A Chinese Dissident

“Where are you from?” a young man on the side of the street in Lijiang asks. It is the auspicious beginnings of a lengthy conversation with a dissident that moves from the street corner to a dark corner in a nearby café. “I can’t tell you my name or the party I’m affiliated with. It’s too dangerous. If you write something you can only use my English name, ‘King.’ A couple years ago when I was studying at Beijing University, I got caught participating in our party’s online chat forum. The police hauled me in and wouldn’t release me until I signed a statement that I wouldn’t say anything bad about the communist government any more. What a bunch of crap! They told me I couldn’t leave the country either and every couple months they came to my apartment to check on me. I came to Lijiang to get away from them. When I traveled here, I couldn’t use the train or plane because I would have had to use my ID and then they would have known where I was. So I traveled by bus and bike. Now, they don’t know where I am and I have a house in the mountains that has a secret hiding place. They’ll never find me there.

“Incredible,” I say. “I keep running into people that are happy with their lives here. “Yes, people in China think they have it good. They have more things than they ever had before. But they’re only happy because they’re comparing to what they didn’t have in the past and not to what could be or to what other countries have. In China, 80% of the wealth is owned by 20% of the people and 90% of the 20% are those in power and that’s fucking bad! Our party wants to change that. We want democracy. We want to choose our leaders. We want more transparency in government. We want a bill of rights.” “Are you familiar with Liu Xiaobo?” I ask. “Yes, I know about him and many others like him. I know he won the Nobel Peace Prize. I know he’s in prison and even where he’s in prison, but I can’t say more. My party has ways of keeping me informed and we sometimes get information out to others by writing things on bills. People don’t throw money away, you know, and so that’s often a good way to circulate news.”

“I’d like to see your blog,” he says. “I can use my laptop computer. It’s old but it still works.” “It’s blocked,” I say. “Let me try.” He types in the URL, “Yes, it is blocked, but I have another way.” He types away, we wait, he sighs, “Ah, It’s really blocked. Okay, I know another way,” he laughs; now enjoying the challenge. He turns off Windows and types some commands in DOS. The Windows screen comes back up. He types in my blog address. We wait a minute. “There it is, my blog! Wow, where did you get the software to do that?” “In college, from the Falungong. They developed it and are now distributing it for free. It accesses a server in the United States.” “Can the government track this?” “They can, but the risk is low because there’s too much activity for them to do much about it. Now I’ve bookmarked your blog and can access it anytime.” “Do many people use this program?” “No, but when more people know about it, they will. What do you think? What do Americans think? Do we have a chance?” “I don’t know.”