The memoirs of Zhao Ziyang provide insight into what China would be like
today if the 1989 democracy movement had prevailed.
STR/AFP/Getty Images
Last democratic words: Zhao Ziyang speaks through a megaphone to striking students in Tiananmen Square in 1989 just weeks before the government used force to put down the protests.
We must establish that [the] final goal of
political reform is the realization of this advanced political system. If we
don't move towards this goal, it will be impossible to resolve the abnormal
conditions in China's market economy."
One of the most sincere advocates for an "advanced political system" in China -- a system
that included an independent judiciary, freedom of the press, and the right of
citizens to organize (in a word, democracy) -- was not a disenchanted dissident
or an armchair academic. Writing at the most unlikely of times, the man was Zhao
Ziyang, secretary general of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP). Zhao was
toppled in 1989 after trying to peacefully negotiate with student demonstrators
-- like myself -- in Tiananmen Square. His fall paved the way for hard-liners,
under the leadership of CCP official Deng Xiaoping, to crush the demonstrations
with soldiers and tanks on the morning of June 4, 1989. In one bold, violent
stroke, the one-party regime, teetering on the verge of collapse, found
reprieve. Zhao's vision of a more moderate democratic future, one
meticulously documented in his recently released memoirs, vanished from the
scene, its author put under house arrest.
There could hardly be a better
time for Prisoner of the State: The
Secret Journal of Premier Zhao Ziyang to be published, as the memoirs will
be in both English and Chinese this week. Early June marks the 20th anniversary
of Tiananmen Square -- a memory that will certainly remind China of the democratic
ideals left behind in tragedy. Reading Zhao's account, I -- and no doubt other
readers -- cannot help but imagine what China would be like today if Zhao had
prevailed in June 1989. What if the dissenters who stood firmly before the
government in Tiananmen Square had gained Zhao has a powerful ally to their cause? Would China have
devolved into political chaos? Or would it be a robust democracy, steeped in
cultural freedoms, social justice, and economic vibrancy? In seeking to answer
that question about the past, we can learn much about the present: a China that
in terms of its political system and tendency toward authoritarianism has evolved
little since 1989, and yet has become both the United States' second-largest trading
partner and its most significant competitor.
Looking back at the crucial
moment in 1989, it is first important to keep in mind how easily things might
have turned in a different direction. China's movement toward democracy in
1989 was not as far-fetched as it might seem today. In fact, support for the
democratic movement was so great that it caused an unprecedented split within
the CCP leadership. A quarter or even a third of the officials in Beijing
joined the protesters. Most of the rest were sympathetic toward the students.
The degree of dissatisfaction within the party was very high, and many agreed
with the protesters that the CCP had lost any pretense of being a "people's"
party and had become a self-serving elite.
That disillusionment came from
a series of market-oriented reforms begun a decade earlier, in 1978. Although the
changes produced rapid economic growth, they also led to contradictions:
opening the economy negated the moral authority of the Communist revolution and
unleashed unbridled corruption in its place. The 1989 democracy movement had
two slogans. One was "Freedom and democracy," and the other was
"No official business dealings, no corruption." After Tiananmen Square protesters were quashed and their government
sympathizers, like Zhao, sidelined, corruption blossomed just as much as
China's GDP (the fastest-growing among developed states over the last 25 years) has.
It didn't have to be this way. If
the democracy movement had succeeded, the CCP would likely still be the ruling
party. But its policies and goals would have evolved more democratically under Zhao's
leadership. In the last chapter of his memoirs, the former general-secretary of
CCP praises the Western system of parliamentary democracy and says it is the
only way for China to address corruption and inequality. He would no doubt
have led the country down this path.
Zhao's reforms, one might
imagine, would have proceeded at a purposeful but amenable pace, beginning with
an opening of partial freedoms of assembly and demonstration. Student
organizations would have become lawful, eventually precipitating a lift on
the ban on political parties. The press would likewise feel a weight lifted,
and the country's National People's Congress would have become more than a
rubber-stamp assembly. Public participation would have followed, with public
debate emerging on difficult questions from ethnic relations, to foreign
affairs, to government corruption, to HIV/AIDS and the environment. In other
words, China would have embarked on a peaceful transition to democracy. A
democratic China -- one that followed Zhao's model -- would have prospered
economically, too.