Guessing games
As Beijing's billboards promote five panda-faced Olympic mascots that look like bad Japanese superhero cartoons, Associated Press correspondent Charles Hutzler has reported tenseness under the surface: 'China's intelligence services are gearing up for next year's Beijing Olympics, gathering information on foreigners who might mount protests and spoil the nation's moment in the spotlight.'
A quick examination of Beijing dissent over the past two decades should give the capital's authorities something to worry about.
First, take the protests leading up to June 4, 1989 - initially deemed 'patriotic' - when Peking University students re-enacted the May Fourth Movement of 1919, marching from the then suburban northwest Beijing, to Tiananmen Square.
Authorities had predicted that the students would stay in the square and protest against corruption and nepotism. However, momentum was fuelled by an unprecedented international media presence, while misguided shock-therapy tactics adopted by former Communist Party general secretary Zhao Ziyang meant that blue-collar protesters joined the students.
The second big opportunity to protest was at the International Women's Conference in 1995. Everyone in Beijing cursed, then set about disgracing, city party secretary Chen Xitong for volunteering Beijing as host. Police, fearing more demonstrations, claimed that 'naked protests' could bring disgrace to the capital.
Soldiers stationed on each street corner were assigned large green blankets, together with instructions not to resort to violence. Instead, they were to wrap up each protester attempting to expose themselves, and hustle them away. Every day, police escorted women to Huairou, where fenced-in fields were set up as a 'protest ground' so that 'free protests' could take place - without the watchful eyes of local citizens or the foreign media on them.
The third big chance to demonstrate came during the 1998 World Economic Forum in Beijing, which once again attracted the international press. Falun Gong, for one, was very organised; members knew exactly what they were doing. The opening forum banquet speeches were accompanied by whispers among journalists. First, there were 20 people protesting outside the Communist Party headquarters in Zhongnanhai, then 200, then 2,000. Soon, rumours had it that there were up to 20,000. Journalists were filing out of the banquet hall before dessert was served. Traffic police ringed Zhongnanhai, indicating that the regular police had been caught off-guard. Falun Gong protesters arrived from rural areas by the busload.
Each of these large protests, which shook the Beijing leadership, occurred during an international event in the capital. This guarantees the presence of a massive press corps. Indeed, for a protest to be really successful, it needs a guaranteed audience - preferably one with television cameras.
So, is Beijing really ready for the 2008 Olympics? Hutzler's article chronicles potential hit lists of protest groups and ethnic, Islamic and environmental issues, as well as Darfur, Falun Gong, and a plethora of local individuals and groups infuriated by everything from the collapse of health care to child slavery.
Xinhua once sent a team of reporters to visit 'friendly foreigners' and ask their opinions about the 2008 Olympics. Higher authorities had chastised the news agency, saying that not enough was being done to promote Beijing's hosting of the Games. Anyway, who would want to protest against such a wonderful thing as the Olympics, they asked.
Now, just think: nine months before the Olympics, there will be 20,000 journalists embedded on the mainland. They will be intent on reporting events arising prior to the actual Games. One thing is certain. These journalists will be interested in everything that is transforming mainland China - everything except the Olympic competitions themselves, that is.
Laurence Brahm is a political economist, author, filmmaker and founder of Shambhala Foundation
