2010年10月，中国海关对携带入境的每台iPad征收1000元关税。海关无视iPad配置不同价格也不同，一律以5000元的价格征收20%关税。在香港购买智能手机和其它电子设备远比大陆便宜，有人在香港花了3000多元买的iPad要按照5000元来征收。即使是在国内购买的iPad，携带出国回来时也要缴纳关税。
 |
| 中国作家余华 Michael Lionstar |
这个突如其来的规定引起一片反对声音。国家商务部也明确表示反对：海关向iPad征收1000元进口税，违背中国2011年加入WTO时的承诺。
2011年1月，我携带iPad出国，在北京机场出境时询问哪里可以申报，以免回国时还需要缴税。
问了四个工作人员都说不知道，第五个终于知道了，他说征收iPad关税的规定取消了。（事实是，关税减半，并未取消。）
我问他：“规定取消了为什么不向社会公布？”
他反问我：“为什么要公布？规定实施时也没向社会公布。”
相比国家部门的一些可笑规定，地方部门的一些规定更加荒唐。2001年，深圳一些医院要求，护士应保持“露八颗牙齿”的职业性微笑；2003年，湖南省在录用公务员的体检标准中要求女性乳房对称；次年，哈尔滨市公安局巡防支队发布了一项命令，在编警察腰围超过2尺7的将下岗；2006年，浙江省交通厅规定，男性工作人员不能留胡须；2007年，为了遏制过高的辍学率，福建省平和县规定，初中没毕业不能结婚。
虽然这些令人啼笑皆非的规定有些已被取消，但它们显示了权力在中国的傲慢姿态。不难想象，那些官员们在讨论这些可笑规定时的情景，坐在舒适的沙发里，喝着好茶抽着好烟，用逻辑思维判断社会问题，不管社会问题的复杂多变，也不会去考虑社会是否能够接受。他们知道会有反对的声音，对此他们不在乎，因为中国社会的公权力长期以来侵犯私权力。只有当这些规定出台引发社会强烈反对，继而让他们的上级领导不高兴：“你们是在添乱，不利于社会稳定。”他们才只好悄悄撤销这些规定。
在中国，行政部门发布的规定与国家法律相抵触的事例比比皆是，比如今年1月1日实施的修订版《机动车驾驶证申领和使用规定》。为减少中国交通事故发生率，公安部交通管理局颁布的这个新规定被称为史上最严交规，其中闯黄灯扣除6分引起社会的广泛反对。（中国的机动车驾驶证一年只有12分，如果12分全部扣除，驾驶证就被吊销。）
许多人批评，闯黄灯扣6分会造成更多的追尾事故。就是官方媒体也质疑这个规定，新华社说：“《中华人民共和国道路交通安全法》第二十六条规定，交通信号灯由红灯、绿灯、黄灯组成。红灯表示禁止通行，绿灯表示准许通行，黄灯表示警示。三个信号灯各司其职，交管部门将黄灯作用归于红灯，不仅技术上难以做到，且明显违法。” 在社会舆论的压力之下，公安部交管局被迫表示：对闯黄灯的司机以教育为主，暂时不扣分。
这期间一个段子流行起来：
某男子一夜未归，第二天早上才匆匆到家，妻问何故。
他答：“昨夜路口遇一黄灯闪烁不停，今天早上六点才恢复正常，闯黄灯扣6分，路口倒车扣9分。”
妻又问：“为何不打个电话？”
他答：“开车打电话扣3分啊。”
该男子冻得直哆嗦，妻问：“在车内何故冻成这样？”
“下大雪，我在车外不停擦号牌，遮挡号牌扣12分。”
余华是中国作家，著有《活着》、《许三观卖血记》和《十个词汇中的中国》等。他是《纽约时报》特邀专栏作者。本文最初用中文撰写，由Allan H. Barr译成英文，中文译文经余华本人审定。
——纽约时报
In China, Power Is Arrogant
By YU HUA May 09, 2013
BEIJING
In late 2010, Chinese customs officials imposed an import tax of 1,000 yuan (about $150 then) on every iPad brought into the country. Ignoring the fact that iPads differ in features and prices, officials set a single tariff: 20 percent of the tablet’s listed 5,000-yuan value. People who paid 3,000 yuan for an iPad in Hong Kong — where smartphones and other electronics are much cheaper than on the mainland — were charged the same tariff. Even Chinese tourists returning home with their own iPads, bought in China, were taxed!
This levy, imposed without prior warning, provoked a torrent of criticism. Even the Commerce Ministry registered disapproval, fearing that the levy would violate China’s commitments as a member of the World Trade Organization, which it joined in 2001.
As I set off for an overseas trip in January 2011, I asked the staff at the Beijing airport how to report that I would be leaving the country with an iPad, so as to avoid being taxed when I returned.
The first four people I asked said they didn’t know; the fifth told me the levy had been revoked. (In fact, the tax was cut in half, but not rescinded entirely.)
“Why hasn’t this change been publicized?” I asked.
“Why should it be?” he retorted. “When first implemented, it wasn’t publicized, either.”
If the central government’s decrees are opaque, local authorities’ can be downright ridiculous. In 2001, hospital officials in the southern city of Shenzhen specified that nurses should show precisely eight teeth when smiling. In 2003, Hunan Province, in central China, stipulated that the breasts of female candidates for civil-service positions should be symmetrical. The next year, public safety officials in the northern city of Harbin ruled that policemen whose waistlines exceeded 36 inches had to go. In 2006, transportation officials in Zhejiang Province, just south of Shanghai, banned employees from sporting facial hair. The following year, in an effort to reduce the school-dropout rate, Pinghe County in Fujian Province, on the southeast coast, decreed that a junior high school diploma was required to marry.
Several of these rules have since been revoked, but their wacky and arbitrary nature demonstrates the arrogance of power in China. One can imagine all too easily their creators — sitting in comfortable armchairs, drinking high-grade tea and smoking fine cigarettes — discussing the issues at hand as if they were purely intellectual abstractions, never considering how ordinary people might react. That people will be unhappy is no cause for concern because, for so long, the power of the state has trampled on individual rights. Only when rules are so onerous that they stir actual protest do higher-ups take notice: “You guys are just making a mess of things,” they’ll tell their bureaucrat underlings. “This is not good for social stability.” The rules are then quietly rescinded — sometimes.
Often, regulations are even inconsistent with national laws. Take, for example, revised driving regulations that went into effect on Jan. 1. To reduce the accident rate on Chinese highways, the Public Security Ministry came out with what have been called particularly harsh rules. The imposition of a six-point penalty for running a yellow light produced howls of protest. (In China, a 12-point penalty leads to revocation of a license.)
To many, the yellow-light rule seemed certain to cause an increase in rear-end collisions. Even the official media raised questions. “According to Clause 26 of China’s traffic safety law, signals consist of red, green and yellow lights,” the state-controlled Xinhua News Agency patiently explained. “The red light prohibits passage, the green light allows it, while the yellow light signifies warning. Each signal has a separate function, and now to nullify the distinction between yellow light and red light is not only unfeasible but also in conflict with current law.” The ministry backed down and downgraded the penalty to a warning.
During all the kerfuffle, a joke began to circulate:
A man fails to return home one wintry night. When he shows up the next morning, his wife demands an explanation.
“The traffic light at the corner kept blinking yellow,” he says, “and it didn’t go back to operating normally until just now. I would have been docked six points if I’d run the yellow light — or nine if I’d tried to make a U-turn at an intersection.”
“Why didn’t you at least call me?”
“You get docked three points if you use a phone while driving.”
The man is shivering uncontrollably. His wife asks: “How did you get this cold, just sitting in the car?”
“It was snowing so hard I had to keep clearing off the license plate — you’re docked a full 12 points if the number is obscured.”
Yu Hua, the author of “China in Ten Words,” is a guest columnist. This column was translated by Allan H. Barr from the Chinese.
没有评论:
发表评论