A recent murder raises uncomfortable questions about the social scaffolding in China. The scarce public details leave room for debate about the criminal liability of minors, global scourges like bullying, and family pressures that shape a child’s progress. The case had generated over a billion views and more than 120,000 discussions within days on Weibo, a social network akin to Twitter.
Local journalism, mindful of the ages involved, has withheld names and lurid particulars. The latest image of the victim shows him seated on a motorcycle, surrounded by his aggressors, captured by a public camera. His phone transferred 191 yuan (about 24 euros) to one of them minutes after the incident and was then disconnected. The body appeared the next day in a greenhouse in Handan, a northern city in Hebei province. His father spoke of blunt injuries to the head and back. The attackers had subjected the boy to persistent bullying for weeks and, on the eve of the murder, they dug the grave where they dumped his body. It was planned, not an impulsive act.
Many on social media call for adults to be held accountable, and for exemplary punishment. A 2021 amendment to the Criminal Law lowered criminal responsibility from 14 to 12 years for murders and other aggravated offenses. The decision rests with the Supreme People’s Procuratorate, and the courts have not widely embraced reducing accountability for juveniles out of concern for prudent judicial practice. The public outcry could push the change forward, and that possibility has divided lawyers who are trying to temper the punitive climate.
There is also surprise at the months of unpunished bullying. It is ironic for a government that can appear paternalistic to the point of absurdity, yet enforces rules about how many hours children may spend online playing games and bans horror films to protect developing minds.
A study from the Center for Children and Youth Research found that 53% of children experienced school bullying, while only 20% reported it to teachers or parents. A lawyer named Meng Bo urged schools to implement prevention systems, enforce zero tolerance for aggressors, and support victims, adding that serious cases should be reported to the authorities in the Global Times this week.
Migration to the cities also features in the discussion. The victim confided to a friend that he wanted to die, and an aunt assessed that the suicidal thoughts expressed online stemmed from academic pressure. The parents, like those of the aggressors, lived thousands of kilometers away.
These children form the so‑called “left-behind” cohort, a social group arising from the vast rural-to-urban migration. Hundreds of millions of rural youngsters chase jobs in thriving eastern coastal cities.
The economic miracle has depended on moving cheap labor, separating families. Parents often lack the local hukou household registration that links residents to city services such as education and free healthcare, so they cannot access social services in their destination city.
Disruptions to migration have created a second division within the country. The limits on urban poverty that China faces are less visible than in slums India or Brazil, yet hundreds of millions of people in the interior are pushed toward a second tier within their own nation. Some improvement has occurred in recent years, but there remains substantial room for progress.
China counts about 67 million left-behind children, roughly a fifth of the total, according to the 2020 census. They are typically cared for by grandparents, the anchors of family structure, and many see their parents only during the New Year holidays. The distance and neglect can lead to depression, anxiety, or low self-esteem, making them easy targets for mistreatment. A 2019 study by a Beijing NGO reported that 90% faced psychological abuse, 65% physical violence, and 30% sexual abuse.
These cyclical dramas continue to shape the nation. Recently remembered are tragedies such as five children who died in a trash container used to stay warm during cold nights, and four siblings who died by ingesting pesticide. Since 2016, China has pursued reforms to curb the crisis: registering left-behind children, supervising guardianship, instructing schools and hospitals to exercise heightened vigilance, punishing institutions that fail to report abuse, and assigning vulnerable children to responsible officials. The country has eased the hardest swings of this crisis, including across rural provinces, but incidents like the latest murder remind that growth rests on the shoulders of countless young people.