从连岳的博客上看到他引述的一个老外记者发表的在北京申请游行示威的文章，读来，很是有趣，能够看到如今我们党和政府是如何继续执行阳谋政策的．
其中谈到很有趣的一点，就是你必须把参加示威游行的每个人的信息提供给警方，包括身份证等．如此，就可以非常方便地让警方去抓人．该记者继续说到，看来，中国政府的确跟以前不一样了，已经开始学会如何守株待兔了．
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连岳 @ 2008-8-17 15:19:40 阅读(15022) 评论(142) 引用通告 分类: 转载
《纽约时报》记者体验北京申请游行的艰难过程。
有不少申请者直接从这儿被抓走。很多申请者也知道这个结果，他们仍然前往。这使记者得出结论，正如台湾韩国等地的文明进程一样，一切进步不是源于当权者的良心发现，而是普通民众的坚持。
这位记者还认为，北京不是一个民主政体，但也不再是一个标准意义上的极权国家——它可能介乎其中。有些人不再那么恐惧权力了。
这些观点，我认为都算公允。
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原文
Op-Ed Columnist
Malcontents Need Not Apply
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By NICHOLAS D. KRISTOF
Published: August 16, 2008
BEIJING
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Fred R. Conrad/The New York Times
Nicholas D. Kristof
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Times Topics: Olympic Games (2008)To put a smiley face on its image during the Olympics, the Chinese government set aside three “protest zones” in Beijing. Officials explained that so long as protesters obtained approval in advance, demonstrations would be allowed.
So I decided to test the system.
Following government instructions, I showed up at an office of the Beijing Public Security Bureau, found Window 12 and declared to the officer, “I’m here to apply to hold a protest.”
What I didn’t realize is that Public Security has arrested at least a half-dozen people who have shown up to apply for protest permits. Public Security is pretty shrewd. In the old days it had to go out and catch protesters in the act. Now it saves itself the bother: would-be protesters show up at Public Security offices to apply for permits and are promptly detained. That’s cost-effective law enforcement for you.
Fortunately, the official at Window 12 didn’t peg me as a counterrevolutionary. He looked at me worriedly and asked for my passport and other ID papers. Discovering that I was a journalist, he asked hopefully, “Wouldn’t you rather conduct an interview about demonstrations?”
“No. I want to apply to hold one.”
His brow furrowed. “What do you want to protest?”
“I want to demonstrate in favor of preserving Beijing’s historic architecture.” It was the least controversial, most insipid topic I could concoct.
“Do you think the government is not doing a good job at this?” he asked sternly.
“There may be room for improvement,” I said delicately.
The official frowned and summoned two senior colleagues who, after a series of frantic phone calls, led me into the heart of the police building. I was accompanied by a Times videographer, and he and a police videographer busily videoed each other. Then the police explained that under the rules they could video us but we couldn’t video them.
The Public Security Bureau (a fancy name for a police station) gleams like much of the rest of Beijing. It is a lovely, spacious building, and the waiting room we were taken to was beautifully furnished; no folding metal chairs here. It’s a fine metaphor for China’s legal system: The hardware is impeccable, but the software is primitive.
After an hour of waiting, interrupted by periodic frowning examinations of our press credentials, we were ushered into an elegant conference room. I was solemnly directed to a chair marked “applicant.”
Three police officers sat across from me, and the police videographer continued to film us from every angle. The officers were all cordial and professional, although one seemed to be daydreaming about pulling out my fingernails.
Then they spent nearly an hour going over the myriad rules for demonstrations. These were detailed and complex, and, most daunting, I would have to submit a list of every single person attending my demonstration. The list had to include names and identity document numbers.
In addition, any Chinese on a name list would have to go first to the Public Security Bureau in person to be interviewed (arrested?).
“If I go through all this, then will my application at least be granted?” I asked.
“How can we tell?” a policeman responded. “That would prejudge the process.”
“Well, has any application ever been granted?” I asked.
“We can’t answer that, for that matter has no connection to this case.”
The policemen did say that if they approved, they would give me a “Demonstration Permission Document.” Without that, my demonstration would be illegal.
I surrendered. The rules were so monstrously bureaucratic that I couldn’t even apply for a demonstration. My Olympic dreams were dashed. The police asked me to sign their note-taker’s account of the meeting, and we politely said our goodbyes.
Yet even though the process is a charade, it still represents progress in China, in that the law implicitly acknowledges the legitimacy of protest. Moreover, a trickle of Chinese have applied to hold protests, even though they know that they are more likely to end up in jail than in a “protest zone.” Fear of the government is ebbing.
My hunch is that in the coming months, perhaps after the Olympics, we will see some approvals granted. China is changing: it is no democracy, but it’s also no longer a totalitarian state.
China today reminds me of Taiwan in the mid-1980s as a rising middle class demanded more freedom. Almost every country around China, from Mongolia to Indonesia, Thailand to South Korea, has become more open and less repressive — not because of the government’s kindness but because of the people’s insistence.
I feel that same process happening here, albeit agonizingly slowly. Someday China’s software will catch up with its hardware.
I invite you to comment on this column on my blog, www.nytimes.com/ontheground, and join me on Facebook at www.facebook.com/kristof.
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