Aggrieved Chinese citizens discovering the lawsuit

Last year, 4.6 million consumer complaints were filed. Now, amid a spate of product recalls, Chinese find the climate more conducive to challenging state bodies.

from the August 2, 2007 edition

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'Systematic' corruption

The arrests came just two weeks after the execution of Zheng Xiaoyu, China's former Food and Drug Administration chief, who was convicted of taking bribes to approve substandard medicines. Experts say this high-profile punishment may send a tough signal, but won't stamp out the practice.

"This is a systematic problem. Executing a few corrupt officials will not change the system dramatically. We need to take away the incentives for corruption," says Dr. Lo Wing-lok, former president of the Hong Kong Medical Association and an infectious-diseases specialist.

Guangdong province, where the lawsuit is underway, has suffered its own regulatory scandals.

Last year, Luo Yaoxing, the former director of the provincial health ministry's immunization institute and a prominent figure in the SARS crisis in 2003, was sentenced to life imprisonment for taking bribes from vaccine producers.

In the case of Liang's daughter Jiayi, a key question is whether the live vaccine she was given in August 2003 to prevent Japanese encephalitis, a mosquito-carried disease, was contaminated. Another possibility is that she suffered a rare catastrophic reaction. Live vaccines must be kept cool and used quickly or they can become toxic, Dr. Lo said.

The other two plaintiffs received a different vaccine in 2005 under a citywide program that parents say left the children developmentally disabled and unable to attend school. All are seeking damages from city and district health departments and the vaccine manufacturer.

Authorities deny fault

In written responses to the court in Jiangmen City, health authorities denied that they administered defective drugs and said it was a coincidence that the children had fallen sick after the vaccinations. Mr. Tang, the lawyer, said the court was expected to issue a final ruling in October.

At a military hospital in Beijing, Liang's wife Xueyun cradles Jiayi in her arms, rubbing her daughter's stiffened legs. "Sometimes she responds and she recognizes us. Occasionally she even smiles," she says.

As she comforts the child, her husband keeps up a rapid-fire account of his struggle for justice. He pulls out the laminated newsprint-lined boards that he used to draw attention to his daughter's plight on vigils outside government buildings.

Though his campaign he met the other affected families with whom he filed the joint lawsuit.

After the court agreed to hear the case, one of the other fathers sent a text message to Liang's mobile phone. "I can't sleep. I thought about it all night. They are too powerful," he wrote, referring to the defendants.

Liang suspects the vaccine was faulty and wants the authorities held to account for his daughter's condition. He scoffs at Beijing's favorite buzzword for maintaining peace and stability in a country awash in fake goods.

"The government wants a 'harmonious society'. How can they abandon their children and do nothing?" he asks.

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