Tiananmen villain seeks to clear
his name By Kent Ewing
HONG KONG - The man long portrayed as one
of the arch villains in the Chinese government's
bloody crackdown on pro-democracy demonstrators in
Tiananmen Square 23 years ago yesterday now claims
to be its chief scapegoat.
In a book
released last week in Hong Kong, former Beijing
mayor Chen Xitong - 81 this year and in the late
stages of colon cancer - makes an effort to clear
his name and put himself on the right side of
Tiananmen history along with famous reformers like
Hu Yaobang and Zhao Ziyang, who were both purged
as Communist Party leaders for their liberal
ideas.
If true, the book, Conversations
with Chen Xitong, compiled by scholar Yao
Jianfu, dramatically changes perceptions of a key
figure in this dark
chapter in modern Chinese history.
It has
long been believed that Chen was a hardliner who
was instrumental in persuading then paramount
leader Deng Xiaoping to mount a military assault
on student-led protestors who, demanding
democratic reforms, had occupied the square for
nearly two months in the spring of 1989.
By some accounts, Chen even exaggerated
the security threat represented by the students in
his efforts to convince Deng to launch the brutal
operation, which started on the night of June 3
and spilled over into the next day, restoring
order but leaving hundreds, if not thousands, dead
while also killing any further debate about
political reform in China.
The Tiananmen
protests were initially sparked by the death of
Hu, a former general secretary of the party who
had become a rallying symbol for reformers. Zhao,
Hu's successor as general secretary, was removed
for opposing the crackdown and placed under house
arrest until his death, at age 85, in January of
2005.
Zhao's memoirs, Journey of
Reforms, secretly recorded while he was under
house arrest in Beijing, were also published in
Hong Kong, by New Century Press, on May 29, 2009,
just days ahead of the 20th anniversary of the
crackdown.
But Zhao's memoirs - full of
criticism of Beijing's authoritarian rule and
praise for Western-style democracy - are
consistent with the accepted Tiananmen narrative
that ties his fall to his support for the ideals
promoted by the students during those fateful
seven weeks of hope and despair in 1989.
Yao's book of conversations with Chen,
also published by New Century, defies that
narrative, however. In a series of eight
interviews conducted between January 2011 and
April 2012, Chen depicts himself as a closet
liberal who had nothing to do with the decision to
unleash the PLA on the demonstrators, calling the
violent suppression of the Tiananmen protests "a
regrettable tragedy that could have been avoided".
While he wanted to bring an end to "the
turbulence" of the demonstrations, Chen tells Yao,
he did not advocate bloodshed.
"Nobody
should have died if it was handled properly," Chen
is quoted as saying. "Several hundred people died
that day. As the mayor, I felt sorry. I hoped we
would solve the case peacefully. Many things are
still not clear, but I believe one day the truth
will come out."
But can Chen's newly
minted description of his role in the carnage that
occurred that day be trusted?
After all,
this is the same man who, on June 30, 1989, was
chosen by the Chinese leadership to deliver the
official report on the crackdown to the Standing
Committee of the National People's Congress. At
that time, Chen called the pro-democracy
demonstrations "a counter-revolutionary riot" that
justified the use of force - a stance that the
Chinese government has maintained to this day.
As Chen relates the story to Yao, however,
although he dutifully read the report, he had no
hand in writing it and did not endorse its
findings.
"I faithfully read the article
they [Deng and other leaders] prepared for me,
even down to every last piece of punctuation," he
said.
At least in part due to his loyalty
during the Tiananmen debacle, Chen was promoted to
Beijing party secretary and appointed to the
ruling Politburo: a loyal bureaucratic soldier was
receiving his just rewards.
Clearly,
Chen's star was on the rise; if he had secret
liberal leanings, he kept them well hidden.
Soon, however, Chen's political career
would come crashing down in circumstances that he
now compares to the recent fall of Chongqing party
boss Bo Xilai, who stands accused of "serious
disciplinary violations" that are likely to turn
into charges of corruption; meanwhile, Bo's wife,
Gu Kailai, has been arrested for the murder of
British businessman Neil Heywood.
Like Bo
earlier this year and former Shanghai party chief
Chen Liangyu, who was deposed in 2006, the
ambitious Chen got caught up in a power struggle
with the ruling elite and was strung up on
corruption charges.
As the leader of the
so-called "Beijing clique", Chen was seen as a
rival to then President Jiang Zemin, head of the
"Shanghai clique." Rumors have long circulated
that Jiang suspected Chen of undermining him in a
damning letter written to Deng and that Bo Yibo -
the late father of Bo Xilai and one of the
party's' "eight immortals" - had informed Jiang
about the contents of that letter.
Whatever the case, Chen was arrested for
corruption in 1995. Three years later, he was
convicted of accepting 550,000 yuan (US$86,000) in
bribes and dipping into public coffers to build
luxury homes for himself. He was sentenced to 16
years in Qingcheng Prison - ironically, the same
damp, dark, secretive place where many of the
Tiananmen student leaders were jailed.
He
was released in 2006 on medical parole and appears
to be a dying man worrying over his legacy. He
tells Yao that he never tried to bring down Jiang
and suggests that the corruption charges against
him were all a fabricated product of Jiang's
paranoia.
"I have never treated Jiang as
an enemy," Chen said. "I resolutely supported
Jiang and respected him."
Chen calls his
corruption conviction "the biggest injustice since
the Cultural Revolution" and denies all charges
made against him. Indeed, it seems the dark
cloud of corruption that hangs over his record
troubles him more than what he characterizes as
his passive but reluctant role in the decision to
send tanks rolling into Tiananmen Square 23 years
ago.
While he was in prison, Chen says, he
refused the monthly allowance of 3,500 yuan
(US$550) to which he was entitled as a way of
demonstrating that he did not accept the court
ruling against him, adding that his conversations
with Yao were motivated by the repeated rebuffs he
received when he appealed to authorities for a
review of his case.
"I have no choice but
to speak out," he said. "This is to defend the
truth, and it is in line with our party's
principle. If the People's Supreme Court cannot
reverse my case, their claim of judicial
independence is a lie."
Ultimately,
history will be the judge in Chen's case. In the
meantime, another June 4th anniversary has come
and gone. Once again, with Beijing under a
security lockdown, tens of thousands of people
attended the annual candlelight tribute to the
Tiananmen victims in Hong Kong's Victoria Park,
and other poignant remembrances were held around
the world calling on the Chinese government to
reverse its verdict on the 1989 pro-democracy
movement as a "counter-revolutionary rebellion".
As of today, that verdict remains
unchanged.
Kent Ewing is a Hong
Kong-based teacher and writer. He can be reached
at kewing56@gmail.com Follow him on Twitter:
@KentEwing1
(Copyright 2012 Asia Times
Online (Holdings) Ltd. All rights reserved. Please
contact us about sales, syndication and
republishing.)
Head
Office: Unit B, 16/F, Li Dong Building, No. 9 Li Yuen Street East,
Central, Hong Kong Thailand Bureau:
11/13 Petchkasem Road, Hua Hin, Prachuab Kirikhan, Thailand 77110
