By David H. Feldman

Tuesday, August 28, 2001; Page A15

A former student of mine named Mr. Hu hails from mainland China. No, that's not his real name, and I won't actually confess that he's a he. The reasons for my reticence soon will be apparent.

Early in the term I informed my students that they would write an op-ed article for submission to a good regional or national newspaper. The discipline of slimming their argument to a parsimonious 750 words is a good job skill. My Chinese student was happy to write it but reluctant to send it anywhere. He claimed his written English skills were too weak and that he would be embarrassed to have a professional editor read his work. I made a counteroffer. He could write for a Chinese language paper and give me the English version. I could see he was clearly uncomfortable, yet I was still surprised when he politely but flatly refused the assignment.

Later that afternoon he came to my office to explain his behavior. He said he was happy in private discussions to express his views, but he was determined to avoid any public forum in which he might be noticed. For him, the story of journalist/economist He Qinglian was a life lesson. Her 1998 book, "The Pitfalls of Modernization," was a sharp exposé of corruption linked to Chinese market liberalization. A national bestseller, the book was originally state-sanctioned reading for China's leaders as they struggled with the social pathologies that accompanied their economic reforms. Her continued criticism met with a less favorable reception. She was soon silenced, and in early July she fled to the United States to avoid possible arrest.

Since my student plans to return home, he was unwilling to write anything for public consumption that might be interpreted as critical of Chinese policy. His job prospects were at risk in his view. He preferred to keep his head down, and I honored his decision.

He wrote his paper, in English, for my eyes only. It was a very effective analysis of the likely costs to Chinese farmers of China's entry into the World Trade Organization. To me it was a well-crafted argument, rooted in good logic and respect for data. For him, the lesson of He Qinglian is that analysis and political action are indistinguishable. This is certainly not news in China, but often it becomes news in the United States.

Although Mr. Hu clearly would prefer a more open and pluralistic China, he expressed no interest in working for change from within the system. Some would say this is simply the "hostage's dilemma" at work. Just as one person with a gun can keep a hundred unarmed and uncoordinated people at bay, my student's economic future is at stake if he challenges authority or stands out from the crowd in other ways.

Both sides of the current American debate on China policy work from this hostage premise. The engagers want to expand the private economy so that government coercive power will reach fewer people in ways that matter. The punishers would deny full access to international markets until we see clear progress on basic human rights.

Each is optimistic that U.S. policy can play a decisive role if we can fine-tune the costs and benefits to the Chinese government of continued political repression. Both views share an individual rights agenda but differ substantially on the tactics to achieve it. The engagers want to reduce the cost and risk to individuals who dissent, while the punishers want to raise the costs to China's elites of continuing repressive conduct.

The hostage metaphor is certainly persuasive, yet I saw no hostage in despair when I talked to Mr. Hu. For him, ties of family, culture and nation are very strong. Freedoms that we view as fundamental he may be willing, at least for a while, to trade for gains of a different sort. When these motives are strong, pressure from outside may not produce the expected results as surely or as rapidly as we might hope. We may want every Chinese student to be a dissident in the making, but we should expect that most would have other, equally honorable, things on their mind.

And yet he brings back to China more than a set of skills. He has lived in an academic community in which critical thinking and open-minded discussion are part of the curriculum. Mr. Hu's story doesn't suggest any new policies for reinventing China. Instead, I see a cautionary tale about the limits of policy and the virtue of patience.

The writer is a professor of economics at the College of William & Mary.

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