After reporting public officials, the store owner committed suicide by taking poison. What exactly happened?

Peng, the owner of a fireworks store in Chenzhou, committed suicide by taking agricultural chemicals after reporting public officials under his real name. This news is more explosive than any fireworks; it not only detonates a personal tragedy but also reflects the balance of emotion and law in grassroots governance. The core cause of the incident points to a document that is still in the 'soliciting opinions' phase. The local government plans to stop processing administrative permits for fireworks retail outlets that do not meet the conditions within the no-burning zone. The sudden policy shift left Peng facing inventory worth tens of millions of yuan. What does tens of millions mean? For a county-level fireworks store, it is almost a gamble that could lead to bankruptcy. Fireworks are not instant noodles; they have a three-year shelf life, and once expired, they are waste products. If not handled properly, they become mobile bombs. The policy can stop at any moment; who will digest the inventory? Who will bear the losses?

Even more bizarre is that this document is still in the 'soliciting opinions' phase, and its legal effect has not yet taken effect. However, Peng's experience seems to indicate that the policy has already been prematurely implemented. This kind of 'implement first, perfect later' administrative inertia is not uncommon in county governance. All levels are demanding environmental protection, safety, and performance; what can be done? Merchants must make 'necessary sacrifices.' The fireworks industry has been struggling in recent years. From a complete ban to restrictions and then to standardized management, policies have swung back and forth like a pendulum. Each swing results in a batch of merchants leaving the market. Peng is not the first to be thrown off the policy bus, but he is the most extreme case. His tens of millions of yuan in inventory is precisely the result of the policy's lack of transitional arrangements. If the local government had provided buffer plans for inventory acquisition, storage subsidies, and business transformation before the policy was implemented, this tragedy might have been avoided. But in reality, the execution mode of 'just killing without caring about the aftermath' is everywhere.

Before taking the poison, Peng reported several public officials for 'repeatedly demanding fireworks or goods without payment.' This brief statement carries a huge amount of information. Public officials demanding goods is a typical case of power rent-seeking. In the specially licensed fireworks industry, regulators hold the power of life and death, so they should not lie. However, drinking agricultural chemicals after reporting indicates that he has lost faith in the normal reporting channels. Reporting is not the end but the beginning; it is a belief that the law will give him justice. But by drinking the poison, he implies that he anticipates this path is unfeasible, or that the cost is too high and the time too long; he cannot wait. My personal understanding is that perhaps due to policy changes, he is left with only the path of bankruptcy and debt with millions worth of unsold goods.

In desperation, he vented his anger on some public officials who frequently came to 'extort' him, almost implying that if he is to die, he will take someone down with him. The local policy is still in the 'soliciting opinions' phase, which is a critical detail. According to the 'Interim Regulations on Major Administrative Decision-Making Procedures,' major decisions involving the interests of the public must fully solicit opinions and conduct risk assessments. However, reality often turns 'soliciting opinions' into a mere formality. Peng's experience illustrates that he may not have had a voice in the policy-making process at all, or if he did, no one listened. It wasn't until the policy was about to be implemented that he realized he had been sentenced to 'death.' This not only eliminates any buffer space for the policy but also leaves Peng with no hope of a turnaround.

The act of reporting 'demanding fireworks without payment' may seem small, but its essence is the abuse of public power and corruption, severely damaging the government’s image and credibility, and directly worsening the business environment. This kind of 'micro-corruption' often occurs around the public and is felt more directly and acutely. Peng, in the most extreme way, attempted to seek an explanation for himself. Now, society expects an explanation that can withstand legal and historical scrutiny. This 'explanation' is not only an account to Peng and his family but also a defense of social fairness and justice.

The Chenzhou authorities have established a joint investigation team, and the public is eager to ask: Who are the people involved in Peng's report? Was the policy-making process compliant? Why was there no transitional arrangement? How many similar policies nationwide have experienced an 'emergency brake'? Peng's life and death need a truth. But more important than the truth is the institutional reflection behind it. Do not let 'soliciting opinions' become a hollow procedure, and do not let 'fighting for life' become the norm for safeguarding rights. Hopefully, the death of the store owner will truly touch the nerves of the relevant departments and prompt them to examine the policy-making process to be more scientific and humane. Otherwise, such tragedies will continue to unfold.