作者：罗翔

这大概是近年来最经典的一场“自我打脸”：央视正在热播《缅北电诈覆灭纪实》，告诉全国民众缅北电诈如何被重拳打击、如何走向覆灭；与此同时，另一边的消息却告诉我们，妙瓦底的电诈园区正在异地重建，社交媒体上的招聘信息甚至超过9300条。

一边是“覆灭”，一边是“重建”。一边是胜利的纪录片，一边是现实世界里重新挂起来的招聘广告。这到底是在拍纪录片，还是在拍一部大型连续剧？

10月5日至7日，中国公安部与央视联合摄制的纪录片在央视综合频道首播。片中披露，河南平顶山一名母亲被骗40.5万元，其中还包括挪用的公款，最终投河自尽；缅北电诈高峰时期，仅佤邦勐波地区就存在265个电诈窝点，涉诈人员接近6万人。数字确实触目惊心，故事也确实令人痛心。

可是问题来了：这么大的产业，是一天之内从地下冒出来的吗？几万个涉诈人员、数百个园区、完整的通信体系、人员招募体系、资金流转体系和地方保护网络，难道都是犯罪分子凭空变出来的？

更荒唐的是，我们这些年似乎一直在重复同一个故事。

这个园区被端了——胜利！那批诈骗分子被抓了——胜利！某地被清剿了——重大成果！新闻播完以后，大家刚准备鼓掌，转过头一看：怎么又冒出来一个新的？

缅北不行了，还有妙瓦底。

妙瓦底不行了，还可以换一个地方。

园区没了，可以重新建设。

人抓了一批，还可以重新招募。

于是一个极其诡异的画面出现了：电诈园区像打不死的小强，每次新闻宣布“覆灭”，过一阵子就换个地方继续营业。

这就让人不得不怀疑，我们到底是在消灭电诈，还是在不断追赶电诈？

更值得玩味的是，电诈园区不是荒郊野外里凭空出现的一顶帐篷。

它需要电，需要通信，需要网络，需要资金，需要人员，需要运输，需要招募，需要地方势力提供保护。

一个几万人规模的产业，能够长期运转，本身就说明它背后存在一套复杂的利益链。

那么问题来了：这些电力从哪里来？通信从哪里来？资金怎么进、怎么出？招聘信息为什么可以公开传播？人员又是怎么源源不断进入园区的？

如果这些最基础的问题都没有被彻底回答，只是抓一批人、拆几个园区，然后宣布“覆灭”，那所谓的“覆灭”，究竟覆灭了什么？

更耐人寻味的是，中国企业在境外电力、通信等基础设施领域长期存在广泛布局。网络上因此长期流传各种关于中国企业与境外电诈园区之间关系的说法，甚至有人讽刺所谓“电诈公司是某些势力的白手套”。

这些说法究竟是真是假，当然应该拿证据说话。

可如果没有任何利益关系，为什么不能把整个供应链、资金链和通信链彻底公开调查清楚？

谁供电，谁提供通信，谁收钱，谁获利，谁保护，谁睁一只眼闭一只眼？

只要这些问题能够彻底查清楚，谣言自然就没有市场。

最怕的不是有人提出质疑，而是每一次质疑都只得到一句“我们已经取得重大成果”，然后过几个月，又出现新的园区、新的诈骗、新的受害者。

于是公众只能一次次观看同样的剧情：园区出现——警方行动——新闻报道——宣布成果——舆论欢呼——园区转移——重新招募——新的受害者。循环往复。

如果把这些年的新闻全部连起来看，甚至会产生一种荒诞感：每一次新闻都可以单独看成胜利，可所有新闻连起来，却像是一场永远没有大结局的连续剧。这才是最讽刺的地方。

真正值得关注的，不应该只是“抓了多少人”“端掉多少窝点”，更应该看看那些被骗者后来怎么样了。

被骗的钱追回来了吗？家破人亡的家庭得到什么补偿了吗？被诱骗、胁迫进入园区的人回来以后怎么样了？那些因为诈骗失去积蓄、工作甚至亲人的民众，谁来承担他们人生被改变的代价？

如果一个母亲被骗40.5万元之后选择投河，那么对她的家庭来说，所谓“重大行动成果”究竟意味着什么？

对一个已经失去亲人的家庭而言，一场新闻发布会、一部纪录片、一串抓捕数字，真的能够填补那个永远消失的位置吗？所以，真正讽刺的并不是打击电诈本身，而是某些叙事方式。

当“覆灭”成为标题，当“重大成果”成为结论，当掌声成为结尾，可现实却告诉我们：园区换个地方又开张了，招聘广告继续铺天盖地，新的受害者还在不断出现。

那么这场所谓的“覆灭”，究竟是谁的覆灭？是电诈产业的覆灭，还是一个旧园区的覆灭？

如果犯罪产业能够换个地方继续运转，如果背后的电力、通信、资金、人员和保护网络没有被真正切断，那么把一个园区炸掉、拆掉、端掉，又有什么意义？

这就像一棵树，天天砍树枝，却从来不去挖树根。最后当然可以宣布：“树已经被我们成功消灭！”可是春风一吹，下一棵又长出来了。

这才是这场“77年自扇耳光”真正荒诞的地方：嘴上说的是覆灭，现实看到的却是重生；新闻讲的是胜利，民众看到的却是循环。

如果一个犯罪产业几十年来不断换地方、换招牌、换园区，却始终能够死灰复燃，那么我们究竟应该相信新闻里的“已经覆灭”，还是应该追问一个能够被反复宣布“消灭”、却又能够反复重新出现的庞大产业，真正没有被消灭的，到底是电诈，还是它背后那条让电诈能够生存下去的利益链？ 

编辑：赵杰 校对：熊辩 翻译：周敏

Classic Self-Slap in the Face of 77 Years: The Truth Behind Northern Myanmar is Actually Self-Thievery

Author: Luo Xiang

This is probably the most classic “self-slap in the face” in recent years: CCTV is currently broadcasting Documentary on the Annihilation of Telecom Fraud in Northern Myanmar, telling the national public how telecom fraud in northern Myanmar was hit hard with heavy fists and how it walked towards annihilation; at the same time, news from the other side tells us that telecom fraud parks in Myawaddy are rebuilding in a different place, and recruitment information on social media even exceeds 9,300 items.

On one side is “annihilation,” and on the other side is “reconstruction.” On one side is a victory documentary, and on the other side is recruitment advertisements hanging up again in the real world. Is this actually filming a documentary, or filming a large-scale TV drama series?

From October 5th to 7th, the documentary jointly produced by the Ministry of Public Security of China and CCTV premiered on CCTV General Channel. The film disclosed that a mother in Pingdingshan, Henan was scammed out of 405,000 yuan, which also included misappropriated public funds, and ultimately threw herself into a river to commit suicide; during the peak period of telecom fraud in northern Myanmar, in the Wa State Mengbo region alone, there existed 265 telecom fraud dens, with fraud-involved personnel approaching 60,000 people. The numbers are indeed shocking, and the story is indeed heartbreaking.

But here comes the question: Was such a huge industry sprouted out from underground within a single day? Tens of thousands of fraud-involved personnel, hundreds of parks, complete communication systems, personnel recruitment systems, fund circulation systems, and local protection networks—could all these be transformed out of thin air by criminals?

What is even more absurd is that we seem to be repeating the exact same story over these years.

This park was busted—victory! That batch of fraud criminals was caught—victory! A certain place was wiped out—major achievement! After the news finishes broadcasting, just as everyone is preparing to applaud, turning around and looking: How comes a new one popped up again?

Northern Myanmar doesn’t work anymore, there is still Myawaddy.

Myawaddy doesn’t work anymore, can also change to another place.

The park is gone, can be reconstructed.

A batch of people was caught, can recruit again.

So an extremely weird scene appeared: Telecom fraud parks are like unkillable cockroaches; every time the news announces “annihilation,” after a while they change places and continue operating.

This makes people unable to help but suspect: Are we actually eliminating telecom fraud, or constantly chasing after telecom fraud?

What is even more worth pondering is that a telecom fraud park is not a tent appearing out of thin air in a wild suburb.

It needs electricity, needs communication, needs network, needs funds, needs personnel, needs transportation, needs recruitment, and needs local forces to provide protection.

An industry with a scale of tens of thousands of people, being able to operate long-term, itself demonstrates that behind it exists a complex chain of interests.

Then here comes the question: Where does this electricity come from? Where does communication come from? How do funds enter, how do they leave? Why can recruitment information be publicly spread? And how do personnel flow into the parks in a steady stream?

If these most basic questions have not been thoroughly answered, merely catching a batch of people, dismantling a few parks, and then announcing “annihilation”—then what on earth did the so-called “annihilation” actually annihilate?

Even more intriguing is that Chinese enterprises have long had extensive layouts in overseas fields such as electricity and infrastructure communication. Various rumors regarding the relationship between Chinese enterprises and overseas telecom fraud parks have therefore circulated online for a long time; some people even satirized that the so-called “telecom fraud companies are white gloves for certain forces.”

Whether these claims are true or false, one should of course speak with evidence.

But if there are no interest relationships whatsoever, why cannot the entire supply chain, fund chain, and communication chain be thoroughly investigated and publicly clarified?

Who supplies electricity, who provides communication, who receives money, who profits, who protects, who turns a blind eye?

As long as these questions can be thoroughly investigated clearly, rumors naturally will have no market.

What is feared most is not that someone raises doubts, but that every single doubt only receives a sentence of “we have achieved major results,” and then a few months later, new parks, new frauds, and new victims appear again.

Hence the public can only watch the exact same plot time after time: Park appears—police action—news report—announce results—public opinion cheers—park shifts—rec recruit again—new victims. Repeating in a cycle endlessly.

If all the news over these years are connected together to read, one would even generate a sense of absurdity: Every news item can be viewed as an individual victory, but all news connected together feels like an endless TV series without a final finale. This is the most satirical part.

What truly deserves attention should not merely be “how many people were caught” or “how many dens were busted,” but should even more look at how those scammed people fared afterwards.

Was the scammed money recovered? Did broken and ruined families receive any compensation? What happened to those people who were lured or coerced into entering the parks after they returned? Those citizens who lost savings, jobs, or even relatives because of fraud—who will bear the price of their lives being altered?

If a mother, after being scammed out of 405,000 yuan, chose to throw herself into a river, then to her family, what on earth does the so-called “major action result” mean?

To a family that has already lost a relative, can a news conference, a documentary, or a string of arrest numbers really fill that forever-vanished position? Therefore, what is truly satirical is not combating telecom fraud itself, but certain narrative methods.

When “annihilation” becomes the headline, when “major results” become the conclusion, when applause becomes the ending, yet reality tells us: The park changed places and opened for business again, recruitment ads continue to cover every corner, and new victims are constantly appearing.

Then this so-called “annihilation,” whose annihilation is it actually? Is it the annihilation of the telecom fraud industry, or the annihilation of an old park?

If a criminal industry can change places and continue operating, if the electricity, communication, funds, personnel, and protection networks behind it have not been truly severed, then blowing up, dismantling, or busting a park—what significance does it have?

This is just like a tree: chopping tree branches every day, yet never going to dig up the tree roots. In the end, one can certainly announce: “The tree has been successfully eliminated by us!” But as soon as the spring breeze blows, the next one grows out again.

This is the place where this “77 years of self-slap in the face” is truly absurd: What is said verbally is annihilation, but what is seen in reality is rebirth; what the news tells is victory, but what the public sees is a cycle.

If a criminal industry continuously changes places, changes signboards, and changes parks over decades, yet can always rise from the dead, then should we actually believe the “already annihilated” in the news, or should we question a giant industry that can be repeatedly announced as “eliminated” yet repeatedly reappear—what is truly not eliminated, is it telecom fraud, or is it that interest chain behind it that enables telecom fraud to survive?

Editor: Zhao Jie Proofreader: Xiong Bian Translator: Zhou Min