Last month, after the NATO bombing of the Chinese Embassy compound in Belgrade, Wang spokeout again: he dared suggest that the airstrike was an accident. Again he is reviled as a “traitor” in Beijing–this time by campus activists much like those who marched arm in arm with him in 1989. “Now we see the true Wang Dan: he’s a dog wagging his tail for America. Is this the voice of freedom?” wrote one participant on a university bulletin board. Another warned Wang: “Be careful for your family.” Angry hackers have even attacked www.june4.org, a pro-democracy Web site featuring a petition by Wang to honor the victims of Tiananmen. The site’s Hong Kong-based creator, Lau San Ching, recently discovered that an English-language message had been added to one of its pages: F–K WANG DAN.
What could better sum up the broken dreams of post-Tiananmen China–and its shattered love affair with America? Ten years after the crackdown, Beijing was wondering whether there would be protests on June 4. Instead, the city is reeling from angry demonstrations outside the U.S. Embassy. The searing images–shouting students, shattered windows–reflect a monumental shift in China’s national mood, from pro-Western idealism a decade ago to cynical nationalism today. It has been a painful process of crumbling illusions. As communist ideology has collapsed and reforms have sparked unemployment and corruption, Beijing’s leaders have turned to nationalism to bind their fractious nation together. But the venom in the streets reflects something deeper. Increasingly, American haranguing about human rights seems hollow to the Chinese. From campaign-finance scandals to quarrels over the World Trade Organization and spies, the Americans seem to be trying to keep China down. Once so deeply in love, many Chinese feel betrayed. “We’re losing our sense of direction,” says one leading intellectual. “Why does America hate us so much? Is it just because we’re still a communist country?”
It sometimes seems as if both countries have lost their way. Powerful voices in each country accuse their counterparts of plotting to take over the world. The rhetoric is rising to a pitch not heard since the wooden slogans of the Cultural Revolution. U.S. politicians denounce China’s alleged campaign of nuclear espionage, ridiculing Beijing’s posture of wounded innocence. Across the Pacific, millions of Chinese are convinced that the bombing was deliberate, not merely an awful blunder.
Few visible traces remain of the “strategic partnership” toasted by Presidents Jiang Zemin and Bill Clinton less than a year ago. Clinton’s June 1998 trip to China was portrayed as the fulfillment of a two-decade Sino-American courtship. Jiang showed every courtesy to his guest, the first U.S. president to visit since Tiananmen. Clinton received the unprecedented privilege of addressing Chinese university students live on nationwide TV. Chinese books about the Monica Lewinsky affair were banned. But since the bombing, the backlash has been brutal. Jiang has ordered a top-level reappraisal of Sino-U.S. relations. The People’s Liberation Army has begun agitating for bigger budgets. “After Yugoslavia, NATO could spread to Russia–or even Mongolia,” speculated one Chinese official last week, apparently quite serious.
The tension surrounding American officials in Beijing has taken on a surreal tone. At a recent meeting in their paint-spattered embassy, U.S. diplomats huddled to discuss the mood in the streets. But at this meeting the diplomats were focused not on furtive whisperings from pro-democracy Chinese but on Falungong, an arcane yoga-style meditation technique. Practitioners and teachers of the discipline had alarmed Beijing’s leaders with a 20,000-strong sit-in in April–and were rumored to be planning another protest. But where? “In front of the embassy,” one diplomat wisecracked. A ghastly silence filled the room. The diplomat hastily explained: “Just joking.”
China’s leaders aren’t exactly laughing either. They are struggling to keep control of a society that is racked by centrifugal forces. While nationalism may be a handy diversion from social strife, it could spin out of control. And on the home front, the government is facing myriad new social demands. On May 22, several hundred police were deployed at Beijing’s Western Hills tourist site, evidently in response to rumors of a rally there to mark the birthday of the Falungong movement’s exiled founder, Li Hongzhi. Local authorities have been on alert ever since the first labor protests broke out in Beijing last year.
Rising nationalism reflects a very real sense of frustration with how the United States has treated China. Notably, even many pro-democracy activists had criticized the regime as “too weak” over Kosovo. In advance of June 4 the police have been rounding up members of the nascent China Democratic Party. As of late last week, some 50 activists had been detained, and more than a dozen remained in custody. Some were picked up during the height of the protests, even as they prepared to join the anti-NATO demonstrations. Says Lau, the pro-democracy Web master: “The recent demonstrations are actually a positive thing. People have exercised their right to protest.”
Some of China’s most vocal intellectuals, calling themselves the New Left, advocate an ideology they describe as “democratic nationalism.” One of the movement’s most influential authors, Wang Xiaodong, says the recent tensions have been a good thing. During the 1980s, he says, many Chinese tended to romanticize American society “even more than Americans did themselves. America was seen as a saint.” The embassy bombing, he contends, has taught the Chinese a valuable lesson in cynicism: “There’s no justice in the world. Might is right.” But Wang also insists that democratic rights are essential if China is to avoid a Soviet-style collapse.
Skepticism over the purity of America’s motives had been growing since long before the bombing. Such anxieties emerged during last month’s debate over entering the World Trade Organization. After Zhu Rongji, the reformist prime minister, offered Clinton major concessions in a bid to clinch a WTO deal, China’s press erupted with tongue-in-cheek headlines. THE WOLVES ARE REALLY COMING! cried one. (Clinton ultimately turned the deal down for fear of being called soft on Beijing.) Some Chinese social scientists still say WTO membership would be good for China. Never mind opening up the economy; that’s happening. But political scientist Liu Junning says the real value of joining WTO would be its “shock-therapy effect, forcing transparency and rule of law–and simply making everything more predictable.”
Beijing’s shock therapy will have to wait. Although Chinese officials have not suspended WTO negotiations, they say they want a good explanation for the May 7 bombing. Meanwhile, internal opposition to WTO has stiffened. “American theorists say all free trade is good,” says economic researcher Zuo Dapei of the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences. “But I believe that protection for infant industries is sometimes necessary. The bombing gives us a good excuse to cancel [Zhu’s] concessions.” Zhu said foreign investors could hold a 51 percent stake in Chinese telecom firms. Now, NEWSWEEK has learned, the figure under discussion has sunk to 25 or 30 percent.
With or without shock treatment, China is gradually becoming more pragmatic. Chinese flags flew at half-mast for the three journalists who died in the Belgrade bombing. “This was the first time since 1949 that the country has lowered its flags for ordinary citizens,” remarks one Beijing resident who found it a “very moving” gesture. “Before, it was only for state leaders.”
Perhaps the crisis of 1999 will provide some kind of catharsis for a China that is desperately searching for its pride of place. Some Chinese privately nod and wink at accidental parallels between the Tiananmen crackdown and the Belgrade bombing. In the wake of the 1999 incident the Chinese government has demanded that the Americans provide an explanation for the bloodshed, compensation for the victims and punishment for those responsible. The survivors of the 1989 unrest issued the same demands to the Chinese government–to no visible effect. Washington may yet show Beijing an example of how to display sincere regret for a tragic loss of life. Or, considering the climate these days, probably won’t. The crisis of 1999 will be remembered in Beijing as a time of good will frittered away by broken promises. Ten years after Tiananmen, China today looks at the rest of the world without illusions–it should not be surprised if its gaze is returned in the same spirit.
A Measure of Liberation China’s people have managed to claim their rights in some areas–but not others. In particular:
FREEDOM OF SPEECH: Individuals say just about anything they want, but the state-run media are more cautious. Beijing still tries to police the Internet, where anything goes.
FREEDOM OF ASSEMBLY: A crackdown on the nascent China Democratic Party has lasted since November. While brooking no organized opposition, the Politburo has tolerated protests by laid-off workers, pensioners and devotees of a yoga-type meditation called Falungong. The anti-NATO protests were not only allowed but aided by officials.
FREEDOM OF RELIGION: Roman Catholics and followers of the Dalai Lama risk harassment and persecution. But millions of Muslims and Christians are left alone as long as they do not oppose the government.
FREEDOM OF EMPLOYMENT: Once allocated work by the state, China’s youth now seek their own jobs in a highly competitive market.
REPRODUCTIVE FREEDOM: China’s strict one-child-only policy has relaxed over the past decade. Urban couples are still restricted to a single child, but rural families are allowed two.
