JUST up the street from me at the moment, on the corner of the Bernauerstrasse, is a massive photo-mural depicting the same street corner on an August day in 1961: a snapshot of Hans Conrad Schumann, an East German soldier, hurdling the barbed wire on top of the still-under-construction Berlin Wall to get to the West, and freedom. In those days, the stakes that led communist regimes to construct obstacles to emigration were clear: they were afraid that combined envy of the West's prosperity and, to a lesser extent, its intellectual and religious freedom would lead huge masses of their citizens to flee abroad. That, obviously, is not an anxiety that affects today's Chinese Communist regime. The fact that China does not fear that any sign of openness will lead large numbers of its citizens to emigrate is one background factor behind Beijing's apparent willingness to reach a face-saving agreement to allow dissident lawyer Chen Guangcheng to apply to "study" in the United States.

The thing that has surprised me from the beginning of the drama is that it could possibly take place. We still don't know how Mr Chen managed to get from his village to the American embassy, but it seems extraordinary that the Chinese could have allowed a high-profile dissident to escape, could have lost track of him after his escape, or could have allowed him to approach the embassy to ask for asylum. On a couple of occasions during the time I spent in Vietnam, dissidents made surprise, unauthorised contact with American personnel at the embassy or ambassador's residence, but secret police stationed on the street nearby intervened extremely rapidly. In general, police seemed to know beforehand when dissidents were likely to stage such moves. That knowledge turned the relationship between dissidents, the regime, and the US government into a sort of choreographed dance, with limits drawn and signals sent based on mutual interest in avoiding embarrassment over declared positions. So it's not surprising that the result of the Chen Guangcheng drama looks likely to be one that allows America to maintain it has been true to its commitment to defending freedom of conscience, and also allows China to maintain it has not allowed Mr Chen to flee and claim political asylum.

That's not that different from the way things operated in the old days. The relationship between communist states and America around dissidents has always been a bit of a dance. What's changed is that America's interest in protecting dissidents is no longer a matter of either economic or strategic self-interest. China is not a military foe, or an enemy of capitalism; it's our largest trading partner. And now I'm going to go out on a limb and say something rather gushy and perhaps obnoxiously self-congratulatory: The fact that China is not our enemy makes our continued commitment to defending freedom of conscience for Chinese citizens all the more laudable. We really have nothing to gain from protecting Chen Guangcheng, except that it lets us give ourselves a pat on the back and walk down the street feeling all free and democratic. So let's! Sure, as William Dobson points out, China is probably just as interested in getting rid of Mr Chen as we are in protecting him. And sure, immigrants these days tend to come more because they're tired, poor and hungry than because they're yearning to breathe free, and Chinese citizens these days are less interested in coming to America precisely because the path to middle-class security probably leads through Guangdong rather than Los Angeles. Still, when that rare individual comes along who really considers the freedom thing more important than the wealth thing, we apparently still feel honour-bound to do something for him. And that's a nice thing.

(Photo credit: AFP)