers. The term literally means “death bashing”, suggesting they are activists willing to fight to the death in defence of society’s underdogs, such as farmers and the urban poor. Reports suggest the authorities are not just jailing and harassing legal practitioners and their relatives, but also subjecting some of them to appalling torture (see page 60).

Mr Xi still stresses the importance of the “rule of law”, but it is clear he means to apply the term mostly to businesses, and other parts of civil law. Some officials recognise that it is better to give victims of land grabs, corruption and bureaucratic incompetence redress in court, rather than have them protest on the streets. Standards at China’s law schools are improving, courts are becoming more independent from local governments and judges better qualified. But there are limits to such change. Someone accused of “subversion”—a charge often levelled at people who do nothing more than persistently criticise the authorities—can still expect short shrift in the dock. More alarming for the party is that the same lawyers who defend farmers’ land rights often take up the cases of those whose political or religious beliefs the party abhors, among them house-church Christians, devotees of Falun Gong and dissidents. To Mr Xi, the lawyers look like an organised, liberal-minded force that could challenge the legitimacy of Communist rule.

Straitened by Taiwan

Mr Xi worries about the precedent of nearby Taiwan in the 1970s and 1980s, when independent lawyers led a movement against its then dictatorship. But such lawyers—fearless of power and dogged in their defence of society’s weakest members—are essential if China is to build the rule of law it needs.

In a Communist country the boundary between the party and non-political civil and commercial suits is blurred. As the Chinese become richer, more of them will face situations where they want to challenge a decision by the state. The perception that there is one law for citizens and another for the party will lead to feelings of unfairness and resentment.

When people know that the law does not protect them, unrest is inevitable. In a rare demonstration on June 10th in the heart of Shanghai hundreds of homeowners protested at a sudden change in planning regulations that would lower property values. Anxious officials arrested ringleaders; censors scrubbed mentions of the protest from the internet.

To a ruler such as Mr Xi the choice may seem stark. Restoring China’s greatness requires a predictable, well-run legal system. But the rule of law will strengthen independent lawyers. He would do well to follow the logic of his rhetoric in 2012. Uppity lawyers will sometimes take on the party. But as the economic boom fades, the greater threat to Mr Xi is the anger of citizens who feel not only that the party is failing to make them richer, but also that it is using the law to bully them.