失独家庭：中国社会之痛

When Qu Di left for the United States in 2007 for a PhD program, her mother was certain that she would return. Qu, a 25-year-old math major, dreamed of being a university professor in her home province of Liaoning, in northeastern China, and obtaining a degree overseas was the last step in earning the teaching qualification.

She never made it home.

Qu's mother, who only gave her last name, Jiang, said she and her daughter used to chat everyday on QQ, a Chinese instant messaging service, when Qu studied at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Then one day in May of 2008, Jiang was unable to get ahold of her daughter. She scrambled to reach out to Qu's friends, who, despite having already seen the report of Qu's death at the school's office, were reluctant to tell her mother. This task was left to the local police, who attempted to reach Jiang with the assistance of a Chinese interpreter. But Jiang refused to answer the phone. Instead, she asked a relative to confirm the news that she couldn't bear to hear herself: her only child was killed in a car accident, along with two others, on a road trip back from the Grand Canyon.

"It was over," Jiang said, sobbing uncontrollably. "I was never afraid of any difficulties because we had a child and she was our hope. Now everything has lost meaning to us."

Jiang, 59, gave birth to Qu in 1983, making her part of the first generation of parents subject to China's one-child policy, which came into effect in 1980. Jiang was then an office worker at a state-owned steel factory in Benxi, a city 650 miles east of Beijing, and a place where the policy implementation was so strict, she was not even allowed to return to work after maternity leave without a certificate proving that she had been inserted with an intrauterine device for effective birth control.

She never thought about violating the policy and having another child, even though she heard some people willingly paid a fine -- usually a matter of at most a couple thousand dollars -- to get past the quota. Jiang, until now, firmly believed what the government had told her: the country's prosperity depended upon reining in population growth. However, deep down, she knew her family was taking a risk. In a life full of uncertainty, Jiang and her husband had made only one single bet.

"I felt like a soldier in the battlefield," she said, "You know there will be bullets ahead of you, but you can only proceed."

***

Today in China, there are about one million such "shidu" families, the term for parents that have lost their only child, a number that grows by about 76,000 each year. Yet demographers said this is only the beginning of the real problem, because the percentage of one-child families across China has exploded in the past three decades as fertility restrictions spread from big cities to every corner of the country.

A 2005 survey on the Chinese population, the most recent year available, showed that the country then had 210 million only children -- most of whom on the younger end of the spectrum. For the population group aged 25 to 29 (born between 1976 and 1980), only 15 percent were only children. However, for the generation born 25 years later, the percentage of only children nearlyquadrupled.

"In the future, tens of millions of Chinese people will be affected by this phenomenon," said Yi Fuxian, a University of Wisconsin scientist whose book A Big Country in an Empty Nest describes the damage of China's family planning restrictions. "Parents will lose hope and when they get old, nobody will take care of them. Because every kid is exposed to deadly risks, every one-child family is walking a tightrope."

Alas, the safety net that the Chinese government provides for these tightrope-walking families is full of holes. Since shidu families did not emerge on a large scale until a decade ago, when the first generation of parents affected by the one-child policy grew too old to have children, the regime has not evolved rapidly enough to support them.

China's population and family planning law, implemented in 2002 by the National People's Congress, China's highest legislative body, stipulated that local governments "provide necessary assistance" to families whose only child was accidently injured or killed on the condition that the parents do not adopt or give birth to another one. However, the government neither specified how much was necessary nor clarified its role in such compensation cases. In China, central and local governments budget their finances separately. Therefore, because the central government failed to define its responsibilities to shidu families, childless parents are at the whim of local governments, which often base compensation on their financial resources instead of the family's actual needs.

***

As a result of the vague wording in Jiang's case, the local government paid her nothing following her daughter's death. And even though the central government issued another directive in 2007, drawing the floor for such compensation at $16 per person per month, the local family planning office didn't send Jiang her deserved compensation until 2010.

"We did what the government said," said Jiang, whose hair turned gray almost overnight after learning of her daughter's death. "If the one-child policy has led to economic prosperity, why can't they take a little money to compensate us for our loss? They can't only take the dividend, right?"

In a country like China where the pension system is weak, parents and even grandparents count on their offspring to support them after they retire. Therefore, losing an only child has a devastating financial effect. The meager assistance that applies to just 10 provinces and cities is the only known form of compensation to shidu families today, and it covers about one-sixth of such families in the country. The amount paid out varies from $16 to $130. Jiang and her husband each gets $22.

Even still, money is not Jiang's top concern. What she wants more is the recognition from the government that she and her peers have made a sacrifice for the country, not unlike families of deceased soldiers. However, Chinese society treats these two groups of families very differently: Families of slain veterans have access to benefits like shopping discounts and priority in applying for government-subsidized housing, both virtually unavailable for shidu families. When Jiang applied for a credit card to access supermarket discounts, she was told by the bank clerk that since she had retired, her best option was to become an authorized user of her child's card. Jiang, who spends 9 to 10 hours each day chatting with fellow shidu parents, turned away immediately.

"We are sacrificing for the entire society," said Jiang, "We are Chinese citizens and now there are bad consequences for us because of national policy. The government should take more responsibility."

据《大西洋月刊》报道，2007年曲笛（音）前往美国攻读博士学位时，她妈妈认为她肯定会回来。25岁修读数学专业的曲笛，梦想是在她家乡，中国东北辽宁当一名大学教师。去海外留学，拿一个学位回来是她获得大学教师资质的最后一步。

但她再也没能回家。

曲的母亲，只愿意透露自己姓氏的姜女士说，在她女儿留学内华达大学时，她们每天用QQ进行交流。在2008年5月的一天，姜女士突然联系不到自己的女儿。她焦急地向曲的朋友询问消息。当时他们已经在学校的办公室看到了曲的死亡报告书，谁都不忍心将这噩耗告诉给这位母亲。这项任务交给了当地的警察。他们通过口译员试图通知曲的母亲。但是她拒绝接电话，她叫来自己的一位亲戚证实这个她自己无力承担的噩耗：她唯一的孩子在一起车祸中丧生。一起遇难的还有两位同伴，他们当时在大峡谷旅游返回途中。

“一切都结束了，”姜女士难以抑制地抽泣着说，“我从不害怕任何困难，因为我们有一个孩子，她就是我们的希望。现在所有一切对我们都失去了意义。”

今年59岁的姜，1983年产下曲笛，1980年中国开始实施计划生育政策，她算得上是政策实施后的第一代父母。当时姜是本溪市一家国有钢铁厂的职员。本溪据北京650英里（约1046公里），当地计划生育政策落实得非常严格，在修完产假之后，她甚至必须证明自己带上了能达到有效节育目的的宫内避孕环才允许返回工作岗位。

她从没想过要违反政策规定再生一个孩子，即使她听说有人愿意缴纳最多数千元的罚金多拿到一个配额。姜到现在依旧坚定的相信政府所说的：国家的繁荣依靠控制人口的增长。然而，内心深处，她明白她的家庭在冒险。在充满变数的一生，姜女士和她的丈夫只下了一个赌注。

“我感觉自己就像是战场上的战士，”她说，“你知道前方有子弹，但是你只能硬着头皮走下去。”

***

在今天的中国，像这样失去独生子女的“失独”家庭约有100万户，这个数字以每年7.6万的速度增长。然而人口统计学家告诉我们这还只是问题的开始。因为计划生育政策已经从大城市落实到了各个地方，独生子女家庭的比例在过去的30年里出现了爆炸式的增长。

2005年相关中国人口调查显示，最近一年中国的独生子女数量是2.1亿——其中大多数尚处幼年。而在25-29岁（在1976年到1980年期间出生）的人群中，独生子女的比例只有15%。然而，25年后出生的一代，独生子女的比例将会翻两番。

“在未来，数以万计的中国人将会因此受到影响。”威斯康辛大学教授易富贤，在他的著作《大国空巢》中，描写到中国计划生育政策带来的损害。“父母们将会失去希望，等到他们年老时，也没有人能照顾他们。因为每个孩子都处在致命性的风险中，独生子女家庭就是在高空走钢丝。”

然而可惜的是，中国政府为这些时刻走在钢丝上的家庭所提供的社会保障体系充满漏洞。十年之前，失独家庭才开始大规模涌现，而第一代失独父母也过了可以生孩子的年龄，政策并没有能够快速推进来支持他们。

人民代表大会作为中国最高立法机关，于2002年颁布了《中华人民共和国人口和计划生育法》，规定地方政府为那些独生子女意外受伤或是死亡的，并且没有领养或再生一个的家庭“提供必要的援助”。然而，该法并没有具体规定补助的数目也没有在这类赔偿案中明确政府的角色。在中国，中央政府和地方政府的财政独立。由于中央政府没能清晰地定义在面对失独家庭时政府所承担的责任，因此失独家庭的补偿完全是由地方政府自己拍案决定，地方财政而非失独家庭正真需求往往决定了补贴数额。

***

在姜失去唯一的女儿后，当地政府含糊其辞没有给予一点补偿。即使中央政府在2007年颁布了另一项指令，规定失独家庭的最低补偿是每月每人16美元，当地的计划生育办公室在2010年之前也没有给姜她应有的补助。

“我们按照政府的要求做了，”姜说道，她在得知女儿身亡后一夜白头。“既然计划生育政策带来了经济的繁荣，为什么弥补我们损失的赔偿如此之少？他们不能只顾着拿好处，不是吗？”

像在中国这样养老体系不完善的国家，父母甚至祖母父都指望他们的后代能在他们退休之后为其养老。因此，失去唯一的孩子会在经济上带来毁灭性的影响。就了解目前只有十个省市的失独家庭享有微不足道的补助，不到这类家庭全部的六分之一。补助数目从16美元到130美元不等。姜女士和她的丈夫每人拿到22美元。

即使这样，钱也不是姜最关心的问题。她更希望从政府那得到认可，她和她这一代的人为国家的发展做出了牺牲，他们的情况并非与那些已故军人家属有所不同。然而，这两类家庭在中国社会的待遇大不相同：烈士家庭有诸如购物折扣，政府廉租房优先申请等福利，而这些失独家庭则完全不享有。当姜打算申请一张信用卡以享受超市折扣时，银行职员告诉她由于她已经退休，姜最佳选择是成为她孩子信用卡的授权用户。姜女士，这位每天花9到10个小时与失独父母聊天的母亲，立刻扭头就走。

“我们为这个社会做出了牺牲，”姜说道，“我们是中国公民，现在因为国家政策我们饱受痛苦。政府应该担负起更多的责任。”