English translation of the full Chinese essay.
In Shanghai, trust companies, notaries and lawyers were all developing services for later life, to general approval.
One day, over tea with Mingyue, a notary sighed. “Some trust companies now tell clients: if you have substantial assets, establish a trust; if your assets are modest, consider the cost and arrange a notarial deposit instead. The wealthy clients stay with them. Those with less money and more complicated needs come to us. They receive the profit; we receive the work.”
Mingyue asked, “Could that be because notarial fees are lower, and the profession has a public-service responsibility?”
The notary smiled. “That is what everyone thinks. Trusts have their strengths; notarial deposits have their uses. We are not unwilling to help ordinary older people, nor do we wish to serve only the rich. But people assume that profitable work may be kept for themselves, while complicated, high-responsibility, low-margin work ought to go to notaries.”
“People often say notaries should have a sense of mission,” Mingyue observed.
“They should,” the notary replied. “But frontline notaries should not alone bear its cost. When authorities wish to demonstrate concern for the public, they repeatedly reduce notarial fees. Some waive fees for people over eighty who have their wills notarised. Yet the older the person, the more carefully capacity must be assessed, and the more questions must be asked to establish their genuine wishes. A document issued today may become the focus of a family dispute tomorrow. How could a notary be careless?”
“Is offering older people a free service not good policy?” Mingyue asked.
“It is a benefit to them, certainly. Yet some have ample wealth and can afford to pay. If professional work has value, why disregard that value simply because someone has turned eighty? A trust company completing a later-life planning matter can improve its performance and reputation; the people handling it may even be promoted. A notary office’s achievements may also count towards official performance. But many frontline notaries work within the public-institution staffing system. Their income may not increase, nor will the achievement readily make them senior officials. The notary does the work and carries the risk. When credit is assigned, their name may not appear.”
“What happens to notaries if this continues?” Mingyue asked.
“At first, resentment; in time, exhaustion. We know something new could be tried, but no longer want to try. We know something difficult could be done, but no longer dare. The more we do, the greater the responsibility. Every extra step adds risk. In that case, why not simply avoid making mistakes?”
“Is the loss confined to the notary office?”
The notary shook his head. “No. Every attempt a notary declines means one fewer workable path for an older person. Every retreat by a notary office means one fewer useful option in later-life services. People think lowering fees automatically helps older people, and assigning difficult work to notaries automatically serves the public good. They overlook this: if those who labour receive nothing, and those who carry risk go unrewarded, even dedication cannot last. Public service needs a sense of mission, but it cannot entirely defy the workings of a market. What is saved today may be only a fee; what is lost tomorrow may be an entire profession’s willingness to act. In the end, it is older people who are left with nowhere to turn.”
“So is your grievance about money, or recognition?” Mingyue asked.
The notary reflected for a long time. “The reward may be modest. There need be no recognition. But you cannot hand me every difficult task and then calmly tell me: this is what your sense of mission requires.”
Mingyue listened in silence.
People like to speak of dedication, and especially to urge it upon others.
Few ask who must pay for it—or who will bear the cost once it is exhausted.