My Life and Times

January 26, 2005OP-ED CONTRIBUTOR Martyr ComplexBy JONATHAN SPENCE New Haven — WHY has the Chinese government been so intent on showing that the former Communist Party chief Zhao Ziyang was a man of no significance, a man whose life should not be celebrated and whose death should pass unsung? The answer that comes most readily to the historian's mind is that Mr. Zhao played a role that has often made Chinese governments deeply uneasy: that of a bold and visionary reformer who insistently calls for change and openness in a tightly controlled political environment. Saluted for a time as one of the leaders of the country, Mr. Zhao sought to use his power and visibility to grant a hearing to the voices of those excluded from the inner circles where decisions were normally made. And when he persisted in this course in the face of opposition from senior leaders in his party, he had to be discarded.Many others have played similar roles in China's long history, from as early as the seventh century B.C. Ancient texts suggest a tendency for historians to personalize the idea of reform, to let one or a few individuals give a human face to inchoate and broad-based pleas for change and innovation. Often, those seeking reforms were punished by their own colleagues, so that the concept of reform led to the construction in China of an elaborate and emotionally powerful martyrology.China's recent history is studded with such cases that also serve as markers for major political shifts. Near the end of the Qing dynasty, China's last in the long imperial cycle that had endured for over two millenniums, there was a dramatic example. The year was 1898, and the country was smarting from its recent defeat by Japan, and the loss of Taiwan as one of the spoils of war. China's political structure seemed frozen in time, unable to adjust to a new world's market and military forces. Persuaded of the need for change, the emperor himself tried to open up the system by inviting a group of independent-minded scholars to the court, where they swiftly introduced plans to develop the economy and tax system, transform education, foster industry, increase the productivity of agriculture, develop the press, and begin discussion of constitutional government and the possibilities of popular participation in decision-making. Before the year was out, the conservative opponents rallied, the emperor was placed under a form of palace arrest, and six of the most outspoken reformers were arrested and summarily executed. Those who had fled in time made it to Japan and a life of exile. The reform movement of 1898 became associated with the names of these six martyrs, though indeed they had spoken for a much larger constituency. In the years after the dynasty's fall in 1912, other individuals made parallel gestures or mounted similar challenges to central establishments, knowing how high the risks might be. One of the new breed of politicians who had risen to prominence in China's first republican elections, held in late 1912, used his newfound influence to challenge the centralizing and militaristic tendencies of China's interim president; he was gunned down in the Shanghai railway station en route to taking up a leadership position in the new Parliament. When Chiang Kai-shek was consolidating his power over the Nationalist Party in the 1920's, one of his closest lieutenants sought to increase the participation of leftists and to shift the government onto a more populist course. He too was shot dead on his way to a meeting. In 1946, just after the end of World War II, the popular poet Wen Yiduo cried out in anger against what he saw as government coercion against the liberals who were trying to open up the Nationalist Party - a goal that President Harry Truman's personal emissary to China, Gen. George Marshall, also sought to promote. Wen was shot and killed, just after giving a passionate speech daring the government to take action against him.The list could be expanded with many figures in the People's Republic: those who thought they could use the government's Hundred Flowers campaign of 1956-57 to bring a new humanity and a new openness to Communist Party rule; those who sought after the Great Leap Forward of 1958-60 and the famine that followed to bring back private plots and jump-start the rural economy; or those like the army marshal and minister of defense Peng Dehuai, who privately challenged Mao Zedong to open up the shutters that had darkened the economy since the Great Leap, and to listen to the voices of those who were suffering.In 1976, after his speech of homage to the deceased Prime Minister Zhou Enlai, when the people of Beijing demonstrated in thousands on Tiananmen Square, it was Deng Xiaoping who seemed to be demanding change; for that bravado, he was purged from the party for a second time. In 1987, it was Hu Yaobang, the party chief who was one of Deng's new protégés, who fell from grace because he was considered too soft on the fledgling democracy movement. Hu was replaced by Zhao Ziyang, who fell in his turn as he tried to persuade the government to respond more favorably to some of the ideas for greater political participation being framed so vociferously by the demonstrating citizens and students of Tiananmen Square. As the guns were being brought in, Zhao Ziyang wept, and for that the world remembers him.In contrast to many earlier reformers, Mr. Zhao was allowed to live out the 15 years of life that remained to him in house arrest in Beijing. But the main issues he had raised about political openness were not addressed. Instead, it was the market-energizing plans, which he had formulated in earlier years in Guangdong and Sichuan provinces, that were enshrined as basic policies for China's boom economy of the late 20th century. It did seem like petty spite for China's government to refuse Mr. Zhao a formal funeral and to deny him the credit that was his due.But, if the past is any guide, there will be a kind of corrective justice, as China's leaders seem already to be realizing by modifying their tough stance on the exact funeral arrangements. Indeed, the last thing that China's leaders probably want is for Mr. Zhao to join the long list of reforming martyrs who have made their mark before him. Jonathan Spence, a professor of modern Chinese history at Yale, is the author, most recently, of "Treason by the Book."Copyright 2005 The New York Times Company Home Privacy Policy Search Corrections RSS Help Back to Top