WASHINGTON - Shortly after Chinese troops stormed into Tiananmen Square in June 1989, the mayor of Beijing gave a lengthy report that, for 23 years, has formed the bedrock of the Communist Party’s justification for the use of lethal force against unarmed protesters.
Describing street demonstrations by millions of people in Beijing and other Chinese cities as a Western-backed conspiracy orchestrated by a “tiny handful of people,’’ Chen Xitong’s report hailed the crackdown as “correct’’ and unavoidable.
Now 81, battling cancer and fighting to salvage his reputation after a corruption conviction, Chen wants to come clean.
In a book of interviews released in Hong Kong, the Chinese capital’s former mayor and onetime Politburo member declared that the bloodshed was “of course a tragedy that could have been avoided and should have been avoided. . . . Nobody should have died if it had been handled properly.’’
In a series of eight conversations with Yao Jianfu, a retired government researcher, Chen insisted that he played no role in composing his 1989 report to the Standing Committee of the National People’s Congress and had merely read out - “without changing a single punctuation mark’’ - a script prepared for him by unnamed “Party center’’ officials. “I couldn’t not read it,’’ he said.
Chen’s efforts to distance himself from his earlier hard-line stance highlights how - more than two decades after a massacre that has been scrubbed from public discourse inside China - the 1989 bloodshed continues to haunt China’s ruling party.
The gulf between public rhetoric and private reality also adds to pressure on the party to “rehabilitate’’ a student-led protest movement that is still officially classified as a “counterrevolutionary rebellion.’’ The Tiananmen protests, which spread to scores of cities across China, were animated largely by public rage at official corruption and unaccountability, ills that have since only grown worse.
“The Tiananmen matter has never been forgotten, particularly by the government,’’ said Bao Pu, the Hong Kong-based publisher of “Conversations With Chen Xitong.’’ Bao’s father, a senior official at the time of the crackdown, was jailed after the massacre and, though now back at home, remains under constant surveillance by security forces.
The party “does not let people talk about Tiananmen but can never forget what happened because it is living with the consequences,’’ the publisher said. “The crackdown fundamentally altered the relationship between leaders and the people. It created deep mistrust.’’
The Communist Party has gone to extraordinary lengths to erase memories of 1989 and of its leader at the time, Zhao Ziyang, who was purged as general secretary for refusing to support the use of military force. Zhao lived under house arrest until his death in 2005 and had been systematically excised from official accounts of the economic reforms he led for a decade, paving the way for China’s emergence in 2010 as the world’s second-biggest economy.
In a deviation from that official script, Chen, in the interviews, referred to Zhao repeatedly, praising his contributions to China’s reform drive. But he disputed assertions made by Zhao in posthumously published memoirs that Beijing city officials presented misleading reports about the 1989 protests to Deng Xiaoping, distorting the students’ demands and prodding China’s then-paramount leader to take military action.
“How could Deng possibly have been deceived? To say he was is to underestimate Deng Xiaoping,’’ Chen said.
Chen lives in Beijing, but there are no plans to publish the book in mainland China, where works that deviate from party-approved versions of history are generally banned or put on sale only after revisions that delete sensitive material.
A slew of books has been published abroad by student leaders and others involved in the 1989 crisis, but their Chinese editions are available only in Hong Kong.
There are no plans to publish the book in mainland China, where works that deviate from party history are generally banned.
Chen, who was ousted from office in 1995, shed little light on the still-unanswered question of just how many people died when the People’s Liberation Army blasted its way into the center of Beijing on the night of June 3-4, 1989. Chen said he had spent the night in the Great Hall of the People overlooking Tiananmen Square and insisted that “not a single person died’’ in the plaza.
Witnesses disagree on whether troops fired on people in the vast concrete square in front of the Forbidden City but concur that most of the shooting occurred elsewhere. Chen said those killed in other parts of Beijing numbered probably “several hundred,’’ an estimate in line with official figures issued at the time. He dismissed as “nonsense’’ reports that thousands might have been killed.
Although it offers no dramatic revelations, Chen’s account gives a rare view inside the secrecy-sealed world of senior Chinese officials. Describing an atmosphere of paralyzing suspicion and backbiting, Chen related how leaders bad-mouthed one another in private and, fearful of clandestine plotting, kept tabs on who among their colleagues was visiting whose home and for what purpose.
Claiming that his prosecution for corruption flowed from political machinations by Jiang Zemin, the party’s chief from 1989 until 2002, Chen condemned the graft case as an “absurd miscarriage of justice.’’ Chen, convicted in 1998 and sentenced to 16 years in jail, was held in Beijing’s infamous Qincheng prison but got out early on medical parole. His son was also jailed.
“In a power struggle, all measures can be used, all kinds of dirty tricks are adopted as the aim is to grab power,’’ said Chen.