In China, daring few challenge one-child limit

ZHUJI, China – Seven months pregnant, Wu Weiping sneaked out early in the morning carrying a shoulder bag with some clothes, her laptop and a knife.

“It’s good for me I wasn’t caught, but it’s lucky for them too,” said Wu, 35, who feared that family planning officials were going to drag her to the hospital for a forced abortion. “I was going to fight to the death if they found me.”

With her escape, Wu joined an increasingly defiant community of parents in China who have risked their jobs, savings and physical safety to have a forbidden second child.

Though their numbers are small, they represent changing ideas about individual rights. While violators in the past tended to be rural families who skirted the birth limits in relative obscurity, many today are urbanites like Wu who frame their defiance in overtly political terms, arguing that the government has no right to dictate how many children they have.

Using Internet chat rooms and blogs, a few have begun airing their demands for a more liberal family planning policy and are hoping others will follow their lead. Several have gotten their stories into the tightly controlled media, an indication that their perspectives resonate with the public.

After finding out his wife was expecting a second child, Liu Lianwen set up an online discussion group called “Free Birth” to swap information about the one-child policy and how to get around it. In less than six months, it has attracted nearly 200 members.

“We are idealists,” said the 37-year-old engineer from central China, whose daughter was born Oct. 18. “We want to change the attitudes of people around us by changing ourselves.”

Freed of the social controls imposed during the doctrinaire era of communist rule, Chinese today are free to choose where they live and work and whom they marry. But when it comes to having kids, the state says the majority must stop at one. Hefty fines for violators and rising economic pressures have helped compel most to abide by the limit. Many provinces claim near-perfect compliance.

It’s impossible to know how many children have been born in violation of the one-child policy, but Zhai Zhenwu, director of Renmin University’s School of Sociology and Population in Beijing, estimates that less than 1 percent of the 16 million babies born each year are “out of plan.”

Liu thinks his fellow citizens have been brainwashed.

“They all feel it’s glorious to have a small family,” he said. “Thirty years of family-planning propaganda have changed the way the majority of Chinese think about having children.”

The reluctance to procreate is also an issue of growing concern for demographers, who worry that the policy combined with a rising cost of living has brought the fertility rate down too sharply and too quickly. Though still the world’s largest nation with 1.3 billion people, China’s population growth has slowed considerably.

“The worry for China is not population growth; it’s rapid population aging and young people not wanting to have children,” said Wang Feng, director of the Brookings-Tsinghua Center for Public Policy, a joint U.S.-China academic research center in Beijing.

Wang sees a looming disaster as the baby boom generation of the 1960s heads into retirement and old age. China’s labor force, sharply reduced by the one-child policy, will struggle to support them.

He argues that the government should allow everyone at least two children. He thinks many Chinese still would stop at one because of concerns about being able to afford to raise more than that.

Penalties for violators are harsh. Those caught must pay a “social compensation fee,” which can be four to nine times a family’s annual income, depending on the province and the whim of the local family planning bureau. Parents with government jobs can also lose their posts or get demoted, and their “out of plan” children are denied education and health benefits.

Those without government posts have less to worry about. If they can afford the steep fee and don’t mind losing benefits, there’s little to stop them from having another child. There’s popular anger over this favoring of the wealthy but not much that ordinary people can do about it, given that the policy is set behind closed doors by the communist leadership in Beijing.

In 2007, officials in coastal Zhejiang province threatened to start naming and shaming well-off families who had extra kids, but the campaign never got off the ground, possibly because it threatened to tarnish the reputations of too many well-connected people.

Hardest hit by the rules are urban middle class parents with Communist Party posts, teaching positions or jobs at state-run industries.

Li Yongan was ordered to pay 240,000 yuan ($37,500) after his son was born in 2007, as he already had a 13-year-old daughter. After refusing to pay the fee, Li was denied a household registration permit for his son, forcing him to pay three times more for kindergarten.

He was also barred from his job teaching physics at a state-run university in Beijing.

“I never regret my second child, but I have been living with depression and anger for years,” said Li, who struggles to make ends meet as a freelance chess teacher.

Of course, there are surreptitious, though not foolproof, ways to evade punishment: paying a bribe or falsifying documents so that, for instance, a second child is registered as the twin of an older sibling. Or, sometimes second babies are registered to childless relatives or rural families that are allowed to have a second child but haven’t done so.

Wu, the woman who made the early-morning escape, said she never intended to flout the one-child rule. She had resorted to fertility treatments to conceive her first child – a daughter nicknamed Le Le, or Happy – so she was stunned when a doctor told her she was expecting again in August 2008.

The news triggered a monthlong “cold war” with her husband, Wu said. Silent dinners, cold shoulders. She wanted to keep the baby. He didn’t. After a few weeks, he came around, she explained with a satisfied smile.

But family planning officials insisted on an abortion. The principal at her school also pressured her to end the pregnancy.

A popular option that was out of reach for Wu economically is to have the baby elsewhere, where the limits don’t apply. Some better-off Chinese go to Hong Kong, where private agencies charge mainland mothers hundreds of thousands of yuan (tens of thousands of dollars) for transport, lodging, and medical costs.