Shenzhen’s experiment has already been adopted in the rest of Guangdong province, where local Communist Party boss Wang Yang has embraced the reforms as part of his undeclared campaign to win a spot on the Standing Committee of the Politburo, the nine-person body that is at the top of China’s power pyramid. The southwestern city of Chengdu, which saw grassroots civil society spring up in the wake of the devastating 2008 Sichuan earthquake, has introduced similar reforms, as has the Beijing municipal government, though those who work in the charity sector in Beijing say announced changes have yet to be implemented.
But what is missing even in Shenzhen is the other half of the equation: private philanthropists and a culture of widespread charitable giving. China’s top philanthropists have thus far steered clear of the Shenzhen experiment (with the notable exception of kung-fu star Jet Li, who registered his One Foundation here), preferring instead to donate their money to state-funded charities, or – in a few high-profile cases – to be photographed walking around poor villages dispensing 100-yuan notes by hand. Ordinary Chinese, meanwhile, have been taught by a series of high-profile scandals to be wary of charities, which are often just another arm of the government, riddled with the same opacity and corruption that infects other departments.
“I don’t think China right now has a culture of philanthropy. People have no habit of constantly but slowly donating to something throughout their lives,” said Wang Jinjin, secretary general of the Guangdong Harmony Foundation, an independent NGO support network that registered this year in the city of Guangzhou. “Many entrepreneurs earned their money in the past 10 to 20 years. They just got rich, just got past their financial worries. But it’s now becoming trendy [to donate to charity], and more and more people are starting to follow the fashion.”
Shenzhen residents say the concepts of charity and philanthropy are better understood here because of the city’s close proximity to Hong Kong, which some of the world’s top philanthropists – most notably the territory’s richest man (and Canadian citizen), Li Ka-shing – call home. Some, however, remain skeptical of the reforms, seeing only an effort to convince foreigners that China is changing faster than it really is. “Shenzhen is not really free – they’re just pawning this off on the NGOs to keep them quiet for the next 15 years,” said Clare Pearson, who edits the overseas edition of The Charitarian, a magazine that covers charity and philanthropy issues in China.
Ms. Ma acknowledges that the opening the government is providing would quickly slam shut if organizations drifted beyond their social welfare mandate into areas such as human rights. “We won’t have anything like Occupy Wall Street here,” she says.
But those on the front lines of Shenzhen’s experiment say it has at least made it easier for government-approved charities and NGOs to do what they’ve always wanted to do: help out.
“This is a new concept for China. After 30 years of economic reforms, the government is now focused on building society,” said Zheng Weining, a wealthy entrepreneur and hemophiliac whose eponymous foundation – which provides high-tech and animation jobs, as well as medical care and an accessible dorm, to disabled workers – was the first legally registered non-profit organization under the new reforms.
“Civil society will take a long time to develop. But we are the pioneers.”
