Fiftieth anniversary of the Peoples Republic of China: a celebration of
nationalism and the market
By James Conachy
13 October 1999
The October 1 parade in Beijing marking 50 years since the
establishment of the Peoples Republic of China was a grotesque
celebration of Chinese nationalism, military muscle and free market
economic reforms. It was a stage-managed affair from beginning to end,
aimed at projecting an image of China as united under the existing
political regime, devoted to the country's president and marching toward
wealth and prosperity.
A carefully vetted crowd of some 500,000 watched an array of 12,000
soldiers, sailors and airmen marching across the expanse of Tiananmen
Square in central Beijing. With jets roaring overhead, columns of tanks,
armoured vehicles and a regiment of intercontinental ballistic missiles
were intended to display China's military might. Massive portraits of
China's three officially recognised post-1949 leaders—Mao Zedong,
Deng Xiaoping and the current president Jiang Zemin—were exhibited.
An elaborate procession of thematic floats represented stages in China's
recent history and its ambitions for the future. The grand finale was a
fireworks display launched from 10 locations in the city.
Clearly a great deal of time and effort had gone into preparing for the
occasion. Behind the theatrical façade, however, lies a political order
wracked by contradiction and crisis.
The support for the government exhibited by the crowd was largely due
to the fact that each and every person had been individually selected
for
his loyalty to the regime. Concerned at the possibility of any
opposition
protests, police blocked every conceivable entry point to Tiananmen
Square. The celebration itself had been preceded by mass arrests of
suspected opponents and the expulsion from Beijing of thousands of
immigrant workers, unemployed and homeless people. All non-Beijing
residents were banned from even entering the city on October 1, let
alone attending the celebration.
The display of expensive military hardware was no doubt meant to
arouse patriotic fervour and symbolise the willingness of the Beijing
Stalinists to defend the borders of China. But the main purpose of the
army over the last 50 years has been to serve as the primary base of
support for the regime. In Tiananmen Square in June 1989, troops and
tanks were used to crush large anti-government protests by students and
sections of the working class.
The themes of the parade served to highlight the gulf which separates
the
world of the Stalinist bureaucracy and wealthy business elite from that
of
ordinary Chinese workers and peasants. One float celebrated the
re-establishment of China's stock market in the Special Economic Zone
of Shenzhen near Hong Kong in 1979. Recent studies estimate that less
than 4 million out of China's 1.2 billion people take part in share
trading,
and that two-thirds of all bank deposits are owned by just 10 percent of
the population.
Another float promoted the development of world-class opera in
China—a ticket can cost more than three months of the average workers'
income. Yet another was occupied by 40 models parading the latest
fashions from the designer boutiques in Beijing, Shanghai and Guangzhou.
The parade put on display the consumerism, self-gratification and
new-found wealth of a privileged few in Chinese society. A social class
of private entrepreneurs, now numbering in the millions, with an average
income well over US$11,000 and with an expanding appetite for
pleasure and money, has emerged, in part, out of the traditional elite
of
party and state functionaries and the military officer caste.
The spectacle included teenagers skating past on roller blades, couples
attired for a western-style wedding and people dressed as businessmen
or stock market speculators, waving silver stars over their heads,
supposedly to indicate where China is heading. In sharp contrast, the
vast
majority of Chinese are struggling to survive on less than $400 a year.
More than 40 million Chinese peasants are unable to feed themselves.
Even more bizarre was the attention given to President Jiang Zemin—a
30-foot photographic portrait and high praise of his leadership in every
anniversary speech apart from his own. Everything from his demeanour
to the sycophantic accolades was calculated to invoke memories of Mao
Zedong and the personality cult that surrounded him in the 1950s and
1960s.
Mao Zedong could at least claim to have led the peasant armies that
swept away the remains of the disintegrating Chinese Nationalist regime
led Chiang Kai Shek, and, in October 1949, opened up a new chapter in
Chinese history. Jiang Zemin, on the other hand, is a historical
nonentity—a career bureaucrat and technocrat whose main claim to high
office is that he, unlike many others, negotiated all the Machiavellian
twists and turns of Chinese politics over the previous decades. He
survived the politically turbulent days of the Cultural Revolution
relatively
unscathed, successfully manoeuvred himself into the position of mayor of
Shanghai in the 1980s, and then into the highest circles of government.
Such was his reputation among workers that in 1989 they added him to
their list of government officials to be investigated for corruption,
despite
his relatively low public profile. His rise to party leader in 1994
after the
death of Deng Xiaoping reflected the ascendancy of the “Shanghai
group,” a faction within the upper echelons of the ruling party that
advocated speeding up the pace of free market reforms.
Over the last five years, Jiang has based himself on the mistaken belief
that the expansion of the world economy and large foreign investment
into China would go on indefinitely and that key state-owned companies
could be transformed into internationally competitive private
corporations. The eruption of the Asian financial crisis beginning in
mid-1997 has led to a slowdown in the Chinese economy, mounting
problems in the banking system, and rising levels of unemployment and
poverty, exacerbated by the wholesale closure of unprofitable
state-owned enterprises.
Fifty years after taking power the Stalinist regime is now dismantling
the
limited social reforms of the past. The closure of state-owned
industries
not only means the destruction of jobs but the loss of social provisions
ranging from housing, to healthcare, aged care and education. Tens of
millions have been made unemployed in the urban centres, and forced
into taking jobs with foreign or private companies that have no social
benefits, horrendous working conditions and wage levels often lower than
$20 per month. In the countryside, living standards have stagnated for
nearly 20 years and unemployment is variously estimated at between 20
and 30 percent of the population.
Social evils that marked pre-1949 society have re-emerged. Child labour
is rampant. China officially now has 600,000 heroin addicts.
Prostitution
is ever present in the major cities. The country has the highest female
suicide rate in the world, with 500 women taking their own lives every
day. Every city has a sizeable population of homeless people and
beggars.
Such is the degree of alienation from the Stalinist regime and the lack
of
any avenue to express political opposition that there has been a
resurgence of religion in China, for the most part encouraged and
abetted
by Beijing itself as a harmless outlet for social discontent. When the
Falun
Gong religious sect showed a degree of independence, and threatened to
become a channel for protests, Beijing brought the full force of the
state
apparatus to bear.
The regime in China has nothing to do with socialism. If the fiftieth
anniversary celebrations reveal anything, it is the Chinese
bureaucracy's
extremely narrow social base and tenuous grip on political power. Jiang
and his cronies are no more animated by the ideals of social equality
and
justice than the stockbrokers, corporate lawyers and business executives
in New York, London and Berlin that they emulate.
See Also at : http://www.wsws.org
Ten years since the Tiananmen Square massacre
Political lessons for the working class
[4 June 1999]
Deng Xiaoping and the fate of the Chinese Revolution
[12 March 1997]
Readers: The WSWS invites your comments. Please send e-mail:
edi...@wsws.org
market
By James Conachy
13 October 1999
The October 1 parade in Beijing marking 50 years since the
establishment of the Peoples Republic of China was a grotesque
celebration of Chinese nationalism, military muscle and free market
economic reforms. It was a stage-managed affair from beginning to end,
aimed at projecting an image of China as united under the existing
political regime, devoted to the country's president and marching toward
wealth and prosperity.
A carefully vetted crowd of some 500,000 watched an array of 12,000
soldiers, sailors and airmen marching across the expanse of Tiananmen
Square in central Beijing. With jets roaring overhead, columns of tanks,
armoured vehicles and a regiment of intercontinental ballistic missiles
were intended to display China's military might. Massive portraits of
China's three officially recognised post-1949 leaders—Mao Zedong,
Deng Xiaoping and the current president Jiang Zemin—were exhibited.
An elaborate procession of thematic floats represented stages in China's
recent history and its ambitions for the future. The grand finale was a
fireworks display launched from 10 locations in the city.
Clearly a great deal of time and effort had gone into preparing for the
occasion. Behind the theatrical façade, however, lies a political order
wracked by contradiction and crisis.
The support for the government exhibited by the crowd was largely due
to the fact that each and every person had been individually selected
for
his loyalty to the regime. Concerned at the possibility of any
opposition
protests, police blocked every conceivable entry point to Tiananmen
Square. The celebration itself had been preceded by mass arrests of
suspected opponents and the expulsion from Beijing of thousands of
immigrant workers, unemployed and homeless people. All non-Beijing
residents were banned from even entering the city on October 1, let
alone attending the celebration.
The display of expensive military hardware was no doubt meant to
arouse patriotic fervour and symbolise the willingness of the Beijing
Stalinists to defend the borders of China. But the main purpose of the
army over the last 50 years has been to serve as the primary base of
support for the regime. In Tiananmen Square in June 1989, troops and
tanks were used to crush large anti-government protests by students and
sections of the working class.
The themes of the parade served to highlight the gulf which separates
the
world of the Stalinist bureaucracy and wealthy business elite from that
of
ordinary Chinese workers and peasants. One float celebrated the
re-establishment of China's stock market in the Special Economic Zone
of Shenzhen near Hong Kong in 1979. Recent studies estimate that less
than 4 million out of China's 1.2 billion people take part in share
trading,
and that two-thirds of all bank deposits are owned by just 10 percent of
the population.
Another float promoted the development of world-class opera in
China—a ticket can cost more than three months of the average workers'
income. Yet another was occupied by 40 models parading the latest
fashions from the designer boutiques in Beijing, Shanghai and Guangzhou.
The parade put on display the consumerism, self-gratification and
new-found wealth of a privileged few in Chinese society. A social class
of private entrepreneurs, now numbering in the millions, with an average
income well over US$11,000 and with an expanding appetite for
pleasure and money, has emerged, in part, out of the traditional elite
of
party and state functionaries and the military officer caste.
The spectacle included teenagers skating past on roller blades, couples
attired for a western-style wedding and people dressed as businessmen
or stock market speculators, waving silver stars over their heads,
supposedly to indicate where China is heading. In sharp contrast, the
vast
majority of Chinese are struggling to survive on less than $400 a year.
More than 40 million Chinese peasants are unable to feed themselves.
Even more bizarre was the attention given to President Jiang Zemin—a
30-foot photographic portrait and high praise of his leadership in every
anniversary speech apart from his own. Everything from his demeanour
to the sycophantic accolades was calculated to invoke memories of Mao
Zedong and the personality cult that surrounded him in the 1950s and
1960s.
Mao Zedong could at least claim to have led the peasant armies that
swept away the remains of the disintegrating Chinese Nationalist regime
led Chiang Kai Shek, and, in October 1949, opened up a new chapter in
Chinese history. Jiang Zemin, on the other hand, is a historical
nonentity—a career bureaucrat and technocrat whose main claim to high
office is that he, unlike many others, negotiated all the Machiavellian
twists and turns of Chinese politics over the previous decades. He
survived the politically turbulent days of the Cultural Revolution
relatively
unscathed, successfully manoeuvred himself into the position of mayor of
Shanghai in the 1980s, and then into the highest circles of government.
Such was his reputation among workers that in 1989 they added him to
their list of government officials to be investigated for corruption,
despite
his relatively low public profile. His rise to party leader in 1994
after the
death of Deng Xiaoping reflected the ascendancy of the “Shanghai
group,” a faction within the upper echelons of the ruling party that
advocated speeding up the pace of free market reforms.
Over the last five years, Jiang has based himself on the mistaken belief
that the expansion of the world economy and large foreign investment
into China would go on indefinitely and that key state-owned companies
could be transformed into internationally competitive private
corporations. The eruption of the Asian financial crisis beginning in
mid-1997 has led to a slowdown in the Chinese economy, mounting
problems in the banking system, and rising levels of unemployment and
poverty, exacerbated by the wholesale closure of unprofitable
state-owned enterprises.
Fifty years after taking power the Stalinist regime is now dismantling
the
limited social reforms of the past. The closure of state-owned
industries
not only means the destruction of jobs but the loss of social provisions
ranging from housing, to healthcare, aged care and education. Tens of
millions have been made unemployed in the urban centres, and forced
into taking jobs with foreign or private companies that have no social
benefits, horrendous working conditions and wage levels often lower than
$20 per month. In the countryside, living standards have stagnated for
nearly 20 years and unemployment is variously estimated at between 20
and 30 percent of the population.
Social evils that marked pre-1949 society have re-emerged. Child labour
is rampant. China officially now has 600,000 heroin addicts.
Prostitution
is ever present in the major cities. The country has the highest female
suicide rate in the world, with 500 women taking their own lives every
day. Every city has a sizeable population of homeless people and
beggars.
Such is the degree of alienation from the Stalinist regime and the lack
of
any avenue to express political opposition that there has been a
resurgence of religion in China, for the most part encouraged and
abetted
by Beijing itself as a harmless outlet for social discontent. When the
Falun
Gong religious sect showed a degree of independence, and threatened to
become a channel for protests, Beijing brought the full force of the
state
apparatus to bear.
The regime in China has nothing to do with socialism. If the fiftieth
anniversary celebrations reveal anything, it is the Chinese
bureaucracy's
extremely narrow social base and tenuous grip on political power. Jiang
and his cronies are no more animated by the ideals of social equality
and
justice than the stockbrokers, corporate lawyers and business executives
in New York, London and Berlin that they emulate.
See Also at : http://www.wsws.org
Ten years since the Tiananmen Square massacre
Political lessons for the working class
[4 June 1999]
Deng Xiaoping and the fate of the Chinese Revolution
[12 March 1997]
Readers: The WSWS invites your comments. Please send e-mail:
edi...@wsws.org