PRISONER OF THE STATE
The Secret Journal of Zhao Ziyang
Translated from the Chinese and edited by Bao Pu, Renee Chiang, and Adi Ignatius
Simon & Schuster. 306 pp.
When Zhao Ziyang, the former Chinese premier who in 1989 had opposed using military force against student protesters, died four years ago, China’s top leaders formed an “Emergency Response Leadership Small Group,” declared “a period of extreme sensitivity,” put the People’s Armed Police on special alert and ordered the Ministry of Railways to screen travelers heading for Beijing. If this is how the men who rule China reacted to Zhao’s death at home, how then will they respond to the posthumously published “Prisoner of the State,” a book in which Zhao repeatedly attacks the stonewalling and subterfuge (and sycophancy, mendacity, buck-passing and back-stabbing) of people whose allies and heirs remain in power today?
Whatever the fallout, one element will likely stay constant: This same group of men — mostly from a set of quarreling families bound together by common interests and long used to surviving turmoil and 180-degree policy shifts — will remain in power. Like a seal on a rolling ball, they are good at staying on top.
But to keep its balance, the group sometimes needs to sacrifice a wayward member. In 1989, Zhao, then the Communist Party’s general secretary and the major architect of China’s economic reforms, was such a victim. Zhao had argued for “dialogue” over martial law as a way to handle the pro-democracy demonstrators in Beijing. On May 17, 1989, he was overruled, and on May 19 stripped of power. On June 4, soldiers fired on demonstrators in the streets of Beijing, killing hundreds. Zhao was charged with “splitting the party” and “supporting turmoil,” and was confined to house arrest until his death in 2005.
Now, in “Prisoner of the State,” a book timed to appear precisely 20 years since his purge, Zhao speaks from beyond the grave. He flouts the unspoken rule against public blame of others of the group. He skewers Li Peng, Li Xiannian, Yao Yilin, Deng Liqun, Hu Qiaomu and Wang Zhen repeatedly and by name. He complains that the meeting at which martial law was decided was in violation of the Party Charter because he, the general secretary, should have chaired any such meeting but was not even notified of it.
The book is based on about 30 audiotapes he discreetly recorded at home during 1999 and 2000. Clips from the tapes are to be released simultaneously with the book, and a Chinese-language transcription is supposed to appear around the same time. The material is largely consistent with what is already known from the “The Tiananmen Papers,” an unauthorized compilation of government documents published in 2001, and from “Captive Conversations,” a Chinese-language record of conversations between Zhao and his friend Zong Fengming, published in 2007. But the up-close-and-personal tone of the present book stands out.
Scholars will mine “Prisoner of the State” for historical nuances. It is clearer here than elsewhere that Zhao was already in serious political trouble in 1988, before the democracy movement began; and that Zhao had bickered with Hu Yaobang over economic policy as early as 1982, even though the two reformist leaders needed each other. Deng Xiaoping appears more strikingly than elsewhere as a Godfather figure: Other leaders jockey for access to him, dare not contradict him and use his words to attack one another. Yet even Deng seeks to avoid responsibility for difficult decisions. The group has dictatorial power, yet is rife with insecurity.
Sometimes these leaders — the two dozen or so at the top — appear oddly out of touch with the society they rule. For example, Zhao — who was more clued in than the others — thought that “groups of old ladies and children slept on the roads” of Beijing in order to block the entry of martial law troops. The Beijing populace did try to block the troops, but no old ladies slept on roads. Zhao lamented that the astrophysicist Fang Lizhi (who after the massacre was #1 on the government’s wanted list) worsened the political atmosphere during the protests because Fang, “who was abroad, attacked Deng Xiaoping personally, by name.” But Fang was not abroad; he was living on the outskirts of Beijing and deliberately observing silence. More seriously, Zhao and the others did not seem to understand that the nationwide protests arose not from superficial impressions of the West or from fleeting issues like the 1988 inflation but from a long-term and deep-seated revulsion at corruption, special privilege and the stultifying “work unit” system that Communist Party rule had brought to China.
In 1989, Zhao urged his fellow leaders to enter into reasoned dialogue with the student protesters, who, he insisted, were “absolutely not against the basic foundations of our system” but were “merely asking us to correct some of our flaws.” Could it be that Zhao really believed this? Or was he using it, as the students themselves were, as protective cover? Of course the students knew that it would be dangerous — indeed foolhardy — to declare open opposition to the ruling system. But to conclude that they were interested only in flaws is a bit silly. When certain things could not be stated plainly in public, the students sometimes resorted to double entendre — singing, for example, lines from the Chinese national anthem: “Rise up, oh people who would not be slaves. . . . China’s most perilous hour is nigh.” Even more mischievous was the singing of selected lines from the 1950s song “Without the Communist Party there would be no New China” — where the singers intentionally left the meaning of “New China” ambiguous.
Ironically, it was Zhao’s incarceration after 1989 that brought him closer to the street life of ordinary Chinese. His guards told him it was “inconvenient” for him to play golf; he had to guess at the content of unwritten rules, to deal with “made-up excuses” and to engage in vacuous word games with functionaries. His indignation at such treatment suggests that he was learning about these routine features of his society’s political life for the first time.
But incarceration also provided him with time to read and reflect broadly on China’s situation in history. At the end of “Prisoner of the State,” we see Zhao arrive at positions more radical than any he had taken before — positions that the Chinese government had long been calling “dissident.” For instance, Zhao eventually concluded that China needs a free press, freedom to organize and an independent judiciary. The Communist Party will have to release its monopoly on power. Ultimately, China will need parliamentary democracy.
What it actually has, he observed near the end of his life, is continuing rule by “a tightly-knit interest group . . . in which the political elite, the economic elite, and the intellectual elite are fused. This power elite blocks China’s further reform and steers the nation’s policies toward service of itself.” He saw that China’s “abundant and cheap” labor had produced an economic boom. The society’s rulers claim they have lifted millions from poverty, but in truth the millions have lifted themselves, through hard work and long hours, and in the process they have catapulted the elite to unprecedented levels of opulence and economic power.
The seal continues to straddle the ball — insecure as ever, but still definitely on top.
Perry Link, who was a co-editor of “The Tiananmen Papers,” is Chancellorial Chair for Teaching Across Disciplines at the University of California, Riverside.
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NYT
Excerpts From Zhao Ziyang’s ‘Prisoner of the State’
Translated and Edited by BAO PU, RENEE CHIANG and ADI IGNATIUS
Published: May 13, 2009
The following is a translation of excerpted audio recordings made by Zhao Ziyang, the purged Communist Party chief and former prime minister of China, who was removed from power in 1989 after he opposed the use of force against democracy protesters in Tiananmen Square.
Part 1, Chapter 4: 'The Crackdown' (Pp. 33-34)
On the night of June 3rd, while sitting in the courtyard with my family, I heard intense gunfire. A tragedy to shock the world had not been averted, and was happening after all.
I prepared the above written material three years after the June Fourth tragedy. Many years have now passed since this tragedy. Of the activists involved in this incident, except for the few who escaped abroad, most were arrested, sentenced, and repeatedly interrogated. The truth must have been determined by now. Certainly the following three questions should have been answered by now.
First, it was determined then that the student movement was “a planned conspiracy” of anti-Party, anti-socialist elements with leadership. So now we must ask, who were these leaders? What was the plan? What was the conspiracy? What evidence exists to support this? It was also said that there were “black hands” within the Party. Then who were they?
Second, it was said that this event was aimed at overthrowing the People’s Republic and the Communist Party. Where is the evidence? I had said at the time that most people were only asking us to correct our flaws, not attempting to overthrow our political system. After so many years, what evidence has been obtained through the interrogations? Have I been proven right, or have they? Many of the democracy activists in exile say that before June Fourth, they had still believed that the Party could improve itself. After June Fourth, however, they saw the Party as hopeless and only then did they take a stand to oppose the Party. During the demonstrations, students raised many slogans and demands, but the problem of inflation was conspicuously missing, though inflation was a hot topic that could easily have resonated with and ignited all of society. If the students had intended on opposing the Communist Party back then, why hadn’t they utilized this sensitive topic? If intent on mobilizing the masses, wouldn’t it have been easier to raise questions like this one? In hindsight, it’s obvious that the reason the students did not raise the issue of inflation was that they knew that this issue was related to the reform program, and if pointedly raised to mobilize the masses, it could have turned out to obstruct the reform process.
Third, can it be proven that the June Fourth movement was “counterrevolutionary turmoil,” as it was designated? The students were orderly. Many reports indicate that on the occasions when the People’s Liberation Army came under attack, in many incidents it was the students who had come to its defense. Large numbers of city residents blocked the PLA from entering the city. Why? Were they intent on overthrowing the republic?
Of course, whenever there are large numbers of people involved, there will always be some tiny minority within the crowd who might want to attack the PLA. It was a chaotic situation. It is perfectly possible that some hooligans took advantage of the situation to make trouble, but how can these actions be attributed to the majority of the citizens and students? By now, the answer to this question should be clear.
Part 4, Chapter 2: 'Zhao Walks the Line' (Pp. 189-190)
Another issue was how to deal with people implicated in all of this. The Anti-Liberalization Campaign was not just a theoretical issue. My biggest headaches came from the issues of whether to punish people, how to reduce the harm done to people, and how to contain the circle of people being harmed. From the beginning of the campaign, some Party elders were also very enthusiastic and wanted to punish a lot of people. Deng Xiaoping had always believed that those who proceeded with liberalization within the Party should be severely punished. Wang Zhen and other elders believed this as well. People like Deng Liqun and Hu Qiaomu were even more eager to take the opportunity to destroy certain people and take pleasure in the aftermath.
Under these circumstances, it was difficult to protect certain people, or limit the number being hurt or even to reduce the degree of harm that was done. Hence when it was drafted, the Number Four Document set strict limits on the punishment of those designated by the campaign as having made mistakes. The document defined this as: “Punishments that will be publicized and administrative punishments must first be approved by the Central Committee, and are to be meted out to those few Party members who openly promote bourgeois liberalism, refuse to mend their ways despite repeated admonitions, and have extensive influence.” The document also stated, “For those who hold some mistaken views, criticisms by fellow Party members may be carried out in Party group administrative meetings. They should be allowed to hold to their own views and the method of carrying out the criticism must be calm.”
At the meeting of national Propaganda Department leaders and on other occasions, I also spoke on how to win over the vast majority of people in the theoretical and cultural domains. I suggested we cooperate even with people with biased or false ideas. I pointed out, “Among Party members working in the theoretical and cultural fields, there are those who clearly uphold the Four Cardinal Principles but are a bit conservative and rigid; some are enthusiastic about reform yet have made statements that are inappropriate. We cannot just label the former as dogmatic or the latter as pursuers of liberalization. We should educate and cooperate with them all.”
When proceeding with the Anti-Liberalization Campaign, I had intentionally emphasized that we should classify those who had taken faulty liberal actions as well as those who were too conservative and rigid into the same group of people who were too biased. The purpose was to avoid or reduce the harm being done to people.
Part 4, Chapter 4: 'Preparing for the Main Event' (Pp. 205-206)
Nevertheless, we had practiced socialism for more than thirty years. For those intent on observing orthodox socialist principles, how were we to explain this? One possible explanation was that socialism had been implemented too early and that we needed to retrench and reinitiate democracy. Another was that China had implemented socialism without having first experienced capitalism, and so a dose of capitalism needed to be reintroduced.
Neither argument was entirely unreasonable, but they had the potential of sparking major theoretical debates, which could have led to confusion. And arguments of this kind could never have won political approval. In the worst-case scenario, they could even have caused reform to be killed in its infancy.
While planning for the 13th Party Congress report in the spring of 1987, I spent a lot of time thinking about how to resolve this issue. I came to believe that the expression “initial stage of socialism” was the best approach, and not only because it accepted and cast our decades-long implementation of socialism in a positive light; at the same time, because we were purportedly defined as being in an “initial stage,” we were totally freed from the restrictions of orthodox socialist principles. Therefore, we could step back from our previous position and implement reform policies more appropriate to China.
Part 3, Chapter 4: 'Finding a New Approach' (Pp. 112-113)
The reason I had such a deep interest in economic reform and devoted myself to finding ways to undertake this reform was that I was determined to eradicate the malady of China’s economic system at its roots. Without an understanding of the deficiencies of China’s economic system, I could not possibly have had such a strong urge for reform.
Of course, my earliest understanding of how to proceed with reform was shallow and vague. Many of the approaches that I proposed could only ease the symptoms; they could not tackle the fundamental problems.
The most profound realization I had about eradicating deficiencies in China’s economy was that the system had to be transformed into a market economy, and that the problem of property rights had to be resolved. That was arrived at through practical experience, only after a long series of back-and-forths.
But what was the fundamental problem? In the beginning, it wasn’t clear to me. My general sense was only that efficiency had to be improved. After I came to Beijing, my guiding principle on economic policy was not the single-minded pursuit of production figures, nor the pace of economic development, but rather finding a way for the Chinese people to receive concrete returns on their labor. That was my starting point. Growth rates of 2 to 3 percent would have been considered fantastic for advanced capitalist nations, but while our economy grew at a rate of 10 percent, our people’s living standards had not improved.
As for how to define this new path, I did not have any preconceived model or a systematic idea in mind. I started with only the desire to improve economic efficiency. This conviction was very important. The starting point was higher efficiency, and people seeing practical gains. Having this as a goal, a suitable way was eventually found, after much searching. Gradually, we created the right path.
Part 3, Chapter 7: 'One Step at a Time' (P. 126)
In summary, there were two aspects: one was the market economic sector outside of the planning system, and the other was the planned economic sector. While expanding the market sector, we reduced the planned sector. While both planned and market sector existed, it was inevitable that as one grew the other shrank. As the planned sector was reduced and weakened, the market sector expanded and strengthened.
At the time, the major components of the market sector were agriculture, rural products, light industries, textiles, and consumer products. Products involved with the means of production were mostly still controlled by state-owned enterprises.
If the enterprises that controlled the means of production were not weakened or reduced, if a portion was not taken out to feed the market sector, growth could not continue for the emerging market economic sector. If no part of the means of production was allowed to be directly sold on the free market; for example, if small enterprises producing coal or concrete were all under central control; then the new emerging market sector would have run into great difficulties for lack of raw materials and supplies. Therefore, for more than ten years, though there was no fundamental change to the planned economic system and the system of state-owned enterprises, the incremental changes in the transition from planned to market economies had an undeniably positive effect.
Part 6, Chapter 5: 'The Way Forward' (P. 270)
Of course, it is possible that in the future a more advanced political system than parliamentary democracy will emerge. But that is a matter for the future. At present, there is no other.
Based on this, we can say that if a country wishes to modernize, not only should it implement a market economy, it must also adopt a parliamentary democracy as its political system. Otherwise, this nation will not be able to have a market economy that is healthy and modern, nor can it become a modern society with a rule of law. Instead it will run into the situations that have occurred in so many developing countries, including China: commercialization of power, rampant corruption, a society polarized between rich and poor.
Part 3, Chapter 3: 'Opening Painfully to the World' (P. 107)
In hindsight, it was not easy for China to carry out the Reform and Open-Door Policy. Whenever there were issues involving relationships with foreigners, people were fearful, and there were many accusations made against reformers: people were afraid of being exploited, having our sovereignty undermined, or suffering an insult to our nation.
I pointed out that when foreigners invest money in China, they fear that China’s policies might change. But what do we have to fear?
Published by Simon & Schuster, 2009
