Med Bo Xilais afgang er den politiske magtkamp brudt ud i lys lue. Det er den største ideologiske kamp i Kina i to årtier, der handler om den politiske og økonomiske kurs for Kina i de kommende år, og hvem der skal stå i spidsen for landet i det næste årti. Du kan læse alle tidligere artikler om magtkampen og Bo Xilai her.
Wall Street Journal har virkelig sat ressourcer af til at dække magtkampen, og avisen og Jeremy Page har for alvor sat sig på sagen om Bo Xilai. WSJ skriver her om, hvordan den britiske forretningsmand var bekymret og vidste, at der var noget galt kort tid inden han døde.
The British businessman had been summoned on short notice to a meeting in Chongqing in early November with representatives of the family of Bo Xilai, the local Communist Party chief, according to an account by a friend whom Mr. Heywood contacted at the time. Mr. Heywood told the friend he was “in trouble.”
After he flew to Chongqing, he tried to telephone his usual contacts but couldn’t get through to any of them, according to the friend. He was left waiting alone in his hotel room for instructions.
Mr. Heywood felt he had reason to be nervous, although he had taken steps to protect himself. He had told the same friend earlier that he had left documents detailing the overseas investments of Mr. Bo’s family with his lawyer in Britain as an “insurance policy” in case anything happened to him.
He had also told friends that he was concerned about his safety after falling out with Mr. Bo’s wife, Gu Kailai, who he said knew about the documents and was convinced she had been betrayed by someone in the family’s “inner circle” of friends and advisers.
New Yorker og Evan Osnos skriver om, hvordan kineserne debatterer den vilde sag på internettet, og han begynder med at trække trådene tilbage til 1971:
Leninist systems are built on secrecy, on a monopoly on information to prevent the wrong ideas from leading the people down the improper path. Secrecy was easier to maintain during the last Party purge of this scale, in 1971, when Lin Biao, a military leader, died in a mysterious plane crash in Mongolia, after the failure of his purported coup against Chairman Mao. It was a year before the Chinese public heard a thing about it, and forty years later China scholars are still trying to figure out what happened in the Lin Biao Incident.
The Party is reeling. Even the Global Times, a nationalist state newspaper that can find a bright side to anything, is straining to argue that “the government did not cover up but initiated an investigation accordingly. This is no longer the era where China would rather cover up issues to avoid revealing problems.” That, of course, is preposterous, but maintaining the illusion of order is especially important right now to the leaders of the country because it’s campaign season. It is at moments like this that the Chinese Communist Party acts from the brain stem, not the cortex, issuing an editorial to tell people that “the Party does not tolerate any special member who is above the law.” (The flipside of that assertion—that everybody receives equal treatment under the law—especially thin this week, as a Chinese court sentences a disabled lawyer, Ni Yulan, who has been applauded for defending people evicted from their homes, to two years and eight months in prison for causing a disturbance and fraud.)
Guardian har en leder, hvor de argumenterer for, at det konsensus drevne partistyre ikke bare kan fortsætte, som det altid har gjort. Der er behov for ændringer.
The fall of Bo tells us three things about the ability of the communist leadership to manage change.
The first is that it was enormously public. Brutal factional politics can no longer be concealed behind a screen. It is duplicated in real time all over millions of them.
The second is that, whether or not Bo’s fall was accidental or triggered by forces outside Chongqing, the myth that the grey, collective, consensus-led leadership can carry on business as usual has been temporarily dented, if not permanently shattered. The next generation of leaders faces such massive challenges – a major environmental crisis, an acute shortage of water in the north, a falling birthrate, the end of double-digit growth, the need to rebalance the economy towards domestic consumption, corruption, riots – that it patently cannot carry on business as usual.
Third, Bo’s rise and fall came amid a steady crescendo of debate about the need for reform, political as well as economic. Maybe Bo was the wrong answer to the right question.
Telegraph skriver, hvordan den tomme stol efter Bo Xilai kan give plads til den første kvinde i Politbureauet.
Mrs Liu, 66, has an impeccable political pedigree and is now in a strong position, following the demise of Bo Xilai, to become the first female member of China’s all-powerful nine-man Politburo Standing Committee, political analysts said.
“She has one huge advantage: she is very well connected,” said Bo Zhiyue, a professor who studies China’s leadership at the National University of Singapore.
In the closely-knit world of China’s “red aristocracy”, Mrs Liu has ties to almost all of the country’s other top leaders, either through her family or through her career. Her own father, Liu Ruilong, was an Agriculture vice-minister, a key role in the early years of China’s Communist era.
“For example, she is very close to Jiang Zemin, the former president. Her father, Liu Ruilong, introduced Jiang’s foster father, or uncle, into the Communist Youth League in 1925. That is a close bond”.
Los Angeles Times har talt med analytikere, der argumenterer for, at magtkampen først og fremmest skyldes Bo Xilais personlige stil frem for en politisk kamp.
But even Bo’s sympathizers on the new left say his downfall is unrelated to ideological differences overChina’spolitical path.
“It looks like a very simple case of murder; this might be something out of a Hollywood movie, but it doesn’t necessarily indicate anything about what direction China is headed,” said Sima Nan, one of the most prominent Chinese intellectuals associated with the new left.
Indeed, analyst Jin believes that Bo or his wife could have gotten away with murder had Bo remained in good standing with the top leadership.
“Hu and Wen were determined to take him down completely,” Jin said.
“If they wanted to protect Bo, they would have separated him from his wife’s actions,” he added, referring to Gu being publicly identified by her husband’s name.
New York Times ser også nærmere på, hvordan en britisk forretningsmand og konsulent kom til at spille en hovedrolle i den største politiske skandale i Kina i flere årtier. Samt hvem Neil Heywood egentlig er.
A maverick since his school days in England, Mr. Heywood appears to have met the Bo family in the northeastern city of Dalian, where he moved from Britain in the early 1990s and by some accounts taught English. He told one British journalist, Tom Reed, that he sent out a flurry of introductory letters to Chinese officials seeking a connection to the elite, and that Mr. Bo, then Dalian’s mayor, responded.
Mr. Bo and Ms. Gu, a charismatic and ambitious couple with a pedigree of influence from Mr. Bo’s ties to Mao Zedong, appear to have been looking for the same thing that many wealthy Chinese families are seeking — a path to a Western education for their child. Ms. Gu said in 2009 that she and Mr. Bo had picked the Harrow School for their son, but he initially failed to gain admittance. Mr. Heywood, a Harrow graduate, later told friends that he served as a “mentor” to the young man, Bo Guagua. Some who knew Mr. Heywood said he helped arrange Bo Guagua’s schooling in Britain.