A Death in the Lucky Holiday Hotel (19 page)

Barely a month later, roughly 1,000 people from another nearby village held a rally in front of government headquarters in Guangdong’s capital city of Guangzhou against land seizures and corruption.
The villagers threatened to stage a riot similar to Wukan’s if their grievances were not resolved.

These group incidents, as they are called in China, made Bo Xilai believe that his rival’s conciliatory approach showed weakness in the face of protesters and could encourage more such mass demonstrations. In January 2012, a week before the Lunar New Year, Bo Xilai gathered several confidantes, including his police chief, Wang Lijun, for a small party at a restaurant. An official who attended the gathering recalled discussing the Wukan riot over dinner.

“If it had happened in Chongqing, we would have crushed it with force way before foreign journalists got wind of it,” Bo bragged. He believed that the Wukan incident could be his rival’s Waterloo and the Politburo Standing Committee could use the incident to purge liberals like Wang Yang from the senior leadership ranks. He urged his people to get ready for his ascension.

Optimistic though he was, Bo also sensed a strong headwind. Premier Wen Jiabao and his designated successor, Li Keqiang, had ignored his doings in Chongqing, neither commenting on his programs nor expressing any desire to visit Chongqing. President Hu Jintao’s chief of staff secretly promised that he would get Hu to visit Chongqing but Bo never received any specific details. When Bo took a 1,000-strong red singing troupe to Beijing for a four-day, seven-performance tour in June 2011, not a single senior leader came to watch the performance. He had also reportedly contacted former president Jiang Zemin, who still possessed considerable political clout over personnel arrangements, but no meeting came of it.

An official at the Chongqing municipal government recalled that Bo Xilai became so obsessed with the upcoming leadership transition in late 2011 that he was intent on clearing every possible hurdle and did not want to take any chances.

One of the obstacles was Li Wangzhi, his son from the previous marriage. (I mentioned earlier that Li was raised by his mother, Li Danyu, who made him take her family name.) After graduating from Columbia University in 2001, Li Wangzhi went back to China and became a business consultant and investment banker. In early 2007, when Bo Xilai was still at the Ministry of Commerce, Li allegedly
obtained a business license for his father-in-law through Bo’s connections. At the end of 2011, Bo found out that Li’s father-in-law had used the license to run a pyramid scheme in northeastern China. Victims had filed petitions with the Central Commission for Discipline Inspection. Fearing that his son could become a political liability, Bo reportedly had his son detained. A friend of Li’s disclosed to the overseas media that Bo’s real intent was to hold his son hostage so his first wife, Li Danyu, would not bad-mouth him before the Party Congress. However, during Li’s subsequent interviews, she never confirmed the story about her son’s detention.

Around the same time, the murder of Neil Heywood must have weighed heavily on Bo’s mind. Although official transcripts from Wang Lijun’s trial indicated that Bo was first made aware of his wife’s connection with Heywood’s death by Wang in January 2012, a senior official in Chongqing surmised that Bo knew about his wife’s involvement not long after Heywood’s death. He said Bo became very paranoid and had two of his bodyguards arrested, accusing them of sneaking into his office and reading his work-related notes and personal diary on his desk. In China, a senior leader’s bodyguards are supplied by the Central Guard Bureau in Beijing with the dual purposes of protecting the leader’s safety and monitoring his or her activities. The two guards were eventually set free after President Hu Jintao’s chief of staff intervened.

On the morning of January 28, as was previously noted, Wang briefed Bo on Heywood’s death, implicated Bo’s wife, Gu Kailai, and then promised to keep things under wraps. Bo questioned his wife after the meeting and her denial of Wang’s accusations, coupled with Bo’s anger over Wang’s apparent greed for power, caused him to call another meeting with Wang the next day that ended with Bo slapping him. The incident opened a rift in the Bo–Wang relationship and the damage soon grew past the point of repair.

In the following two days, Bo interrogated Wang’s personal assistants and found out that Wang Lijun had been monitoring his private conversations and had even installed a pinhole video camera to record him in hotel rooms with his mistresses. Worse still, Bo Xilai suspected
that Wang might have conspired with senior leaders in Beijing. Otherwise, the police chief wouldn’t be so bold.

Meanwhile, Bo detained the four police investigators, who admitted writing fake resignation letters and agreed to sign investigation reports stating that Neil Heywood had died of natural causes, and that Wang Lijun attempted to frame Gu Kailai for murder.

On February 2, against the advice of his colleagues, Bo sacked Wang as police chief. The next day, Bo received a letter of apology from Wang, who pledged his loyalty to Bo. But Bo’s friends inside the police department reported that Wang had smashed a water glass and threatened to expose Bo’s family secrets if he was not reinstated. The news exasperated Bo, who was determined to get rid of Wang before he became even more of a liability.

Bo tried to figure out what to do about Wang while he continued to use the media both to attack his opponents and unabashedly champion his ruling philosophy. Bo was a polarizing figure, and he knew that he probably would not win if he relied solely on the goodwill of several senior members of the Politburo. He needed to generate a groundswell of public support to pressure the leadership from the outside, as Mao had to do when he strengthened his power through mass campaigns during the Cultural Revolution.

At a municipal Party Congress on February 3, Bo Xilai lashed out at his critics:

       
There are some really strange people. Each time we talk about singing red songs, they pour cold water, calling us “leftist” or “restoring the past.” . . . Some people are not concerned at all about the rampancy of pornography, but become really sensitive to the “singing red campaign.” They never speak up on vulgar and pessimistic materials or programs, but when someone tries to start something uplifting or patriotic, they begin to feel uneasy and spread rumors. I have to ask these people, “Isn’t red good for our country?” Our national flag is red. The Gate of Heavenly Peace is red. Do we really want to change their colors? We sing about our people, our Party, our motherland. We will take a firm, clear-cut stand.

Analysts construed Bo’s remarks as a manifesto of defiance. He was sending a belligerent message to those who opposed him in the Politburo, especially Premier Wen Jiabao.

“He acted as if he were general secretary of the party and randomly scolded other leaders,” said an insider. “That didn’t go very well.”

As Bo went about his public campaign, he did not expect Wang Lijun to outsmart him and slip away. On February 6, 2012, Wang walked into the US Consulate in Chengdu, elevating their personal conflicts into an international incident, the consequences of which were beyond Bo’s grasp. Thus, by making a series of reckless decisions against Wang, Bo violated a cardinal rule, which Confucius summarized succinctly for politicians: “Lack of tolerance for small slights will bring destruction to big plans.”

B
O’S GONE! Yes, it’s true, a senior official told me after I rang to confirm a cell phone call from a Beijing-based journalist I had known for twenty years. It was morning in Beijing, March 15. She had revealed, “Bo Xilai has been removed from his party secretary’s post. My contacts have already verified the news. It’s safe to post it on your website.”

In fact, half an hour earlier, Yang Haipeng, a former journalist with
Southern Metropolis
, whose blog in China attracts 200,000 followers, had already revealed similar information. “I’m willing to shut down my blog as self-punishment if it’s proven otherwise,” he wrote.

The official Chinese government news agency, Xinhua, tried to catch up and issued a fifty-four-word statement ten minutes after my posting that Bo Xilai no longer held the Chongqing party secretary’s position. The Xinhua news quickly appeared prominently on all Chinese news websites. Bo’s downfall elicited strong reactions among the Chinese public. Within an hour, some 62,000 comments appeared on Tencent, one of China’s largest Internet portals. Leftist websites such as Utopia, Red China, and Maoflag were filled with angry rants over
Bo’s dismissal. A large number of residents in Dalian and Chongqing expressed their sympathy and support for Bo on Weibo.

Worrying that the news could trigger chaos, the government immediately ordered all government-run news sites to downplay the story. By the afternoon, all the eye-catching headlines had disappeared and the story blended in with other news of the day. Portal sites such as Sina and Netease shut down their feedback section.

Kong Qingdong, a professor at Beijing University, openly opposed the party’s decision to remove Bo Xilai, calling it a “counterrevolutionary coup” during a TV appearance. Kong was detained for five days. Subsequently, he admitted in his blog, under apparent pressure from the government, that he had accepted 1 million yuan from Bo Xilai in exchange for his services to promote Chongqing’s political and economic accomplishments.

Worried that Bo supporters might stage demonstrations against his dismissal, the senior leadership allegedly ordered public security departments to deploy armed police in public areas in Chongqing and key major cities. The Hong Kong–based
Oriental Daily
featured pictures posted online by residents in Chongqing, showing armored personnel carriers on the streets and a heavy police presence.

When I was growing up in China, there was a popular saying, “The government policies are as changeable as the summer storm weather.” People in Chongqing waited to see which way the storms would blow.

A few hours after Bo Xilai was deposed, a notice went up on a bulletin board near the People’s Square in the center of Chongqing, where a large group used to gather to sing red songs. The notice read:

       
We have received complaints from residents living nearby that the nightly singing and dancing are too loud and disrupt their normal lives. We will take measures to regulate the activities.

An official with the police department disclosed that they had been notified of Bo Xilai’s departure a few hours before the official announcement. The city government banned “celebrations, open discussions, and gatherings.” Many police were relieved that the “red terror” was over.

On the evening of March 15, Chongqing Star TV broadcast the news about Bo during its prime-time news program. At the end of the newscast, a liquor commercial appeared, followed by an announcement from Chongqing Star TV to recruit sales representatives for its advertising department. Under Bo’s order, the TV station had banned such commercials a year earlier. Ironically, Bo had just reiterated his promise to continue with the commercial-free TV programming at the just-concluded National People’s Congress.

The liquor commercial prompted many bloggers to marvel at how fast politics changed directions. A blogger using the alias “Journalist Yang Wanguo” posted a mini-essay called “Chongqing Is Opening Up Again,” which said:

       
I saw several people giving out business cards for “massage services.” I got a card and called the number on it. A woman who picked up the phone said she was actually a “sex service provider.” The woman said she and two of her friends had just resumed their business. For a quickie, she charged 300 yuan and an all-night service, 600 yuan.

           
“Aren’t you worried about getting arrested by our police chief Wang Lijun?” I asked.

           
“Didn’t he just get sacked?”

           
“But what if the public security bureau comes to check up on the hotel?”

           
“Don’t worry. Chongqing is open for business again.”

Several political dissidents told overseas Chinese media that online references to the 1989 Tiananmen Square student protests, the Falun Gong movement, and the deposed Chinese premier, Zhao Ziyang, were accessible after being blocked for several years. On Baidu, another popular Internet search engine, historic photos of the 1989 protesters, including one showing tanks on the streets of Beijing, were available. In addition, the ban was lifted on an article written by a former professor at Beijing University to condemn the Communist Party’s Propaganda Department. The thaw was ephemeral. By the time overseas Chinese media began to report on the phenomenon and decipher whether the
change heralded another political spring, the ban had been reinstated. The interpretation with the most traction was that anti-Bo factions within the senior leadership were hoping to convey to the international community that political reforms would be possible if Bo Xilai and his supporters were eliminated.

In the era of the Internet, the usual secret style of the Central Party Committee and its tendency toward cautious investigation did not hold with the public’s craving for fast news. For more than two decades China’s political environment had been relatively stable. The sudden removal of Bo Xilai came as a surprise for most Chinese. The absence of clear and timely government reports on Bo Xilai’s situation generated more speculation and rumors about Bo Xilai’s future. Many wondered if the government would press charges against him or simply force him to retire quietly.

Gu Kailai posted two lines on her Weibo on March 16, in which she thanked everyone for their concern. “I want to clarify some facts—I’m doing very well and none of us is under investigation. We will share the truth with the media soon.” She said Bo’s departure had nothing to do with Wang Lijun’s attempted defection. Bo’s other family members also talked to the media. His sister-in-law Gu Dan told a reporter that “Bo is at peace with himself at home,” adding that for someone who had gone through the turbulence of the Cultural Revolution, “the current setback is nothing.”