Even so, the battle to clean up the environment has just begun. The Chinese government is leery of public advocacy like the student movement of 1989, which moved too fast and ended in a brutal crackdown. Activists today face a dilemma: Most think that the only way to get things done is to work with the system. China's new laws may not be perfect, but they exist—and can be used to push for change. But to environmentalists like Wu and Chen who are struggling at the village level, where such laws are often ignored, polite tactics are meaningless. "Those guys in Beijing are wishy-washy," says Chen. "We are the hard-liners." More cautious environmentalists in Beijing acknowledge that the peasants have shown extraordinary bravery. Being a hard-liner "is the only way to get things done at that level in China," says Economy.

And Wu did get things done. As a result of his investigations, the Jiangsu provincial government has shut down more than 200 factories near Lake Tai in recent years. "Wu's contribution was very important," admits Liu Qingsong, a Jiangsu environmental official who worked with the activist. Two years ago, the agency even nominated Wu as one of China's top ten environmentalists. Now, the Jiangsu environmental protection agency is worried that Wu's arrest will, by association, taint its work. Wu may have ruffled many feathers, but his warnings about Lake Tai were validated when, a month after he was arrested, blue-green algae erupted, poisoning the lake and cutting off access to drinking and bathing water for two million people. The story—and Wu's arrest—were reported in newspapers all across China. Local officials said the algae outbreak was caused by drought and hot weather and deemed it a natural disaster, drawing criticism from experts and the state media.

But after the algae outbreak, Beijing sent investigators to Lake Tai to look into the causes. The problem was so severe that Prime Minister Wen Jiabao came to the lake region and apologized to residents. Following the investigation, several local officials—including the party secretary of Wu's village—were demoted, and Beijing ordered the local government to shut 500 factories by the end of 2007.

"Wu Lihong doesn't have to do this environmental work," Chen says. "He could live a comfortable life. But he feels a sense of responsibility. He is fighting for the next generation. This is true greatness!"

Runner-Up: Jack Hobson
Uniting Alaskan tribes—and politicians—against mining in pristine ecosystems

Alaska's Bristol Bay watershed is one of the state's premier destinations, home to spectacular mountains and abundant wildlife, but a proposed 1,000-square-mile mining complex threatens to spoil the scenery. For the past four years, Jack Hobson, tribal president of the Athabascan village of Nondalton, has led the fight against Northern Dynasty Minerals' Pebble Mine project—what would be America's largest open-pit gold and copper mine—on the bay's watershed. Critics contend that an estimated three billion tons of waste and tailings would pollute local water supplies and inflict immeasurable harm on fish and wildlife. With Hobson at the helm, Nondalton, near the proposed site of the mine, passed a resolution against the project. Hobson then persuaded Alaska's Inter-Tribal Council, a consortium of 200-plus Alaskan tribes, to formally oppose it. Last year, he took Senator Ted Stevens (R-Alaska) on a fishing trip to show him the mine's proximity to critical salmon spawning grounds, after which the typically pro-development senator issued a statement opposing Northern Dynasty's proposal. Now, the state legislature is considering a bill that would protect the watershed as a game refuge. "We're not totally against mining. What we're against is the location of this mine," Hobson says. "Some places just don't need to be touched."
–Laura Schocker