Taxi Drivers- the Good, the Bad and the Defiant
Mr. Yang saw the flashing lights long before the sirens reached us. His eyes focused forward though, grinning defiantly, and pretending not to notice. I constantly turned behind us to view the group of police cars on our tail, unable to overtake us because of Mr. Yang’s position in the middle of the road. Long minutes passed in this fashion before a loud speaker finally warned us,
“Get off the road. Any more delay and your license will be revoked.“
Mr. Jin backed down. We watched the darkened windows of the five police cars and one BMW pass. The window of each police car rolled down and angry officers stared threateningly at Mr. Yang.
“Screw you,” yelled Mr. Jin, a fist flung bravely in their direction.
“Screw you,” yelled Mr. Jin, a fist flung bravely in their direction.
Turning to me, he barked, “See the middle car there? That’s some minor official from Sichuan here to visit the sites. Our damn system is so corrupt…. We have five police cars escorting a ‘nobody’ from Sichuuan around the tourist destinations. How does this have anything to do with official business? I hate this corruption. It’s who you know in our country and not what you do!”
Mr. Yang’s tirade was not new to me. In fact, I was getting used to similar complaints from taxi drivers throughout China. In a country where taxi drivers work 70 hours a week, drive an average of 150 miles per day in bumper-to-bumper traffic, only to take home an average of $200 a month, the general feeling is that the comforts of officialdom are far less than commensurate with their supposed contribution to society.
Mr. Yang’s confidence, ironically, came in part from his friendships with police back in the county seat. He knew that if he faced any problems with the passing entourage, he would call his police friends ten miles away and they would help remove any further complications. “I would take my police buddies out drinking then and we would all laugh about my defiance to those corrupt officials from Sichuan!”
Mr. Yang’s endless traffic violations are never reprimanded or recorded. A near miss in the main square is caused by Mr. Yang’s efforts to pat the back of one of his police friends directing traffic. The officer smiles and jokes with Mr. Yang as his taxi blocks traffic on one of the main arteries. Angry laobaixing (common people) wait helplessly behind.
In southern Sichuan, I was almost pulled off a motorcycle taxi for not wearing a helmet. A police officer tried to grab the driver of the motorcycle and give him a fine for having a helmet-less passenger. The driver instead dangerously sped through the intersection leaving the officer’s frantic chase long behind us. After stopping two blocks away, the motorcycle driver laughed, “Don’t worry, my brother-in-law is a police officer. He will ensure that nothing happens.”
Here in China, connections are everything. One’s daily life is divided up among Shuren and Shengren- people you know and those you do not. A person’s power is measured by the breadth of one’s network of Shuren. No matter what level of society, some form of ‘Pai ma pi’ (patting the horse’s butt) is necessary. The scale however is magnified the higher one goes in society. The anger among those lower on the ladder is amplified as they find themselves unable to manipulate their relationships to the same extent as those above them.
Officials here in China still control many of the important business decisions. Without currying their favor, land taxes may suddenly be increased, roads may not be built, or licenses may prematurely expire. It is part of life here, and Mr. Yang’s complaints reflect more a realization of his lower position in the power pecking order. Locals do not like their shuren network to be infiltrated by outsiders, even if it means by someone from a neighboring county. They spend their lives building their networks to ensure some semblance of control and power over their daily lives. Mr. Yang’s defiant fist was his way of showing both the passing officials and me that he had not completely lost control, that he still retained some “face.”
China’s emperors had always feared this independent nature of the Chinese hinterland. Locals would always say that China is great and the Emperor is far, far away. This proverb still exists today and is perfectly illustrated by Mr. Yang’s defiance. In Mr. Yang’s world, the central government exists in Beijing and should stay there. He rules the roads of his county and visiting officials better turn off their sirens when on his turf.
Mr. Yang’s tirade was not new to me. In fact, I was getting used to similar complaints from taxi drivers throughout China. In a country where taxi drivers work 70 hours a week, drive an average of 150 miles per day in bumper-to-bumper traffic, only to take home an average of $200 a month, the general feeling is that the comforts of officialdom are far less than commensurate with their supposed contribution to society.
Mr. Yang’s confidence, ironically, came in part from his friendships with police back in the county seat. He knew that if he faced any problems with the passing entourage, he would call his police friends ten miles away and they would help remove any further complications. “I would take my police buddies out drinking then and we would all laugh about my defiance to those corrupt officials from Sichuan!”
Mr. Yang’s endless traffic violations are never reprimanded or recorded. A near miss in the main square is caused by Mr. Yang’s efforts to pat the back of one of his police friends directing traffic. The officer smiles and jokes with Mr. Yang as his taxi blocks traffic on one of the main arteries. Angry laobaixing (common people) wait helplessly behind.
In southern Sichuan, I was almost pulled off a motorcycle taxi for not wearing a helmet. A police officer tried to grab the driver of the motorcycle and give him a fine for having a helmet-less passenger. The driver instead dangerously sped through the intersection leaving the officer’s frantic chase long behind us. After stopping two blocks away, the motorcycle driver laughed, “Don’t worry, my brother-in-law is a police officer. He will ensure that nothing happens.”
Here in China, connections are everything. One’s daily life is divided up among Shuren and Shengren- people you know and those you do not. A person’s power is measured by the breadth of one’s network of Shuren. No matter what level of society, some form of ‘Pai ma pi’ (patting the horse’s butt) is necessary. The scale however is magnified the higher one goes in society. The anger among those lower on the ladder is amplified as they find themselves unable to manipulate their relationships to the same extent as those above them.
Officials here in China still control many of the important business decisions. Without currying their favor, land taxes may suddenly be increased, roads may not be built, or licenses may prematurely expire. It is part of life here, and Mr. Yang’s complaints reflect more a realization of his lower position in the power pecking order. Locals do not like their shuren network to be infiltrated by outsiders, even if it means by someone from a neighboring county. They spend their lives building their networks to ensure some semblance of control and power over their daily lives. Mr. Yang’s defiant fist was his way of showing both the passing officials and me that he had not completely lost control, that he still retained some “face.”
China’s emperors had always feared this independent nature of the Chinese hinterland. Locals would always say that China is great and the Emperor is far, far away. This proverb still exists today and is perfectly illustrated by Mr. Yang’s defiance. In Mr. Yang’s world, the central government exists in Beijing and should stay there. He rules the roads of his county and visiting officials better turn off their sirens when on his turf.