Where it hurts
Mainland activists are often doubly punished for standing up to the state, finds Verna Yu, as their families fall apart under pressure from the authorities
For more than a year, Jiang Tianyong has been on the move, trying to escape the prying eyes of the police.
The lawyer from Beijing moves from one province to another, taking up human rights cases, and returns to the capital only once in a blue moon. When he is back, he says, he spends little time at home because, much as he loves his family, he doesn’t want to expose his wife and young daughter to more police harassment than they experience already.
When Jiang isn’t at home, police often contact his wife, Jin Bianling, to question her on his whereabouts. She has found her phone number posted on advertisements for flat rentals and tickets sales, and extra locks have been put on her bicycle: pranks played by the police, she suspects, aimed at upsetting her.
Two years ago, the couple’s then-nine-year-old daughter witnessed a police raid on the family home after her father had been taken away.
The year before, they had come to her school to interrogate her; now, whenever she steps out of the front door, she takes a look around to see if she can spot anyone who might be a secret policeman.
When Jiang does go home, things are worse. He is summoned to the local police station nearly every day and officers often guard his front door, preventing his family from going out, he says. They have, on occasion, found the keyhole to their home filled with glue.
Jiang is one of many human rights advocates on the mainland who are widely respected for their work but who have paid a heavy price for their endeavours to push for social justice and democracy: the loss of their family lives.