That apparent change of heart is one of several factors giving Chinese reformists hope that the country, too, may be in for some big changes. If China’s crotchety leadership really does head off into the sunset, the next generation of younger, modernizing leaders like Jiang’s heir apparent, Hu Jintao, will have a much freer hand to operate. Partnership in the U.S.-led war on terror has already given Beijing new impetus to hew to the international political mainstream. And reforms mandated by China’s accession to the World Trade Organization will, over the next few years, open the country up to an unprecedented array of foreign influences. Of course, leadership shifts are risky business in China, “and some last-minute plots could yet surprise us,” says a prominent liberal intellectual. Still, he and like-minded reformist thinkers “are hoping and planning to see 2002 become ‘our’ year. We haven’t had such favorable conditions for nearly half a decade.”
There has been no open, dramatic revolution in domestic Chinese politics–just a noteworthy event here, a modest liberalizing trend there, the sort of tea leaves that Sinologists once loved to read. The media have a bit more breathing space compared with last summer, when an ideologically inspired crackdown saw a half-dozen editors and journalists sacked or kicked upstairs. Recently, the death of prominent dissident Wang Ruoshui was reported in an obituary in the official People’s Daily Web site. Two months ago exiled poet Bei Dao was allowed to visit China for the first time in 11 years to see his ailing father. (Bei was denied entry in 1994, and this time the U.S.-based dissident had to keep a low profile. But, says a friend, “he had a good visit, and it’s significant that someone who’s uttered the words ‘Down with the Communist Party’ can come back.”)
Whether the coming year truly marks a turning point depends largely on how far Chinese succession politics have evolved. Both Mao Zedong and Deng Xiaoping clung to power too long, into their 80s. Until recently many Chinese were convinced Jiang–who has tried to elevate himself to his predecessors’ level by mandating classes in Mao-Deng-Jiang Zemin Thought and his own tome, “The Three Represents” –was trying to do the same. The result, many feared, would be increasingly sclerotic policies at best–and at worst a Tiananmen-style upheaval of urban riots and peasant revolts.
If current speculation proves correct, perhaps Jiang has learned from the past. He cannot be unaware of the resentment generated by the idea of him staying on while Zhu–an icon to Chinese reformists–would have to step down. Last month a Chinese activist in Hunan province was jailed for four years after posting an online essay that cited “the malignant swelling of Jiang Zemin’s emperor sentiments.” An English translation of a book entitled “Zhu Rongji in 1999,” written by the same anonymous author or authors from the “broad reformist faction” that produced “The Tiananmen Papers,” portrays Zhu as a principled visionary and Jiang as a “slippery and devious politician whose priority is holding onto power,” according to an introduction by Harvard professor Andrew Nathan. Even a leak about the fact that eavesdropping devices were found on a Boeing 767 he had ordered for presidential trips has been interpreted as an attempt to embarrass Jiang, who had been criticized for making such a grandiose purchase.
At the same time, Chinese liberals may have learned from their mistakes, too. The most realistic among them are seeking to “modernize” Chinese politics the same way the economy has been transformed, gradually leading to a multi-party system and the transformation of the Communist Party into a European-style social-democratic party. This faction is paying close attention to developments at the Central Party School, headed by Hu. Recently the school has begun inviting foreign and local speakers to lecture on everything from reinventing government to the impact of WTO. Talks by Western intellectuals find a rapt audience: when British M.P. Peter Mandelson–the spinmeister credited with remaking the governing party’s image as New Labor–spoke recently about how the onetime leftists won over Big Business with a “prawn-cocktail offensive” of wining-and-dining, hundreds of Chinese cadres furiously scribbled the words down in their notebooks. Some eagerly reached for dictionaries.
Even those liberals who prefer not to work within the system realize that moving too fast would be political suicide. “Some friends keep pulling my arm, saying, ‘This is the time to go out and promote political reform’,” says one reformist media commentator. “But I tell them, ‘Just wait. If we move too soon, we’ll fail’.” In his eyes, Hu needs at least two years to feel secure in his new position–and in his authority over the military brass–before he would even contemplate bold moves of any sort. In that period, too, as WTO reforms begin to bite, preserving social stability will remain the foremost concern of the regime.
On the other hand, several external factors give liberals valid reason to hope. For one, the leadership seems to have agreed that China should strive for closer ties with the United States rather than maintain a prickly defensiveness. Beijing has seized upon the idea of a shared national interest in the eradication of terrorism to push its case against Uighur separatists in Xinjiang. Chinese hawks may have been sobered by the dazzling, high-tech display of smart weaponry in the skies over Afghanistan. Beijing recently issued a surprising invitation to some members of Taiwan’s ruling Democratic Progressive Party–previously condemned in the most vitriolic terms as “splittists” bent on independence for the island–to visit the mainland. And military brass have been unusually muted about the fact that the United States has established a military presence in China’s backyard–with troops and aircraft stationed in Pakistan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, and Kyrgyzstan. “If Chinese leaders were paranoid about becoming encircled by the U.S. hegemon–well, hey, in some ways America’s just done it,” notes one Western analyst in the region. “But they’ve been quiet.”
At the same time Chinese officials are eager to highlight the happy state of Sino-U.S. relations in the run-up to a Beijing visit by President George W. Bush later this month. In what has become almost a pre-summit ritual, Beijing recently released, or relaxed the confinement of, three prisoners, including well-known Tibetan musicologist and Fulbright scholar Ngawang Choepal, who had taught at Middlebury College in Vermont. NEWSWEEK has learned that Chinese officials are hoping not only that Jiang will make a U.S. trip later this year, but that Hu may visit in 2002 as well.
The great unanswered question for Chinese liberals is to what extent Hu shares their reformist bent. China’s vice president has played his political cards extremely close to his vest. Still, many Chinese intellectuals believe that if only by dint of his relative youth–Hu is 59–and his stewardship of the party school, he’ll eventually prove receptive to liberal ideas. Hu’s daughter Hu Xiaohuo, believed to be in her 30s, has lived and studied under an assumed name in America for years, sources tell NEWSWEEK. “Even though he’s never said it, Hu is pro-U.S., just as Jiang was,” says one.
A group of seven American Sinologists who met with Hu in January found him relaxed and likely to become an interlocutor “that Americans feel they can work with,” according to a source familiar with the meeting. But when asked whether China might expand the system of direct elections taking place in some rural villages, Hu quickly cautioned against moving too fast, noting wryly that even in Florida, there were some “problems” with democracy. Changes may be likely in the People’s Republic, but they are not likely to come quickly.
