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Unlike pet dogs, whose only function is to wag their tails and amuse, watchdogs exist for practical reasons - they are supposed to bark to alert their owners of potential dangers.
That is why we refer to consumer protection agencies as watchdogs, and generally endorse their existence as indispensable arms of the government. Just like watchdogs are kept to ease worries about safety, we cherish the innocent belief that such institutions can substantially reduce our exposure to risks, especially when it comes to what we eat. And that is why, in spite of all the complaints about inefficiency and dereliction of duty, there has been little opposition to the game of assigning new caretakers.
Few can tell precisely how many government agencies are now responsible for food safety in the country. To most of us at least, the obvious answer is "many". But we do not care, at least for now, as long as they work.
The biggest risk to those who keep a watchdog, or like us, more than one, is not finding themselves in harm's way. It is rather the usually improbable scenario that their guard dogs become insensitive to signs of threat. Having a watchdog that does not perform what is expected of it is even worse than not having one, because we ourselves are generally less vigilant with one of them at our side.
We have a number of government offices with responsibilities for food safety. But the quality inspection authorities have effectively sunk themselves in public distrust through the never-ending drama of melamine-tainted milk. Now it is the industry and commerce authorities' turn to take a public confidence test.
Though in almost identical uniforms, industry and commerce officials are not like chengguan (city urban management) officers, who seem to do all the bad things without due authorization. In fact, industry and commerce administration officials can do everything - from confiscating problematic goods to suspending a business - necessary to detect and address misconduct in the market. Yet an otherwise minor recent episode in Beijing has raised questions about the local industry and commerce administration's effectiveness as a watchdog.
Late last month, local media reported a study conducted by a sixth-grade student, who found a florescent brightener (bleach) in 12 of the 16 samples of mushrooms bought locally. Driven in part by the media's thirst for sensation, we saw the more or less hyped headlines that more than 93 per cent of mushrooms sold in local markets had been treated with the harmful chemical to give them a fresh look.
The Beijing municipal administration for industry and commerce was quick to respond. But the response stopped at a terse statement that mushrooms in the local markets were safe, and the simple comment that the primary school student's survey was "not scientific".
But they did not publish the findings of their own survey until challenged to disclose relevant information. The official survey, said to be based on random sampling (132 samples in total), showed 97.73 percent of the mushrooms sold locally passed safety checks.
But that has failed to dispel the clouds of suspicion. Instead of a sigh of relief, we heard more questions about authenticity - how could their findings be so different?
Worse, the local industry and commerce authorities suffered a near-complete loss of public confidence in a contest with an 11-year-old sixth grader. In an online poll conducted by a website, more than 1,100 people chose to believe the primary school student, and only 8 percent said they believed the industry and commerce department.
The problem is no longer about toxic mushrooms. It is more about whether our official watchdogs are worth our trust. That the well-staffed and well-equipped official agencies whose full-time job is to regulate the market have been displaced by a sixth grader in issuing an alert - florescent brightener was also found in the official probe - should not be taken simply as an embarrassment.
It may be groundless speculation to suspect that the authorities have intentionally played down the problem out of "stability concerns". But many people tend to trust the 11-year-old, saying he was under no pressure to lie or conceal. There may be a number of variables responsible for the divergent findings. But unless convincing clarifications are made, there is little chance of the local industry and commerce administration escaping a loss of credibility.
Right now, people in Beijing desperately need evidence of their watchdog's reliability. A truthful account of the safety of mushrooms is the least they deserve.
The official conclusion must be put to stringent scrutiny because we cannot afford a watchdog giving false assurances on safety.
The author is a senior writer for China Daily.