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| Monument of the People's Heroes |
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If Deng was upset Wednesday evening, he must have really hit the roof when he saw the front page photograph in the Hong Kong Standard. A young man was holding a sign in English that said: "Death to Deng Xiaoping." This brought a chill to my spine, for I knew that China's "paramount" leader was capable of reacting in a murderous rage at the insult, and there were hundreds of thousands of army troops not far away.
The possibility existed that the provocative, ultraleft slogan was the work of an agent provocateur. Wang, Liu and others I had spoken to in Tiananmen all spoke of undercover government agents running amok in Beijing throughout the protests. Then again, as May slipped into June and the war of the wills continued between the demonstrators and the government, there were signs that some in the pro-democracy movement were moving beyond the call for reforms and were now demanding the resignations and/or death of Deng and Li.
Thursday morning I had another appointment with Mr. Xing in the basement of China Central Television, reviewing more footage of Dr. Sun Yat Sen?s 1911 democratic revolution. By the afternoon, I was feeling under the weather, so I spent the rest of the day reading the newspapers for the latest developments.
The Herald Tribune reported an escalation in the government's counteroffensive against the pro-democracy campaign. On Wednesday, the Party staged "People of All Walks of Life Coming Together Against Chaos" rally in Daxing City, a rural town 20 miles south of Beijing, where townspeople burned in effigy astrophysicist Fang Lizhi, a prominent dissident leader. The government announced a crowd of 10,000 attended the rally, but reporters said that 3,000 was more accurate. Farmers and workers wearing straw hats marched to the stadium rally site under banners reflecting the government's line, proclaiming "We support Li Peng" and "We oppose the small group causing turmoil." The farmers also announced their support for the Communist Party's "four cardinal principles," which include allegiance to socialism, Communist Party leadership and proletarian dictatorship, and Marxism-Leninism-Mao Zedong thought.
While some rally participants were there out of genuine conviction, others said they were ordered by their bosses to attend. The fact that 40,000 army soldiers brought in to enforce martial law were living in Daxing may have been part of the arm-twisting. Rally officials distributed free ices to the demonstrators, but even a rally organizer admitted: "They don't know who Fang is. They just know they can't get their watermelons into Beijing."
Already the government was setting up Fang Lizhi as the chief fall guy of the pro-democracy movement, one of the leading "instigators" and "troublemakers" whom the Party had been directing its fire against. The "anti-chaos" rally was pushing the line that Fang's nefarious pro-democracy activity was the reason why farmers couldn't get their watermelons into the city, causing them to lose $100 a day in sales.
Beijing's Foreign Affairs office had tipped off the foreign press about the rally, which was interesting since under martial law the foreign media was prohibited from reporting about the protests. China's state-run media was reporting that more than half of the 50 universities and colleges in Shanghai had ended the pro-democracy boycott and resumed classes. As for Beijing, there were no reports of an end to the student boycott at Beijing University, although rumors circulated that students at some city colleges were going back to class.
Meanwhile, the students maintaining the vigil in Tiananmen Square were vowing to resist the government's attempt to evict them.
"We are now basically waiting for the government to take the initiative," said student leader Mo Bin. "Things are pretty calm with us. It?s the government who is nervous." These sentiments coincided exactly with what Liu had expressed the night before in Yang's apartment.
Though Fang and his wife Professor Li Shuxian had in recent years emerged as leading spokespersons for the pro-democracy camp, thus winning the students' respect, the couple had been keeping a noticeably lower profile during the Beijing Spring. After reports surfaced the week before that the government was planning to arrest intellectual dissidents, it was said Fang and Li had gone into hiding outside the city. Thursday's news reports announced that the pair had resurfaced in Beijing on Tuesday to squelch rumors of their arrest or that they had fled the capital.
"All these were rumors, we have never thought of escaping," said Fang. "It's impossible to flee China, there is no place to hide," added Professor Li.
Fang said he would be proud to be arrested in connection with "such a righteous and great democratic movement," but the pair stated they had purposely stayed away from the student movement, although the government kept referring to them as two of the "black hands," the "behind the scenes directors" of the demonstrations. Professor Li was outraged by these reports.
"My friends told me that they had read internal documents which accused me of instigating student unrest and instructing students to rebel against the government. They said these documents were issued by the Beijing municipal party committee and some provincial commissions of education," she said. "I will consider taking legal actions against the authorities concerned for libeling me.
"From the beginning, we expected to be accused by the authorities although we have kept our distance from the movement," said Professor Fang. ?"The authorities are accusing people of directing the student movement from behind the scenes to disgrace it.?" While the couple had engaged in discussions with student activists concerning the need for democracy in China, "We asked students not to come to our home during the last month to avoid trouble for them. We even did not go to Tiananmen Square to avoid giving the authorities an excuse to accuse us of directing the action from the background.
"We believe China needs people of conscience to tell the truth. If our government considers it a crime to advocate freedom, then it's autocratic and tyrannical. The student movement is the first democratic one since 1949. It is the first time the people have been made aware that they are masters in the country while the government is the public servant. The current movement is a great one. Even intellectuals have been awakened by the students."
Professor Li said some intellectuals active in the movement had political connections to Zhao Zhang's faction in the party. I thought of my new friend Wang and his Institute of History, known to be a hotbed of Zhao support.
"We will retain our critical role no matter who gets into power. It makes no difference for us if Zhao Zhang or Li Peng is in power, our role remains the same," said Professor Li.
Professor Fang also expressed deep sympathy for the non-student participants who had been arrested, apparently referring to the three union activists from the Beijing Autonomous Workers Federation.
The Party was taking off its gloves and denouncing the Goddess of Democracy and Freedom. That the Goddess had struck a nerve in the Party's senior leaders could not be camouflaged.
"Immediately restore the solemn face of Tiananmen Square," commanded the Beijing Daily. "Do not poke fun at China's patriotic feelings."
The Communist Party's principal mouthpiece, the People's Daily, devoted its editorial to an attack on the ongoing student occupation of Tiananmen. It said that the central plaza belonged to all Chinese and the people had "lost their right to use it." The encampment was described as an "oppression," and the paper warned students to go back to their classes and return to "democratic, normal, and legal" avenues of protest. "All students who sincerely want to promote democratization and the struggle against corruption can put their proposals at will to the National People's Congress through normal channels."
China Daily, the English-language version of the People's Daily, communicated similar sentiments. It printed excerpts of a statement from the Beijing Tiananmen Square Administration that was broadcast on CCTV and the Central Radio evening news. It called the placement of a mock Statue of Liberty in Tiananmen Square "an insult to this solemn site of national celebrations and State ceremonies," and demanded the removal of the "illegal statue," which, it stated, was occupying "the position reserved for a portrait of Dr. Sun Yat Sen" during the upcoming 40th National Anniversary celebrations.
The Daily also quoted a local architect who urged the Beijing municipal government to take "firm action" against the Goddess of Democracy and Freedom. "The square is the place for commemorating only the heroes of the People's Republic."
Another facet of the Party's counterattack was the placement of posters criticizing "bourgeois liberalization" around the city, including outside the major tourist hotels. Guests at the Minzu witnessed this first-hand. I noticed that the young men who worked on my floor were unusually agitated on Thursday. They spoke no English, and even if they did, hotel workers were less than eager to talk with foreigners for fear of being spotted by any undercover agents milling about.
I discovered later that day the source of their agitation. The government had ordered the hotel to hang one of those banners condemning "bourgeois liberalization" from the front of the large building, and the staff was none too happy about it. It was no secret where their sentiments lay.
The hotel staff was not alone. A Hong Kong Standard article by Tammy Tam revealed that a growing number of Chinese Communist Party members had resigned in protest against the Central Committee's crackdown on the pro-democracy demonstrations, as well as 100 teachers at Beijing University. I wondered if these 100 individuals were the ones Professor Bai was referring to when he said 100 intellectuals were poised to begin another hunger strike.
Wang Peigong, a playwright at the Beijing Youth Arts Academy, was one of the resignees. "The party is going further away from the people. I just cannot keep in line with such a party," said Mr. Wang, who quit the party after hearing Li Peng's May 19th speech that accused the students of causing turmoil. Mr. Wang wrote a long letter explaining his decision on May 23rd and gave it to his working unit's party committee.
"I'm a party member with 24-year membership. I have worked very hard in order to be accepted by the party which I have loved and trusted so much. I wrote my application for joining the party when I was only 16 years old when I was still a soldier in the air force in Hubei. I was only accepted by the party four years later. But now I've made such a contradictory decision. Why? Because I think the nature of the party is changing, it is separating itself from the people. And I cannot understand many things in the party. How can the party's general secretary become a head of the antiparty clique?" Wang asked, referring to Zhao Zhang.
"The party had a bright period when it really represented the interests of the people and was really trusted and supported by people. But it has made a series of serious mistakes in the past years, and what makes me most disappointed is that it still believes itself to be representing the interests of people when it is turning to oppose their interests. What makes it more ridiculous is that some leaders within our party still use force to obtain unity in the way people think."
Mr. Wang went on to say that party members who agreed to support the party line were forced to repudiate their position when party leaders reversed their stand. He disliked having to repudiate his views, and said he felt "helpless to change the bad habits within our party as a common party member." Wang said party leaders "should thoroughly consider why more and more people ask to quit the party."
Mr. He Xilin, a teacher in the Central Academy of Fine Arts, quit the party because he was disillusioned with the political system.
"Quitting the party does not mean that I oppose the party. I still hope it can make progress and believe that there are many excellent members in the party," said Mr. He, who was one of the teachers who had joined the students? hunger strike in mid-May. "I was so disappointed and sad that the government just turned a blind eye to the hunger strikers and I made the decision on May 17th, the fourth day of the hunger strike, when the party and government leaders still could not come out to talk to the students."
Out of the remaining four articles on page 10 of the Hong Kong Standard, there was an even split. Two articles pointed to the continuing strength of the pro-democracy movement and Zhao Zhang's reformist faction in the Communist Party. The other two, however, contained ominous portents of what lay ahead.
The good news was that a just-published book on Zhao was selling faster than bookstores could keep up with. Despite recurring rumors that Zhao had lost the power struggle to Deng and Li and was under house arrest, and that he hadn't been heard from since his tearful visit to the hunger-striking students in Tiananmen Square on May 19th, Zhao was still popular in the capital. It was well known that he was the only Politburo member who had opposed martial law and openly advocated a dialogue with the students as the least costly way to end the crisis, and no one had forgotten his characterization of the student demonstrations as patriotic in a May 4th speech.
The other hopeful sign was that the organizer of a signature campaign which called for an emergency meeting of the National People's Congress Standing Committee revealed that 57 Standing Committee members had signed the petition. This was the same congress meeting that Wang had been counting so much on, and now I understood why. Wang worked in the Institute of History at the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences, known to be a strong base of support for Zhao Zhang. The organizer of the petition was none other than Cao Siyuan, director of the Research Institute of Social Development under the Stone Computer Company, a private think tank that was also extremely close to Zhao.
Cao said the campaign was designed to reflect public opinion on the political unrest in Beijing, and that it was in accordance with the constitution. He said that those Standing Committee members who had denied signing the petition were not telling the truth. Cao responded to charges in the People's Daily that there were ulterior motives underlying Stone's participation in the campaign.
"This is the first step of the authorities to attack participants in the ongoing pro-democracy movement. They tried to put pressure on Stone by laying groundless charges against us. We won't be scared by the warnings and we will try to strengthen the position by insisting on the campaign," he said.
Cao went on to say that the Stone Company might take legal action against the People's Daily and China Central Television for their false accusations of ulterior motives.
"We acted in the capacity of Chinese citizens and we just exercised our rights to call on our representatives in the parliament to reflect the people's views in the meeting. What's wrong with such actions?" he wanted to know. Cao said that the Stone Institute was thinking of waging another signature campaign which would call for an emergency meeting of the entire National People's Congress after the Standing Committee met on June 20th.
"The National People's Congress is the actual highest power organ of the state and it has the power to override the decision of the Standing Committee," he stated. Cao said that 600 NPC signatures would have to be collected in order to convene the NPC. He said the Stone Company was not afraid of any punishment the authorities may attempt to inflict, saying the institute would fight the government in the courts.
Mr. Cao was not seeing the handwriting on Beijing's walls. And he apparently hadn't read the other two articles on page 10 of the Hong Kong Standard. One article reported that Chinese ministers were again taking part in normal diplomatic and public activities--a sign that the power struggle was over and the government was regaining its unity and stability. Chinese Foreign Minister Qian Qichen had just left Beijing for a tour of Ecuador, Cuba and the United States, where he was schedule to meet US Secretary of State James Baker. It was Mr. Qian's first trip overseas since the student demonstrations began in mid-April. Since martial law's imposition two weeks earlier, Chinese diplomats had rarely appeared at diplomatic or public occasions, and had even refused invitations by foreign embassies.
The other article was even more telling. Two high ranking generals in the People's Liberation Army (PLA) thought to have been purged were mentioned in the People's Daily, indicating that the military was unified. The Daily reported that General Hong Huezhi, deputy secretary general of the Party's Central Military Commission, which Deng Xiaoping headed, had visited troops outside Beijing earlier in the week. He was quoted as telling them they should appreciate the importance of martial law and make greater efforts to "guarantee the security of the capital and curb turmoil."
The Liberation Army Daily, mouthpiece of the PLA, said General Qin Jiwei, China's Defense Minister, had sent a wreath to the funeral of an air force officer on May 20th, the day martial law was imposed.
Rumors had been circulating in the capital that the two generals were members of the "anti-party" clique led by Zhao, and had been accused by hard-liners of not having done enough to suppress the student protests when they began in mid-April. The fact that they were back in favor with the People's Daily indicated they had survived the power struggle.
The three photographs on that same page 10 were additional signs that the hardwires were on the march. One showed a group of policemen chanting slogans in Huairou, a town 50 kilometers northeast of Beijing, during another pro-government demonstration. Another pictured several patriotic PLA soldiers cleaning streets near Tiananmen Square, picking up the mess left by the "troublemakers." The third photo showed workers removing anti-government posters from a wall of the Forbidden City.
The authorities were forced to relocated the Children's Day ceremonies from Tiananmen to an other location. For their part, as Wang promised, the students had their own Children's Day festivities in the square, a joyous occasion complete with dancing and signing. Children brought ice cream cones, toy stuffed animals and money for the students, who signed autographs with messages such as "When you go to college, may you never have to endure the hardship of a hunger strike."
But there were even more overt indications of escalating tensions in the city on Thursday. Reports were circulating of increased army movement outside Beijing, while the government was stepping up its martial law warnings to the press prohibiting any coverage of the demonstrations. More than a dozen military motorcycles with sidecars, followed by jeeps, sped down the major streets of Beijing. The government was flexing its muscles. Deng Xiaoping had seen enough.
By late Thursday night I felt much better, so I spent it writing an article for the San Francisco Examiner. I didn't finish it until almost 2 am, when I hopped on my bike and raced down Changan to the Beijing Hotel and its fax facilities. Amazingly, the people in the fax office acted like they couldn't care less about the content of my fax or its whereabouts. The young man and woman were very friendly and cooperative, and if they had any orders to censor outgoing faxes, they weren't following them. This was one more illustration of the paralysis afflicting the government since the outbreak of the Beijing Spring. Though the hard-liners were clearly consolidating their position, they still were not able to prohibit Western journalists from faxing home uncensored reports right under the government's nose.
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