A Death in the Lucky Holiday Hotel
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His relatively enlightened approach to the events of 1989 was canceled out by his persecution of practitioners of Falun Gong. Falun Gong, which claimed to have millions of adherents worldwide, alleged that thousands have died of torture during incarceration. It has gone so far as to allege that, in some cases, the government harvested their organs. Jiang has been portrayed by Falun Gong as an “evil enemy of the public,” and practitioners filed multiple lawsuits against Jiang and other senior leaders overseas.
In addition, Jiang adeptly employed the Central Commission for Discipline Inspection to consolidate power and eliminate his opponents under the guise of corruption. One example was Chen Xitong, the former party chief of Beijing, who reportedly obstructed Jiang’s policies with a group of like-minded officials known as the “Beijing clique.”
On April 5, 2005, when the deputy mayor of Beijing, a close friend of Chen Xitong, was found shot dead in what was determined to be a suicide near an official guest house after he received news that he would be investigated, Jiang used the shooting as an excuse to take action against Chen. In July 1995, Jiang ordered the Central Commission for Discipline Inspection to review Chen’s case and hand its findings to the court. In February 1998, Chen was officially arrested on charges of corruption and dereliction of duty. The Supreme People’s Court in Beijing sentenced Chen to sixteen years imprisonment. In the official verdict, the scope of the crime was much smaller than previously reported. He was charged with accepting about US $80,000 worth of gifts from foreigners without declaring or turning it over to the government. Between 1990 and 1992, he used about US $4.2 million in municipal construction funds to build two villas in the suburbs of Beijing, allegedly as investments for the government. He and his friends simply brought their mistresses over for extended stays in the villas, spending US $40,000 on food and entertainment and service charges.
Overseas media concluded that the Chen Xitong’s case was politically motivated, an apparent scheme by Jiang to intimidate his political opponents and consolidate his power base. The fall of Chen led to the convictions of more officials inside the Beijing municipal government.
In the years after 1997, with the deaths of Deng Xiaoping and other revolutionary veterans, Jiang safely occupied the paramount leader’s seat and elevated many of his supporters from Shanghai to high positions within the party, the military, and the government to ensure his legacy was preserved and his family interests were protected.
At the time of his retirement in 2002, his followers even proposed creating a national security committee to institutionalize Jiang’s paramount position. In the end, Jiang reluctantly jettisoned the idea. He understood clearly that the Chinese people, including the 70 million Communist Party members, had long detested the bloody power struggles. People could no longer accept leaders with lifelong tenures. If Jiang dared to go against the current, the gigantic ship of the Communist Party—rotten and riddled with holes—was in danger of capsizing. Thus, Jiang stepped down, continuing the peaceful transition process started by Deng Xiaoping.
Since Jiang’s retirement, his name has never failed to appear at the top, right beneath Hu’s, at important events. Insiders know the name order is not merely ceremonial. There used to be a popular saying: “Deng Xiaoping’s power was felt by his mysterious absence, but Jiang Zemin reveals his power by his constant presence.” In 2006, when Hu Jintao ordered the detention of Chen Liangyu, the former party secretary of Shanghai and a Jiang protégé, many thought Chen’s downfall was part of a move by Hu to purge the party of Jiang supporters. It did not take long for analysts to realize that Chen’s arrest was at the behest of Jiang Zemin, who felt betrayed by Chen, who allegedly had slighted members of Jiang’s family on numerous occasions. A team of investigators from the Central Commission for Discipline Inspection was stationed in Shanghai for months collecting and examining the evidence against Chen. In September 2006, Chen was dismissed for alleged corruption related to the misuse of money in Shanghai’s social security fund. The state media portrayed him as a corrupt official who had multiple mistresses. In April 2008, Chen was sentenced to eighteen years in prison on charges of dereliction of duty, abuse of power, and accepting bribes.
Such abuse of the power invested in the Central Commission for Discipline Inspection added to a sense of insecurity among the ruling elite. When Bo Xilai was detained for investigation, many people thought of Chen Xitong and Chen Liangyu: both men had headed large Chinese cities and both had been brought down by Jiang Zemin.
Jiang’s lingering power was also illustrated by his critical role in the choice of Hu Jintao as president.
In October 2007, when the Party Congress concluded, many political analysts were surprised to note that Xi Jinping, a princeling and party chief of Shanghai, was anointed heir apparent to the country’s top post, rather than President Hu Jintao’s favorite, Li Keqiang, the party chief of Liaoning province. As time went by, many behind-the-scenes negotiations were taking place, and the media found plenty of leaks. According to sources, Xi Jinping’s rise was the work of Jiang and his allies. As conditions for their retirement, several of Jiang’s allies forced Hu to compromise and accept Xi Jinping as the next party general secretary. Skeptics refused to believe the story until 2009, when Xi Jinping visited Germany and presented a special gift to German Chancellor Angela Merkel: a collection of Jiang Zemin’s writing.
Xi Jinping was not the only princeling who enjoyed the backing of Jiang Zemin. He was also said to have taken Bo Xilai under his wing early in Bo’s early career. Though unconfirmed, Bo Xilai’s father, one of the party veterans in the Deng era, secretly advised and helped Jiang in the early 1990s, when Deng Xiaoping’s confidence in Jiang wavered and he was contemplating whether to fire him; Jiang repaid the support at such a crucial time by helping Bo Xilai.
However, as time went by, Bo Xilai gradually lost favor with Jiang, who disliked his protégé’s deceptive personality and unabashed political ambitions. A friend of Jiang Zemin’s son shared the following story over dinner at a restaurant in Manhattan:
In the late 1990s, at the invitation of Mayor Bo Xilai, Jiang visited Dalian. In an effort to please Jiang, Bo Xilai put up many life-size posters of Jiang all over the city. However, the day after Jiang left, Bo had his staff members tear down all the Jiang posters. The news reportedly upset Jiang, who saw Bo as a mere sycophant. More important, Jiang was said to be shocked when he saw the two gigantic white marbled ornamental pillars in Dalian’s Xinhai Square—the pillars, symbols of the emperor’s imperial power, are only seen in front of Forbidden City in Tiananmen Square.
The Bo Xilai scandal turned into an unexpected opportunity for Jiang Zemin, who many had thought incapacitated by poor health. In April, when Bo was under investigation, the Politburo Standing Committee remained divided on how to approach the Bo issue and President Hu Jintao displayed his trademark hesitancy. Both the anti-Bo and pro-Bo factions looked to Jiang Zemin for guidance. The patriarch did not disappoint. He was one of the first veterans to speak out forcefully against Bo Xilai. His widely circulated words, “Bo has crossed the basic line of human civilization,” dealt a devastating blow to Bo’s supporters.
In April 2012, Jiang made more and more public appearances. He first met with the chief of the coffee chain Starbucks and then showed up at a musical at the National Center for Performing Arts. The state media carried a big photo and an enthusiastic description:
Jiang Zemin walked into the theater in big strides. He was glowing with health and radiating vigor. The audience gave the former president Jiang a long-lasting standing ovation.
The message was clear—Jiang was healthy and would play a critical role in the Bo Xilai case. He traveled to Beijing and met with senior leaders within the party and the military to affirm support for the removal of Bo Xilai.
In September 2012, when President Hu Jintao’s chief of staff, Ling Jihua, was demoted, Jiang and his protégés jumped at the opportunity to purge Hu’s allies in the Politburo. Jiang and his desi
gnated successor, Xi Jinping, reshuffled the original lineup and successfully placed reliable allies in the Politburo Standing Committee, extending Jiang’s influence for another decade.
Although many political leaders become more conservative in retirement, Jiang seems to have done the opposite and adopted a more radical stance. Credible rumors suggest Jiang intends to protect his legacy by instructing his successors to implement political reform. In October, a close friend of the Jiang family quoted Jiang as warning the Politburo members at a small gathering that “if the Chinese Communist Party doesn’t initiate any political reforms, we could be toppled by a coup and end up tragically.” According to the same source, Jiang has repeatedly urged senior leaders in August to reverse the party’s position on the demands of the 1989 Tiananmen Square movement. “We can’t drag it on any longer. We need to have a plan to resolve this issue and approach the issue step by step,” he allegedly said.
There has been no confirmation of Jiang’s words, or of his intent, but this account shows how Jiang’s loyalists are attempting to boost his legacy as an open- and reform-minded leader. Like Emperor Kangxi, Jiang’s biggest contribution may well be his effort to afford a smooth path for Xi Jinping’s ascension, even if it means eliminating another princeling. By destroying Bo Xilai for good, Jiang not only helps Xi remove a visible challenger, but also deters potential challengers in the future.
THE WINNER IS . . . “HAIL TO THE NEW CHIEF”
IT WAS SUPPOSED to be a winner’s celebration, the successful culmination of years of careful planning and sifting of candidates, but it felt more like a wake. On November 8, 2012, the much-anticipated 18th Chinese Communist Party Congress met in Beijing. More than 2,200 delegates from across the country descended on the capital city for the quinquennial meeting to set new directions for the party and select the party’s new leaders. The event marked a happy ending to what the state media called a “golden age” under President Hu Jintao and the beginning of a new era.
To mark this festive occasion, party censors issued directives to TV and radio stations nationwide, urging them to broadcast laudatory pro-party programs and banning any songs that contained inauspicious messages or words. A musician in Beijing tweeted that a radio station had allegedly removed a well-known love song called “Love You to Death” off the air simply because of the word “death.”
However, at the opening ceremony, references to death reverberated inside the cavernous Great Hall of the People. First on the agenda, outgoing party General Secretary Hu Jintao asked delegates to observe a three-minute silence to pay tribute to deceased Communist founders such as Mao Zedong and Deng Xiaoping. The somber mood pervaded as Hu delivered, his face fixed in his signature stern expression, a one-hour-forty-minute speech, in which he issued a dire warning to his fellow party officials and made some gloomy allusions:
Combating corruption and promoting political integrity, which is a major political issue of great concern to the people, is a clear-cut and long-term political commitment of the party. If we fail to handle this issue well, it could prove fatal to the party, and even cause the collapse of the party and the fall of the state.
Reuters and other Western news organizations published revealing photos of delegate reaction during Hu’s largely empty speech, which was filled with political jargon from a bygone era. Some delegates, especially the party elders who lined the front row on the podium, yawned, picked their noses, or dozed off; others looked distracted, as if they were listening to some long-winded eulogy that had little to do with them.
“The Party Congress without Bo Xilai is dull and stifling,” observed a princeling—the son of a military leader who was reluctant to disclose his name. “Bo had more personality and he was an unpredictable wild horse. His Chongqing model created a healthy dissenting voice within the party. The country’s problems need different approaches and models. With his defeat by a small group of narrow-minded dictators, deathly silence reigns.”
Such comments made the senior leadership nervous. Outside the Great Hall of the People, thousands of plainclothes police hovered around Tiananmen Square like specters. The Beijing municipal government had reportedly mobilized 1.4 million police and volunteers to prevent any disorder in public places during the Party Congress. Human rights groups claimed dissidents and petitioners were rounded up and many forced to leave the city. Taxi drivers were told to close their windows and remove window handles to prevent passengers from distributing anti-party leaflets when passing sensitive parts of the city. Kitchen knives were said to have been removed from store shelves, and there was even a rumor that authorities were on the lookout for seditious messages on ping-pong balls, which would be tossed out on the streets. Police inside toy stores asked customers to show their ID cards when buying remote-controlled model planes.
Despite the tension outside, the public reaction was a collective sigh of relief when the lackadaisical opening was broadcast on state media—there had been speculation that the Party Congress would have to be delayed until 2013 due to the Bo Xilai scandal.
Over the following week, many Chinese chose to skip the dull proceedings—for example, the party’s work report or approving amendments to the party charter, pro forma proceedings required for the bureaucracy but of little interest to the public—and went about their lives. But the key broadcast, the unveiling of the new leadership lineup at the conclusion of the congress, was a must-see because it would reveal the direction their lives would take for the decade. People were concerned about how the leadership would reverse a slowing economy while tackling the party’s rampant corruption.
Since the mid-1980s, the Communist Party has installed new leaders every ten years in even-number party congresses, and nominated prospective successors in odd-number party congresses. In theory, delegates select through a competitive election system 390 members and alternates for the Central Party Committee, which is in turn charged with appointing the general secretary and members of the Politburo (twenty-five members), the most powerful decision-making body of the party. The Politburo elects from among its number a group who will form the Politburo Standing Committee, in which is vested supreme power over the country.
All Politburo Standing Committee members are predetermined by party power brokers, including party elders such as former president Jiang Zemin, outgoing president Hu Jintao, and other members of Politburo Standing Committee. Delegates merely rubber-stamp whatever list is presented to them. The Party Congress is not a place for debate, but for validation of decisions by the leadership.
There is no great secrecy about who is being considered. As in previous years, political insiders showed me a list of the leadership lineup for both the party and the military in September 2012, but since then, a number of changes were made. The final list had yet to be determined just days it was due to be endorsed. Names were added, others deleted as the various factions in the party argued for and against candidates.
Before August 2012, the Bo Xilai scandal further perpetuated the public’s negative perception of princelings as a privileged, corrupt, and law-defying group and the polarization of views among princelings weakened its bargaining power over the leadership lineup, giving President Hu and his youth leaguer faction the upper hand. However, following the overseas media expose of the Ferrari incident involving the son of President Hu Jintao’s chief of staff, Ling Jihua, the princelings had the opportunity to turn the tide. At the same time, Li Yuanchao, another President Hu protégé and strong contender for a seat on the Politburo Standing Committee, was found linked to several of Ling’s unpopular initiatives. The loss of Ling and Li seriously damaged President Hu’s credibility and undermined the chances of any candidates he put forward. It gave former president Jiang Zemin more clout over the succession, and he was able to fill six of the seven seats on the Politburo Standing Committee with his allies, three of whom are princelings.
For Xi himself, the transition to the top has not been smooth. While President Hu Jintao and Premier Wen Jiabao
became the public faces of the anti-Bo faction, Xi remained silent in public, even though he was seen as the true beneficiary of Bo’s downfall. Insiders said Xi felt conflicted about punishing Bo, even though Bo directly challenged his status as the “crown prince.” Their life experiences were so matched that Xi used to address Bo Xilai as “third brother.” In 2011, Xi visited Chongqing and lavished praise on Bo’s “Singing Red and Smashing Black” campaign and his social welfare policies. “These activities have gone deeply into the hearts of the people and are worthy of praise,” Xi was quoted as saying. “Chongqing’s public housing is a virtuous policy, a benevolent effort, and a positive exploration. We have to come up with more concrete measures that bring benefits to the people.” His enthusiastic embrace of Bo’s Chongqing model prompted Hong Kong media to report in October 2012 that Xi had promised Bo a top seat in his new leadership team. Given his past history with Bo, Xi maintained a stance of cautious detachment. The Bo Xilai scandal caused a dangerous rift among the princelings, reducing Xi’s support from this important political resource. Xi had to exclude several pro-Bo princelings in his new military leadership makeup to purge Bo’s influence in the army. There were reports that many of Bo’s close princeling friends were being investigated for corruption.
In September, Xi mysteriously disappeared from the public for two weeks—he had supposedly hurt his back, but the state media chose not to report it, leaving the foreign media to speculate about his whereabouts, with unsubstantiated reports saying Xi was under attack from party elders and fellow princelings who shared different views about the future of China. The Washington Post carried an unverified story, claiming that Xi had been hit by a chair hurled during a contentious meeting of princelings: “Xi Jinping tried to calm them down. He put himself physically in the crossfire and unwittingly into the path of a chair as it was thrown across the room. It hit him in the back, injuring him. Hence the absence, and the silence, and the rumors.” Another journalist in Beijing, Gao Yu, wrote in her blog that Xi had submitted his resignation and his mentor, former president Jiang Zemin, had sent several of his friends to get Xi to stay. The rumor swirled around Beijing as preparation for the Party Congress neared completion. What should have been a done deal—Xi’s ascension—was now open to question. Later, a source close to Xi said to me that Xi was not sick. He actually held closed-door meetings with military leaders to strategize transition. But the rumors illustrated the public’s nervousness due to the much-talked-about intense factional struggles.