Hua Xinmin is a living legend, a lone crusader fighting to save Beijing's city heritage - which local officials cannot see any value in saving. She is virtually a folk hero in old neighbourhoods of Beijing, where she goes from home to home organising old people to fight the demolition of their houses. Beijing's old courtyard neighbourhoods were a part of national and world architectural heritage. But resistance to their demolition has failed in every case. Eventually the developers came to destroy Ms Hua's home, too. Her connection to the city is impeccable, as are her credentials. Her father, now in his 90s, was the chief architect of the Beijing Construction Design Institute, and her mother was French. Ms Hua's grandfather was Beijing's first chief architect. Her family contributed as much as any to the city's government. The reward after years of service: a visit by thugs with a demolition notice for her home. Ms Hua defended herself by bringing a lawsuit against the Beijing Capital Planning Commission. 'This is not just a personal case,' she told the Beijing media. 'As I stand in the courtyard of my own home and receive threats and oppression from strangers entering my property, then this is not only a problem for me.' But she lost her battle, and the family hutong was demolished early this year. Ms Hua's was probably Beijing's last courtyard-home case: all the others have been lost, even when national scholars begged officials to save heritage sites. Ms Hua had title deeds going back to the Republican era. So her case tested the fundamentals of basic property rights in China - the right to live in one's own home. The question is not whether legal rights are protected under law, but the breakdown in local governments' enforcement of those rights. The removal and demolition process is not complicated. Local property developers, bank branch managers and planning-approval bodies have overlapping self-interests. Most removal companies are owned by local governments. The companies are often shells that subcontract the removal of residents to thugs. They keep whatever compensation funds are not paid out. On the first day of a removal operation, the neighbourhood is plastered with notices. Shocked residents gather to discuss how they will jointly negotiate or fight removal. At night, gangs rampage through the neighbourhood, shattering windows. The next day they come to negotiate, offering compensation below the legal minimum. When the initial offer is refused, the gang negotiators offer even less compensation. Residents are angered, and the offer is lowered again. The message is clear: this is an offer you cannot refuse. There are cases of gang members attacking and crippling residents. At that point, most pack their bags, take the meagre handouts, and leave. China's constitution and property laws theoretically protect land rights and personal property. But while the national government has the power to make laws, it relies on local governments to implement them. If the locals refuse, then the national government is powerless to force compliance. When gangsters came to negotiate with Ms Hua, the government paper they carried described her land as having 'no people, no walls and no houses'. In short, they applied the compensation standard for desert wasteland to Beijing's most central and busiest neighbourhood. One old-time Beijing resident recalled facing gang negotiators: 'I showed them the published amount Beijing municipality legally pays per square metre for requisition of homes. The gangster just looked at me and said: 'So what? I cannot read the law because I am illiterate. But that does not matter, because the authority to implement the law lies with me!'' Laurence Brahm is a political economist, author, filmmaker and founder of Shambhala Foundation