袋子里的中国人
袋子里的中国人
作者：慕容雪村
北京——2000年夏天，一位前同事交给我一个密封的档案袋，说我们公司——一家销售汽车及机器设备的国营公司——已经破产，我应该自己把档案送到人才交流中心。人才交流中心是一个政府机构，最重要的职责之一就是管理中国公民的档案。自上世纪五十年代开始，数以亿计的中国人都有这么一个袋子，里面装着他们的秘密档案。
在人事档案制度初期，共为四类人建立了档案：为干部、学生、职工和军人。这项制度的主要目的就是控制中国公民，主要由其档案所属的“单位”来实现此项控制。 数十年来，档案在中国人的生活中发挥着重要作用——工作调动、升职、入党、迁徙、分房等人生大事都离不开档案。
根据档案管理规定，我无权查看自己的档案，更不能打开这个袋子，否则就要承担“相应的法律责任”。在中国，很少有人能看到自己的袋子，只有政府和政府控制机构中的特定人士——某些党员——才有权查看，它是中国政府控制民众的秘密工具之一。和极权社会的许多秘密武器一样，人事档案系统的效用也在与日递减，“死档”、“弃档”日益增加, 不实信息比比皆是。尽管如此，人事档案依然在中国人的生活中发挥着重要作用，这些装着谎言袋子甚至可能决定人的命运。
在那时，人才交流中心的档案管理费是每年120元（约合15美元）。我不想付这笔钱，也不在乎什么“法律责任”，回家后直接撕开了那个袋子，把袋中的每一页纸都看了一遍。
最早的文件是一份《入团志愿书》，1989年5月26日写的。当时我正在东北深山中的一个小镇上读初中，而北京天安门广场上的青年学生正在抗议——这两件事并无关联，组织上也批准了我的入团申请。从此以后，这个袋子就变成了我的一部分，跟着我从小镇到北京，又从北京到成都，我至今难以想象，是什么样的系统和力量，才可以让这个袋子走过几千公里的路程，走过大半个中国，而我却对它一无所知。
这个袋子中有一些谎言是我自己编的。虽然档案中的许多表格都附有《填表说明》，要求我们“必须抱着对党忠诚老实的态度，实事求是地填写本表”。但我实在算不上老实，高中毕业前填的《家庭情况调查表》，我说我的妈妈和姐姐都是党员，但她们不是，编造这种谎言的目的非常简单：家中有几个党员总不是什么坏事吧？在奖惩一栏中，我说自己获得过征文比赛和演讲比赛的大奖，这纯属虚构。这些谎言轻易就可识破，但从来都没人找我谈过，以至于我怀疑根本就没人认真翻阅过我的档案。
还有一些谎言是老师和同学帮我编的。在课堂上，我的老师都教导我们要爱共产党、爱中国政府，但作为成年人，他们知道这些评语将伴随我的终生，所以在私下里，他们也会为了自己的学生的未来，尽其可能地为我说好话，甚至还要冒一点小小的风险。
在《学年评语表》的“担任工作”一栏中，我高中的老师说我曾担任共青团的组织委员、宣传委员，以及某所小学的课外辅导员，这些我都没干过，我甚至不知道有那么一所小学。其实我当时并不是一个乖孩子，虽然成绩不错，但经常旷课，常常跟同学打架。
在《社会实践活动登记表》中，我的老师们说我曾参加学校的军训，还在1991年的春节去慰问过军烈属——这是共产中国最经典的好人好事——这些事我一件都没做过。
中国政府的档案制度绝对谈不上善良，但从我的档案中，还是可以看到中国人温暖和友善的心。比如我的老师们对我言过其实的褒奖我，但在另外一些时候，因为其随意、模糊以及信息不透明，来自他人的评语常常有可能变得险恶，甚至毁掉人的一生。
我的一位初中同学曾经因人事档案而遭受挫折，他是一位国企员工，1998年想谋求更高的职位，口试、笔试的成绩都很优秀，但最后还是失败了。他反复找领导追问原因，领导告诉他：其实我对你也很满意，但你的档案实在太难看了。他至今不知道自己的档案中写了些什么，但显而易见，他的袋子已经成了他人生中难以背负的负担。
汤国基的故事更加伤感。80年代早期，他是湖南益阳师专的一名学生，在就读期间，他曾致信媒体和政府，批评自己的老师及系领导。从1983年毕业后的20年中，虽然他才华出众，却一直找不到一份正式的工作，有些单位本来打算录用他，却总是一次次变卦，当地流传着他患有精神病的传言。直到2003年，因为一个偶然的机会，汤国基才知道原来这二十年的霉运都缘自其档案险恶的评价，一位老师这样写道：“（汤国基）有严重的神经官能症，不宜担任教学工作。”
虽然纸质档案的作用在减弱，但互联网时代的中国政府还是不乏新的手段。今年5月，政府宣布将推行“统一社会信用代码制度”。这将是更先进、也更强大的秘密档案，《人民日报》的报道称：征信系统能够覆盖社会成员所有活动的方方面面，不留死角，包括公民的网上言行，都将记入档案。
假如一个人的网络言行被政府判为“严重失信”，那么这个人将面临重重的限制，“寸步难行”。可以想象，在不久的未来，如果某人在网络上发表了不利于共产党和中国政府的言论，那么银行将终止他的房屋贷款，交管部门会吊销他的驾驶执照，医院将拒绝治疗他的疾病。
在我的前半生， 一个阴魂不散的纸制档案袋时时跟随着我，记下我的每次迁徒和变动；在我的后半生，我会拥有一个电子档案，我可能不会知道其中有什么内容，但无论我走到何处，它都将是我余生沉重的负担。
流氓本色！
Under Beijing’s Eyes
August 18, 2014
Murong Xuecun
BEIJING — In the summer of 2000, a colleague gave me a sealed folder containing my personal file. He told me that our employer, a state-owned company that traded in automobiles and machine parts, had gone bust and that I should deliver it to the local Human Resource Exchange and Service Center, which is one of many repositories that hold the secret personal files Beijing has kept on hundreds of millions of Chinese since the 1950s.
At the time, the files were divided into four categories: those on cadres, students, employees, and military personnel. The system was designed to control citizens by linking them to work units, which were charged with managing the files. For decades, these files played an important role in people’s lives. They were essential for things like changing jobs, gaining promotion, joining the Communist Party, relocating to other cities, and even receiving housing allocations.
I was forbidden to open the envelope; if I did, there would be “legal consequences.” Only government officials or authorized personnel (mainly Communist Party members) have the power to examine people’s personal files. But like many secret weapons of the totalitarian state, the effectiveness of the personal file system is diminishing. The files are supposed to be maintained by state-owned enterprises and government agencies, but now not all companies are state-owned. There are thousands of abandoned or outdated files, yet the system continues to function as a means of control. The files are most often filled with lies that can have a profound effect on a person’s future.
In 2000, the annual fee to manage my personal file was 120 yuan, or about $15. I did not want to pay, nor did I care about the legal consequences. I opened the envelope as soon as I got home and perused every piece of paper in it.
The earliest document, dated May 26, 1989, was my application to join the Communist Youth League. I was then a high school student in a remote mountain town in northeast China. At the time, thousands of university students were gathering on Tiananmen Square in Beijing to protest government corruption and dictatorship — but my application had nothing to do with those protests and it was accepted. Ever since then my file has shadowed me from that remote township to Beijing, and on to Chengdu in the west. It’s hard for me to imagine even today the forces behind my file, about which I knew nothing, traversing the length and breadth of China.
I am responsible for some of the lies in my file. I can vaguely recall making up wild untruths, even though several of the forms I filled out over the years included a reminder that they must be completed honestly, “with a faithful and truthful attitude toward the Party.” I claimed that both my mother and sister were Communist Party members. (They were not, but it’s always good to have a few party members in the family.) In one form, I claimed that I had won prizes in writing and speech competitions. I did not win those prizes. No one ever spoke to me about the lies. I suspect no one had ever carefully examined my file.
Some lies came courtesy of my teachers and classmates. Our teachers taught us to love the Communist Party and the government, but they knew that whatever they said about us would follow us for the rest of our lives, so in private they tried to put in a good word for us, even though it meant taking a few risks.
In one evaluation, my teachers wrote that I was in charge of organization and publicity for the school’s branch of the Communist Youth League, and that I was an after-hours tutor at a primary school. Not true. I don’t even know if that school existed. The truth is that though I did well in my studies, I often skipped classes and was frequently involved in schoolyard brawls.
Regarding extracurricular activities, my teachers said I had participated in military training and visited families of military martyrs during the Chinese New Year of 1991 — an activity promoted as a classic good deed. I had done none of that.
The personal file system is hardly compassionate, but I can see the kindness of ordinary people shining through in my personal file. However, the arbitrary nature of the system and its lack of transparency can also ruin lives.
One of my classmates was an employee of a state-owned enterprise when he applied for a promotion in 1998. The interview went well and his written test results were good but his application failed. He pestered the leadership for the reason. His superior later told him that his performance was satisfactory, but his personal file was a disaster. To this day he does not know what is in his file, but it is obvious that it contains a heavy burden that he may have to carry for the rest of his life.
The widely reported story of an aspiring teacher, Tang Guoji, is even sadder. While a student in Hunan Province, he had complained to media and government agencies about his teachers and the quality of instruction at his university. He graduated in 1983, but for 20 years — despite an outstanding academic record — he could not find a teaching job. Prospective employers often turned him down at the last minute. There were rumors about his mental condition. In 2003, he finally learned that his decades of bad luck were caused by unfavorable comments about him in his personal file — the student “has a serious mental disorder and is not suitable for teaching positions,” one teacher wrote.
Now, with the advent of the Internet age, Beijing has new ways to control the populace. In May, the government announced it was rolling out a national social credit network. This will include a much more powerful personal file system, which, according to the People’s Daily, will collate information on every aspect of the life of every citizen, including records of online activities.
If the government deems a person’s activities “seriously untrustworthy,” his or her everyday life will be jeopardized. It is easy to envision a future where banks can cancel mortgages, the transport bureau can cancel drivers’ licenses, and hospitals can refuse treatment.
For the first half of my life a malevolent spirit in the form of a personal file envelope followed wherever I went, recording my every move, detailing every change in my circumstances. For the rest of my life, I will have an electronic file on me whose contents I may never see. No matter where I go this new file will be a burden that I will have to carry until my dying day.
Murong Xuecun is a novelist and blogger and the author of “Leave Me Alone: A Novel of Chengdu.” This article was translated by The New York Times.
文风真搞笑。
明明都是大家知道只是个形式，也不会重视到什么程度，反而一本正经的去讽刺这种不重视。又不是犯罪记录
茫茫的雪域，何处寻觅你的影踪..........
丑女多作怪，黑馍多夹菜