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03/30/1998 CHINA: GRASS-ROOT DEMOCRACY
An experiment with rural elections begins to mature
03/20/1998 Nuclear plant sale to China OK'd
Certification opens door to more employment in Western Pennsylvania
03/13/1998 Call to rein in media stirs fears in Hong Kong

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CHINA: GRASS-ROOT DEMOCRACY
An experiment with rural elections begins to mature

March 30, 1998 VOL. 151 NO. 12

VILLAGE VOICES

China's experiment in rural elections begins to mature, in stark contrast to the rubber-stamp "democracy" of the National People's Congress By Anthony Spaeth The big news out of china last week was that Zhu Rongji, the no-nonsense economic czar, became Premier, the second most important job in the country. But the battle to secure that position took place out of sight, in Beijing's back rooms. By the time the Communist Party nominally put Zhu up for a vote, delegates to the rubber-stamp National People's Congress dutifully did their part: Zhu, running unopposed, won 98% of the 2,950 votes cast.

Contrast that to the more rough-and-tumble political struggle that was taking place in Hengdao, a humble hamlet in hardscrabble Jilin province, 1,100 km from the capital. Jiang Ying, headman of the village for nine years, went up for re-election against an actual opponent: Chen Guo-shuang, 42, the village's vegetable-king and most dynamic entrepreneur. Chen put up a lively challenge, offering constituents business loans from his personal savings of $4,836. In the end, the incumbent Jiang, 44, managed to win, probably because the village economy is doing fine now. But the contest was no foregone conclusion. "Do even better in the next term," advised a Jilin provincial leader, "because next time there will be more Chen Guoshuangs."

For two decades, China has been a nation marching in several directions at once: Deng Xiaoping Theory at the top, McDonald's on the boulevards and karaoke and go-go capitalism in the back lanes. Politically, though, there has been little change in the way power is secured-with one notable exception. In 1982, China's constitution was amended to allow "self-governance" for the nation's 930,000 villages. That touched off five years of closeted debate as to what the clause meant and how liberal Beijing could afford to be. And in 1988 direct elections were allowed in China's most basic political unit, the village. Today, some 90% of village headmen and their ruling committees are elected by the masses for three-year terms. "Villagers are enthused," says Liu Guodong, Jilin's director of local elections. "In the past, leaders were merely appointed. Now people can even toss out village heads they don't trust."

That's the idea, although one that has not fully percolated down to China's vast grass roots. Each village has both an elected chief and an appointed Communist Party secretary; though the elected headmen are becoming increasingly powerful, the party bosses usually retain the greatest political clout. Many essential elements of elections, such as the secret ballot, are hard to inculcate in a populace that still remembers the Thought Police of the Cultural Revolution. Officials in Beijing are actively promoting the concept, but they are obviously less interested in elections creeping up the chain of command. Asked by Time last week whether China's provincial and national officials should also be elected, newly appointed Premier Zhu said: "Of course I'm in favor of democratic elections." But he equivocated, adding: "We still need some time to look into that."

The fact is that in politically rigid China, local elections were not conceived as a liberal step in a particular direction, but as a pragmatic stopgap. The original champion was the late Peng Zhen, the conservative ex-npc chairman. Mao's China had been organized into rural communes; when they were disbanded for economic reasons in 1978, there was no local political structure in place. After the constitution was amended, many in Beijing insisted that village officials be appointed by the party, arguing that farmers were too ignorant and passive to rule themselves. The pro-elections faction won the debate, but the first votes were pallid affairs: assemblies at which locals merely raised their hands to confirm the anointment of party bosses as village leaders. That system proved unpopular, and secret ballots were eventually tried.

In more recent years, economic freedoms have given local officials the opportunity to use their power to make money, often corruptly. That has produced a wave of anger in the countryside, prompting Beijing to conclude that elections could actually help solve a problem they were hard-pressed to deal with: let the people vote out corrupt leaders. "It's so obviously in the interest of the national government to have this process work," says Larry Diamond of Stanford University's Hoover Institute. "If it doesn't, frustrations with corruption and injustice and maldistribution of the new wealth are going to well up and reach very dangerous proportions." Agrees Jean C. Oi, a China scholar at Stanford: "At this point, the government sees village elections as more of an aid than a threat."

In the village of Gujialingzi, a corn-growing community in Jilin, elections this month were the fourth since 1989 and the most rigorously contested, and they provided a fascinating look at a people coming to terms with the idea of democracy. Incumbent Li Honglin, 47, had been village chairman for nine years and is a member of the Communist Party. Challenger Liu Fu, 51, didn't graduate from high school and never joined the party, but he has made a humble fortune producing bean curd. "I have everything at home," boasted the ruddy-faced, energetic entrepreneur. "Television, washing machine, motorbike. If I can do it, I can lead others to do the same."

Campaigning was brief. The community was invited to a schoolhouse in the middle of a cornfield, where red banners fluttered and martial music played. The local party secretary gave ballot-marking instructions and then each candidate was allowed a five-minute speech. Incumbent Li began, speaking about his past good work for the people-"You can see my sweat everywhere"-and then turned to the future. "If elected," he said, "I promise to improve our primary education because that is basic. I will improve vegetable production and transport ... I will improve commerce so that we will see the emergence of a street lined with shops and restaurants." Also on his list: more trees, shrubs and fiber optic telephone lines. His closing remarks: "Under the leadership of the party, I will correct my shortcomings. I must admit that my mind is not liberated enough. I will rectify this immediately ... This is my contract with you."

Liu, as challenger, didn't have to apologize for past shortcomings. He promised to aid the old and the young, to waive tuition fees, and not to use village funds for blow-outs at local restaurants. "I will try to reduce gambling and pornography," he said. "I won't be vainglorious. I won't lie. I won't engage in empty talk." Lastly, he promised to take care of bachelors who are too poor to find wives, and to teach people how to make bean curd more profitably. "I will lead you all to the road of prosperity! Let's march together!" The pitch would have gone over well with experienced voters in, say, the American heartland-with the possible exception of the bean curd.

Election officials turned ballot boxes upside down, proving they were empty, and then voting commenced in the schoolhouse. Outside, farmers compared the candidates' merits. "They both make good promises," said Wan Liwen, 46, "but I'm not sure who can really deliver." Village elder Jin Shuwen, puffing a long pipe, played the local cynic. "You can tell the officials," he groused, "by their beer bellies." But he did vote.

Incumbent Li won, 864 to 655, and the defeated Liu said the result was almost inevitable considering Li's membership in the Communist Party. But that wasn't necessarily the case. In a formal primary held a few days before the election, Li had won a far larger margin of the votes, 86%: Liu's count rose dramatically during the 10-minute campaign. That suggests that across China, in a low-level and uneven way, an election sensibility is starting to germinate.

-Reported by Jaime A. FlorCruz/ Gujialingzi and Hengdao

From Time Magazine

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Nuclear plant sale to China OK'd
Certification opens door to more employment in Western Pennsylvania

Friday, March 20, 1998

By Steve Massey, Post-Gazette Staff Writer

Employees at the surviving Westinghouse Electric businesses got a shot in the arm yesterday as Congress and the Clinton administration lifted restrictions on nuclear technology sales to China.

The move, officially called "certification," clears the way for the world's most populous country to order nuclear plants from the United States. Westinghouse believes it is high on China's list of potential suppliers.

China, which is expected to spend $60 billion or more on nuclear energy in the next 25 years, has not said for sure it would buy from Westinghouse or other domestic nuclear plant makers. But it's made clear it likes Westinghouse technology and has cited its AP600 nuclear plant prototype as a preferred item.

Moreover, Chinese authorities already are familiar with Westinghouse. The company has invested $100 million in China on joint ventures providing conventional electric power in Shanghai and elsewhere. Some of that work will transfer to Germany's Siemens when it completes the purchase of Westinghouse's Florida-based power generation subsidiary later this year.

Charles Pryor, president of Westinghouse Electric Co., which is composed of the three remaining businesses here, all of which are to be sold by mid-summer, said certification opens the door to more employment at Westinghouse and makes the company more attractive to potential suitors.

Pryor said Westinghouse already has sent a team of executives to China to pitch a dual-reactor 2,000 megawatt nuclear plant. It estimates every $3 billion dual-reactor plant it builds would generate 5,000 U.S. jobs, with up to 1,600 of those in Pennsylvania, primarily in Western Pennsylvania, where its Monroeville-based nuclear division employs 3,000 at several sites.

The company recently sent bid packages and information to six U.S. companies interested in all or part of the three remaining businesses -- in addition to nuclear, they are the government operations division, also based in Monroeville, and a process control division in O'Hara. Westinghouse hopes to work out a final sale agreement by summer's end.

Yesterday's certification announcement was expected. In November, the Clinton administration certified that Beijing wasn't passing nuclear technology on to non-nuclear countries like Iran, the first step in lifting a ban that has been in place since 1985. Congress had to go along, which it did, followed by a waiting period before certification could become official.

Michael Jordan, the CBS chairman who put the rest of Westinghouse up for sale and changed the parent corporation's name to CBS, said yesterday that certification would help achieve his goal of making sure that Westinghouse's remaining businesses not only survive intact but also grow under new ownership.

"Without this certification, American companies would have been forced to sit idly by while the Chinese spend billions of dollars with our competitors in Canada, Europe and Russia," Jordan said. "Instead, American companies and their employees are now free to compete in the fastest-growing nuclear market in the world."

From The Pittsburgh Post- Gazette

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Call to rein in media stirs fears in Hong Kong

March 13, 1998 Web posted at: 8:49 p.m. EST (0149 GMT)

From Hong Kong Bureau Chief Mike Chinoy

HONG KONG (CNN) -- A call-in show on Radio Television Hong Kong (RTHK), the territory's public broadcaster, is a forum for public complaints, political debate and provocative analysis.

Since Hong Kong's handover to China last year, RTHK and other local media have continued to operate freely despite fears of interference from Beijing.

But in the past few days, concern has arisen over whether media freedom might be in jeopardy.

Xu Simin, a member of a Chinese government advisory body and the publisher of a pro-Beijing paper in Hong Kong, demanded that the Chinese government rein in RTHK.

"The Hong Kong media make fun of public officials," the elderly Xu declared angrily. "Why is the government wasting its money on such programs?"

Xu called on Chief Executive Tung Chee-hwa to end negative reporting at RTHK. In response, Tung defended press freedom, but also urged the station to present government policies in a more positive light.

Xu's demand and Tung's response set off alarm bells among some here.

Majority supports free media

"Most people in Hong Kong support the independence of RTHK," says Terry Nealon of RTHK. "Actually, they support freedom of press and freedom of expression.

"People in Hong Kong are sophisticated people. They are used to a free media. They would notice very quickly if that changed and RTHK were to come under some editorial control from outside. Frankly, they wouldn't listen to us and wouldn't watch us."

Adding to the anxiety is a requirement in Hong Kong's post-colonial constitution, imposed by Beijing, that requires the local legislature to pass a law on subversion and sedition.

"Hong Kong cannot be a base for anti-China subversion," Tung says.

"When you talk about behavior such as sedition or subversion, .you are immediately talking about opinion," says Frances Moriarty, a Hong Kong journalist.

A recent poll shows that 86 percent of the public is opposed to government control of the media and 62 percent said RTHK should be free to criticize the government.

Furthermore, top Chinese leaders have distanced themselves from the Xu's call for a crackdown. Some have concluded that the pressure is coming not from Beijing, but from home-grown leftists who are unhappy at the fact that so little in Hong Kong has changed since the handover.

From CNN

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