It's a
family affair
Jun 30th
2012, 13:54 by The Economist | BEIJING
IN RECENT
years China ’s
leaders have become increasingly concerned that the public’s awareness of the
growing wealth gap could lead to social instability.
In
Perhaps
even more troubling for the Party is the surge in scepticism over how such
wealth seems to find its way into the hands of officials and their families,
not to mention into those of their beloved Swiss bankers, English boarding
schools and Australian estate agents. Particularly galling are the reports
about the great number of officials who have taken to working “naked”. That is
to say, many officials are working in China while their wives, children
and, presumably, a chunk of the motherland’s money take residence overseas. A
report released last year estimated that
as much as $120 billion may have been transferred abroad by corrupt
officials.
The Chinese
media have been given greater freedom to report on corruption and the financial
shenanigans of large companies of late. Which makes it all the more striking
that reporting on the business activities of the Central Committee’s wives and
offspring is still strictly forbidden.
An
exception can be made when one of the select few falls from grace. Earlier this
year, after Bo Xilai, a rising star, was cashiered from his position as the
Communist Party secretary of Chongqing, authorities became notably less rigorous
in censoring microblogs about his family (though to this day his case remains a
taboo subject in the state media). Although formal charges against him have yet
to be announced, plenty of stories have emerged in the foreign press about the
almost unbelievably twisted business dealings of Mr Bo’s wife, Gu Kailai. In
those reports Ms Gu, a lawyer by training and the daughter of a PLA general,
has been accused of stashing assets overseas, finagling a spot for her son at
the Harrow School, having affairs with two of the foreign gentlemen—Neil
Heywood and Patrick Devillers—who helped her to arrange all of this and, when
these economic and romantic entanglements became too sticky, orchestrating and
personally supervising the November 2011 murder of one of them in a Chongqing
hotel.
So one can
only imagine the consternation caused by yesterday’s sensational exposé by
Bloomberg, which details the financial assets belonging to the family of China ’s
president-in-waiting, Xi Jinping. Bloomberg was careful to note that no part of
their investigation directly implicated Mr Xi, his wife, herself a famous PLA
officer-cum-singer, Peng Liyuan, or their daughter, who is reportedly studying
at Harvard University under an assumed name. The
Bloomberg report suggests that other close relatives of Mr Xi have been blessed
with abundant good fortune, to put it mildly. The article ties Mr Xi’s sister
Qi Qiaoqiao, her husband Deng Jigui, and another brother-in-law, Wu Long, to
assets worth hundreds of millions of dollars, or even billions. Their holdings
are reported to include stakes in real estate and telecommunications, as well
as the sensitive business of producing rare-earth minerals.
The
government’s response to the Bloomberg report was predictable. Both the
Bloomberg and Businessweek websites are currently inaccessible inside China ’s “great
firewall”. Although access to Bloomberg Professional, an essential tool for
businesses and China ’s
financial elite, so far remains unaffected.
It is often
speculated that families of officials at all levels of Chinese government are
benefiting financially from their access to power. In a country where even a
state newspaper argues in favour of allowing a “moderate amount of corruption”,
should it come as a shock if some of the people in power seek to monetise their
positions through favours and largesse?
Probably
not, but it’s pretty appalling all the same. With social tensions rising
steadily, the public’s patience with the extravagance of the official class is
wearing thin. Calls for greater transparency—not to be confused with any call
for Western-style democracy—are growing louder. Many people in China have come
to accept corruption as a fact of life, and feel that there is little that
anyone can do to fix it.
Perversely
the corruption of officials and their family members can serve as something of
a check, as Mr Bo found out earlier this year. It ensures that no one in the
system is invulnerable. The situation is like duelling with hand grenades. If
everybody in your circle of power is dirty, then it’s to your own advantage not
to do anything to jeopardise your position, lest the others use what they have
against you.
The system
also gives those in power precious little incentive to advocate for meaningful
political reform. Too many people have too much “skin in the game”. Political
openness would threaten not only the Party’s grip on power, but also a whole
system which provides direct and indirect financial benefits to millions of
relatively well-connected individuals. Factionalism abounds of course, but the
divide is less between “reformers” and “hardliners” than it is between
different political power-brokers and within their networks of patronage. Such
competition becomes particularly fierce in the run-up to one of these once-in-a-decade
leadership transition, as in 2012.
Given the
stakes involved, it would seem Chinese officialdom should have no trouble
appreciating a famous admonition made by an American polymath, Benjamin
Franklin, some 235 years ago this week: “We must, indeed, all hang together, or
most assuredly we shall all hang separately.”
Update,
5.30am GMT: At this hour not only Bloomberg's news sites are blocked in China , but also
the page that hosts the article you just read. The rest of our site seems to be
unaffected. You can check its status on WebSitePulse. Try inputting
www.economist.com alongside:
http://www.economist.com/blogs/analects/2012/06/wealth-and-power
to see the difference.
(Picture credit: AFP)
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