China's one-child policy puts a price on human life

A woman forced to undergo a late-term abortion receives 70,600 yuan in compensation.

How much is a human life worth? The Chinese authorities appear to have valued it at 70,600 yuan (£7,160). That is the amount they have agreed to pay to the family of Feng Jianmei, a woman forced to undergo a late-term abortion because she could not afford the fine for breaking China’s strict one-child policy.

The case, which I blogged about last month, caused outrage worldwide after a photograph of Feng with the dead seven month old foetus was distributed online.

The family – who suffered harassment and were labelled “traitors” for talking to foreign media – had planned to take legal action but have decided not to after the government announced the payout. Feng’s husband, Deng Jiyuan, told the Associated Press that his family wanted to return to normality.

While forced abortions are technically illegal in China, they are not unusual, given that the 300,000 officials employed to enforce the one-child policy receive financial incentives to meet quotas of abortions and sterilisations.

The sheer violence of what happened to Feng – who was hooded, bundled into a car and given an injection that induced a stillbirth – is difficult to comprehend. The emotive power of this incident has segued into a wider debate about the one-child policy, with prominent researchers both outside and within China urging authorities to ease the restrictions.

Chinese government researchers argued that the policy must be relaxed because of the drastically ageing population and an impending labour shortage. A group of Chinese scholars also signed a letter calling for a change to the law, reiterating the risk to economic sustainability – with the imminent crisis of a shortage of young workers – but also the human rights issue. James Liang, one of the signatories, said: "From an economic perspective, the one-child policy is irrational. From a human-rights perspective, it's even less rational."

So what are the chances of a change? If past example is anything to go by, they are slim – calls for a relaxation of the rules are nothing new. The regime still believes that there are too many people (an impression borne out by overcrowded urban centres) and besides, is risk-averse. The sheer size of China makes any central change slow.

While officials debate the economic and rational arguments for and against the one-child policy, women and families will continue to suffer. Last month, a former official with China’s National Population and Family Planning Commission made an astonishing tearful apology on television in Hong Kong. In an interview with Pheonix TV, Zhang Erli said: "I felt sorry for our Chinese women. I feel guilty. Chinese women have made huge sacrifices. A responsible government should repay them."

But "repayment" goes little way towards tackling the trauma of a forced abortion, or the invasiveness of vaginal checks and random pregnancy tests which are commonplace in some areas. Zhang Kai, a lawyer advising Feng and her family, dismissed the pay off: "70,000 for a person's life? It is too little."

The best repayment would be to end this policy, which is being used as a brutal tool against women and their rights over their own bodies.

A baby looks up at its mother on a street in Beijing. Photograph: Getty Images

Samira Shackle is a freelance journalist, who tweets @samirashackle. She was formerly a staff writer for the New Statesman.

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Arsène Wenger: how can an intelligent manager preside over such a hollowed-out team?

The Arsenal manager faces a frustrating legacy.

Sport is obviously not all about winning, but it is about justified hope. That ­distinction has provided, until recently, a serious defence of Arsène Wenger’s Act II – the losing part. Arsenal haven’t won anything big for 13 years. But they have been close enough (and this is a personal view) to sustain the experience of investing emotionally in the story. Hope turning to disappointment is fine. It’s when the hope goes, that’s the problem.

Defeat takes many forms. In both 2010 and 2011, Arsenal lost over two legs to Barcelona in the Champions League. Yet these were rich and rewarding sporting experiences. In the two London fixtures of those ties, Arsenal drew 2-2 and won 2-1 against the most dazzling team in the world. Those nights reinvigorated my pride in sport. The Emirates Stadium had the best show in town. Defeat, when it arrived in Barcelona, was softened by gratitude. We’d been entertained, more than entertained.

Arsenal’s 5-1 surrender to Bayern Munich on 15 February was very different. In this capitulation by instalments, the fascination was macabre rather than dramatic. Having long given up on discerning signs of life, we began the post-mortem mid-match. As we pored over the entrails, the curiosity lay in the extent of the malady that had brought down the body. The same question, over and over: how could such an intelligent, deep-thinking manager preside over a hollowed-out team? How could failings so obvious to outsiders, the absence of steel and resilience, evade the judgement of the boss?

There is a saying in rugby union that forwards (the hard men) determine who wins, and the backs (the glamour boys) decide by how much. Here is a footballing equivalent: midfielders define matches, attacking players adorn them and defenders get the blame. Yet Arsenal’s players as good as vacated the midfield. It is hard to judge how well Bayern’s playmakers performed because they were operating in a vacuum; it looked like a morale-boosting training-ground drill, free from the annoying presence of opponents.

I have always been suspicious of the ­default English critique which posits that mentally fragile teams can be turned around by licensed on-field violence – a good kicking, basically. Sporting “character” takes many forms; physical assertiveness is only one dimension.

Still, it remains baffling, Wenger’s blind spot. He indulges artistry, especially the mercurial Mesut Özil, beyond the point where it serves the player. Yet he won’t protect the magicians by surrounding them with effective but down-to-earth talents. It has become a diet of collapsing soufflés.

What held back Wenger from buying the linchpin midfielder he has lacked for many years? Money is only part of the explanation. All added up, Arsenal do spend: their collective wage bill is the fourth-highest in the League. But Wenger has always been reluctant to lavish cash on a single star player, let alone a steely one. Rather two nice players than one great one.

The power of habit has become debilitating. Like a wealthy but conservative shopper who keeps going back to the same clothes shop, Wenger habituates the same strata of the transfer market. When he can’t get what he needs, he’s happy to come back home with something he’s already got, ­usually an elegant midfielder, tidy passer, gets bounced in big games, prone to going missing. Another button-down blue shirt for a drawer that is well stuffed.

It is almost universally accepted that, as a business, Arsenal are England’s leading club. Where their rivals rely on bailouts from oligarchs or highly leveraged debt, Arsenal took tough choices early and now appear financially secure – helped by their manager’s ability to engineer qualification for the Champions League every season while avoiding excessive transfer costs. Does that count for anything?

After the financial crisis, I had a revealing conversation with the owner of a private bank that had sailed through the turmoil. Being cautious and Swiss, he explained, he had always kept more capital reserves than the norm. As a result, the bank had made less money in boom years. “If I’d been a normal chief executive, I’d have been fired by the board,” he said. Instead, when the economic winds turned, he was much better placed than more bullish rivals. As a competitive strategy, his winning hand was only laid bare by the arrival of harder times.

In football, however, the crash never came. We all wrote that football’s insane spending couldn’t go on but the pace has only quickened. Even the Premier League’s bosses confessed to being surprised by the last extravagant round of television deals – the cash that eventually flows into the hands of managers and then the pockets of players and their agents.

By refusing to splash out on the players he needed, whatever the cost, Wenger was hedged for a downturn that never arrived.

What an irony it would be if football’s bust comes after he has departed. Imagine the scenario. The oligarchs move on, finding fresh ways of achieving fame, respectability and the protection achieved by entering the English establishment. The clubs loaded with debt are forced to cut their spending. Arsenal, benefiting from their solid business model, sail into an outright lead, mopping up star talent and trophies all round.

It’s often said that Wenger – early to invest in data analytics and worldwide scouts; a pioneer of player fitness and lifestyle – was overtaken by imitators. There is a second dimension to the question of time and circumstance. He helped to create and build Arsenal’s off-field robustness, even though football’s crazy economics haven’t yet proved its underlying value.

If the wind turns, Arsène Wenger may face a frustrating legacy: yesterday’s man and yet twice ahead of his time. 

Ed Smith is a journalist and author, most recently of Luck. He is a former professional cricketer and played for both Middlesex and England.

This article first appeared in the 24 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The world after Brexit