Stopping the Scourge

Given that I am an English instructor at Tsinghua, I would not ordinarily consider it my business to get involved in issues of campus security and policing. But there is nothing ordinary about the bike theft plague at our otherwise lovely campus. An informal survey in my classes suggests that about 50% of students have had bikes stolen, many more than once. Some students have told me they've lost seven. My personal tally is a modest two -- both stolen just outside the teachers' residence where I live, in broad daylight.

It is true, as the police recently told me when I visited the local station, that a stolen bike is a relatively minor problem. But when thousands of bikes are stolen every year at Tsinghua, something is seriously amiss.

Bike theft victims waste time and money replacing their lost bikes, but everyone's affected. The theft pandemic is the reason why virtually all the bikes we see at Tsinghua are ugly and semi-dysfunctional, sometimes lacking even adequate brakes. We aspire to greatness in our classrooms, but once outside, we mount bikes we hope are beneath contempt for bike thieves. Even with transportation devices as miserable as these, many of us still opt for the nuisance of multiple locks.

The university educates not only students but also the community at large. One significant lesson being learnt is: Crime Pays. Stealing is profitable.

Every bike theft teaches the lesson anew. The lesson is sometimes reinforced afterwards, when a victim replaces his bike by handing his money over to a store that deals in (and profits from) stolen bikes.

Thieves also can learn the lesson, simply by weighing their options. To the thief's eye, the Tsinghua landscape is like a tree sagging with ripe fruit. Bunches of bikes, everywhere he turns, implore him: "Take Me!"

In the unlikely event the thief is caught (by police who acknowledge having little interest in bike thieves), he will get some "education" and a few days in jail. This is the penalty, the police tell me, for stealing property worth less than 500 Yuan.

A SOLUTION

The program sketched below might need a bit of research and refinement. The purpose here is to demonstrate the feasibility of putting an end to our scourge.

To ride a bike on the Tsinghua campus, you have to buy a license. Campus residents normally buy a one-year license costing 50 Yuan. (Bike security for 50 Yuan a year is a bargain that should be welcomed by the university community.) Assuming 5000 one-year licenses sold in a given year, license fees yield 250,000 Yuan annually for theft prevention.

Licensees get a sticker and a wallet card. The sticker is affixed to the bike frame. Its physical characteristics are such that it cannot be removed and placed on a different bike without the tampering being obvious. You must carry the wallet card with you whenever you use your bike. The sticker and card have matching serial numbers.

You cannot remove a bike from campus unless it has a sticker and you have the corresponding card. Security personnel may also require you to produce the card anywhere you ride your bike within the campus.

LOCKS

CAMPUS VISITORS

POLICE STINGS