时代周刊：打黑中的重庆——阴霾之城 Rita Lee 译 小米 校

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　　中国这个国度，也许是许多让人向往的埋骨之所，但肯定不会有人把重庆的爱丁堡小区跟它们联系起来。这个位于重庆北郊的住宅小区除了名字之外，跟苏格兰的爱丁堡市没有任何关联。小区建成才10年，其中的建筑已经看上去年久失修了。小区门口是一大片破房子，无家可归的流浪者们经常盖上块防雨布就寄宿在这里，一群“棒棒军”正坐在小区门口打牌，空气中充斥着一股垃圾焚化的怪味。
　　2009年6月3日凌晨大约2点，44岁的李明航（事后官方宣称其涉嫌贩毒和高利贷）与其妻将自家的白色宝马停在小区停车场后，向小区正门走去的时候，一个杀手正潜伏在不远处准备袭击。一个当天夜里执勤的23岁的黄姓保安说：“他朝他们走过去，在夫妻俩通过时开枪射中了那个男人。我听见了两声枪响，之后开枪者马上就被一辆车接应走了。”小黄帮着把李明航扶进一辆出租里，但李很快就在本地的一家医院里死去了。小黄承认：“这地方不太平。”
　　对犯罪分子来说，不太平的时代肯定是开始了。这起可定性为帮派火并的枪杀案提前引发了重庆全市范围内的打黑活动。从2009年中期开始，警方已经逮捕了1000名以上的犯罪嫌疑人，到发稿时为止，已经对其中的782人提起了诉讼，这些犯罪嫌疑人中还有87名据传与犯罪分子勾结的政府官员。这次2010年2月28日宣告结束的打黑活动为前政协委员之子——前商务部长、现任重庆市委书记的薄熙来赢得了不少喝彩声。
　　当对涉黑团伙的审判进行之时，大量群众在法院外聚集起来，呼吁法院一定要对这些犯罪分子公正裁决。一位父亲甚至在当地报纸上刊登了一条广告，感谢政府在打黑斗争中作出的努力——这位父亲的儿子在一次涉黑团伙为争夺重庆远郊的一片鱼塘的火并中丧生。“在很多地方，政府官员仍然非常腐败。但是在这里，总的来说，他们做的很好。”56岁的农民叶大得（音译）说，“如果没有薄熙来或重庆市公安局长王立军，我们家就没希望了。涉黑团伙的保护伞可是很有势力的。”
　　法律与无秩序
　　从第二次世界大战时成为+++国的陪都后，重庆已经有很长时间没有得到过这么多的关注了。坐落在扬子江畔的这座城市有时被称作世界上最大的城市，重庆市现有人口2800万人，其中一半的人居住在1997年重庆成立直辖市时，从四川省其他地区划拨来的乡村地区。
　　就像很多中国其他地区一样，重庆正在飞速发展着。但是随着经济的腾飞，犯罪率（特别是敲诈勒索）也出现了显著的上升趋势。当地居民说，从交通业到建筑业，几乎没有涉黑团伙不搜刮的产业。
　　最近的打黑行动让重庆的涉黑团伙凸显出来，但实际上，整个社会都存在着涉黑的问题。几乎在中国的任何城市，你都可以找到当地执法机关和犯罪团伙勾结的例子。卖淫嫖娼和违法聚众赌博到处都是，有时候甚至就在里派出所不远的地方就有这样的场所。“去哪儿都一样。”纽瓦克的罗格斯大学专门研究中国涉黑团伙的教授陈国霖如是说。
　　但说到这次史无前例的打黑活动，重庆却是独一无二的。对于重庆来说，薄熙来是一个雄心勃勃的局外人，他在当地没有什么人脉关系，这使他可以无所顾忌的进行打黑活动。在公审期间，每天都有官员和歹徒们耸人听闻的犯罪细节从法庭中流传出来，通过每天的纸媒向全国报道，吸引着全国的视线。2009年11月，经营地下赌场、包养男宠的黑帮女老大谢才萍被判有期徒刑18年。她的大伯子文强在2010年2月出庭。文强是此次审判中级别最高的涉案官员，曾任司法局局长和公安局副局长，他被起诉的罪名包括强奸、权钱交易（涉案金额高达230万美元）及暗中保护黑社会成员（文强拒不承认这些指控）。
　　由于薄熙来的努力，重庆官员和黑社会之间的联系被暴露了出来，黑帮团伙对重庆市的控制受到了动摇。但是当打黑活动进入到了第二个年头，有人开始提出这样的疑虑：在重庆市坚持打黑的过程中，当局是否践踏了司法公正？
　　许多对嫌疑人的法律保护措施——例如拘留时不得被刑讯逼供和有权要求法律代理——在中国仍然是较为新近的概念。因此，重庆打黑活动不仅仅考验政府摧毁犯罪集团的能力，更考验着政府在打击犯罪的同时保护公民权利的能力。

　　一个实例
　　“打黑不易，法治更难。”南方周末评论员郭光东11月曾这样写道，“打黑成就可保一时平安，而法治成就能保一世公义。“法律专家指出，在急于求成的打黑活动中，重庆官员进一步破坏了本来就很脆弱的公民法律权利，特别是审判公平的权利。律师李庄的故事就是很好的实例。李庄代理的是龚钢模的案子，龚钢模在此次打黑活动中，被检方指控为重庆四大犯罪团伙头目之一，曾向文强行贿。在其最终被判决的多项罪名中，包括主使爱丁堡枪杀案，他因这些罪名被判处无期徒刑。龚钢模的判决曾经因为他举报其律师李庄涉嫌伪证罪被暂缓。李庄于2009年12月被捕，2010年1月8日，他被判定犯有伪证罪，并被判决18个月的徒刑。重庆江北区法院判定，在两人的三次简短接触中，李庄在被警察视频监控的情况下，曾经秘密唆使龚钢模翻供并申诉自己曾被严刑逼供（据说，李庄是用眨眼等手段来唆使龚钢模做这些事情的）。根据判决书，李庄还曾经试图贿赂公安局官员做伪证，并教唆龚钢模的亲友作证说龚钢模不是检方所说的犯罪集团头目，而是被其他歹徒逼迫犯罪的。
　　李庄的律师指出，对于李庄的审判过于仓促。虽然证人们给出了证词，但没有证人出庭接受质证。 重庆以外的一些律师团体则称，由于李庄坚持为其被代理人进行辩护，其态度与其他涉及此次打黑活动的律师格格不入，因此他受到了政治报复。“对于那些指责李庄的人——公检法机构——而言，李庄的错就错在他跟他们对着干了。”北京律师唐吉田这样说，他也是支持李庄的公开信的作者之一，“他们把他看做一个破坏他们政绩的人。李庄这样的人会破坏他们的庆功宴。”
　　中国三十年来的改革开放建立了健康的立法制度，但唐吉田指出，司法权仍受共产党控制。事实上，在11月份，重庆的司法机构提出，参与此次打黑活动的辩护律师们应该“有高度的政治觉悟”，应该“强调政治，着眼全局，遵守纪律”。显然，这样的提法的潜台词是：别纠结于有可能影响整体打黑成绩的小细节。唐说，这样的话，法律存在的意义变成了为统治者服务，这简直与**时期没什么两样了。
　　反面教材
　　李庄并不是一面传统意义上的人权斗争旗帜。 他是个不算敏锐的48岁退伍军人，在律师团体中，甚至是在他自己就职的律师事务所中都不是很出名。官方媒体《中国青年报》在李庄被捕后马上发表了一篇长篇评论文章，把他描述成一个傲慢贪财的家伙，利用政治关系去“捞”自己的被代理人。李庄的辩护律师称，这种批评与本案的指控并无直接关系，纯属起引导舆论导向作用。
　　李庄案的判决在很大程度上取决于刑法中的第306条规定。律师们和人权组织认为旨在规范何为伪证罪的中华人民共和国刑法第306条超越了一般伪证罪的规定范围，对辩护律师来说十分不利。在大多数涉及刑法的案件中，如果被告被判有罪，那么被告的辩护律师则有可能被要求对其提供的证据负责。“我们不是因为李庄这个人而关注这个案子的，” 香港立法委员Albert Ho说，他同时也是中国维权律师关注组的组长，“他并不是一个维权律师，也没有参加过什么维权的活动。我们关注这个案子是因为李庄其人显然成为了刑法第306条的受害者。”
　　中国媒体大量报道了李庄案，开始的时候，李庄被报道为一个不道德的律师，可随着案件的发展，他逐渐被描写为重庆打黑审判的眼中钉、肉中刺。财新杂志发表文章《愤怒的律师控诉中国司法》，著名的财经杂志和三联生活周刊使李庄成为了他们的封面人物，在这些报道中，薄熙来打黑除恶的光辉形象都受到了一定程度上的抨击。布鲁金斯公共政策研究中心的中国领导力研究者李成（音译）认为，激进的审判程序削弱了人们对打黑运动的赞许，他说：“这不是一个法制问题，也不是一个法律程序的问题。这是一场政治运动，在形式上简直与**不相上下。薄熙来得到了一些政治筹码，但他的这种做事方式让很多人不舒服。”
　　法治即政治
　　薄熙来曾任大连市市长、辽宁省省长及商务部部长，他的这些经历使他成为了中国政坛中冉冉升起的一颗明星。目前，人们普遍认为他有可能在2012年中央政治局常委的换届中被选举成为新一任常委。薄熙来坚持指出：他打黑的目的仅仅是为了清理重庆的犯罪团伙，而没有任何政治目的。根据官方媒体中国日报对他1月17日在重庆大学的报告会上发言的报道，薄熙来指责有些人“自己不干事，对人民群众拥护的事，又酸溜溜地说三道四，东拉西扯”。不过，重庆的打黑运动显然为薄熙来在对他的前任汪洋的竞争中增加了政治筹码。汪洋现任广东省省委书记，他和薄熙来分别代表了**的两个派系。薄熙来作为前党和国家领导人薄一波的儿子，属于太子党。而汪洋则是从普遍被认为是胡派势力的中国共产主义青年团中晋升上来的。虽然这两派在大多数执政方针上持相同意见，但他们却是党内执政地位潜在的竞争者。薄熙来借这次打黑斗争的契机，成功的质疑了汪洋前期的执政效果，毕竟，在汪的任期里，涉黑势力逐渐发展壮大起来。
　　打黑活动到底能起到多大作用？目前在公共安全方面，打黑活动取得了显著的成效——报警量急速下降了40%——但这种急速变动似乎预示了这样的成效难以长久维持。“情况不会因为打黑活动得到多大的改变的，”集团犯罪学专家秦（chin）这样说，“如果他们只逮捕四五十名犯罪团伙头目的话，另一批人会很快取代他们。”
　　爱丁堡小区内的情况也差不多，虽然执法机关持续关注着这里的局势，恐惧的气氛仍然存在。“我觉得打黑活动没有造成多大变化，”保安小黄说，“一辆警车每天都停在路边，直到晚上10点。但是大家都知道犯罪分子只有在午夜以后出没，所以警车没多大作用。” 目前，重庆的另一代黑帮老大们正等待着，等待他们的市委书记薄熙来，就像10点收工的巡警们那样，有收工的那一天。

　　重庆的Chengcheng Jiang 对此报道亦有贡献。

英文原文：
There may be good places to die in China, but Edinburgh isn't one of them. This housing development on the outskirts of the city of Chongqing bears only passing resemblance to its Scottish namesake. Just over a decade old, the brick and gray stone fa?ades already bear the dilapidated look of abandoned manors. Outside the gates is a broad expanse of demolished homes, populated by the homeless sleeping under tarps. A group of "stick-stick" men, who grind out meager livings hauling goods on bamboo poles balanced on their shoulders, sit playing cards. Smoke from a bonfire of garbage mixes with the miasma of smog in the sky.
At around 2 a.m. on June 3, 2009, Li Minghang — a 44-year-old man whom authorities say had a history of drug-dealing and loan-sharking — left his white BMW at the Edinburgh car park and headed for the front gate with his wife. An assassin lurked nearby. "He walked toward them and shot the husband as he passed by," says a 23-year-old security guard surnamed Huang who was on duty that night. "I heard two gunshots," he says. "The shooter was picked up by a car immediately afterward." Huang helped Li into a taxi; the injured man later died at a local hospital. "This place," admits Huang, "is not very safe."
(See pictures of the making of modern China.)
Certainly not if you're a mobster. The brazen killing of Li, apparently a victim of gang warfare, spurred Chongqing's officials to speed up the launch of a citywide crackdown on organized crime. Since the middle of last year, police have arrested more than 1,000 people and to date have prosecuted 782, including 87 government officials allegedly in cahoots with the criminals. So far, four of those convicted have been executed. The campaign, which officially ended Feb. 28, has earned praise for Chongqing Communist Party Secretary Bo Xilai, onetime Commerce Minister and son of a former Politburo member. When the mafia trials were being held, crowds would gather outside the courthouses demanding that justice be served. One man whose son was killed by thugs in a clash over a fish farm in the city's exurbs even placed an ad in a local paper thanking the local government for its efforts. "In a lot of places, the government is still too corrupt, but [here], speaking overall, they are good," says the farmer, 56-year-old Yi Dade. "Without Bo Xilai or [police chief] Wang Lijun, there would be no hope for our family. The protective network of gangsters is very big."
Law and Disorder
Chongqing hasn't had this much attention since it was the temporary capital of China during World War II. Looming on the broad banks of the Yangtze River, it is sometimes called the biggest city in the world; half its population of 28 million lives in a huge swath of countryside that was carved out of neighboring Sichuan when the city was given provincial-level status in 1997. Like much of the rest of China, Chongqing is booming, but, along with the economy, crime has risen, especially extortion and racketeering. Locals say gangs take a big cut of everything from transport to construction. The recent crackdown has made Chongqing's criminal woes a national subject, but the reality is that its problems are commonplace. Take a stroll through practically any city in China and you can see examples of the protective network between organized crime and law enforcement. Prostitution and illegal gambling dens are ubiquitous, sometimes just a short distance away from police stations. "Everywhere you go it is pretty much the same," says Ko-lin Chin, a professor at Rutgers University, Newark, who is an expert on Chinese gangs.
(Take a new look at old Shanghai.)
But in its crackdown on crime — the biggest anyone can remember — Chongqing is unique. Driven by Bo, an ambitious outsider whose lack of local ties has given him a free hand to pursue his cleanup campaign, Chongqing's trials have riveted the country. Lurid details about once powerful mobsters and officials have spilled out in open court and across the pages of daily newspapers. In November, Xie Caiping, a mafia "godmother" who ran underground gambling houses and kept a harem of young men for her own pleasure, was sentenced to 18 years in prison. Her brother-in-law Wen Qiang, the former head of Chongqing's judicial bureau and deputy police chief, went on trial Feb. 2 — the highest official implicated. He faces charges of rape, selling promotions to police officers and accepting $2.3 million to protect members of the criminal underworld. (Wen has denied the charges.)
Bo's efforts have earned praise for exposing the links between criminals and officials, and temporarily shaking the gangs' grip on the city. But as the campaign moves into its second year, there is a fear that, in their zeal to stamp out organized crime, the authorities are themselves trampling on the law. Many legal protections, such as the right to legal representation or to not be abused while in custody, are still fairly recent concepts in China. So Chongqing has become a test case not just of the ability of the government to dismantle criminal gangs, but of its ability to uphold citizens' rights while doing so.
A Case in Point
"Cracking down on the underworld is not easy, but building rule of law is even harder," Guo Guangdong, a columnist for the Chinese newspaper Southern Weekend wrote in November. "Cracking down on gangs will give you a moment of peace, but rule of law will safeguard a generation of righteousness." Legal experts say that, in the rush to chalk up a decisive victory, Chongqing officials are undermining already fragile legal rights, especially the right to a fair trial.

The prime example is the case of defense lawyer Li Zhuang. Li represented Gong Gangmo, who was convicted and sentenced to life for, among other charges, ordering the Edinburgh hit. Prosecutors say Gong is one of four organized-crime bosses who funneled thousands of dollars to Wen, the deputy police chief. Gong's trial was at first put on hold while a case proceeded against Li for fabricating evidence and obstructing justice by instructing his client to lie. Li was arrested in December; on Jan. 8 he was convicted and later sentenced to 18 months in prison. Chongqing's Jiangbei district court ruled that in three brief meetings with Gong, Li managed, while being monitored by police, to covertly tell his client that he should recant and say he was tortured to confess his crimes. (Blinking was one of the means by which Li is supposed to have conveyed this.) According to the ruling, Li also sought to pay police officers to give false testimony and coached his client's associates to say that Gong wasn't head of the mafia group but had been forced to act by other gangsters.
Li's lawyers say his trial was hasty and that, although their statements were read into evidence, witnesses testifying against him did not appear in court to face cross-examination. A wider community of lawyers outside Chongqing asserts that the prosecution of Li is a political vendetta because he, unlike most of the other defense lawyers, fought hard for his client. "To the people who are accusing Li Zhuang — the police, the procuratorate, the court and the local government — his flaw is that he opposes them," says Tang Jitian, a Beijing lawyer and co-author of an open letter in support of Li. "They see him as someone who undermines their work and affects their performance. People like Li Zhuang basically ruined their victory banquet."
China's 30 years of reforms have helped to build up a healthy body of legislation. But Tang points out that the judicial process is still subject to the interests of the Communist Party. Indeed, in November, Chongqing's judicial bureau advised that defense lawyers in gang trials should be of "high political quality" and should "stress politics, consider the big picture and observe discipline." The apparent message: Don't get caught up in details that will muddle the overall goal of a successful antimafia campaign. That, says Tang, smacks of the Cultural Revolution, when the law, to the extent that it existed at all, was used to enforce the will of leaders.
(See pictures of China at 60.)
The Antihero
Li is an unlikely icon for a civil rights campaign. A 48-year-old ex-soldier with a blunt manner, he wasn't well known among activist lawyers or even other people at his own Beijing firm. The state-run China Youth Daily, which published a long, harshly critical story about Li shortly after his arrest, painted him as brash and money-hungry, and implied that he used political connections to help his clients. Li's defenders say such criticism has nothing to do with the merits of the charges against him but is meant to sway public opinion.
The case against Li hinges on a clause in China's criminal law. Lawyers and human-rights groups say that Article 306 of the P.R.C. criminal code, which makes it an offense for a person to assist or encourage another to give false testimony, goes beyond standard perjury laws and has been used to hobble defense lawyers. If, as in the vast majority of criminal trials in China, the accused is found guilty, then the defense lawyer could be liable for evidence submitted on the client's behalf. "We are interested in this case not because of Mr. Li," says Albert Ho, a Hong Kong legislator and chairman of the China Human Rights Lawyers Concern Group. "He is not known as a human-rights lawyer and he is not active in human rights. We are interested in this case because he is apparently being victimized by Article 306 of the criminal code."
(See pictures of China rebuilding.)
Chinese media have covered Li's case extensively, and while initial reports portrayed him as unethical, later stories examined how his case shone an unflattering light on the Chongqing trials. "Fiery Lawyer Puts China's Judiciary on Trial," wrote the liberal magazine Caixin. Prominent weeklies including Caijing and Sanlian Life Week put Li on the cover. With each story the heroic image of Chongqing party secretary Bo has taken a hit. The aggressive manner with which the trials have been pushed through has dampened enthusiasm for the campaign, says Cheng Li, an expert on Chinese leadership and research director at the Brookings Institution's John L. Thornton China Center. "It's not about the rule of law, it's not about the legal process," he says. "It's a political campaign, and it's purely Cultural Revolution – style. In a way Bo is gaining something, but he has made a lot of people uncomfortable."
The Legal Is Political
Bo is one of China's coming men. His experience as the mayor of the coastal city of Dalian, governor of Liaoning province and Minister of Commerce in Beijing all helped him build a national profile. Now he is widely thought to be in line for a possible promotion to the Politburo's standing committee, China's top ruling body, when it is reconfigured in 2012. Bo insists his goal is to clean up Chongqing; he has denied that the gang crackdown has any political motive, denouncing such interpretations as "twisted reasoning" in a Jan. 17 speech to Chongqing students, according to the state-run China Daily. But by taking the fight to Chongqing's gangs, Bo appears to have undermined his predecessor, Wang Yang, who is now party secretary in Guangdong. The two men represent two major Communist Party factions. Bo, as son of a party elder, is considered a member of the "princelings," while Wang worked his way up through the party's Youth League, the power base of President Hu Jintao. While the two groups have largely similar policy views, they are rivals for leadership within the party. By shining a light on Chongqing's corrupt underbelly, Bo has in effect raised doubts about Wang's earlier leadership, conveying the image that he let gangs grow unchecked.
How effective will the campaign against organized crime turn out to be? The crackdown has had an immediate impact on public safety in Chongqing — calls to police are down 40%, for instance — but its temporary nature means that the results are unlikely to be permanent. "It's not going to change the situation that much," says Chin, the organized-crime expert. "If they arrest 40 or 50 top gangsters, another group of people will simply replace them."
The sentiment is much the same in Edinburgh, where, despite increased attention from law enforcement, an air of fear remains. "I don't think the crackdown on the gangsters really made a big difference," says Huang, the security guard. "There is a police car that parks right down the road now every night until 10 p.m., but everybody knows that criminals only came out after midnight, so there is not much use in that." For now, Chongqing's next crop of gang lords are waiting for the moment that Bo Xilai, like the cop on the corner, decides to call it a day.
—with reporting by Chengcheng Jiang / Chongqing