China

By Jill Smolowe

The opening image on the Chinese evening news program last week showed instantly that something major was afoot. Instead of his customary Western- style coat and tie, the anchorman was dressed in a somber blue-gray Mao suit. Behind his head, a backdrop of Chinese characters spelled out the legend AN ANNOUNCEMENT FROM AN ENLARGED MEETING OF THE POLITBURO. The newscaster's report was brief -- and startling. Hu Yaobang, the man widely expected to succeed Deng Xiaoping, 82, at China's helm, had resigned. Moreover, he had quit as Communist Party chief "after making a self-criticism of his mistakes on major issues." Hu would remain a member of the Politburo and retain his post on the powerful Standing Committee, but his party post would pass to Premier Zhao Ziyang.

With that announcement, the course of China's Second Revolution was suddenly called into question. A country that has gone through several abrupt changes of political direction in the past 40 years was perhaps about to face another major shift. During the past decade, Deng led the most adventurous economic reform program ever undertaken by a Communist country, and Hu, 71, was his steadfast second in command. The two pushed through economic liberalizations that freed the country from the iron hand of central planners and opened a road that appeared to lead eventually to more personal liberties.

But from the beginning Deng's revolution has faced the dilemma of combining economic and political liberalization. Could China free its economy without loosening the political system and allowing more democracy? During the past month that issue has been taken into the streets. Thousands of students around the country demonstrated for more political freedom, often burning Communist Party papers and denouncing party leaders.

Deng the Reformer has always been something of an enigma. He has strongly supported economic change while remaining wary of political reforms. Personal experiences during the chaotic Mao years, particularly the anarchy of the Cultural Revolution (1966-76), convinced Deng that even a modest amount of dissent could rapidly spin out of control. Uneasily, he let his protege explore possible avenues of change. Under Hu, members of the Communist Party went so far as to question the party's right to rule, and they encouraged greater freedom of expression among artists and intellectuals.

When the student protests erupted last month, however, Deng aborted the ) experiment. The move convinced some China watchers that Deng would sacrifice anything rather than risk political upheavals. His tough stance on the protests was made clear in the first directive of 1987 issued by the Central Committee. It quoted Deng as saying, "When necessary, we must deal severely with those who defy orders. We can afford to shed some blood. Just try as much as possible not to kill anyone."

There seems little doubt that Deng personally engineered Hu's downfall. The two men, who have been friends and ideological allies for 40 years, are said to have bitterly quarreled in recent weeks. Deng reportedly berated Hu for failing to take effective and decisive action to stop the student protests. Hu also crossed Deng by standing up for writers who have been critical of the party and its rigid policies.

However rancorous the exchanges between China's two top leaders may have been, it is unlikely that Deng acted impetuously over a clash of wills. In pushing Hu from the No. 2 spot, Deng knew he would destroy his own carefully crafted succession scheme and fuel a conservative backlash that could present serious obstacles for his economic reforms. Deng's move may have been defensive, a pre-emptive strike designed to stop conservative forces, which were revving up to exploit the student demonstrations by seeking to roll back the economic and social reforms. In short, it is quite possible that Deng simply sacrificed Hu to save his cherished modernization program.

Deng now seems bent on proving that he is not the liberal reformer optimists had hoped for. He is widely believed to have ordered up Peking's current crackdown on "bourgeois liberalism," a reference essentially to any sort of behavior that deviates from orthodox Communism. "Deng has not been forced into a weak position by the conservatives," said a Western diplomat in Peking. "This has his full support." The campaign has been likened to the movement against "spiritual pollution" mounted by the government three years ago. But, as one Western diplomat noted, "the 1984 campaign was largely rhetorical. This one is a purge."

Even before Hu's ouster, the crackdown on dissent was under way. Early last week three prominent intellectuals were singled out for "bourgeois tendencies." On Monday it was announced on television that Astrophysicist Fang Lizhi, charged with defaming party leaders and slandering socialism, had been dismissed from his post as vice president at the University of Science and Technology in Hefei, where the student protests began in early December. Fang's boss Guan Weiyan was charged with failing to keep Fang in line and was similarly dumped from his job. Writer Wang Ruowang, scolded for maintaining liberal ideas, was expelled from the Communist Party. A more cynical appraisal of the three men's crimes: they had applauded the recent exploits of the students, supported Western-style political pluralism and at one time or another enjoyed Hu's patronage.

By recent Chinese standards, the purge was mild. The two university officials were quickly reassigned to research posts in Peking, and Writer Wang essentially lost nothing more than his party card. "They are trying to have a different kind of purge," explained an East European analyst based in Peking. "They want to keep a balance between shutting off dissent and scaring all intellectuals."

Still, the atmosphere in Peking last week was redolent of more repressive days. Hu's public demotion was certainly not as cruel as the brutal treatment he received during the Cultural Revolution, when his head was shaved and he was forced to crawl on his hands and knees. But the painful return to forced self-criticism did not seem far off when Hu owned up last week to "mistakes on major issues of political principles." China's newspapers also ran self- criticism, bizarrely apologizing for stories written last fall. No less chilling was the group of scientists who appeared on the evening news to speak against Fang two days after the astrophysicist's dismissal. "These days," said a middle-aged Peking office worker, "it smells like gunpowder from the Cultural Revolution."

The odor is strongest in intellectual circles. The party expulsions left many academics, artists and writers wondering if China's intellectuals had once again been misled. In 1956 Mao launched the Hundred Flowers campaign, which invited criticism of party policies. The program took its name from the ancient Chinese slogan, "Let a hundred flowers bloom, and a hundred schools of thought contend." Those who dared to speak, however, became the targets of official wrath once the government line turned conservative. Chinese intellectuals fear they may again have been encouraged to stick out their necks, only to find that their heads will be chopped off.

Support from intellectuals and specialists is critical if reforms are to continue in industry, agriculture, science and technology, the areas of Deng's Four Modernizations. Last Monday Premier Zhao addressed 19 scientists and specialists. "The past eight years witnessed the best period for economic development," he said. "In those years Chinese intellectuals were entirely free from worry." The intellectuals are understandably skeptical and wary. One indication of their nervousness is that in recent weeks diplomats and foreign journalists have found it increasingly difficult to make contact with members of the Chinese intellectual elite.

Despite the new crackdown, Deng vows that China's economic reforms will continue. "Reform should be carried out in an orderly way," he said last week. "That means we must be bold and cautious." Caution is now assured, but whether the new climate will sustain boldness is another matter. It seems reasonable to assume that the reforms already under way will continue. But it appears unlikely that Deng's China will take any major steps forward for some time.

The man Deng selected to replace Hu as Communist Party chief is unlikely to press for greater political freedom. Zhao, 67, who will hold the title of acting General Secretary until the Central Committee confirms his appointment, is an agricultural expert who heartily embraces Deng's economic reforms. As No. 3 in the hierarchy, he has been regarded as less liberal than Hu on political matters, and considerably less outspoken. After a month of unruly students, that seems to be just what Deng wants.

With reporting by Jaime A. FlorCruz and Richard Hornik/Peking