There is a strange new sightseeing attraction in this normally sleepy corner of the Chinese countryside: smashed police cars, rows of trashed buses and dented riot helmets.
They are the trophies of a battle in which peasants scored a rare and bloody victory against the communist authorities, who face one of the most serious popular challenges to their rule in recent years.
In driving off more than 1 000 riot police at the start of the week, Huankantou village in Zhejiang province is at the crest of a wave of anarchy that has seen millions of impoverished farmers block roads and launch protests against official corruption, environmental destruction and the growing gap between urban wealth and rural poverty.
China’s media have been forbidden to report on the government’s loss of control, but word is spreading quickly to nearby towns and cities. Tens of thousands of sightseers and wellwishers are flocking every day to see the village that beat the police.
But the consequences for Huankantou are far from clear.
Having put more than 30 police in hospital, five critically, the 10 000 residents should be bracing for a backlash. Instead, the mood is euphoric. Children have not been to school since Sunday’s clash. There are roadblocks outside the chemical factory that was the origin of the dispute. Late at night the streets are full of gawping tourists, marshalled around the battleground by proud locals who bellow chaotic instructions through loudspeakers.
”Aren’t these villagers brave? They are so tough it’s unbelievable,” said a taxi driver from Yiwu, the nearest city. ”Everybody wants to come and see this place. We really admire them.”
”We came to take a look because many people have heard of the riot,” said a fashionably dressed young woman who had come from Yiwu with friends. ”This is really big news.”
Although the aftermath is evident in a school car park full of smashed police buses, burned out cars and streets full of broken bricks and discarded sticks, the origin of the riot is hazy.
Initial reports suggested that it started after the death of two elderly women, who were run over when police attempted to clear their protest against a chemical factory in a nearby industrial park.
Witnesses confirmed that the local old people’s association had kept a 24-hour vigil for two weeks outside the plant. Many said they had heard of the deaths, but no one could name the victims. The local government of Dongyang insists there were no fatalities.
Like many of the other disputes that have racked China in the past year, frustration had been simmering for some time. Locals accused officials of seizing the land for the industrial park — built in 2002 — without their consent. Some blamed toxins from the chemical plant for ruined crops, malformed babies and contamination of the local Huashui river.
The village chief reportedly refused to hold a public meeting to hear these grievances. Attempts to petition the central government also proved fruitless. Locals said they had lost faith in the authorities.
”The communists are even worse than the Japanese,” said one man.
Memories are still fresh of the fighting on Sunday. ”It was about 4am and I was woken up by an unusual noise,” said a Ms Wang, a shopkeeper who lives next to the school where the fiercest fighting took place. ”When I looked out of the window, I saw lots of riot police running into the village. Many men rushed out of their houses to defend our village.”
Accounts of the conflict differ. Residents say 3 000 police stormed the village, several people — including police — were killed, dozens wounded and 30 police buses destroyed. But the Dongyang government says about 1 000 police and local officials were attacked by a mob, which led to 36 injuries and no deaths.
The outcome is also unclear. Locals say the village chief has fled. In his place, they have established an organising committee, though its members are a secret. This suggests a fear of recriminations, but the public mood is one of bravado.
”We don’t feel regret about what we have done,” said a middle-aged man. ”The police have not come back since they withdrew on Monday. They dare not return.”
Some, however, admitted to anxiety. Among them was an old woman — also a Mrs Wang — who reluctantly opened her doors to visitors who had come to see her collection of trophies from the battle.
”I am scared,” she said, as she showed two dented riot police helmets, several empty gas canisters, a policeman’s jacket and several truncheons and machetes. ”This is getting bigger and bigger.”
But there have been no arrests and no communication from the authorities. The current leadership will be keen to avoid a Tiananmen Square-style confrontation, including Prime Minister Wen Jiabao, who pleaded with the Tiananmen protesters to leave before the tanks came. At the same time, the authorities are committed to social stability.
According to government statistics, protests increased by 15% last year to 58 000, with more than three-million people taking part. In many provincial capitals, roadblocks occur more than once a week. Last weekend, anti-Japanese demonstrators rallied in three cities, including Beijing.
But in Huankantou, villagers do not seem to realise that although they have won the battle, they may be far from winning the war.
Amid a crowd of locals beside a wrecked bus, one middle-aged woman won a cheer of approval by calling for the government to make the first move towards reconciliation.
”It’s up to them to start talking,” she said. ”I don’t know what we would do if the police came back again, but our demand is to make the factory move out of the village. We will not compromise on that.” – Guardian Unlimited Â