China’s Taiwan Affairs Office (TAO) announced on Wednesday that United Microelectronics Corp founder Robert Tsao’s (曹興誠) younger brother had been denied entry to Shanghai. TAO spokesperson Chen Binhua (陳斌華) said that Tsao had been placed on Beijing’s list of “die-hard Taiwanese independence separatists,” barring him and his family from entering China, Hong Kong or Macao. One must ask: What did Tsao’s brother do? Is it simply that he must bear the consequences of his brother’s actions because they are related? The TAO cited no specific actions by Tsao’s younger brother, merely invoking the term “family members.”
There is no need to ask what someone has done — if you first consider who their relatives are.
This approach recalls the “family class origin” (家庭成分) system used under People’s Republic of China founder Mao Zedong’s (毛澤東) rule to categorize people based on their family’s economic and social status.
The political classification of people based on their family background predates the Cultural Revolution, but it became a burden for many young people after it began. Being labeled as having a “bad” class background was common and a few words could be enough to close the door on a person’s future opportunities. If a person’s parents were one of the “five black categories” (黑五類) — landlords, rich farmers, counterrevolutionaries, bad elements or right-wingers — they could face discrimination at important junctures in their lives, such as when pursuing an education or seeking employment.
A fundamental principle of democracy and rule of law is that people are responsible for their own actions. Siblings can hold different political views, as can parents and their children. Even when their views align, they should not be held responsible for one another. If someone is to be held accountable, the authorities must present evidence of that person’s actions. Family ties are not proof of wrongdoing, and family relations are no justification for punishment.
Today’s China might be different from the China of the Cultural Revolution, but from labeling people as having a “bad” class background to targeting family members of so-called “die-hard Taiwanese independence separatists,” it is clear that Chinese authorities still extend a person’s political label to their relatives. While claiming to only target a minority of people, they impose restrictions on family members, turning guilt by association into a form of punishment.
In April this year, Minister of the Interior Liu Shyh-fang’s (劉世芳) nephew, Yen Wen-chun (顏文群), was forced to leave his job at Long Time Technology Co (榮炭科技), a Taiwanese firm with Chinese subsidiaries. Beijing cited Yen’s political donations to Democratic Progressive Party candidates running in the legislative elections as the primary reason. Liu said that the donations were made in 2019 and duly reported in accordance with the law, while her nephew did not start his position at the firm until 2023. The TAO said it would not allow “die-hard Taiwanese independence separatists and their relatives” to invest and profit from China, explicitly designating their family members as an excluded group.
From Tsao’s younger brother being denied entry to Shanghai to Liu’s nephew losing his job, political persecution has extended into families, only for the resulting harm to be waved off with victim blaming, portrayed as the fault of those targeted for bringing trouble upon their relatives. Who imposed these restrictions? Who threatened their livelihoods? When even political punishment can spread through family ties, are we really expected to believe that the Cultural Revolution is long over? And who ever said we were one family with the Chinese Communist Party?
Chang Shang-yang is a farmer.
Translated by Kyra Gustavsen