Like A Bridge Over Guanzhou Water

Sorry about linking to the Mail, but they had photos as well as the actual story:

Man pushes would-be suicide jumper off bridge because he was taking too long

A passer-by pushed a would-be suicide jumper off a bridge because he was fed up at the man’s ‘selfish activity’, Chinese media has reported. Lian Jiansheng, 66, was passing by the Haizhu Bridge in the city of Guangzhou when he spotted Chen Fuchao threatening to jump.

Chen held up traffic for five hours, drawing a crowd at the bridge—and an impatient Lian finally decided enough was enough. He offered to talk Chen down but police refused to let him through a cordon. Determined, Lian pushed through anyway and climbed up to where Chen was sitting. He greeted the distraught man with a handshake—then gave him a mighty shove.

Chen tumbled 26 feet from the bridge to a partially-inflated emergency air cushion that police had—fortunately—had time to place on the ground below during the five preceding hours. He survived with elbow and spine injuries and is now recovering in hospital, Chinese news agency Xinhua said.

Lian, a broad grin on his face, saluted the dumbfounded crowd as he watched Chen fall. “I pushed him off because jumpers like Chen are very selfish. Their action violates a lot of public interest,” Lian told Xinhua. “They do not really dare to kill themselves. Instead, they just want to raise the relevant government authorities’ attention to their appeals.” [Mail on Sunday]

"Sus papeles, por favor"

An old friend of mine spends his time travelling to destinations all over the world, a pastime that would probably be much more exciting than it is if he didn’t have to conduct endless focus groups when he got there. Irish by descent, though British by birth and these days the owner of a US green card, he has a distinctly southern Irish name—he may as well be called Seamus na gDiddleydee.

A couple of years ago his passport was cloned by a Nigerian man, who presumably has several million dollars he would like to deposit in your account. The first Seamus learnt of this was when he found himself being turned down for an Australian visa. Even after everyone involved had established that his passport had been cloned but he was the genuine article, they still wouldn’t let him in, presumably to uphold their international reputation as the cheeriest xenophobes on the planet.

Last month he and his pregnant wife J (she has appeared here before but anonymously; this time she at least gets her own initial) visited Spain. There was a minor kerfuffle at the airport when his passport showed up on their database of undesirables, but it was swiftly established that he was the real Seamus, and he and J were allowed on their way.

On the first morning they were woken early in their hotel room by armed police at the door. The agitated receptionist who was with them explained that they thought Seamus might be a wanted Nigerian fraudster. The local police station had been notified that the questionable passport had arrived at a local hotel, but had had no word from the airport that there was nothing to worry about. It quickly became clear that the cops were working the situation out for themselves; although Seamus doesn’t speak Spanish, he detected repeated use of the words “blanco” and “negro”. After a while they left, satisfied, with the armed Spanish equivalent of “Evenin’ all”, leaving a very shaken couple in their wake.

A couple of days later they moved on to a different town. On the first morning they were woken early in their hotel room by armed police at the door.

In all, this happened three times whenever they got to a new hotel, to the point where Seamus was irritably answering the door already waving his passport and J didn’t even get up. The police never notified any other police that he was an innocent man, and he would have continued to have guns waved in his face in any Spanish town he visited.

This is what happens in a country where the onus is on you constantly to prove to the state who you are. A country that is barely 30 years out of fascism is still used to officials being able to demand its papers as a matter of course. This is a degree of citizen surveillance and state power that we have never endured in this country, though, and—without wanting to labour a fucking point here or anything—it seems incomprehensible that there’s even a faint possibility that we might allow any of it to take hold now. Slot that level of everyday intrusiveness next to the institutional chaos that besets any bureaucracy—yes, Labour, even those with really big computers—and you have a truly dreadful combination.

Even if the intentions behind the national identity register were benign, think back to any bureaucratic nightmare you have had to endure: demands for money you didn’t owe, countless calls to a utility company where every time you had to start afresh because the last person you spoke to apparently hadn’t written anything down and they’d “never heard” of you. Even if it was finally resolved without threats or your turning up in person at the head office to shout, take a moment to imagine how much worse it would have been if it had involved not your mobile or even your water supply but your entire identity.

I’d like to think that, whatever unpleasantnesses arise as a result of the next election, this ridiculous and invasive national identity project will finally bite the dust. Let’s wait and see, though, if the Tories really can resist hanging on to that much power once they’ve settled in behind the wheel.