
Xu Zhiyong was watching the 2004 Democratic convention in a shared common area at a Columbia University dormitory when we first met. After just a few words, I knew he could understand little of the speeches on television. It is so different from China, he said. Political conventions in his home country were pageants: Officials waited their turn, sat erect in their seats, and clapped only on cue and never too wildly.
Last July, my friend was the subject of a different form of high stakes political theater when he was arrested, detained, and held incommunicado for one month. As a young and extremely enterprising attorney in Beijing, he has represented a slew of disadvantaged clients in China, from a newspaper owner beleaguered by the authorities to the victims of the contaminated baby formula sold by the Sanlu company. When he disappeared, the first news I received appeared on the New Yorker's website in the form of a headline that questioned directly, "Where is Xu Zhiyong?"
With Google's threats last week to withdraw from China amid suggestions that the Chinese government was behind recent cyberattacks on its corporate infrastructure that specifically targeted the email accounts of prominent Chinese human rights activists, I was reminded again of my friend. This episode sheds light on the obstacles faced by those struggling to improve civil liberties within China and the consequences of Google's potential withdrawal from that country.
In the summer of 2004, we lived across the hall from each other at Columbia University. A few nights a week, we held impromptu English lessons to improve his conversation skills. We began by reviewing formal pleasantries, one of the first steps in English language courses for foreigners. Toward the end of our first week, I realized he had only introduced himself with an English name, Sunny, and that I knew very little about him. He typed the English spelling of his name, Xu Zhiyong, into my laptop.
He told me he was a lawyer, but he struggled to describe his work in English so he reached for Google. A few articles had already appeared on his work and career, including a profile in the New York Times covering his campaign for a seat on Beijing's city council from the prestigious academic district of Haidian. He also worked as an advocate for China's disenfranchised petitioners who convene in the capital on the basis of an ancient tradition that allows citizens to petition the state for redress of grievances.
While we continued our formal classes, the conversation continued on the weekends, in nearby restaurants and bars. We watched gavel-to-gavel coverage on C-SPAN of both American political conventions. I will not forget how my new friend's eyes grew wide when Bill Clinton spoke. When Clinton finished, to raucous applause, he offered just one reflection, "Wow!"
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