The town that dared to defy Beijing
Until the land seizures began, Xue Jinbo was not a particularly notable man and his home of Wukan was not a particularly notable village. Mr Xue had a small business selling handicrafts in the Chinese fishing community of about 20,000. He had no history of involvement in politics. Wukan, a reasonably well-off place, was not known as a hotbed for radicals.
Then the authorities decided to sell the village's land for development without residents' consent. After months of simmering protests at the imposition, Mr Xue put himself forward as a representative in negotiations that were supposed to bring the crisis to a close.
Instead, Mr Xue died in police custody. The circumstances were murky at best. And yesterday, as his friends, neighbours and fellow-villagers turned out in their thousands to mourn his death on the sixth day since his passing, it was clear that because of Mr Xue, Wukan – which has been surrounded by barricades designed to keep the authorities out as its people voice their fury – had changed for good. The question is: is the village an outlier? Or is it a symbol of a change that is sweeping China?
It isn't easy to predict how the protest will end; certainly there is no dilution of feeling in Wukan, where yesterday, 7,000 people turned out for the funeral. Villagers lined up to make speeches remembering the man who has become a martyr, bowing before his picture and holding up banners that read: "You sacrificed your life for our land" and: "Sadly mourn Xue Jinbo".
One villager, Huang Hancan, told AP that no one believed the official version of events, in which Mr Xue died of a heart attack. "He was killed for struggling to win the land for the villagers. We all cried for him," Huang said. "He must have suffered from mistreatment for a good, healthy man to turn into a dead man just a day after being detained. No doubt, he was beaten to death and everyone can imagine that."
But even if such circumstances are rare, it does seem clear that the protest is part of a broader challenge to the authority of the Communist Party and a compelling new feature in a picture of unrest that blots the landscape despite decades of muscular economic growth... By some reckonings, last year there were 280,000 so-called "mass incidents", including petitions, demonstrations and strikes, both peaceful and violent, in China. That's a huge rise on estimates for six years ago, when only around 90,000 such incidents were recorded. In many cases they were linked to anger over corruption and other forms of abuse of power such as illegal land seizures. Many took place in rich provinces such as Guangdong or Zhejiang or near Shanghai, along the southern coast and eastern seaboard. In August, thousands of people took to the streets in the rich north-eastern city of Dalian to protest against a petrochemical plant that recently caused a toxic spill scare and the display of public dissent forced the authorities to order the facility to be closed immediately.
Throughout the Wukan riots, the protesters have focused their anger at the local government and angry mobs have attacked public buildings, including the headquarters of the local Communist Party and a police station. But as extraordinary as they have been, they are part of a pattern that has existed for years...
