——论中国农民养老困境与中共统治的道德破产

作者：周敏

编辑：周志刚 校对：熊辩 翻译：戈冰

2026年3月，中国全国人民代表大会在人民大会堂召开。政府工作报告宣布了一项所谓惠民举措：城乡居民基础养老金月最低标准再提高20元，由143元调整至163元。

163元。折合美元，约22美元。这是这个自称世界第二大经济体的国家，给予1.3亿农村老年人的全部国家保障。

与此同时，另一组数字在同一份报告中赫然在目：2025年，中国国防预算17846亿元人民币，同比增长7.2%，折合约2458亿美元；中国GDP总量超过18万亿美元，人均GDP突破1.3万美元。习近平则在不同场合以东升西降、制度自信战略格局自居，向全世界宣扬所谓中国式现代化的历史成就。

这两组数字之间的距离，不是普通的贫富差距，而是一个政权对待其国民的基本态度的真实写照。一个军费一年增幅即超过千亿、却将最底层老人的养老金锁定在每天不足1美元的国家，其所宣扬的所谓“为人民服务”，不过是写在纸上的谎言。

若要理解今日之不公，必须回溯历史的账单。

1953年起，中共推行“统购统销”制度，以远低于市场价的价格强制收购农民粮食，再高价卖给城市。农民的血汗，成为工业化最初的积累。与此同时，户籍制度如同一道铁幕，将农民锁死在土地上，剥夺了他们自由流动、分享城市发展红利的权利。数十年来，农民以压低自身消费的方式，补贴了整个工业体系和城市生活。

改革开放后，数亿农民工涌入城市，以廉价劳动力支撑起“世界工厂”的奇迹。他们建造了摩天大厦，却无权在那里定居；他们创造了GDP，却被排斥在社会保障体系之外。当他们踽踽老去，返乡后等待他们的，是每月不足两百元人民币的养老金，以及政府工作报告里那句轻描淡写的“再提高20元”。

历史的债务，从未被清算。中共从未正式承认这笔欠账，更遑论偿还。

中国的养老制度，是一个蓄意设计的不平等体系。数字最能说明问题。

根据《中国劳动统计年鉴》的数据，机关事业单位退休人员月均养老金为6099元人民币，企业退休职工月均3148元；而同期城乡居民养老金（农民为主体）全国人均仅205元。前者和后者之比，高达30:1。这不是市场竞争的自然结果，而是国家财政主动选择的再分配方向——权力庇护的群体，获得丰厚的公共资源；无权无势的农民，得到的是象征性的施舍。

地区差距同样触目惊心。上海城乡居民养老金已经超过1490元，而多省农村老人仅领取全国最低标准143元——同处一个国家，同顶一面国旗，两者相差十倍有余。更残酷的数据是：农民的基础养老金，在多数省份甚至低于当地农村最低生活保障标准的一半，黑龙江、安徽、四川等省的农民养老金与低保标准相差两倍以上，广东省则相差逾四倍。

还有一组数据令人心酸：农民的平均预期寿命为69.55岁，城镇居民为75.21岁。农民不仅养老金更少，还比城镇人少活约6年。在一个以“全民共济”为名的养老体系中，寿命更短、贡献更多、保障更少的农民，实际上是这个体系的净输血者。

面对批评，中共的惯常辩护是：财力有限，逐步改善。这是谎言。

2025年，中国国防预算17846亿元，增幅1200亿元。若将这一年的军费增量平均分配给全国1.3亿农村老人，每人每月可增加77元，远超政府所谓倾力惠民的20元涨幅。倘若将北京冬奥会390亿美元的耗资，或一带一路数千亿美元的海外投资中的极小部分转而用于民生，农民养老困境早已可以得到根本性改善。

2025年“两会”期间，多位人大代表和政协委员提出：应将农民养老金大幅提升至每月300-500元（约40-70美元）乃至与当地低保标准看齐。浙江大学学者张翔提出“国民基础养老金”方案，建议2030年前将标准提升至每月852元。这些建议年复一年出现，年复一年被忽视。不是预算不够，是优先级的排序——军队、维稳、形象工程在前，老农民在后。

更值得深思的是：20元的涨幅如此微薄，政府工作报告却将其作为重大民生成就大书特书，新华社发通稿，央视做专题，地方官员齐声表态。难道不是一场精心演出的戏码——用廉价的姿态，换取廉价的合法性？

有人会问：一亿多农村老人，为何沉默？

答案如是：中共一党专政的核心逻辑，正是系统性地摧毁一切有组织的抗争渠道。没有独立工会，没有自由媒体，没有反对党，没有独立的农民协会，没有真正意义上的选举。农民在政治上从来不是平等的公民。1953年《选举法》规定，农村选区代表所代表的人口数是城市选区的8倍——也就是说，一个城市工人的政治权重，等于8个农民。这一不平等比例在1995年缩减为4:1，直到2010年才实现名义上的同等。

在铺天盖地的宣传机器面前，许多农民甚至不知道自己有权利抱怨。从取消农业税到发放养老金，每一次微薄的“恩赐”都被包装成党和政府对人民的“深切关爱”，让本应是公民权利的东西变成了感恩戴德的理由。一位山东农民的儿子这样描述他的父母：他们觉得领了这点钱已经很幸福了。因为宣传无处不在，早已将麻木顺从解读为满意。

还有更沉重的数字。武汉大学学者刘燕舞的研究揭示，许多中国农村老人因无收入、丧失劳动力、患病、子女无暇照顾，选择以自杀结束生命。统计数据显示，2006年至2015年间，每10万名65岁以上农村老人中，有21.99人选择自杀。更令人心碎的是，在刘燕舞的田野调查中，一位老人听说政府要发钱后说：那就先不自杀了，再挺两年。这句话，应当刻在每一个谈论“中国崛起”的人的心上。

今日之中国，是一个极为奇异的存在。在国际舞台上，它以大国身份纵横捭阖，与美国并称G2，主导多边论坛，倡导“人类命运共同体”；在国内，它对最需要保障的群体吝啬至极，每月163元的养老金，甚至抵不上一张北京地铁月票的价格。

这并不是发展阶段的限制，横向比较可以更清晰。印度2024年农村养老金约合人民币400元；巴西农村最低养老金与城市最低工资挂钩，约合人民币1800元；即使经济体量差很远的泰国，其农村老人也可以领取基础养老金，且配套医疗覆盖更为完善。中国的问题从来不是缺钱，而是选择把钱花在哪里。

“共同富裕”是习近平近年来最高频的口号之一。然而，当我们追问：谁的富裕？答案不言而喻。中国的财富再分配，始终都在体制内循环——从国家到中南海，从城市到城市，从官员到官员。农民，始终瑟缩在这个循环之外，用沉默和忍耐，承载着这个“崛起”奇迹的底部重量。

一个社会的文明程度，体现在它如何对待最弱势的成员。中国农民养老金问题，不只是一个轻飘飘数字游戏，不只是一个政策问题，它是关于尊严、关于公正、关于政权合法性的根本性问题。

一个不愿意善待自己农村老人的政权，不论在国际舞台上如何粉饰，其所谓“执政为民”的宣称，都是对历史的欺骗，对这片土地上每一位公民的侮辱。

老农沉默，不代表没有委屈。土地上的每一条褶皱、每一颗老茧、每一行浑浊老泪，都是这个政权亏欠人民的历史账单。历史的账，终须清算。

中国农民真的等待了太久。他们等待的，不是又一次涨价20元的恩赐，而是作为公民理应得到的平等与尊严。

The People Who Fed China Have Been Abandoned by China

—On the Pension Crisis Facing Chinese Farmers and the Moral Bankruptcy of the CCP’s Rule

Author: Zhou Min

Editor: Zhou Zhigang Proofreader: Xiong Bian Translator: Ge Bing

Abstract: The Chinese Communist Party has long exploited the peasantry. It has done so by restricting the mobility of the peasant class and trapping farmers in rural areas.

In March 2026, the National People’s Congress of China convened at the Great Hall of the People. The Government Work Report announced a so-called “people-oriented” measure: the minimum monthly standard for the basic pension for urban and rural residents would be raised by another 20 yuan, from 143 yuan to 163 yuan.

163 yuan. Converted to U.S. dollars, that is approximately $22. This is the total state support provided by a country that claims to be the world’s second-largest economy to 130 million elderly rural residents.

Meanwhile, another set of figures stands out starkly in the same report: in 2025, China’s defense budget was 1.7846 trillion yuan, a year-on-year increase of 7.2%, equivalent to approximately $245.8 billion; China’s total GDP exceeded $18 trillion, with per capita GDP surpassing $13,000. Xi Jinping, on various occasions, has positioned himself within a strategic framework of “the East rising and the West declining” and “confidence in the system,” touting the so-called historical achievements of “Chinese-style modernization” to the world.

The gap between these two sets of figures is not merely a standard wealth disparity; it is a true reflection of a regime’s fundamental attitude toward its citizens. In a country where annual military spending increases by over 100 billion yuan, yet the pensions of the most vulnerable elderly are capped at less than $1 per day, the so-called “serving the people” it touts is nothing more than a lie on paper.

To understand today’s injustices, we must examine the historical ledger.

Beginning in 1953, the Chinese Communist Party implemented a “centralized purchasing and marketing” system, forcibly buying grain from farmers at prices far below market value and then selling it at a premium to urban areas. The farmers’ blood, sweat, and tears became the initial capital for industrialization. At the same time, the household registration system acted as an iron curtain, locking farmers to the land and depriving them of the right to move freely and share in the dividends of urban development. For decades, farmers subsidized the entire industrial system and urban life by suppressing their own consumption.

After the reform and opening-up, hundreds of millions of migrant workers flooded into cities, supporting the miracle of the “world’s factory” with cheap labor. They built skyscrapers but had no right to settle there; they generated GDP but were excluded from the social security system. As they grow old and return to their hometowns, what awaits them is a monthly pension of less than 200 yuan, along with the government work report’s dismissive mention of “a further increase of 20 yuan.”

This historical debt has never been settled. The Chinese Communist Party has never formally acknowledged this debt, let alone repaid it.

China’s pension system is a deliberately designed system of inequality. The numbers speak for themselves.

According to data from the *China Labor Statistics Yearbook*, the average monthly pension for retirees from government agencies and public institutions is 6,099 yuan, while that for retired enterprise employees is 3,148 yuan; during the same period, the national average pension for urban and rural residents (primarily farmers) was a mere 205 yuan. The ratio between the former and the latter is as high as 30:1. This is not the natural result of market competition, but rather the direction of redistribution actively chosen by the state treasury—groups protected by power receive generous public resources, while powerless farmers receive only symbolic handouts.

Regional disparities are equally shocking. The pension for urban and rural residents in Shanghai has already exceeded 1,490 yuan, while elderly people in rural areas of many provinces receive only the national minimum standard of 143 yuan—despite living in the same country and under the same national flag, the gap between the two is more than tenfold. Even more stark are the figures showing that in most provinces, farmers’ basic pensions are less than half the local rural subsistence allowance. In provinces such as Heilongjiang, Anhui, and Sichuan, the gap between farmers’ pensions and the subsistence allowance is more than twofold, while in Guangdong, it exceeds fourfold.

Another set of figures is heartbreaking: the average life expectancy for farmers is 69.55 years, compared to 75.21 years for urban residents. Not only do farmers receive smaller pensions, but they also live about six years less than their urban counterparts. In a pension system purportedly based on “mutual support for all,” farmers—who have shorter lifespans, make greater contributions, and receive less protection—are, in reality, the net contributors to this system.

In the face of criticism, the CCP’s standard defense is that financial resources are limited and improvements must be made gradually. This is a lie.

In 2025, China’s defense budget stood at 1.7846 trillion yuan, an increase of 120 billion yuan. If this year’s military budget increase were distributed equally among the nation’s 130 million rural seniors, each person would receive an additional 77 yuan per month—far exceeding the 20-yuan increase the government claims to have prioritized for the people’s welfare. Had even a tiny fraction of the $39 billion spent on the Beijing Winter Olympics, or the hundreds of billions of dollars in overseas investment under the Belt and Road Initiative, been redirected toward public welfare, the plight of farmers in old age could have been fundamentally resolved long ago.

During the 2025 “Two Sessions,” several deputies to the National People’s Congress and members of the Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference proposed that farmers’ pensions should be significantly increased to 300–500 yuan (approximately $40–$70) per month, or even brought in line with local subsistence allowance standards. Zhang Xiang, a scholar at Zhejiang University, put forward a “national basic pension” proposal, recommending that the standard be raised to 852 yuan per month by 2030. These proposals have been made year after year, only to be ignored year after year. It is not a matter of insufficient budget, but one of prioritization—the military, social stability, and vanity projects come first, while elderly farmers come last.

What is even more thought-provoking is this: despite the increase of 20 yuan being so meager, the Government Work Report touted it as a major achievement in people’s livelihoods, with Xinhua News Agency issuing a press release, CCTV airing a special report, and local officials unanimously expressing their support. Is this not a carefully staged performance—exchanging a token gesture for a token legitimacy?

Some may ask: Why do over 100 million rural seniors remain silent?

The answer is this: The core logic of the CCP’s one-party dictatorship lies precisely in the systematic destruction of all organized channels for resistance. There are no independent trade unions, no free media, no opposition parties, no independent farmers’ associations, and no elections in the true sense of the word. Politically, farmers have never been equal citizens. The 1953 Election Law stipulated that the population represented by a rural constituency was eight times that of an urban constituency—meaning the political weight of one urban worker equaled that of eight farmers. This unequal ratio was reduced to 4:1 in 1995, and it was not until 2010 that nominal equality was achieved.

Faced with a pervasive propaganda machine, many farmers do not even know they have the right to complain. From the abolition of the agricultural tax to the distribution of pensions, every meager “handout” has been packaged as the Party and government’s “deep concern” for the people, turning what should be a citizen’s right into a reason for gratitude. The son of a farmer in Shandong described his parents this way: they feel happy just to receive this small amount of money. Because propaganda is everywhere, it has long interpreted numb compliance as satisfaction.

There are even more sobering statistics. Research by Liu Yandou, a scholar at Wuhan University, reveals that many elderly people in rural China choose to end their lives by suicide due to lack of income, loss of labor capacity, illness, and children who are too busy to care for them. Statistical data shows that between 2006 and 2015, 21.99 out of every 100,000 rural seniors aged 65 and older chose to take their own lives. Even more heartbreaking is that, in Liu Yandou’s field research, an elderly person, upon hearing that the government was going to distribute money, said: “Then I won’t kill myself just yet; I’ll hang on for another two years.” These words should be etched into the hearts of everyone who speaks of “China’s rise.”

Today’s China is an extremely peculiar entity. On the international stage, it acts as a major power, maneuvering with influence; it is often referred to alongside the United States as the “G2,” dominates multilateral forums, and advocates for a “community with a shared future for mankind.” Domestically, however, it is extremely stingy toward the very groups most in need of protection: a monthly pension of 163 yuan is not even enough to cover the cost of a monthly Beijing subway pass.

This is not a limitation imposed by the stage of development; a comparative analysis makes this even clearer. In 2024, India’s rural pension amounts to approximately 400 yuan; Brazil’s rural minimum pension is linked to the urban minimum wage, totaling about 1,800 yuan; even in Thailand, whose economy is far smaller, rural seniors receive a basic pension, accompanied by more comprehensive healthcare coverage. China’s problem has never been a lack of money, but rather a choice of where to spend it.

“Common Prosperity” has been one of Xi Jinping’s most frequently used slogans in recent years. However, when we ask: Whose prosperity? The answer is self-evident. Wealth redistribution in China has always circulated within the system—from the state to Zhongnanhai, from city to city, from official to official. Farmers have always been left out of this cycle, bearing the weight at the bottom of this “rise” miracle with silence and endurance.

The level of civilization in a society is reflected in how it treats its most vulnerable members. The issue of pensions for China’s farmers is not merely a superficial numbers game, nor is it simply a policy matter; it is a fundamental question of dignity, justice, and the legitimacy of the regime.

A regime unwilling to treat its own rural elders with kindness—no matter how it may gloss over its image on the international stage—its so-called claim of “governing for the people” is a deception of history and an insult to every citizen on this land.

The silence of the elderly farmers does not mean they have no grievances. Every wrinkle on their skin, every callus on their hands, and every tear of sorrow is a historical debt this regime owes the people. The accounts of history must eventually be settled.

China’s farmers have truly waited far too long. What they await is not another 20-yuan increase as a favor, but the equality and dignity they deserve as citizens.