2010年3月24日 星期三

力拓(Rio Tinto)案“行政聽證官”/ Poverty blights the dream of Hong Kong

師表示﹐針對力拓(Rio Tinto)四名員工涉嫌受賄和竊取商業機密一案的審理已於週三結束﹐法院未當庭進行宣判。

在 此次歷時三天審判中﹐包括澳大利亞籍公民胡士泰(Stern Hu)在內的四名力拓銷售人員被控受賄約1,125萬美元﹐並竊取了商業機密。律師及其它旁聽的人透露﹐本案週一開庭時所有四名被告都出人意料地承認收取 了現金﹐儘管他們對一些指控的細節問題提出了反駁。本案可能會就一些指控給出有罪判決。

Associated Press
週三﹐一輛警車離開上海第一中級人民法院。力拓四名員工涉嫌竊取商業秘密的案件在這裡審理。
律師說﹐法庭休庭時並未透露何時宣判。

就在庭審結束前不久﹐澳大利亞外交部長史密斯(Stephen Smith)在一個廣播節目中說﹐預計上海法院將在幾天內宣佈判決。

作 為一家英澳礦業企業﹐力拓是在中國最能掙錢的外國公司之一﹐去年銷售收入達到了106.9億美元﹐而且去年7月時對上述四名員工的逮捕也引起了其他跨國公 司高管的關注。這四人最初是以犯有間諜罪之名被中國司法機關逮捕的﹐當時力拓與鐵礦石的主要買家以及中國國有企業、公司最大的單一股東中鋁公司 (Aluminum Corp. of China)之間的關係正是緊張之際。

在他們被捕後一個月﹐北京方面降低了案件級別﹐去掉了有關間諜罪的部分﹐此後一直稱力拓案件是一起不涉及政治問題的商業案件。力拓方面最初堅稱員工一直沒有違反職業操守﹐但近來已經拒絕就調查和案件發表評論了。

澳大利亞政府並未討論中方審判澳籍公民的法律依據﹐但呼籲法律程序能夠做到透明﹐同時對中國拒絕其外交官旁聽審判一事表示了遺憾。本案被告並未發表聲明或公開露面。

中國法庭並未設立陪審團來裁決此案。判決將由上海第一中級人民法院以劉欣(音)為首的三位法官做出。他們並未公開發表評論。

早在胡士泰等人認罪之前﹐人們就普遍預計會有一些罪名得到確認。中國法庭很少做出無罪判決。分析師人士認為﹐在不考慮法律依據的情況下﹐認錯是一種謹慎的選擇﹐因為徹底否認指控有可能招致更嚴厲的判決。

一位澳大利亞外交官說道﹐胡士泰部分承認了有關他分兩次收取了價值約93.5萬美元賄賂的指控。

分析人士說﹐中國很多案件的判決都被認為受到了政治的操縱﹐很少有跡象表明備受關注的力拓案在這方面有任何不同。

紐 約大學(New York University)法學教授、中國司法制度權威科恩(Jerome A. Cohen)說﹐最重要的問題是﹐誰才是真正的決策者?科恩在此案庭審前的一次採訪中表示﹐中國法官常常更像是“行政聽證官”﹐而不是最終決策人﹐而且法 官可以有多種方式察言觀色。

分析人士稱﹐中國法律對刑罰可能規定得非常具體﹐但由於指控的細節並不為外界所知﹐所以很難估計有罪判決過後 會處以多長時間的刑期。例如﹐據意大利那不勒斯東方大學(Istituto Universitario Orientale)中國法講師薩皮奧(Flora Sapio)稱﹐在涉及不超過100萬人民幣(合14.5萬美元)、並且不涉及政府官員的受賄案中﹐有罪判決的刑期可能在五到15年。

力拓案分為涉嫌收受賄賂和涉嫌竊取商業秘密兩個部分。兩項指控都沒有得到多少公開說明﹐案件有關商業秘密的部分完全秘密審理﹐沒有任何旁聽者。被告及其律師預計會出庭並能夠辯護。

除了胡士泰以外﹐其餘三位力拓員工分別是劉才魁、葛民強和王勇。他們的律師分別是陶武平、翟建和張培鴻。記者週三無法聯繫三位律師置評。胡士泰在本案中由誰代理仍不清楚。

週一﹐第一天的審理結束後﹐劉才魁的律師表示﹐劉才魁承認收受賄賂300萬元﹐約合43.8萬美元﹐此外他沒有透露更多細節。葛民強的律師表示﹐葛民強將對收受兩家未具名鋼鐵公司600萬元賄賂的指控提出抗辯﹐說數額更接近於200萬元。

同 在週一﹐王勇的律師說﹐王勇承認他拿到了900萬美元付款﹐但表示這筆錢是貨款。律師說﹐對王勇的指控涉及中國最富的民營鋼鐵生產商之一山東日照鋼鐵公司 的實權人物杜雙華﹐但他沒有就這一關聯透露進一步的細節。日照鋼鐵公司週三表示無法讓杜雙華置評。中國三大國有媒體的記者獲準進入法庭旁聽至少部分審理過 程。外國記者被攔在位於滬西的法院柵欄外。

James T. Areddy

(更新完成)

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谭建威(音译)家的天花板很高。但不幸的是,这间单人房的 长度或宽度都赶不上它的高度,里面挤着他、太太和12岁的儿子。房间大约35平方英尺,后墙上固定着两张双层木床,一台不大的黑白电视机摇摇欲坠地摆在架 子上,还有一个小小的床头柜。整个房间让人感觉更像是一个储藏室,而非住所,堆满了杂七杂八的东西:衣服、缺了口的杯子、被褥、一台电扇、一卷白手纸。来 客要么紧贴着门站着——这也是屋里唯一没有使用的空间——要么(像我一样)挨着谭建威坐在双层床的下铺。

谭建威是一名退休的灯泡厂工人,上世纪60年代从中国内地来到香港。香港估计有10万人像他这样,居住在隔间大小的公寓里。有些耳背的80岁老人 Dai Yun-po和63岁的Kong Siu-gau的家,距离谭家乘计程车(如果你支付得起的话)很近,他们的居住条件更是骇人听闻。手头拮据的退休建筑工人们睡在用铁丝网围成的笼子里,顶 棚低到直不起身子来。在这里,他们必须与其他十多名“笼民”挤在一间斗室里。我到的时候,他们全都在站着看电视(因为没有坐的地方)——播的正是最新一期 《福布斯》(Forbes)亿万富豪榜。如果Dai和Kong是条狗的话,动物权益保护人士多年前就会为他们鸣不平了。

诚然,这些都是香港贫困现象中的极端例子。但作为一个以摄人心魄的港口景致和发财机遇闻名的城市,香港有许多悲惨境遇值得一谈。香港拥有700万人 口,人均年收入接近3万美元,其中123万人口生活在贫困线以下,收入还不到低得令人绝望的工资中位数的一半。香港的收入再分配可谓是敷衍塞责,如果撇开 这点儿有限的影响,香港的基尼系数(Gini coefficient,用以衡量收入不平等性)是亚洲表现最糟糕的(甚至比印度和中国内地还差)。

许多香港人每月的生活费仅有数百美元,在这个屡屡创下全球最高租金纪录的拥挤城市根本不够用。Kong笼屋的月租金为160美元。由于没有做饭的地方,他在外卖上的花费远不止这个数。

香港普遍存在的贫困现象,基本上不太为人所知。若不是政府补贴住房容纳了四成的香港居民,情况会糟糕很多。实际上,数千名养老金领取者要靠捡垃圾来维持开支。作为亚洲最为繁荣绚烂的城市之一,怎么会出现这种情况?至少有三方面的原因。

首先,与其它地区一样,香港受到了中国内地低成本竞争的重创。上世纪80年代,香港迅猛发展的经济吸引了很多内地人前来。香港社会服务联会 (Council of Social Service)的蔡海伟(Chua Hoi Wai)估计,香港制造业当时大约有100万个工作岗位。随着这些岗位逐渐流入内地,这一数字已降至20万。工人的月工资水平,也从激动人心的80年代的 1300至2500美元,降至700美元。蔡海伟表示,工资中位数10年都不见涨,而中高收入人群的薪酬却直线上升。

其次,香港地价一直被人为保持在高位。地产大亨和私人业主在香港不民主的立法会有着相当大的影响力。香港政府每次只拍卖极小一块地,因为再没有什么 比负资产更让那些有权有势者恼火的了。建造新的公共住房、并低于市场价出售的计划已遭冻结。著名政界人士梁振英(C.Y. Leung)形容香港人正被分为两类:拥有房产的人和没有房产的人。

第三,香港拥有小政府的传统,信奉“积极不干预政策” (positive non-interventionism)。尽管人们赞扬自由市场的理念,称其为香港作为金融中心获得成功的关键,但如果你住在一个笼子里,积极不干预政 策对你就没什么好处。这样做的结果就是没有公共养老金、失业救济金、或者伤残津贴。迄今为止,也没有最低工资。政府支出占香港本地生产总值(GDP)的 16%左右。现在,你知道瑞典人把另外的34%花到哪儿了吧。

民主活动人士、大学讲师张超雄(Fernando Cheung)表示,许多香港穷人都是来自内地的移民。他们当初逃离了贫穷、动荡和专制,习惯了被当作“客体,而非主体”。这使得他们能够吃苦,很容易满足。

谭建威就符合他的描述。谭建威不后悔从内地逃到香港,尽管他现在一贫如洗,生活条件很糟糕。但在偶尔回广东省后,他的确意识到自己阔别了半个世纪的 祖国越来越富裕。他承认,那里大多数人比他生活得好。“就连他们的厨房也比我的家大,”他表示。但让我感到不可思议的是,他的语气中全无艳羡之意。

译者/何黎


Poverty blights the dream of Hong Kong

Tam Kin-wai's home has a high ceiling. Unfortunately, the single room he occupies with his wife and 12-year-old son is higher than it is wide or long. At about 35 square feet, it has space for two wooden bunk beds fixed to the back wall, a small black-and-white television balanced precariously on a shelf and a little bedside table. Every inch of space in what feels more like a storage cupboard than a place of abode is piled high with clutter: clothes, chipped cups, bedding, an electric fan, a roll of white toilet paper. Guests can either stand just inside the doorway in the only vacant space, or (as I did) sit beside Mr Tam on the lower bunk bed.

Mr Tam, a retired light-bulb maker who came to Hong Kong from mainland China in the 1960s, is one of an estimated 100,000 people in the territory who reside in cubicle-sized apartments. A short taxi ride away (if you can afford it), Dai Yun-po, a hard-of-hearing 80-year-old, and Kong Siu-gau, 63, live in even more shocking conditions. Retired construction workers fallen on hard times, they sleep in cages with mesh walls and ceilings too low for them to stand up. To do so, they must join a dozen other caged men in a communal area. When I arrived they were all standing – since there were no seats – watching a television programme about the latest Forbes list of billionaires. If Mr Dai and Mr Kong were dogs, someone from animal rights would have taken up their case years ago.

These are extreme examples of Hong Kong poverty to be sure. Yet a territory better known for its breathtaking harbour-front skyline and its money-making possibilities has plenty of misery to go round. In a city of 7m people with an average per capita income of nearly US$30,000, 1.23m live below the poverty line, earning less than half of a desperately low median wage. The city's Gini coefficient, which measures income inequality, is the worst in Asia (worse even than India and mainland China) before the limited effects of the city's half-hearted income redistribution are counted.

The few hundred US dollars a month that many people live on do not get you very far in a cramped city-state with some of the world's highest rents. Mr Kong pays US$160 a month for caged enclosure. Since there are no cooking facilities, he spends a good deal more on take-away food.

Widespread poverty is a largely untold story of Hong Kong. Were it not for subsidised public housing, where 40 per cent of Hong Kong residents live, conditions would be much worse. As it is, thousands of pensioners pick through garbage to make ends meet. How could things have come to this in one of Asia's most prosperous and glittering cities? There are at least three reasons.

First, Hong Kong has been as badly hit as anywhere by low-cost competition from mainland China. In the 1980s, when many Chinese were drawn to the territory's booming economy, there were an estimated 1m manufacturing jobs in Hong Kong, according to Chua Hoi Wai of Hong Kong's Council of Social Service. That number has fallen to 200,000 as jobs have seeped across the border. Factory wages have fallen from US$1,300-US$2,500 a month in the heady 1980s to as little as US$700. The median wage has not budged in a decade, says Mr Chua, while those of the mid- and top-earners have soared.

Second, land prices are kept artificially high. Property tycoons and private property owners wield huge influence on an undemocratic legislature. The government auctions off parcels of land sparingly, since nothing upsets the powerful more than negative equity. A scheme to build new public housing for sale at below-market prices has been frozen. C.Y. Leung, a prominent politician, describes Hong Kong as being divided into those who own property and those who do not.

Third, Hong Kong has a tradition of small government and a credo of “positive non-interventionism”. A free-market philosophy lauded as key to Hong Kong's success as a financial centre, positive non-interventionism has little to offer if you are living in a cage. The upshot is no public pension, no unemployment benefit or disability allowance. As yet, there is no minimum wage. Government expenditure is around 16 per cent of gross domestic product. Now you know what Sweden spends the other 34 per cent on.

Fernando Cheung, a pro-democracy activist and university lecturer, says many of Hong Kong's poor are migrants from mainland China. They fled poverty, turmoil and tyranny and are used to being treated as “objects, not subjects”, he says. That makes them stoical and undemanding.

Mr Tam, the retired light-bulb maker, fits his description. He has no regrets about fleeing mainland China for Hong Kong despite the poverty and poor living conditions in which he now finds himself. But he does note, on occasional trips back to Guangdong province, that the country he left half a century ago grows every day richer. Most people over the border now live better than he does, he admits. “Even their kitchen is bigger than my house,” he says, in a voice miraculously devoid of envy.

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