Forced Demolition and the Spirit of Contract

On March 29, the artist Shen Jingdong’s studio under construction in the Songzhuang art district was demolished, prompting a flood of posts online. In fact, when the policies concerning the Beijing municipal government’s relocation to Tongzhou were announced, I already had a vague sense that Songzhuang’s art district, too, was heading towards its end.

This article does not seek to discuss whether art districts are justified or necessary, whether the government should designate areas for art and support privately financed studios to meet artists’ need for creative space, or how to safeguard the intellectual space necessary for artistic freedom. It considers only the evolution of art districts in China and the phenomenon of forced demolition from a legal perspective.

The rise and development of new urban areas in any country necessarily involves systematic planning and rebuilding of existing land, roads and buildings. Rebuilding, however, is not the same as razing everything and starting again. Only within a legal system that permits private land ownership and recognizes and protects private property can rebuilding be protective, grounded in respect for the wishes of the owners of existing land and buildings. If the owner is an individual, public authorities can respect and protect that person’s rights only through negotiations over compensation. If the owner is the state, as in China’s system of state-owned land, so-called 70-, 50- or 30-year property rights are essentially periods for leasing the use of land, rather than ownership of genuinely private land.

For an individual, both private ownership and a lease necessarily involve a contract. Whether compensation negotiations are based on private ownership or a lease, public authorities therefore have no right to impose a settlement by force. This is also why, in countries with private land ownership, forced demolition does not occur. Even in a country with state-owned land, forced demolition is unlawful, and violent forced demolition is still more clearly a violation of the law. Put another way, under China’s system of public land ownership, we do not have a right to oppose state transfers of land; we have the right to negotiate compensation under a land lease and to oppose unlawful forced demolition.

Whether land is acquired through a “Chinese-style purchase”—in essence, a lease—or rented, anyone who starts extensive construction before signing a land-use agreement is either foolish or mad. In China, where land is state-owned and land-resource authorities exist at every level of government, even such people would have no opportunity to break ground unless the relevant departments were negligent or deliberately manipulating the situation. There is, of course, another possibility: speculation. A lessee and local officials may establish a special relationship, potentially involving bribery, and use land in breach of planning policies. When officials change, that relationship necessarily ceases to hold. In this sense, even if the parties have signed some form of contract, it is not merely unprotected by law; the contract itself is unlawful. In these circumstances, punitive demolition by a public authority can instead uphold the spirit of contract. Over the past decade or more, many Beijing art districts have faced forced demolition for various reasons: land use departing from its original classification, buildings differing from approved designs, improvements to the urban environment, or even land-use policies changing overnight. In the first two cases, the land user breaches the agreement; in the latter two, the party granting the land does.

The following are particularly representative examples.

First, a case involving the purpose for which leased land was used. Construction of Suojia Village International Art Camp began in 2004, and it faced forced demolition in 2005. The lessee, a company, obtained the land under an agreement to grow turf, but instead built China’s first concentration-camp-like art district, accommodating more than one hundred artists. As the lessee and local authorities continued their contest, the district survived until the end of 2009, when it was finally razed.

Second, a case involving a policy adjustment by state authorities. In 2009, Chaoyang District introduced a land-reserve plan covering 43 villages and almost every art district of any size within its boundaries. Some districts were demolished; others ultimately survived because the plan failed. Creative Zhengyang, 008, Suojia Village and Dongying were among those demolished. Feijiacun, 318, Heiqiao and Huantie Art City were among those fortunate enough to remain.

The demolition of Shen Jingdong’s and other studios appears, on the surface, to result from the policy change associated with the Beijing municipal government’s relocation. According to those affected, however, over roughly twenty years Songzhuang developed from a poor, remote village into a place where township officials deliberately used art to generate wealth, branding it “Art Songzhuang” and freely allocating land for studios to attract artists. During this process, many artists repeatedly paid their way, alternately building and stopping, and actively or reluctantly established with each incoming administration a relationship that might ultimately amount to a contract without legal protection. This is also described in the videos made by artists affected by the current demolitions. A new administration brings a new policy: the arbitrary relationship between officials’ wishes and policy is clearly discussed in critic Yang Wei’s article “The Songzhuang Crisis.” At the root of forced demolition is an absence of the spirit of contract. That spirit means mutual respect for agreements and understandings reached in the common interest by the parties to a contract, or by the community it concerns, and recognition of the limits those agreements place on conduct.

In every sphere of human society, and in all relations between people, only the establishment and observance of a fair and reasonable contract gives conduct its boundaries, work its purpose and life its happiness. A country without the spirit of contract has no future.

— Liu Qiming, written in Beijing, April 9, 2017