China From Out of the Depths

By Howard G. Chua-Eoan

In the ten months since the Tiananmen crackdown, competing antigovernment groups have multiplied and even thrived beyond the borders of China, where some exiles have adopted the trappings of Western celebrity activism. In China itself, however, organized resistance was believed to be almost nonexistent -- until this month.

TIME has learned that three weeks ago, Zhai Weimin, the sixth most wanted individual on Beijing's list of "counterrevolutionaries," emerged briefly from hiding to make some startling claims: a core of activists had not only eluded the dragnet but, last February, had formed a nationwide underground movement, electing officers and holding their first congress right under the noses of the government in the capital.

Together with the better-known Wu'er Kaixi, Zhai was one of the students who engaged in a heated televised "dialogue" with conservative Premier Li Peng in the days just prior to the Tiananmen crackdown. At his reappearance, Zhai claimed to be spokesman for a new group called the Cooperative Committee of the China Democratic Salvation Front. Said he: "We founded the organization to show our sense of duty to our people and to emulate the spirit of those who died in June." Composed of more than 60 fugitives, the organization has elected a chairman, a vice chairman and four members of a standing committee.

The fledgling movement does not advocate the dismantling of either socialism or the Communist Party. But it has adopted a manifesto demanding that China end the one-party system, reform the economy, permit freedom of speech, release political prisoners and "liberate the mind and completely eradicate feudal vestiges" -- a reference to lifetime official tenures, nepotism and corruption in the regime.

The fact that activists have survived not only in Beijing but also in the countryside testifies to continuing public support for the officially proscribed protesters of Tiananmen Square. Zhai's own survival depended on the kindness of strangers. From the square he fled to an agricultural cooperative outside Beijing. "The party secretary of the farm gave me refuge in his home," Zhai recalled. Eventually, with the help of other strangers, Zhai escaped deeper into the provinces, where he has been busy organizing. "Local people help us," he said. "I even managed to get an ID card only issued to provincial cadres, but with a fake name."

He admitted, however, that the committee has little active support in the army and would find it hard to mount large protests. But, he added, "we've got to make some gestures. We'll try to do something without jeopardizing our ability to operate in the future." Independent of Zhai's group, overseas dissidents are trying to organize low-intensity protests in China. The New York City-based Chinese Alliance for Democracy is secretly passing the word in Beijing for citizens to take group walks through Tiananmen Square this April.

Overall, the diaspora has had a disastrous effect on the dissidents' already fragile unity. Zhai's group has been unable to establish firm contacts with overseas organizations. Other survivors of the June 4 massacre have reacted coolly to the committee's overtures. Old acrimonies also persist. Zhai was openly critical of two of the more famous activists in the pro-democracy movement: Wu'er Kaixi, vice president of the Paris-based Federation for a Democratic China, and Chai Ling, whose whereabouts are still unknown.

Of the woman called the Pasionara of Tiananmen, Zhai said, "Chai Ling was never a member of the ((autonomous student union's)) standing committee. She was appointed head of the Tiananmen general command, but she was too emotional to be a good leader." As for Wu'er Kaixi, said Zhai, "he is often too impulsive. That is why we expelled him as our chairman ((during the occupation of the square)) last May." Wu'er Kaixi, he added, "has the prestige abroad, but I think whatever he says represents only his personal views."

In fact, Wu'er Kaixi seems to be the emigre most seduced by the glitter of the West. The poster boy of the movement-in-exile, he dropped out of Harvard University two weeks ago to launch the S.S. Goddess of Democracy in La Rochelle, France, during a colorful press-packed ceremony. The ship is scheduled to linger in international waters off China by late April, and he will join it to transmit antigovernment messages to the People's Republic. The federation is also involved in a charity recording of John Lennon's Imagine, featuring such pop artists as U2 and South Africa's Johnny Clegg, with sales to benefit the movement.

In China, Zhai and company have no such resources; it took the committee three months to bring off its secret congress in Beijing. Working against the government remains extremely risky. But, says Zhai, "I'm ready to give ) everything. All these months, I've received food and clothing from people for free, so I'm willing to serve as the group's spokesman and do other things, regardless of cost." The closing paragraph of the committee's manifesto reads, "We realize that our actions involve great danger, and that they could even lead to the ultimate sacrifice. But we know that ours is a great cause." So far, despite the powers wielded by the state, the cause has survived.