The disgraced Chinese communist leader Zhao Ziyang (趙紫陽), who died recently, lived in relative anonymity imposed on him by his successors. And they made sure that his death would be as much of a non-event as they could. There was some expectation that Zhao's death might become a catalyst for protest, as was the case when premier Zhou Enlai (周恩來) died in January 1976, and subsequently with Chinese Communist Party (CCP) secretary-general Hu Yaobang's (胡耀邦) death. Hu's death triggered the democracy protests leading to the Tiananmen Square massacre of June 1989.
Zhao's efforts to moderate the party's violent response to the student protest were overruled, and he was dismissed from all posts for "supporting the turmoil." He spent the rest of his life under virtual house arrest.
One might well ask: Why did his death pass virtually unnoticed in China? There is a view among some China scholars, encouraged by Beijing, suggesting that politics has been subsumed by economics, ie, the Chinese are mesmerized by their country's growth and have no time for politics.
As one Australian scholar has argued, in the context of how even Mao Zedong (毛澤東) has been commodified. "What we are witnessing, the German sociologist Ulrich Beck would argue, is a very political form of depoliticization. In this sense, one can indeed say that political reform has been visited upon China. It came, however, not in the form of institutional transformation of the state-based political system that swept away the Communist Party, but in a far subtler yet profoundly life-transforming manner. No longer are people enthralled by the political, or even intimidated by it."
In other words, it is "the end of history" argument (used by Francis Fukuyama in another context) for China because its communist leadership has perfected the system, allowing them to rule forever. The problem, though, is that China's rulers go to extraordinary lengths to control dissent. If people were politically apathetic, Beijing wouldn't need to ban political dissent and protest and outlaw movements like Falun Gong, whose followers are rotting in Chinese jails.
Besides, the argument that economics has subsumed politics simply ignores the 800 million to 900 million people living in rural and regional China.
China's so-called miracle economy is the story of urban economic growth, with its attendant problems of urban squalor, labor exploitation and social alienation. It is in many ways a robber-baron economy based on what a perceptive writer has called "the marketization of power" and "the carving up of state property by China's power elite."
As Zue Xueqin has written, "To talk about reform [economic growth] while ignoring the political content of Chinese economic structures is to weave a set of the emperor's new clothes." In other words, the new economy is politics in another garb, but this time to entrench and perpetuate the power and wealth of the party elite and their hangers-on. Therefore, to imply or suggest that China has found the ultimate solution by virtually superseding politics is delusional.
Even those commentators who see China as an unstoppable economic juggernaut and a superpower of the future concede that China has huge problems. Paul Sheehan, an Australian journalist who often interviews Fu Ying, China's ambassador in Canberra, and calls her "a beauty," highlighted some of these problems in a rather laudatory commentary. For instance, China's "800 million rural people have yet to share in the economic miracle."
At the same time, China's water supply is under considerable stress. Four hundred cities are said to be short of water and the "watertable is being depleted faster than it can be replenished" with China's "unsustainable thirst."
China is also starting to export its problems elsewhere. Some of its neighbors are being hard hit by it. For instance: "In Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia, which depend on the lifeblood of the Mekong River, the river's flow has been seriously diminished by dams in China. Last year, the Mekong was the lowest in its history."
China will soon put severe pressure on the global food supply because of its inability to feed itself. This will result in an upward pressure on prices, making things even worse for the world's poor. It will, though, mean new economic opportunities for food exporting countries such as Australia. As Sheehan points out, "That's why the Chinese ambassador talks about the complementary nature of the Chinese and Australian economies. It is potentially a strategic alignment." In this equation Australia will become one of China's key suppliers of raw materials, energy and food grains.
What it means is that as China's economy expands it will go all out to tie up its requirements of raw materials, energy and food from surplus countries. It will mean doing commercial deals, using coercive diplomacy and projecting power to suit different situations. In other words, China will be aggressively competing for scarce resources, which has the potential of creating conflict and war.
China has already dispatched submarine and surveillance vessels to spy in Japanese waters. It is scouring for possible oil and gas prospecting sites. As China projects its military power, Japan regards it as a security threat. Therefore, we have this situation with China determined to proclaim a Monroe Doctrine of sorts in the Asia-Pacific region, with Japan gearing to resist.
Within China an aggressive display of nationalism against Japan and Taiwan is regarded as a useful exercise in legitimacy for the CCP. China's rulers are a self-appointed lot without any popular mandate. Not surprisingly, therefore, they are very edgy about any signs of challenge to their monopoly of power. Even though Zhao had been out of power for 15 years and a virtual prisoner, Beijing deployed considerable police force to prevent any popular demonstrations in Tiananmen Square.
All the talk of China's superpower status, with prospects of settling historical scores, is mesmerizing China's new middle class, particularly its youth. One of the Web sites devoted to spewing hate against Japan had one contributor saying: "I'm 30 and a fire burns in my heart. Only war [with Japan] can extinguish these flames."
China's rulers might find this a useful safety valve to distract people's frustrations with the regime over a litany of issues, but it is a dangerous exercise. Trying to ignite a powder keg can destroy those stoking the fire.
Sushil Seth is a freelance writer based in Sydney.
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