CHINESE NATIONAL SECURITY 

DECISIONMAKING UNDER STRESS

Edited by

Andrew Scobell

Larry M. Wortzel

September 2005

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CONTENTS

Foreword 

Ambassador James R. Lilley .................................................................. v

1. Introduction 

 Andrew Scobell and Larry M. Wortzel ..............................................1

2. Chinese Crisis Management: Framework for Analysis,

 Tentative Observations, and Questions for the Future 

 Michael D. Swaine .............................................................................5

3. The Tiananmen Massacre Reappraised: Public Protest, Urban 

 Warfare, and the People’s Liberation Army 

 Larry M. Wortzel .............................................................................55

4. SARS 2002-2003: A Case Study in Crisis Management

 Susan M. Puska ...............................................................................85

5. Chinese Decisionmaking Under Stress: The Taiwan Strait, 

 1995-2004 

 Richard Bush ..................................................................................135

6. Decisionmaking Under Stress: The Unintentional Bombing 

 of China’s Belgrade Embassy and the EP-3 Collision 

 Paul H. B. Godwin .........................................................................161

7. Decisionmaking in Triplicate: China and the Three Iraqi Wars 

 Yitzhak Shichor ..............................................................................191

8. “Decisionmaking Under Stress” or “Crisis Management”?: 

 In Lieu of a Conclusion 

 Frank Miller and Andrew Scobell ................................................ 229

About the Contributors ........................................................................249

v

FOREWORD

 National security decisionmaking under stress or crisis management 

is something with which I have had some firsthand experience over 

the course of my career in government service. Most relevant to the 

topic of this edited volume is my tour of duty as U.S. Ambassador 

in Beijing which began in May 1989—a month before Tiananmen of 

June 3 and 4. In my position as chief U.S. diplomat in China, I was an 

actor and an observer—along with many dedicated and resourceful 

U.S. Embassy personnel—to the events that constituted a case study 

of Chinese communist crisis management. My colleagues and I were 

witnesses to what, in my judgment, constituted one of the gravest 

crises to the communists’ control of China since 1949. We engaged 

the Chinese leadership during this time of tension and precipitous 

action.

 As ambassador, I was responsible for managing the stressful and 

perilous situation that confronted the Embassy, its personnel, and 

U.S. citizens living and working in Beijing and elsewhere in China. 

While I directed our diplomatic personnel to do their utmost to report 

on and document the full extent of the crackdown ordered by China’s 

communist leaders, my foremost concern was to ensure the safety and 

security of Americans in the country at the time. As a result more than 

6,000 U.S. citizens were withdrawn from China in what was one of the 

largest evacuations of overseas Americans in a crisis situation since 

World War II. We saw both bravery and shirking among Americans, 

while the media was constantly trying to expose flaws in our actions. 

It was a time of rapid change and considerable manipulation.

 As events such as the EP-3 incident of April 2001 and the severe acute 

respiratory syndrome (SARS) epidemic of 2003 demonstrate, the topic 

of this volume is as timely and important today as it was 16 years ago. 

An improved understanding of how the Chinese leadership—civilian 

and military—handles decisionmaking under conditions of crisis or 

stress is essential. This volume makes a worthwhile contribution on 

this topic. I commend it to you.

Ambassador James R. Lilley

Senior Fellow

American Enterprise Institute
1

CHAPTER 1

INTRODUCTION

Andrew Scobell and Larry M. Wortzel

 If there is one constant in expert analyses of the history of modern 

China, it is the characterization of a country perpetually in the throes 

of crises. And in nearly all crises, the Chinese People’s Liberation 

Army (PLA) has played an instrumental role. While China at the 

mid-point of the 21st century’s first decade is arguably the most 

secure and stable it has been in more than a century, crises continue to 

emerge with apparent frequency. Consequently, the study of China’s 

behavior in conditions of tension and stress, and particularly how 

the PLA is a factor in that behavior, is of considerable importance to 

policymakers and analysts around the world.

 This volume represents the fruits of a conference held at the U.S. 

Army War College in September 2004 on the theme of “Chinese 

Crisis Management.” One of the major debates that emerged among 

participants was whether all the case studies under examination 

constituted crises in the eyes of China’s leaders. The consensus was 

that not all of these incidents were perceived as crises―a key case 

in point being the three Iraq wars (1980-88, 1990-91, and 2003). As 

a result, the rubric of “decisionmaking under stress” was adopted 

as presenters revised their papers for publication. No matter what 

rubric is employed, however, the chapters in this volume shed 

light on patterns of Chinese behavior in crisis-like situations and 

decisionmaking under stress.

 Michael Swaine’s contributed chapter first establishes a general 

framework for understanding crisis management based on 

previous work by Alexander George and J. Philip Rogers. He then 

proceeds to apply this framework to Chinese crisis management 

in particular. Swaine identifies five basic variables that influence 

crisis management behavior―subjective views of leaders and public, 

domestic environment, decisionmaking structure, information 

receipt and processing, and idiosyncratic features. In the case of 

China, he argues, the country often views itself as a victim and 

therefore strongly reacts to what it perceives as “unjust actions” on 

the part of other countries. Chinese leaders are thereby compelled 
2

to signal their firm resolve on serious issues through words and 

actions. However, decisionmaking is centralized in the hands of a 

small number of Party cadre, who work to develop a consensus, 

while China’s bureaucratic Party and intelligence system severely 

compartmentalizes the flow of information, especially to senior 

leaders. This limits and sometimes distorts the information they 

receive during crisis situations.

 Swaine then raises a number of questions about the factors that 

influence the Chinese framework for decisionmaking. He concludes 

that, if we can better understand the broad tendencies that affect 

China’s crisis management style, we may be able to reduce the 

likelihood of undesirable situations in which a Sino-U.S. crisis would 

erupt.

 Larry Wortzel presented a paper on Chinese decisionmaking and 

the Tiananmen Square Massacre. In Wortzel’s opinion, at the time 

of Hu Yaobang’s death, the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) was 

under intense public pressure to reform and reduce corruption. Hu’s 

death acted as a catalyst, leading to student demonstrations, which 

were encouraged by reformist members of the CCP. As the protests 

became larger, several conservative factions, normally at odds with 

one another, closed ranks and sought to end the demonstrations, 

first through police, then military, means. However, the consensus 

decision to use force took time, and the apparent lack of action by the 

Party was seen by protestors to be tacit approval of their actions.

 The People’s Liberation Army (PLA) units that were finally sent 

in after the declaration of martial law were warned of “counterrevolutionary criminals” mixed in with the protesters. The residents 

of Beijing, who violently resisted the PLA in street battles, only 

confirmed the soldier’s belief in these “criminals.” The clearing of 

both the Square and Beijing were bloody, and shattered the myth of 

the PLA as “the people’s army.” Wortzel concludes that the CCP’s 

style of “consensus leadership” does not lend itself well to crisis 

decisionmaking and that as long as it continues, it will likely hurt, 

rather than help, the management of future crises.

 Susan Puska dissects the CCP’s response to the severe acute 

respiratory syndrome (SARS) crisis in 2002-03. According to Puska, 

the CCP’s top priority in the crisis was not public health, but party 

survival and maintenance of power. From November 2002 until April 
3

2003, the Chinese government at first covered up the existence of 

SARS, then underreported the number of cases to the World Health 

Organization (WHO). Once motivated by public outcry, however, 

the government response was a massive, political-style anti-SARS 

campaign that did prove effective in stopping the spread of the 

disease.

 Richard Bush’s paper traces the influences and factors that both 

compose and complicate the PRC-Taiwan “question.” In Dr. Bush’s 

opinion, distrust on both sides of the Taiwan Strait, coupled with 

Taiwan’s “de facto” alliance with the United States, creates a cycle 

wherein one side acts, the other side reacts―and sometimes overreacts―and the United States is forced to deal with both parties.

 Bush goes on to give an in-depth analysis of the 1995-96 Taiwan 

Strait crisis and discusses the factors that made up the problem. 

Among them are the decisionmaking processes of the highest levels 

of the PRC government, their strategic objectives, fundamental 

interests, problems in cross-strait communications, the lack of trust 

on both sides of the Strait, and U.S. fears of being sucked into an 

unwanted military action.

 Paul Godwin, in his contribution, gives a detailed critical analysis 

of China’s decisionmaking and negotiating strategy in both the 1999 

Belgrade Embassy bombing and the EP-3 Surveillance Plane incidents. 

After describing how the two different events unfolded, Dr. Godwin 

points out the similarities in the Chinese handling of both. In both 

cases, China used a prolonged, “asymmetric” negotiating strategy 

designed to extract concessions from, and gain advantage over, 

the United States, while not causing serious damage or permanent 

rupture in Sino-U.S. relations.

 Yitzhak Schichor analyzes the politico-military decisionmaking 

process of how China handled each of the “Iraqi” wars (Iran-Iraq, 

the First Gulf War, and the Coalition War in Iraq). The handling of 

the wars changed as China’s role in international politics changed 

and grew, with China playing an increasingly important role on 

the world stage. But in all three wars, China benefited. In the IranIraq War, China supplied arms to both sides and not only benefited 

economically, but was also able to see how their weapons systems 

worked under combat conditions. In the Gulf War, China used its 
4

potential veto and position on the United Nations (UN) Security 

Council to regain some of the international standing lost after the 

Tiananmen Square Massacre. And in both the Gulf War and the War 

in Iraq, China was able to see U.S. military technology in action, 

giving them useful information on a potential rival’s military at no 

cost.

 Lastly, Frank Miller and Andrew Scobell try to make sense of all 

the contributions. They ask whether “decisionmaking under stress” 

or “crisis management” are useful rubrics and argue that the latter 

remains a more useful approach and one that seems applicable to the 

case studies examined in this volume. Miller and Scobell contend that 

the Chinese Communist Party was born, nurtured, and matured in a 

climate of turmoil routinely punctuated by crises. China’s communist 

leaders, the authors argue, find crises useful and even necessary to 

promote and preserve their rule. Miller and Scobell classify crises 

into three categories: fabricated, anticipated, and unanticipated. The 

first type is a crisis that has been manufactured by the regime to 

serve its purposes. The second type is a crisis that the regime sees 

coming and seeks to exploit to its advantage. The third type is one in 

which the regime is caught entirely by surprise and must scramble 

to respond. Beijing is entirely adept at the first instance, typically 

capable in the second instance, and at sea in the third instance.

 What is of greatest importance in a particular situation is 

to identify which of these three types of crises (i.e., fabricated, 

anticipated, unanticipated) China is facing. Once this determination 

has been made, Chinese behavior becomes comprehensible and even 

predictable to an external actor who can then devise the appropriate 

response.
5

CHAPTER 2

CHINESE CRISIS MANAGEMENT:

FRAMEWORK FOR ANALYSIS, TENTATIVE 

OBSERVATIONS, AND QUESTIONS FOR THE FUTURE

Michael D. Swaine

 Numerous studies exist of China’s use of force and its behavior 

in political-military crises. However, very few such studies 

examine Chinese views and actions from the perspective of crisis 

management. Yet the need for such an examination arguably has 

never been greater, given the occurrence of recent confrontations 

between the United States and China (such as the Taiwan Strait 

Crisis of 1995-96 and the EP-3 Incident of 2001), Beijing’s increasing 

power and influence in Asia, and the arguably growing danger of 

a serious crisis emerging in the near to medium-term over volatile 

issues such as Taiwan, North Korea, and several territorial disputes 

along China’s borders. To increase our chances of avoiding such 

crises in the future, or to minimize the damage that such crises 

might produce, we must greatly increase our understanding of the 

nature, scope, and requirements for successful crisis management; 

the specific conceptual and behavioral features of Chinese foreign 

crises that relate to crisis management; and the implications of such 

factors for U.S. crisis management behavior.

 This chapter constitutes a first step in this direction. It is divided 

into four sections. The first section presents a general framework 

for understanding crisis management. The analysis identifies 

and/or defines basic concepts such as political-military crises, and 

the most significant crisis management strategies and bargaining 

approaches employed by nations in political-military crises. It also 

lists five basic sets of variables that most directly influence the crisis 

management behavior of individual nations. The second section 

identifies and summarizes the major features of Chinese crisis 

management behavior, with reference to the preceding conceptual 

framework. This summary is based on scholarly studies of the 

historical record and current evidence, largely in the form of recent 
6

interviews conducted by the author. The third section provides 

some preliminary observations relevant to the issue of whether 

China’s crisis management behavior is likely to increase the chances 

of inadvertent escalation and/or conflict in a Sino-American crisis 

involving Taiwan. The fourth section identifies critical problem 

areas and unresolved issues concerning Beijing’s likely current and 

future approach to managing political-military crises and draws 

some overall conclusions regarding the state of our knowledge 

about China’s crisis management approach. Finally, two appendices 

list major sources on political-military crises and crisis management 

(Appendix I) and China’s approach to conflict and crisis management 

(Appendix II).

SECTION 1. DEFINITIONS AND MAJOR VARIABLES

 In Western analyses, a political-military crisis is usually defined 

by three factors: 

1. A crisis involves the key or core interests of the actors 

involved;

2. There is a time element or sense of urgency after interests are 

invoked; and,

3. There is a possibility of greatly advancing and/or threatening 

the interests of both sides, including the threat of military 

conflict, and, in the case of major powers, a potential threat to 

the structure of the international system.1

 An international crisis begins with a disruptive action or event, 

a breakpoint or trigger, which activates the above conditions 

for one or more states. Such a precipitating factor could occur by 

accident or deliberately; it could be entirely unexpected or emerge 

unsurprisingly (or seemingly unavoidably) from a longstanding, 

tense confrontation. It might also be caused by the actions of a third 

party or parties. In a full-blown political-military crisis, a threat of 

military conflict usually exists. In a near crisis, there is no probability 

of military conflict despite the existence of a conflict of interest 

and time pressures. Nonetheless, even near-crises can damage 
7

significantly the political, diplomatic, and economic relationships of 

the states concerned, and in some cases increase the probability of a 

future full-blown crisis.2

 A true crisis emerges when neither side is willing to “back down” 

in the face of a perceived threat or opportunity. As Alexander George 

points out, some crises emerge in ways that leave one actor no choice 

but to counter its adversary; others emerge only because one actor 

decides to accept a challenge from the other and to oppose it; still 

other crises are deliberately initiated by one side in an effort to cause 

a favorable change in the status quo.3 In other words, a crisis situation 

usually presents either an apparent threat or an opportunity (or both) 

for one or more states involved. A crisis does not necessarily include 

a threat or opportunity for both sides―only one side need perceive 

the existence of such factors for a crisis to occur. 

 A crisis ends with an action or event that denotes a qualitative 

reduction in conflict or greatly lowers the possibility of a conflict 

emerging. Thus, “successful” crisis management occurs when the 

parties involved are able to avoid the worst case and to defuse one 

or more elements of a crisis―particularly the possibility of military 

conflict―while also protecting or advancing their core interests.4 The 

likelihood that any given crisis can be managed successfully will 

vary enormously, depending on many factors, including the skill and 

intent of the actors involved and whether the interests of the actors 

are diametrically opposed, quasi-opposed, or jointly opposed.5

 In general, crisis management does not aim at resolving the basic 

issue or problem that created the crisis in the first place. It merely 

defuses the crisis and the risks of escalation.6

 As suggested above, 

crises differ substantially in their structure and dynamics, in the 

importance of what is at stake for all actors, in the larger diplomatic 

and military environment, in the level of risks and opportunities 

confronting each actor, and in the domestic and international 

constraints operating on key decisionmakers. However, the acute 

policy challenge posed by every political-military crisis emerges 

from the inherent tension that exists between the desire to protect or 

advance key interests and the need to avoid utilizing actions for this 

purpose that could bring about unwanted escalation and conflict. A 

political-military crisis management “bargaining” strategy is usually 
8

applied―whether consciously or unconsciously―to deal with this 

dilemma and to attain specific objectives.7

 Crisis bargaining strategies vary in large part depending on the 

specific level and intensity of three basic components of bargaining―

persuasion (including efforts to explain and justify a position and 

appropriate assurances of one’s limited objectives), accommodation

(including trade-offs, pay-offs, and the moderation of one’s stand), 

and coercion (including everything from coercive signaling to an 

actual use of force short of all-out war)8

―and the sequence in which 

these elements of bargaining are employed. Hence, many possible 

crisis management “bargaining” strategies exist, including both 

offensive strategies (i.e., compellence-oriented and intended to alter 

the situation at the expense of the adversary) and defensive strategies 

(i.e., deterrence-oriented and intended to prevent or reverse gains).9

Moreover, more than one crisis bargaining strategy can be used in 

a crisis. Decisionmakers often differ greatly in their beliefs about 

these three different components of bargaining and the application 

related bargaining strategies. Such differences will influence how 

information is interpreted and the type of policy response favored 

during a crisis.10

 Crisis management behavior does not consist simply of the 

application of bargaining strategies, however. It also is influenced 

heavily by a variety of other factors. J. Philip Rogers has developed a 

range of crisis bargaining “codes” or cognitive prisms that influence 

the way a decisionmaker interprets events and evaluates options 

in a crisis, thus influencing a state’s overall approach to crisis 

management. These codes incorporate not only general leadership 

beliefs about the most optimal type(s) of bargaining strategy or 

strategies that should be applied in a crisis, but also two other core 

perceptions: the image of the adversary (comprising beliefs about the 

adversary’s typical objectives, decisionmaking style, and bargaining 

strategy) and the dynamics of escalation, including the best ways to 

control escalation, and the manner in which a war might erupt in 

a crisis. Indeed, in Rogers’s analysis, the latter two factors greatly 

influence the type of bargaining strategy or strategies adopted by a 

state actor in a crisis.11

 Rogers identifies four basic bargaining codes, each representing 

an ideal type. Type A employs an image of the adversary that 
9

almost entirely is aggressive in its goals. Adherents believe that only 

intentional war is possible; that crisis escalation is easily controllable 

even beyond the onset of limited nuclear exchanges (and certainly 

controllable through very high levels of conventional combat); and 

that crises can escalate to war only when leaders on one side view 

the balance of force as favorable or when they view the other side 

as lacking resolve. Hence, crisis management is focused on efforts 

to anticipate and avoid both gaps in one’s military or intelligence 

capabilities and an inadequate demonstration of one’s willingness to 

use force. Because of their belief in the low likelihood of unwanted 

escalation, proponents of this crisis management style usually adopt 

a warfighting approach to deterrence in a crisis. That is, when leaders 

calculate that there is a fairly high chance of military success, they 

will reject coercive diplomacy or other forms of crisis bargaining 

strategies in favor of a preemptive military fait accompli. If chances 

of success are not deemed high or are uncertain, they will opt for 

strong, dramatic, coercive actions. In addition, this approach also 

tends to define objectives and evaluate success or failure in military 

terms and to downplay potential negative political costs in a crisis. 

Adherents of this approach often employ bluffs and can use nuclear 

threats.12

 Type B is similar to Type A, but differs notably in the significance 

it accords to the political context of a crisis and in the image of 

crisis dynamics. Adherents admit there is a brink or point beyond 

which crisis control will become problematic and that one can lose 

control of the escalation process, even before actual conflict occurs. 

An unintended escalatory spiral can cause one side to believe 

an attack is imminent and proceed to launch a preemptive strike. 

However, adherents of this approach believe they have a pretty clear 

understanding of the dynamics of escalation and hence of actions 

that could lead to unwanted escalation. They are thus more receptive 

to the use of coercive diplomacy than Types C and D below. But 

they also believe that a loss of control can result from technical 

breakdowns and the path that strategic interaction can take. Hence, 

they will avoid actions that could in their view prompt inadvertent 

escalation. Among adherents, two viewpoints exist regarding what 

might produce such escalation. One variant is willing to use both 
10

bluffs and nuclear threats. They believe that nuclear alerts can be safer 

than conventional threats and attempts at incremental escalation, 

because of the danger that tit-for-tat exchanges can lead to a loss 

of control, and because conventional combat is more likely to lead 

to inadvertent war due to the difficulties involved in controlling 

conventional forces. They emphasize the need to convey sufficient 

resolve early in the game to avoid a loss of control and believe that 

nuclear bluffs and alerts can convey this most effectively. A second 

variant believes that bluffing, and nuclear bluffing in particular, is 

difficult to accomplish and dangerous. Hence, they are more willing 

to use conventional forces to achieve a non-nuclear fait accompli. 

However, both variants believe that dramatic escalations often are 

safer than incremental ones. They both believe that small steps 

will be seen as timid and invite counterescalation. For adherents of 

this approach, the most common cause of war in a crisis is due to a 

failure to demonstrate resolve early and dramatically. Both variants 

thus have fairly high confidence that inadvertent escalation can be 

avoided by following their formulas or rules. They may also be more 

inclined than Type A to include carrots in crisis bargaining. Overall, 

the problem this type poses for crisis management is its emphasis on 

relatively strong, coercive actions in the initial phases of a crisis.13

 Type C believes it is often difficult to determine whether the 

objectives of the adversary in a particular crisis are mainly offensive 

or defensive. The interpretation of an adversary’s objective is more 

influenced by the situational context. Adherents of this approach hold 

two images of the causes of war: 1) a failure to demonstrate resolve; 

and 2) spiraling escalation and responses to perceived provocations. 

Both of these features provide ample opportunities for mistakes 

and hence many paths to inadvertent war. This type is thus less 

sanguine about controlling crises, especially via dramatic escalation. 

Adherents believe that strong signals could set the escalatory 

process in motion, and hence they do not agree with Type B that the 

brink can be recognized in advance and that one can control events 

right up to the brink. Hence, adherents of this approach will favor 

incremental coercive escalation over more sudden and dramatic 

forms of escalation. They hold a strong aversion to fait accompli 

strategies, because of the great uncertainties inherent in the two 
11

possible images of crisis escalation mentioned above. The incremental 

approach offers a compromise between the two possible images of 

the adversary’s objectives and of crisis dynamics. An incremental 

strategy can show resolve but with less provocation, and stress the 

use of mixed (carrot and stick) elements. This facilitates efforts to 

steer between inadvertent war and appeasement. Adherents of this 

approach are thus more willing to compromise on nonessential 

issues and more sensitive to situational variables.14

 Type D tends to assume that the adversary operates from 

exclusively defensive motives. Hence, control is extremely 

problematic if one puts even a modest stress on coercion. For 

adherents of this approach, war results from the escalatory spiral 

resulting from coercive moves, not from a failure to show resolve. 

Thus, this approach stresses accommodation and crisis prevention, 

not management or bargaining.15

 On the basis of both historical experience and (in particular) 

rationality-based calculations of risk assessment, Western analyses 

of crisis management behavior suggest that some of the above 

strategies, bargaining codes, and approaches are far more likely than 

others to decrease (or increase) the chances of inadvertent escalation 

and conflict in a political-military crisis, and to protect (or weaken) a 

state’s core interests. This is largely because each strategy is more or 

less likely to facilitate the use of what are regarded by many scholars 

as several prudent political and operational requirements for 

“successful” crisis management (i.e., so-called “rules of prudence”).16

Political requirements include the use of limited objectives and 

limited means on behalf of such objectives, and an avoidance of the 

use of ultimatums.17 They also include efforts to avoid “ideological” 

or “principled” positions that encourage “zero-sum approaches 

to a crisis and might threaten the other side’s core values and mix 

moral principles with conflicts of interest. Operational requirements 

include the need to preserve military flexibility, to escalate slowly, to 

avoid excessive pressure, to exercise self-restraint, to communicate 

clearly and consistently and to be specific about demands.18

 As Alexander George states, from this perspective, of the five 

offensive strategies, the least dangerous or risky are the limited 

probe and controlled pressure, because they give a challenger a good 
12

opportunity to monitor and control risks. In contrast, the blackmail 

and fait accompli strategies are based on the assumption that the 

defender will be too intimidated or insufficiently motivated to resist, 

or that he will not respond with military action because he has made 

no prior commitment. If such assumptions are incorrect, war might 

follow rapidly as these strategies allow little opportunity to monitor 

and control risks. Finally, a strategy of slow attrition might entail 

low risks at first, but could force the defender to escalate greatly, 

according to George, as the defender is bled to the point where he is 

provoked to undertake a major provocation.19

 Of the seven defensive strategies, George argues that the least risky 

among them, at least at the beginning of a crisis, are the tit-for-tat, the 

test of capabilities, the drawing a line, efforts to convey commitment 

and resolve, and strategies centered on various time-buying efforts. 

More immediately and significantly risky are strategies of coercive 

diplomacy and limited escalation. The latter strategy arguably only 

works when paired with effective deterrence of counterescalation 

by the adversary. George states that “. . . coercive diplomacy is a 

particularly beguiling strategy for strong powers that suffer an 

encroachment from a weaker state because it seems to promise success 

without bloodshed or much expenditure of resources.” However, he 

argues that proponents of this strategy often fail to consider whether 

a weaker opponent’s strong motivation might compensate for its 

inferior capabilities and thus lead it to counter vigorously attempts 

at coercion. This might be particularly applicable in the case of a U.S.-

China crisis. This strategy also is highly problematic if it is combined 

with stringent demands that strengthen the opponent’s motivation 

to resist.20

 While low risk strategies clearly offer some benefits by reducing 

the possibility of conflict, George also points out that they might 

also produce serious disadvantages in a crisis. For example, an 

exclusive commitment to accommodationist, low risk strategies 

might ultimately fail by preserving peace at the expense of core state 

interests. Also, such strategies might prove to be entirely ineffective 

or, worse yet, to convey weakness to the opponent, thus emboldening 

him to use coercion or force. Finally, the effectiveness of various 

crisis management strategies can also be greatly influenced by the 
13

process of implementation. For example, strategies that look great 

on paper might fail due to bureaucratic obstacles, or a heavy reliance 

on subtle signaling or unusually timely or reliable communication 

between opponents.21

 Overall, assessments of the benefits and risks of the above 

crisis management strategies suggest that the bargaining “code” or 

paradigm identified as Type C above would likely offer the greatest 

chance of “success” from a purely logical or conceptual viewpoint. 

At the same time, the Type C code is not without its problems. As 

Rogers points out, adherents of this approach are arguably more 

likely to procrastinate, which can cause a serious problem when the 

crisis demands courageous and bold leadership. They also are likely 

to experience significant levels of stress, which can reduce the quality 

of decisions. Moreover, practitioners of this approach might display 

a greater degree of fluctuation in behavior (especially between 

tough and conciliatory responses), which can send confusing signals 

to the adversary. While Rogers believes that Types A and B pose 

an excessively high level of risk in a crisis, the extremely cautious 

Type D code is also dangerous, for reasons discussed in the previous 

paragraph. The Type D code is dangerous particularly when the 

adversary is highly aggressive and has strong ambitions to alter the 

status quo. In general, however, Rogers believes that the Type A crisis 

bargaining code is probably the most dangerous, since adherents 

of such an approach tend to employ strong, coercive actions or 

undertake preemptive military moves even when they hold limited 

political objectives. This can make an opponent believe that its basic 

security interests are threatened.22

 The Rogers typology of crisis bargaining codes and those 

constituent strategies enunciated by George together provide a useful 

basis for defining the basic “ideal” alternative cognitive approaches 

to crisis management held by decisionmakers in a political-military 

crisis. However, at best, this schema only identifies distinctive 

subjective tendencies that individual decisionmakers might display 

in their efforts to manage such a crisis. As Alexander George states, 

actual crisis management behavior is highly context-dependent, i.e., 

“. . . the prospects for and outcomes of crisis management are subject 

to the interplay of many variables that are likely to present themselves 
14

in somewhat different configurations in different confrontations.”23

George asserts, for example, that “success” in crisis management 

(as defined above) is highly dependent on: 1) the strength of the 

decisionmakers’ incentives for avoiding war; 2) the opportunities 

available to decisionmakers for managing crises; and 3) the level of 

skill they bring to bear in any crisis management effort.24 Moreover, 

Rogers points out that crisis bargaining codes or approaches will 

operate somewhat differently when the decisionmaker is faced 

with different information problems, i.e., information overload, 

information deficits, and contradictory information. Crisis 

management behavior also will operate differently as a result of other 

factors that Rogers mentions only in passing, such as the larger selfimage leaders hold of their country and its core values; the features of 

the domestic political, social, and economic environment confronting 

decisionmakers; the characteristics of the decisionmaking process; 

and various idiosyncratic factors such as leadership personality, 

climate and weather, technical issues, the effects of stress, etc.25

 In all, one can identify at least five basic sets of variables that 

influence crisis management behavior:

1. Subjective Views/Beliefs of Leaders and the Public. This set includes 

elite attitudes toward risk taking and crisis stability; the selfimage of the populace as a nation and a people; images of 

the adversary; fundamental values and assumptions held 

regarding coercion (and the use of force), accommodation, 

and persuasion, and hence the basic inclination toward 

specific bargaining strategies; and, finally, views of the best 

means to signal credibility and to resolve or avoid unwanted 

escalation.

2. Domestic Environment (politics and society). This set includes 

the system of government and the nature of leadership 

politics, the elite’s perceived requirements for governmental 

and social stability and progress (including governmental 

approaches to manipulating beliefs and images, the media, 

etc.), and the nature and level of influence of public opinion 

and other forms of popular pressure on the government. 

3. Decisionmaking Structure and Process. This set includes the 

pattern of distribution and exercise of ultimate decisionmaking 
15

power within the political system, as well as both formal 

and informal channels of policy execution and control; this 

area thus encompasses bureaucratic relations and interests 

(especially the relationship between civilian and military 

leaders and organs), relationships between political and 

military leaders and their subordinates, the speed and 

efficiency of the decisionmaking structure, and the influence 

of standard operating procedures (SOP) and signaling.

4. Information and Intelligence Receipt and Processing. This set 

includes the nature and extent of governmental intelligence 

gathering and use by each actor, as well as the acquisition 

and use of other forms of information, etc.; it encompasses 

the possible influence exerted by information overload, 

information deficit, and contradictory or distorted information, 

as well as other features of information input and utilization 

by crisis decisionmakers and subordinate individuals and 

agencies charged with implementation.

5. Idiosyncratic or Special Features. This set includes all those 

irregular or unpredictable factors that can influence crisis 

management, such as leadership personality, the effects of 

stress and climate, technical issues or problems, and the effect 

of third parties.26

 In sum, every state’s crisis management approach, both in general 

and during a particular crisis, can be described as an approximation 

of a certain type of crisis bargaining “code” or cognitive schema that 

incorporates specific types of crisis management strategies. Moreover, 

each such code or schema is influenced or qualified by exogenous 

factors such as domestic pressures, decisionmaking structures and 

processes, intelligence features, the number of state actors in a crisis, 

etc.

SECTION 2. CHINA’S APPROACH TO CRISES 

AND CRISIS MANAGEMENT 

 In order to determine the major characteristics of China’s crisis 

management approach as it relates to the above framework, one must 
16

first identify those dominant Chinese beliefs, values, and actions in 

the above five component areas that exert the most direct influence 

on crisis behavior.27

Subjective Views/Beliefs.

 Self-Image. China views itself as an aspiring yet nonaggressive great 

power, increasingly confident yet also acutely sensitive to domestic 

and external challenges to its stability and status. China’s leaders, 

and many ordinary Chinese citizens, possess a strong memory of the 

nation’s supposed historical victimization and manipulation at the 

hands of stronger powers. Thus, they are prepared to go to significant 

lengths to avoid the appearance of being weak and “giving-in” to 

great power pressures, or of engaging in predatory or manipulative 

behavior themselves. Chinese leaders also evince a very strong 

commitment to specific basic principles and core interests, especially 

those principles and interests associated with the defense of China’s 

territorial integrity and sovereignty, both of which are related closely 

to national dignity. This viewpoint is apparently also shared by many 

ordinary Chinese citizens.

 China generally has viewed its behavior during most past crises 

over territorial issues as a totally justifiable defensive response to 

efforts by other states to alter the territorial status quo accepted 

by China’s leaders in 1949. That is, the use of force in most post1949 territorial crises is viewed as a defense against threats to the 

status quo, i.e., a kind of “preventive deterrence action” designed 

to prevent the situation from worsening. China’s involvement with 

foreign powers in other political-military crises since 1949 also is 

characterized as largely defensive in nature, designed to ward off 

either imminent or existing threats to critical border areas, or more 

vague attempts to intimidate China or to “test” China’s resolve or 

the stability of its leadership.

 Closely related to the previous point, China also displays 

a strong impulse to view the triggering issue in a crisis as a clear 

matter of principle (i.e., of right and wrong, fairness or unfairness, 

or just versus unjust behavior). This leads to a tendency to view 

crisis confrontations in “zero-sum” terms, involving the defense of 
17

moral principles against unjust acts. This tendency is augmented by 

the above-mentioned sense of vulnerability felt when confronting 

a superior power. China thus often believes it is compelled to act 

because the other side would not heed warnings and recognize its 

unjust behavior, or because the other side acted in a way that equated 

to an unjustifiable use of force, requiring a counter.

 The prevalence of territorial and sovereignty issues in past crises, 

and the relevance of such issues to the current Taiwan problem, 

reinforce a strong Chinese belief that Beijing is very likely to have 

its most critical interests at stake in a future crisis with the United 

States over the island. At the same time, many Chinese also assume 

that Beijing also will be defending such interests from an inferior 

position in power terms. In contrast, the United States is viewed as 

likely to have lesser interests at stake in a Taiwan crisis.

Image of the Adversary (the United States). China views the United 

States as constantly striving to maintain its system of global and 

regional dominance, usually through a reliance on superior economic 

and military power, and often without international (i.e., United 

Nations [UN]) approval. In particular, Washington is seen as willing 

to violate the territorial integrity and sovereignty of other states to 

achieve its objectives. Moreover, as a hegemonic and anti-socialist 

power, the United States inevitably views China as a significant 

strategic threat. Hence, the United States often is seen as offensivelyoriented, seeking in many ways to constrain China’s power and limit 

its options internationally. In the past, these efforts have included 

attempts to use other powers, such as Nationalist China, South Korea, 

and Japan as proxies. Today, the United States often is viewed as 

seeking to constrain China’s rise by preventing the reunification of 

Taiwan with the Mainland, or of encouraging Taiwan independence. 

On the other hand, the United States also is viewed today as desiring 

at least workable (if not fully cooperative and amicable) relations 

with China, for largely economic and political reasons. This U.S. 

interest has deepened considerably since the advent of the global war 

on terrorism and the worsening of the current crisis on the Korean 

Peninsula. Both events have forced Washington not only to divert its 

attention, at least temporarily, from the long-term strategic challenge 

posed by China’s rise, but also to collaborate more closely with and 

depend upon Beijing to address these more pressing concerns.
18

 The United States also is viewed as possessing a much larger 

variety of means to manage a crisis, including military, political, 

economic, diplomatic, etc. On the other hand, it also will move 

slowly in a crisis and usually is constrained by a fear of casualties, 

prolonged conflict, and economic costs. It also displays some clear 

vulnerabilities in command, control, and communications, stemming 

largely from the U.S. military’s reliance on nonencrypted electronic 

communications and satellite technologies. Moreover, many Chinese 

firmly believe that the United States probably will have less at stake 

in a conflict with China, as suggested above. For all these reasons, 

many Chinese apparently believe that the United States can, in most 

instances, more easily choose to avoid a crisis with China involving 

the use of force over critical issues such as Taiwan, viewing armed 

conflict―and particularly the prospect of prolonged armed conflict―

as unnecessary and too costly. This suggests, to some Chinese, that 

the United States is likely to be more easily deterrable in a crisis than 

China, especially a crisis over territories such as Taiwan.

 Also, China often places an emphasis on designating an adversary 

as friendly, hostile, or neither. In general, China is more inclined to 

adopt an enemy image of an adversary if overall bilateral relations 

are in a state of hostility or obvious tension, or simply if friendly 

relations are not predominant in the relationship (i.e., a state of 

“neither friend nor foe,” fei di fei you). Such a designation is apparently 

more than an informal, subjective opinion held by some leaders. It is 

a quasi-formal “label” (referred to by the notion of dingwei) that can 

heavily influence assessments and recommendations produced by 

elites and advisors within China, and thus can significantly shape 

Beijing’s crisis behavior. 

Views toward Coercion, Accommodation, and Persuasion. Historically, 

Chinese behavior in political-military crises has encompassed at 

times all forms of coercion, including the direct application of military 

force. Indeed, for China, a limited use of force has been regarded 

as an effective tool in a crisis. Such a use of force can be used to 

show resolve, a commitment to principle, and a refusal to submit to 

intimidation, and thus can elicit caution and possibly concessions 

from the other side. It can be designed to produce psychological shock, 

uncertainty, and to intimidate an opponent, often as part of a larger 
19

strategy to seize the political and military initiative via deception 

and surprise. From the Chinese perspective, such a limited use of 

force under certain circumstances can prevent a much larger conflict. 

In all, in past political-military crises, China’s use of force often was 

intended to shape, deter, blunt, or reverse a situation; probe or test 

intentions; prevent escalation; and, in the Chinese view, strengthen 

the foundations of peace.

 In some instances, a self-perception by China of overall weakness, 

not strength, can motivate the use of force as a means of conveying 

resolve and to shock a stronger adversary into more “cautious” 

behavior. Such a use of force usually demands sensitivity to the 

prevailing balance of power in the geographic area of the crisis and 

to problems of escalation and control. In line with this approach, in 

past crises, the Chinese use of force often was followed by signs of 

accommodation or efforts at persuasion, at least privately, to avoid 

escalation, and to secure at least minimum gains.

 Overall, Chinese leaders have seemed to follow the maxim “just 

grounds, to our advantage, with restraint” (you li, you li, you jie) in 

assessing how to employ coercion, accommodation, and persuasion 

in a crisis bargaining strategy. This principle, used often by Mao 

Zedong during the Chinese struggle against Japan in World War II, 

consists of three points: 

1. Do not attack unless attacked. Never attack others without 

provocation, but once attacked, do not fail to return the blow. 

This is the defensive nature of the principle. 

2. Do not fight decisive actions unless sure of victory. Never 

fight without certainty of success, unless failing to fight would 

likely present a worse outcome. Utilize contradictions among 

the enemy. Apply your strong point(s) and reduce the enemy’s 

strong point(s). This is the limited nature of struggle. 

3. Be pragmatic and aware of the limited nature of objectives 

and strength. With a strong power, set appropriate war 

objectives; do not exceed capabilities. Know when to stop, 

when to counter, and when to bring the fight to a close. Stop 

once the goals are attained; rethink if you cannot obtain your 

objectives. Do not be carried away with success. This is the 

temporary or contingent nature of each struggle.
20

Views toward Escalation. In past crises, the above approach to force 

usually required the prior attainment of local superiority, strong 

control over troops (marked by very clear rules of engagement), 

efforts to seize and maintain the initiative (often using tactical 

surprise and deception), a sense of “knowing when to stop,” the use 

of pauses, and/or the communication of what were viewed as clear 

signals of a low intent to escalate in a major way (e.g., no obvious 

alerts or mobilizations, etc.). In most instances, the provision of a 

“way out” for both sides also was emphasized. Such notions are 

broadly similar to the “rules of prudence” contained in the general 

literature on crisis management. When combined with attempts 

to maximize constraining influences on the adversary (such as 

via messages aimed at world and domestic public opinion, etc.), 

Chinese leaders believed that these conditions would minimize 

the likelihood of miscalculation or of a preemptive attack by the 

adversary, and thus limit escalation. This would be especially true 

for those crises involving the use of force to attain limited, primarily 

political, objectives. Such a viewpoint applied even against a superior 

(including a nuclear-armed) foe, particularly if vital interests were at 

stake for China and if delay was seen as more dangerous than action. 

From the Chinese perspective, successful examples of the application 

of this approach include the Taiwan Strait crises of 1954 and 1958 

and the 1962 Sino-Indian border clash.

 For Chinese leaders, signaling firm resolve through words and 

actions also is a major element of crisis bargaining and escalation 

control. In past political-military crises during the Mao Zedong and 

Deng Xiaoping eras, Chinese leaders showed a clear willingness 

to sustain significant military and/or economic costs, if they were 

confident that, by doing so, they could attain their core (usually 

political) objectives. From a Western viewpoint, this amounts to 

risking significant escalation and subsequent damage for limited 

objectives. From the Chinese perspective, the willingness to put 

major assets at risk in a crisis is an essential means of signaling 

resolve. Moreover, as indicated above, Chinese leaders tend to 

believe that a strong show of resolve is needed in part to compensate 

for relative weakness. And it is used not only to deter, but also to 

justify subsequent actions, both externally and domestically.
21

 In confronting or planning for a crisis, Chinese leaders also at 

times have emphasized the need to achieve the best outcome possible 

while preparing for the worst. The Chinese apparently assume that, 

in order to control escalation and manage a crisis successfully, China 

must be prepared to deal with―indeed to anticipate―the most severe 

deterioration of the situation possible. To some extent, this constitutes 

prudent planning. However, some Chinese observers have pointed 

out that an overemphasis on “worst casing” a potential crisis can 

serve to magnify the threat posed by an opponent, thus raising 

the cost of implementing any potential crisis–inducing policy to 

excessively high levels. On the other hand, such careful preparation 

for or consideration of worst case outcomes cannot occur if a crisis 

emerges unexpectedly and rapidly.28

Views toward and Features of Crisis Signaling. Historically, China 

has evinced little, if any, deliberate use of tactical ambiguity in 

signaling, especially in signaling resolve. In general, Chinese leaders 

seem to value highly sending what they view as clear messages. 

Such signals usually are intended to convey warnings and thus to 

deter an adversary, rather than to negotiate the resolution of a crisis, 

to indicate a willingness to deescalate, or to avoid further escalation. 

In the past, China has warned adversaries to alter their behavior or 

suffer the consequences, often as part of a prior internal decision to 

use force if China’s warnings are not heeded. In other words, there 

is considerable evidence that China employs signals during a crisis 

primarily to communicate resolve and resistance, and not to attain 

the objectives usually associated with “classic” crisis management 

signaling.29

 Moreover, China seems to emphasize verbal warnings in politicalmilitary crises, while resisting the use of overt military deployments 

or alerts. This presumably reflects the desire to employ surprise and 

to concentrate superior force at a point of weakness, especially if the 

adversary is regarded as militarily superior. In contrast, the United 

States arguably views most forms of military transparency in a crisis 

as a way to enhance deterrence.

 Despite an emphasis on clear signaling to convey resolve, China’s 

messages have not been interpreted as intended in some past crises, 

partly because other signals seem to contradict or weaken the 
22

intended message, sometimes for inadvertent reasons. For example, 

to some U.S. observers such as Tom Christensen, during the Korean 

War, China’s warnings to the United States concerning the crossing 

of the 38th parallel were not clear particularly because of the lack 

of direct contact between the two sides, and because the Chinese 

did not use military deployments or alerts to signal resolve. In fact, 

the lack of coordination in China’s military deployments before 

the war and in the early phases of the war sent signals of weakness 

or irresoluteness that were not real. Today, Chinese signals can be 

misinterpreted because the Chinese system is less monolithic than 

in the past, and somewhat different messages can emerge from 

different individuals and organizations. During the Maoist era, 

strong centralized control over many, if not all, aspects of crisis 

decisionmaking usually guaranteed a single message. Today a much 

more complex decisionmaking process exists, marked by far higher 

levels of internal consultation; as a result, different messages can 

emerge during a crisis. This can slow down reaction time and distort 

signaling. 

 Finally, as with other countries, both the sending and the reading 

of signals during a crisis are influenced heavily by the larger external 

and internal political context. For example, China’s leadership 

tended to worst case U.S. signals during the 1995-96 Taiwan Strait 

crisis because bilateral relations had worsened considerably prior to 

that event. This negative environment led the Chinese leadership to 

conclude that Washington was probing China’s bottom line when it: 

a) reversed its stance and granted a visa to Lee Teng-hui; b) allegedly 

refused to work with Beijing to lessen the consequences of the 

decision; and then c) deployed two carrier battle groups to the Taiwan 

area. Actually, according to former senior U.S. officials involved in 

the crisis, domestic concerns unrelated to China (in particular, a 

fear of growing congressional influence over the president’s foreign 

policy authority) apparently played a major role in these decisions 

and signals. Similarly, the military signals Beijing employed in fall 

1995 and spring 1996 at least were determined partly by domestic 

considerations, including both the desire to influence Taiwan’s 

presidential election and the desire to mollify internal hardliners.30
23

The Domestic Environment.

 For China, domestic factors often are critically important in 

a political-military crisis, and, in some instances, arguably more 

important than external factors. In fact, some Chinese observers insist 

that domestic interests always will trump foreign policy interests 

in a crisis. Both elite and popular views and actions involving 

internal issues and concerns can limit options, increase rigidity, slow 

response times, and distort signals in a crisis. Although the general 

contours of how domestic factors such as internal power disputes 

or elite concerns over popular sentiments might influence crises 

are understood, little is known about the critical details regarding 

the specific manner, degree, and conditionality of such influence. 

Individual anecdotes abound concerning specific cases, but general 

principles or features are virtually nonexistent. Moreover, overall, 

some Chinese observers believe that Beijing often displays a woefully 

inadequate understanding of how an adversary’s domestic context 

influences its crisis behavior.

 In the Mao Zedong and Deng Xiaoping eras, crises apparently 

were regarded at times as opportunities, including opportunities 

to strengthen a leader’s domestic standing among his colleagues 

and with the public. And public opinion was regarded more as an 

element that should be mobilized to support the elite’s objectives than 

a factor that conditioned crisis decisionmaking. For many Chinese 

observers, the Korean and Vietnam Wars were mostly viewed by the 

Chinese leadership as international crises without significant internal 

components. That is, Chinese leaders generally were not subject to 

serious domestic (and in particular public) pressures when handling 

those early crises. This is no longer the case, however. For example, 

during the diplomatic crises sparked by the U.S. bombing of China’s 

embassy in Belgrade in 1999 and the EP-3 incident of 2001, China’s 

leaders faced the problem of how to manage a situation in which 

internal dissatisfaction, sparked by an external crisis, threatened to 

imperil social stability. In fact, as suggested above, some Chinese 

observers believe that public pressure has become a far more serious 

issue for China’s leaders than for America’s leaders. Moreover, 

according to some Chinese observers, during the embassy bombing 
24

crisis of 1999, the influence of domestic factors clearly outweighed 

external considerations. That said, we still know very little about 

the ways in which public opinion or pressure can influence the 

calculations of Chinese leaders in a crisis.

 In addition to public pressure, other domestic elements within 

China, such as the media and the propaganda apparatus, also play 

an important role in influencing a crisis. This is an area that requires 

much further study. From the perspective of some Chinese observers, 

the People’s Republic of China (PRC) propaganda apparatus and 

the media are not entirely monolithic entities subservient to the 

views and decisions of the senior leadership. The propaganda 

apparatus tends to be more conservative than other institutions (and 

perhaps some leaders) and primarily is oriented toward domestic 

audiences. The broader media are more diverse, and dominated by 

younger individuals and sometimes both direct and reflect public 

sentiment. However, according to some Chinese observers, after the 

embassy bombing incident of 1999, the Chinese government greatly 

strengthened its control over the media, especially the mainstream 

media. The media reportedly now are included in consultative 

mechanisms and within the Chinese government’s coordination 

mechanism. 

 Finally, since the Mao and Deng eras, groupings within the 

senior Chinese leadership also have come to play an increasingly 

important role during crises. In particular, the existence of a more 

collective leadership and differences between “hard-line” and “softline” approaches to handling a crisis (both within the public and 

among the elite) can influence outcomes. According to some Chinese, 

China’s top leaders especially need to explain and justify themselves 

to those forces internally advocating a tougher line against Taiwan, 

for example. But, again, we understand very little about how such 

leadership differences might influence actual behavior in a crisis. 

The Decisionmaking Structure and Process.

 During the 1950s, 1960s, and early 1970s, the decisionmaking 

process during a crisis was highly centralized and concentrated 

in the person of Mao Zedong. At such times, Mao often consulted 
25

with a small group of senior civilian and military leaders, and at 

times would exert considerable efforts to persuade some of these 

individuals to support his viewpoint. The ideal procedure followed 

was democratic centralism, in which all senior leaders would 

exchange their views through high-level meetings and less formal 

interactions and a general consensus would eventually be reached on 

an issue, thus leading to a decision. However, in most instances, the 

resulting “consensus” generally would reflect Mao’s preference, and 

in most instances Mao was able to make key decisions regardless of 

the level of hesitation or even opposition that might exist among his 

colleagues. In addition, Mao was able to make the most authoritative 

strategic and tactical decisions without much interference from the 

bureaucracy. Moreover, lower-level officials were almost completely 

in the dark regarding a particular decision, yet would implement 

the decision voluntarily, and follow established policies. Hence, a 

single decision with a single message usually emerged from the Mao 

era crisis decisionmaking process. Moreover, Mao also would make 

all critical decisions throughout the life of the crisis; for example, in 

response to the reaction of the adversary. At the same time, Mao’s 

superior authority would allow him to strike compromises in a crisis 

that less powerful leaders might be unwilling or unable to make, 

for fear of being attacked by their rivals. These features also were 

evident by-and-large during the Deng Xiaoping era of the mid/late1970s, 1980s, and early 1990s. However, Deng arguably was more 

compelled than Mao to consult and compromise with his senior 

colleagues, especially those retired or semi-retired cadres of the 

revolutionary generation. 

 The present-day Chinese crisis decisionmaking process remains 

highly centralized in a small number of individuals, but is not as 

fully concentrated in the hands of the paramount leader. The process 

is much more amorphous, involving greater levels of internal 

(and some external) consultation and a genuine need to develop a 

consensus through democratic centralism. The paramount leader 

still makes the final decision, but his decision must more closely 

reflect the views of his colleagues. In general, rising nationalist 

feelings within the public and the greater complexity of some issues 

confronted in a crisis require much greater levels of coordination 

within the government, and at times the solicitation of views from 
26

nongovernment officials such as scholars. Moreover, more diverse 

messages emerge from the Chinese government during a crisis 

today, including from different bureaucracies and the media. This 

reflects the involvement in various aspects of the decisionmaking 

or implementation process of a larger number of more relatively

autonomous actors than existed during the Mao and Deng eras. This 

more complex and diverse process tends to slow down reaction time 

and distort signaling, as indicated above. In addition, whereas Mao 

or Deng might have been more willing to take risks in managing a 

crisis, on the assumption that their dominant power and authority 

made them less susceptible to removal if they were to fail, today’s 

relatively weaker leaders might be more vulnerable to public or elite 

pressure and hence more cautious in a crisis.

 One major bureaucratic player in the crisis decisionmaking 

process is the Chinese military. During the Maoist era, senior military 

leaders enjoyed considerable prestige and were well known by 

their colleagues within the civilian apparatus, many of whom were 

former military leaders. Hence, individual senior officers could and 

sometimes did advocate their views with vigor and even question 

Mao’s viewpoint at times. If the decision in question involved military 

deployments, Mao would have to listen carefully to their views. Yet 

the military did not in any sense “check” Mao’s decisionmaking 

power. Moreover, even though military commanders would have 

considerable freedom in implementing the orders given to units 

in the field, Mao would usually issue all such orders, be informed 

continuously of the movement of all major units, and at times even 

would direct personally the movement of units. He also would 

establish and ensure the observance of strict rules of engagement by 

all military forces deployed during a crisis.

 Today, military leaders do not have close personal ties to civilian 

leaders. The relationship between senior civilian and military heads 

is largely professional, mediated and shaped by the functions and 

responsibilities of their respective institutions. Some personal links 

apparently do form at senior levels as a result of the personnel 

promotion process and frequent contact during policy meetings. 

However, the high level of personal familiarity between senior 

civilian and military leaders, the resulting close interactions among 

them, and the significant authority and power of senior military 
27

leaders within upper decisionmaking circles evident during the 

Maoist era in general do not exist today.

 The views of military leaders during a crisis must be taken into 

account if relevant, but, as in the Maoist era, they do not translate 

into an absolute veto over decisions made by civilian leaders. That 

said, information supplied to the senior leadership by military 

sources, together with the operational plans and procedures of the 

military, can shape significantly the perceptions of senior civilian 

decisionmakers and hence the ultimate behavior of the leadership 

in a crisis. Such influence might have taken place during the EP3 incident and the 1995-96 Taiwan Strait crisis. Military reports on 

the aircraft collision during the former were apparently the sole 

source of information on the incident, and in all likelihood could 

not be confirmed independently by the civilian leadership. During 

the latter crisis, according to Chinese observers, a preapproved 

operational plan drawn up by the military for exercises and missile 

firings apparently was never reexamined as the crisis evolved, and 

thus likely influenced the outcome of the crisis.

 Finally, overall, the decisionmaking process can affect significantly 

information processing, signaling, and hence the willingness or 

ability of the Chinese leadership to adopt particular crisis bargaining 

strategies. During the Belgrade embassy bombing incident, the 

Chinese response was viewed by many observers as too slow. Why 

did the Chinese government wait to conduct a direct dialogue with 

the United States after the bombing? Was this solely because no 

authoritative response had been developed, or were other factors at 

work? Could some level of direct contact occur even in the absence 

of a formal decision defining China’s official response? According 

to some Chinese observers, special task forces reportedly have been 

formed during recent crises to handle these and other problems. 

But few details are known about their membership, responsibilities, 

functions, and ultimate influence. 

Information and Intelligence Receipt and Processing.

 The receipt of a wide range of accurate, real-time intelligence and 

information (including so-called “soft” intelligence), incorporating, 

when necessary, a variety of perspectives and interpretations, is 
28

essential to effective crisis management. National policymakers’ 

control over and access to both hard and soft intelligence has a direct 

impact on the quality of the final judgment. At the public level, this 

also influences the environment for determining security policy. 

Unfortunately, although the amount and quality of the intelligence 

and information received by China’s leadership during crises 

reportedly has improved significantly over the years, problems 

remain, and much is still unknown about how such vital input is 

utilized.

 For example, according to some Chinese observers, communication 

links with senior leaders do not always operate quickly and 

effectively, as indicated during the EP-3 incident. At that time, senior 

leaders reportedly could not be informed quickly of the incident 

because they were engaged in tree planting in various places around 

the country. In addition, the system for providing intelligence 

apparently reflects the overall “stove-piped” nature of the Chinese 

bureaucracy. For example, entirely separate avenues of intelligence 

exist in the civilian and military realms. Although this also is the case 

in other countries, in China, the military intelligence apparatus, in 

particular, remains insular, secretive, and highly restricted, even to 

some senior civilian leaders. This phenomenon arguably can limit or 

distort the information provided to senior decisionmakers in a crisis. 

It is possible that this occurred during the EP-3 incident. In general, 

this critical set of variables influencing China’s crisis management 

behavior is very poorly understood in the West, and even, it seems, 

within much of the Chinese political system. 

Idiosyncratic or Special Features.

 One of the most important factors influencing the past management 

of Sino-U.S. crises has been the personality of China’s senior 

leadership. According to most observers, crises such as the Korean 

War and the Sino-Soviet border conflict of 1969 were influenced 

decisively by the outlook and values of Mao Zedong. That said, it 

remains extremely difficult to distinguish between Mao’s power and 

the unique features of his personality as determinative factors in 

the crisis decisionmaking process. Was Mao, as a personality, more 
29

willing to take risks, less “rational,” and more rigid and resistant to 

negotiation in a crisis? Even more important, little evidence exists to 

determine the extent to which the personalities of today’s leadership 

in China might affect their approach to political-military crises. 

 Another critical factor that can influence crisis decisionmaking 

is the activities of third parties. For example, the policies of Chiang 

Kai-shek significantly influenced the handling of the Taiwan Strait 

crises of the 1950s, sometimes increasing the danger involved. 

Taiwan’s domestic politics and the personality of individuals such 

as Lee Teng-hui also have exerted a major impact on more recent 

crises. During the 1995-96 Taiwan Strait crisis, Lee Teng-hui had his 

own agenda, which put the United States in the position of needing 

to respond to his actions, as well as those of the Chinese. This is 

arguably also the case with Chen Shui-bian today. In other crises 

involving China, such as the 1962 Sino-Indian border crisis and the 

1979 Sino-Vietnam border war, the policies and actions of the Soviet 

Union obviously exerted an influence over Chinese behavior toward 

New Delhi and Hanoi. The manner and extent to which third parties 

have influenced China’s crisis management behavior requires much 

further study. 

 What tentative conclusions can one draw from the above features 

concerning China’s past approach to crisis management? First, Beijing 

generally has been pragmatic and attentive to relative capabilities 

and the dangers of escalation and miscalculation in a crisis. As a 

result, it has displayed at least some important “rules of prudence,” 

including a strict control over military forces, the use and signaling 

of limited objectives and means, and the provision of pauses and a 

“way out,” when threatening or employing force. On the other hand, 

China’s leadership also has displayed a clear tendency to regard an 

adversary as aggressive and often as an “enemy,” and generally has 

utilized zero-sum thinking in a crisis and adopted positions derived 

from the defense of seemingly immutable “principles” such as 

sovereignty and territorial integrity.

 Second, during the Mao and Deng eras, China often displayed 

a low threshold for the use of limited amounts of force, sometimes 

seemingly regardless of the human or economic cost involved, and 

in some cases against, a clearly superior foe. This feature apparently 
30

derived primarily from a high level of confidence in the ability to 

control escalation and a strong belief that a limited application 

of force was necessary to avoid a larger conflict or to defend core 

“principles.”31 It also perhaps derived from the ability and willingness 

of strong leaders such as Mao and Deng to take significant risks.

 Third, on balance, China’s approach to political-military crises 

generally has preferred decisive, often coercive (albeit limited) 

actions over prolonged diplomatic signaling and negotiation or 

incremental increases in pressure, tit-for-tat moves, etc. Again, this 

was particularly the case during the Mao and Deng eras.32 Moreover, 

crisis signaling generally was designed to communicate resolve, and 

not to “manage” a crisis. 

 Fourth, in recent years, the growing influence of public pressure, 

combined with the likely weakened capacity of senior leaders to resist 

such pressure, arguably has limited flexibility and self-restraint and 

distorted signaling in a crisis. This increasingly has become evident 

during the post-Deng era. 

 Fifth, an increasingly complex, and fragmented decisionmaking 

process and a stove-piped intelligence structure have acted to slow 

down reaction time and also to distort both the accurate assessment 

of information and clear signaling in a crisis. This also is primarily a 

feature of the post-Deng era.

 On balance, China’s approach to crisis management probably has 

most closely approximated the Type B bargaining “code” or cognitive 

prism summarized above. As suggested, this code is not regarded 

as highly conducive to “successful” crisis management practices. 

Moreover, several of the other largely structural features of China’s 

crisis management behavior―such as aspects of the decisionmaking 

process and the use of intelligence and information―have served to 

reinforce such “dysfunctional” features. 

 However, the question arises as to whether the post-Deng (and 

now the post-Jiang Zemin) era will result in a significant alteration of 

China’s past approach to crisis management due to both internal and 

external changes. As suggested by the above discussion, prior to the 

mid-1990s, most political-military crises were influenced decisively 

by the existence of:
31

 • A strong, dominant leader;

 • Leadership confidence in the ability to prevail militarily 

in most border areas and in the ability to control escalation;

 • Strong controls over public attitudes and behavior; and,

 • A low level of dependence on external powers for economic 

growth and stability.

As indicated, all of these areas have experienced marked change in 

recent years. 

 Moreover, before the mid-1990s, most political-military crises 

involved:

 • Limited, largely political objectives for relatively low stakes or 

in one instance (the Korean War) a clear, unambiguous threat 

to agreed-upon vital national interests requiring a vigorous 

response;

 • Relatively clear, limited rules of engagement; and,

 • Little evidence of external time pressures at the outset of 

crises.

However, in the future, political-military crises―and a crisis over 

Taiwan in particular―will likely present significantly different (and 

in some instances entirely unprecedented) conditions and some 

major uncertainties not evident in the past.

SECTION 3. “MANAGING” A FUTURE TAIWAN CRISIS. 

A DUBIOUS PROPOSITION?

 In China today, the absence of a charismatic, clearly dominant 

leader argues in favor of significant levels of caution toward 

precipitating a crisis and, once started, toward escalating a crisis. As 

indicated above, unlike Mao and Deng, China’s current leadership 

has less ability to survive major policy errors and hence would 

presumably treat any crisis over Taiwan with significant caution. 

Such caution would be reinforced by the huge economic and social 

damage that could result from a perceived failure to manage a 

Taiwan crisis, given China’s extensive and deep involvement in the 
32

global economic order and its heavy reliance on the U.S. trade and 

investment markets for the maintenance of the high growth regarded 

as essential to China’s future stability.

 Second, for China, high barriers likely exist to the success of 

many deterrence and compellence strategies regarding Taiwan 

involving the threat or use of limited force. China would find it 

extremely difficult to attain “local superiority” in a Taiwan crisis, due 

to both the geography of the area and the nature of the adversary. 

China’s tactical and strategic assets are likely to be highly vulnerable 

to U.S. conventional stand-off weapons. Moreover, the barrier 

presented by the Taiwan Strait, combined with U.S. command, 

control, communications, computer, intelligence, and strategic 

reconnaissance (C4ISR) assets, would make it extremely difficult for 

China to achieve deception and denial and to act decisively to gain 

the initiative. And it is difficult for China to assess the likelihood of 

success against U.S. forces of its key weapons (e.g., ballistic missiles 

or information warfare), all of which remain largely untested in 

combat. All of these factors argue in favor of considerable caution 

toward both precipitating a crisis and in the choice of strategies to 

manage a crisis.

 On the negative side, given the very high stakes involved for China 

(involving questions of territorial sovereignty, regime legitimacy, 

and hence social order) and the increased influence of public opinion, 

the senior Chinese leadership probably would feel enormous 

pressure to communicate resolve very strongly in a Taiwan crisis 

and to resist any actions that might suggest capitulation to foreign 

(read U.S.) pressure. This inclination could increase the chances that 

China would fall into a classic commitment trap, in which Beijing is 

compelled to utter ultimatums and then to act on them if deterrence 

fails.33 As a result of this attitude, China might find it very difficult 

to make trade-offs as part of an effort to manage an emerging crisis 

over Taiwan. For example, it would likely find it extremely hard to 

adopt an incremental, tit-for-tat approach in a crisis or to trade closer 

cross-Strait political contacts for even a perceived loss of sovereignty 

claims over Taiwan. Moreover, as indicated above, China has rarely 

employed such an incrementalist approach in the past.

 Such rigidity and the resulting dangers it poses for crisis 

management could be accentuated by China’s continued belief that, 
33

in the final analysis, Washington is more likely to “back down” in a 

Taiwan crisis than Beijing, as mentioned above. Moreover, the abovementioned disadvantages of achieving local superiority are at least 

partly counterbalanced by the Chinese view that the United States is 

vulnerable in high-tech areas and limited by a fear of casualties and 

the prospect of a prolonged conflict. All of these factors could lead 

China to miscalculate that it might prevail in a crisis over Taiwan if it 

can communicate its allegedly stronger resolve clearly and credibly. 

And China might initiate major military action, even with high risks, 

if its leaders believe that a closing window of opportunity exists to 

control or resolve the Taiwan situation. 

 Third, once in a crisis, China (and the United States) might 

have great difficulty controlling escalation. In particular, a crisis 

could move quickly into a conflict that threatens to explode into a 

larger war. This would certainly be the case if China were to fall 

into the commitment trap discussed above. China’s strong need to 

communicate resolve, the few nonmilitary means of doing so, and 

a belief in some key U.S. vulnerabilities could all result in the use 

of relatively high-risk bargaining strategies by Beijing. It would 

almost certainly prove difficult for Beijing to convey resolve in any 

compellance situation regarding Taiwan. Beijing might calculate 

that the best compellance bargaining strategy would be the fait 

accompli, requiring a rapid military strike that could increase greatly 

the chances of an all-out conflict.

 In addition, a Taiwan crisis probably would offer less time for 

assessment and negotiation, and would increase the chance that 

military actions of various types would short-circuit diplomatic or 

political options, thus affecting efforts at escalation control. This 

danger could be accentuated, in the Chinese case, by the apparent 

existence of weak horizontal lines of communication within the 

People’s Liberation Army (PLA) and between the PLA and the 

civilian sides of government. It also might be more difficult to read 

and control signals and moves in a Taiwan crisis. For example, China 

might view strong U.S. military assistance to Taiwan in the opening 

days of a crisis as equivalent to a “first shot” escalation requiring a 

vigorous response. Even more serious, in an escalating crisis, China 

might interpret apparent U.S. attacks on key Chinese command and 
34

control facilities or military assets relevant to the PLA’s prosecution of 

strikes against Taiwan as a threat against Beijing’s larger conventional 

and strategic capabilities and respond accordingly. 

 In general, it would likely prove difficult to read signals 

accurately, divide-up issues, make trade-offs, and accept shortterm losses in a Taiwan crisis. In addition, the existence of a third 

party with independent interests and policy options could greatly 

complicate efforts at crisis management by both the United States and 

China. Taiwan’s behavior could produce significant misperceptions, 

resulting in unwanted escalation. Finally, China might miscalculate 

the risks involved in a Taiwan crisis by assuming that it could apply 

pressure on Taiwan to deter U.S. military intervention.

SECTION 4. QUESTIONS AND CONCLUSIONS

The above analysis of China’s crisis management behavior, 

in the context provided by a larger framework for understanding 

crisis management, raises several important questions for further 

examination.34

1. What difference did Mao Zedong make to the crisis 

decisionmaking process? Was Mao more willing to take risks, 

less “rational,” more ideological, and more rigid and resistant 

to negotiation? Was he more able to endure failure or loss of 

prestige in a crisis and less susceptible to public pressure? 

How would an individual with Mao’s strong personality 

and views operate in China’s current crisis decisionmaking 

system?

2. Does China’s current image of the United States reduce 

available options in crisis bargaining, lower self-restraint, 

and make goals more “absolute” in a crisis, thus making it 

more difficult to achieve a resolution?

3. How does historical memory matter? Does it explain how 

elites understand a crisis? Or how the public understands 

a crisis? Since historical memory is to a great extent created 

by educational systems and propaganda systems, then it 

can presumably be changed. What is involved in reducing 

the impact of China’s current historical memory relevant to 

political-military crises? 
35

4. The United States is viewed by many Chinese as possessing a 

much larger variety of means to manage a crisis. At the same 

time, it is presumably constrained by a fear of casualties, 

prolonged conflict, and economic costs. Moreover, the United 

States is viewed by China as likely having less at stake in a 

future conflict with China. For all these reasons, many Chinese 

apparently believe that the United States, in most instances, 

can choose more easily to avoid (or back away from) a crisis 

with China involving the use of force. This suggests, to some 

Chinese, that the United States is likely to be deterrable 

more easily in a crisis than China. What are the concrete 

policy implications of these asymmetries for managing 

future crises? How do these asymmetries shape how China’s 

leaders assess their options and positions in a crisis? How do 

they shape approaches to different types of crises, such as 

“sudden incidents” versus other types of crises? What type of 

structures or processes can be created to mitigate the effects 

of these asymmetries?

 Moreover, how does the superior power and leverage of the 

United States affect this calculus? The United States might 

believe that its superior power and leverage would allow it 

to prevail, even if the stakes are not as important for it as they 

are for China. And how does the need to maintain credibility 

as a superpower and the need to retain domestic support in 

a democratic system affect this calculus? U.S. leaders might 

judge that a crisis could undermine their political position, as 

well as the U.S. ability to exercise its global responsibilities, 

and thus be less willing to “back down” in a crisis than China’s 

leaders might think.

5. Which emotions are most common in Chinese decisionmaking: 

Nationalism? Hatred? Fear of loss of political power? Face? 

What options are completely ruled out? Are they ruled 

out because they would bring “hardliners” further into the 

process?

6. How is the principled status of an adversary (enemy, friend, 

or neither) determined? What is the link between each status 

and the way options are assessed in a crisis? From China’s 
36

perspective, what crises were avoided in the first place because 

of the “friendly” state of relations between the United States 

and China?

7. The first component of the notion of youli, youli, youjie outlines 

the defensive nature of the conditions under which China 

might use force in a crisis. However, what often counts as 

a provocation appears to be a matter of principle and not 

necessarily a type of military action. It seems that China has 

struck―and may strike―first against what it perceives to be a 

challenge to its interests, even if it is not attacked militarily. 

What can be considered a provocation in the absence of 

a military attack? What other principles are invoked to 

determine when a provocation occurs? How can perceived 

violations of these principles be managed during a crisis?

8. In past political-military crises under Mao Zedong and Deng 

Xiaoping, the leadership showed a clear willingness to sustain 

significant military and/or economic costs, if it were confident 

that, by doing so, it could attain its core (usually political) 

objectives. Do Chinese leaders hold the same general viewpoint 

toward costs and objectives today? Many Chinese observers 

insist that China’s risk calculus has changed significantly 

since the Mao and Deng eras, and that the use of force is not 

regarded as an effective tool to achieve limited political gains 

in a crisis. However, other Chinese seem to disagree. If the 

use of the military is regarded by China’s present leaders as a 

last resort (due to the changed nature of the Chinese regime 

and the emergence of a different risk calculus), how does 

China signal resolve and create stability, especially regarding 

a sensitive territorial issue such as Taiwan? How can one stop 

a relatively small incident (i.e., political moves by Taiwan) 

from becoming a major threat and a crisis? Will China rely 

more on nonmilitary levers, or on U.S. (or UN) actions to 

prevent the deterioration of the Taiwan situation? Or will 

China still use limited force to convey resolve, which could 

be misinterpreted as an attempt to “win”?

9. Would the risks involved in employing military alerts or other 

potentially dangerous means to signal resolve be much lower 
37

in the case of a Sino-U.S. crisis than during the Cold War, 

when U.S. and Soviet nuclear forces were coupled tightly and 

wedded to warfighting strategies?

10. Despite an emphasis on clear signaling for deterrence purposes, 

China has shown some hesitation over the establishment of a 

direct line of communication with the United States through 

a hotline. Can a mechanism and procedure be developed 

that would overcome (or at least appreciably reduce) such 

concerns and enhance the positive effect of signaling?

11. Some analysts of crisis behavior believe that the United States 

can signal resolve more easily in a crisis not only because 

of its superior military capabilities, but also because of the 

supposedly high cost involved in retreating from a position, 

once established. This is due to a belief that, because the 

United States is a democracy, political leaders fear that they 

will suffer in the next election if they do not stand by their 

commitments. In other words, because so-called audience 

costs are higher in a democracy, signals from democratic 

leaders are believed to be much stronger or potentially more 

costly if unsuccessful, than signals from nondemocracies. This 

suggests that it might be harder for the United States to back 

down in a crisis, which contradicts what appears to be the 

Chinese assumption of a lower U.S. stake in a Sino-U.S. crisis 

and hence a greater willingness or ability to compromise in 

a crisis. Is this argument, and the resulting assertion that 

democracies have greater credibility in conveying resolve 

and commitment, accepted by the Chinese? 

12. Is China aware of the danger of the commitment trap? Or, 

putting it another way, does China’s past tendency to regard 

crises in zero-sum terms, its resistance to appearing weak in a 

crisis (given public and elite opinion), and its belief that many 

crises involve very high stakes together reduce its concerns 

over falling into such a trap?

13. Different U.S. and Chinese assessments of the purpose, 

motivations, and influence of each side’s signals easily can 

lead to misinterpretations. How can each side send signals 
38

that convey resolve (or accommodation) without producing 

an overreaction, leading to unwanted escalation (or, in the 

case of a signal of accommodation, an inaccurate assumption 

of weakness by the adversary)? What do the Chinese and U.S. 

sides pay attention to in order to determine the other side’s 

will and intentions?

14. Specifically, what signals should be considered as indications 

of a willingness to cooperate or conciliate, and which should 

be considered conflictual? How can China and the United 

States credibly signal restraint in the use of force? Are there 

strong incentives not to communicate clear or honest signals, 

or to delay the sending of signals?

15. How have contact and communication among and between 

national security elites in both China and the United States 

affected the duration and severity of crises? Is contact 

necessary?

16. Some analysts believe that political-military crises have 

been used by past Chinese leaders to build support for the 

government among the Chinese populace and within the elite. 

If the “safe” position for Chinese leaders remains the hardline position, and the Chinese regime needs to strengthen 

its legitimacy by appealing to nationalist sentiments, then is 

the temptation to use a crisis to build support as great as or 

greater than arguably existed during the Maoist era?

17. Why is the Chinese government more sensitive to public 

opinion than in the past? Specifically, how does public 

opinion influence crisis decisionmaking? Can its effects 

be limited or controlled? Does the Chinese government 

actually understand public opinion? Have Chinese leaders 

overestimated the degree to which the Chinese public cares 

about Taiwan independence, for example?

18. There is little doubt that the role and influence of military 

plans in Chinese policymaking should be examined more 

closely to understand their role in a crisis. How do existing or 

predetermined PLA plans influence policymaking and crisis 

management? How does the PLA understand high-level 
39

political decisionmaking in a crisis? Are civilians aware of the 

diplomatic implications of military plans? Do military plans 

reduce or lengthen the time pressure in the crisis?

19. As noted above, special task forces have reportedly been 

formed during recent crises. Are these important (and new?) 

mechanisms designed to improve crisis decisionmaking?

20. What role, if any, has international law played over time 

as a constraint regarding Chinese calculations of the use of 

force and the management of crises? As China becomes more 

integrated in the international economy and sees itself as a 

responsible great power, has international law increasingly 

become a constraint in the handling of crises?

Conclusions.

 From the above preliminary assessment of scholarly studies of 

crisis management and China’s past crisis management behavior, 

and from the many key questions that remain regarding Chinese 

crisis behavior, one can draw the following overall conclusions.

 First, China’s perceptions and behavior during past politicalmilitary crises―and especially those crises that occurred during 

the Mao and Deng eras―provide a very limited foundation for our 

understanding of Beijing’s future approach to crisis management. In 

many respects, most of the key variables influencing Chinese behavior 

are undergoing profound change and apparently new variables (such 

as the influence of independent public sentiment) have emerged. 

Thus, it is essential to determine which features endure and which 

are new or evolving, and in what manner. Although this chapter 

provides some hints at an answer in some of these areas, much more 

work needs to be done.

 Second, what we know about China’s past approach to crises, as 

well as some of the features of China’s current crisis decisionmaking 

system, are not terribly reassuring to advocates of “prudent” crisis 

management behavior, particularly when one considers the special―

and in many ways unprecedented―context of a possible future 

crisis over Taiwan. The danger exists that China’s leaders might 

miscalculate in a variety of significant ways both before and during 
40

such a crisis. On the other hand, considerable constraints apparently 

exist against high risk behavior by the Chinese leadership, given the 

stakes and the uncertainties involved in a Taiwan crisis. Scholars 

should attempt to more accurately assess the relative balance that 

exists between these negative and positive aspects of Chinese crisis 

behavior regarding Taiwan. 

 Third, as indicated by the above 20 questions, many, if not most, 

of the key features relevant to the above five categories of variables 

that influence China’s crisis management behavior remain unknown 

to outside observers, and even to many Chinese observers. Most 

of the above questions can be translated into research designs and 

explored systematically, in some cases through the use of surveys. 

This would be a major task, but one of great relevance not only to 

existing scholarship on crisis management but, more important, to 

the handling of critical policy challenges that could influence the 

prospects for war and peace between China and the United States. 

 Fourth, some elements of China’s approach to crises and crisis 

management ultimately are unknowable, especially prior to a crisis, 

and even to the Chinese themselves. As the scholarly literature on 

crisis management indicates, actual crisis behavior is very contextdependent and will vary according to many factors, including the 

specific leaders involved in a crisis, the exact nature (e.g., origin 

and scope) of a crisis, and, of course, the behavior of outside actors 

and events. Moreover, in general, it is virtually impossible to know, 

both before and during a crisis, critical issues such as precisely what 

every signal means, what level of resolve exists within the Chinese 

leadership at any given time, and how domestic versus external 

factors are influencing behavior. At best, as the above examination of 

crisis bargaining codes suggests, we can expand our understanding 

of certain broad tendencies that influence China’s crisis management 

behavior, thereby reducing the likelihood of undesirable outcomes―

such as inadvertent war―for leaders on all sides. This alone would 

be a significant achievement. 
41

APPENDIX I

MAJOR SOURCES ON POLITICAL-MILITARY CRISES

AND CRISIS MANAGEMENT

Jacob Bercovitch, “The Structure and Diversity of Mediation in International 

Relations,” in Jacob Bercovitch and Jeffrey Z. Rubin, eds., Mediation in International 

Relations, New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1992.

Jacob Bercovitch and Patrick M. Regan, “Managing Risks in International 

Relations: The Mediation of Enduring Rivalries,” in Gerald Schneider and Patricia 

A. Weitsman, eds., Enforcing Cooperation, New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1997.

Michael Brecher and Jonathan Wilkenfeld, Crisis, Conflict, and Instability, Oxford: 

Pergamon, 1989.

Michael Brecher and Jonathan Wilkenfeld, A Study of Crisis, Ann Arbor: The 

University of Michigan Press, 2000.

Michael Brecher, Jonathan Wilkenfeld, and Sheila Moser, Crises in the Twentieth 

Century: Handbook of International Crises, Oxford: Pergamon, 1988.

Bruce Bueno de Mesquita, The War Trap, New Haven: Yale University Press, 

1981.

Bruce Bueno de Mesquita and David Lalman, War and Reason, New Haven: Yale 

University Press, 1992.

John W. Burton, Conflict: Resolution and Prevention, New York: St. Martin’s Press, 

1990.

George W. Downs, “The Rational Deterrence Debate,” World Politics, Vol. 41, No. 

2, January 1989.

John Garnett, Theories of Peace and Security, London: Macmillan, 1970.

Alexander L. George, eds., Avoiding War: Problems of Crisis Management, Boulder, 

CO: Westview Press, 1991.

Alexander L. George, “Crisis Management: The Interaction of Political and Military 

Considerations,” Survival, Vol. 26, No. 5, September/October 1984.

Alexander L. George and David K. Simons, The Limits of Coercive Diplomacy, 2nd 

ed., Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1994.

Alexander L. George and Richard Smoke, Deterrence in American Foreign Policy, 

New York: Columbia University Press, 1974.

Arthur N. Gilbert and Paul Gordon Lauren, “Crisis Management: An Assessment 

and Critique,” Journal of Conflict Resolution, Vol. 24, No. 4, December 1980.

Ernest B. Haas, “Regime Decay: Conflict Management and International 

Organizations, 1945-1981,” International Organization, Vol. 37, No. 2, April 1983.

Ole R. Holsti, “Crisis Decisionmaking,” in P. E. Tetlock, et al., eds., Behavior, Society 

and Nuclear War, New York: Oxford University Press, 1989.
42

Ole R. Holsti, Crisis, Escalation, War, Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 

1972.

Ole R. Holsti, “Crisis Management,” in Betty Glad, ed., Psychological Dimensions of 

War, Newbury Park, CA: Sage, 1990.

Paul Huth, Christopher Gelpi, and D. Scott Bennett, “The Escalation of Great 

Power Militarized Disputes: Testing Rational Deterrence Theory and Structural 

Realism,” American Political Science Review, Vol. 87, No. 3, September 1993.

Paul Huth and Bruce Russett, “Deterrence Failure and Crisis Escalation,” 

International Studies Quarterly, Vol. 32, No. 1, March 1988.

Paul Huth and Bruce Russett, “Testing Deterrence Theory: Rigor Makes a 

Difference,” World Politics, Vol. 42, No. 4, July 1990.

Robert Jervis, Perception and Misperception in International Politics, Princeton: 

Princeton University Press, 1976.

Robert Jervis, “Rational Deterrence: Theory and Evidence,” World Politics, Vol. 41, 

No. 2, January 1989.

Richard Ned Lebow, Between Peace and War: The Nature of International Crisis, 

Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1981.

Richard Ned Lebow, Nuclear Crisis Management, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University 

Press, 1987.

Richard Ned Lebow and Janice Gross Stein, “Beyond Deterrence,” Journal of Social 

Issues, Vol. 43, No. 4, Winter 1987.

Richard Ned Lebow and Janice Gross Stein, “Deterrence: The Elusive Dependent 

Variable,” World Politics, Vol. 42, No. 3, April 1990.

Russell J. Leng, “Influence Techniques among Nations,” in Philip E. Tetlock, et 

al., eds., Behavior, Society, and International Conflict, New York: Oxford University 

Press, 1993.

Russell J. Leng, “When Will They Ever Learn: Coercive Bargaining in Recurrent 

Crises,” Journal of Conflict Resolution, Vol. 27, No. 3, September 1983.

Charles Lockhart, Bargaining in International Crises, New York: Columbia University 

Press, 1979.

Zeev Maoz, “Crisis Initiation: A Theoretical Exploration of a Neglected Topic in 

International Crisis Theory,” Review of International Studies, Vol. 8, No. 4, October 

1982.

Charles A. McClelland, “The Acute International Crisis,” in Klaus Knorr and 

Sidney Verba, eds., The International System: Theoretical Essays, Princeton: Princeton 

University Press, 1961.

Charles A. McClelland, “The Beginning, Duration, and Abatement of International 

Crises: Comparisons in Two Conflict Arenas,” in C.F. Hermann, ed., International 

Crises: Insights and Evidence, New York: The Free Press, 1972.

John Mearsheimer, Conventional Deterrence, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 

1983.
43

Benjamin Miller, “Explaining Great Power Cooperation in Conflict Management,” 

World Politics, Vol. 45, No. 1, October 1992.

Patrick Morgan, Deterrence: A Conceptual Analysis, Beverly Hills: Sage, 1977.

T. Clifton Morgan, Untying the Knot of War: A Bargaining Theory of International 

Crises, Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 1994.

James D. Morrow, “Signaling Difficulties with Linkage in Crisis Bargaining,” 

International Studies Quarterly, Vol. 36, No. 1, March 1992.

Barry O’Neill, “Game Theory and the Study of the Deterrence of War,” in Paul C. 

Stern, et al., eds., Perspectives on Deterrence, New York: Oxford University Press, 

1989.

J. Philip Rogers, “Crisis Bargaining Codes and Crisis Management,” in Alexander 

L. George, ed., Avoiding War: Problems of Crisis Management, Boulder, CO: Westview 

Press, 1991.

Alvin Roth, ed., Game-Theoretic Models of Bargaining, New York: Cambridge 

University Press, 1985.

Bruce Russett, “The Calculus of Deterrence,” Journal of Conflict Resolution, Vol. 7, 

No. 2, June 1963.

Thomas C. Schelling, The Strategy of Conflict, Cambridge: Harvard University 

Press, 1960.

Glenn H. Snyder and Paul Diesing, Conflict Among Nations: Bargaining, 

Decisionmaking, and System Structure in International Crises, Princeton: Princeton 

University Press, 1977.

Glenn H. Snyder, Deterrence and Defense, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 

1961.

Richard C. Snyder, H. W. Bruck, and Burton Sapin, “Decisionmaking as an 

Approach to the Study of International Politics,” in Richard C. Snyder, H. W. 

Bruck, and Burton Sapin, eds., Foreign Policy Decisionmaking: An Approach to the 

Study of International Politics, New York: The Free Press, 1962.

John Steinbrunner, “Beyond Rational Deterrence,” World Politics, Vol. 28, No. 4, 

July 1976.

Peter F. Trumbore and Mark A. Boyer, “Two-Level Negotiations in International 

Crisis: Testing the Impact of Regime Type and Issue Area,” Journal of Peace Research, 

Vol. 37, No. 6, November 2000.

R. Harrison Wagner, “Deterrence and Bargaining,” Journal of Conflict Resolution, 

Vol. 26, No. 2, June 1982.

R. Harrison Wagner, “Rationality and Misperception in Deterrence Theory,” 

Journal of Theoretical Politics, Vol. 4, No. 2, April 1992.

R. Harrison Wagner, “Uncertainty, Rational Learning, and Bargaining in the Cuban 

Missile Crisis,” in Peter C. Ordeshook, ed., Models of Strategic Choice in Politics, Ann 

Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 1989.
44

Jonathan Wilkenfeld, “Trigger-Response Transitions in Foreign Policy Crises, 

1929-1985,” Journal of Conflict Resolution, Vol. 35, No. 1, March 1991.

Jonathan Wilkenfeld, Michael Brecher, and Sheila Moser, Crises in the Twentieth 

Century: Handbook of Foreign Policy Crises, Oxford: Pergamon, 1988.

Jonathan Wilkenfeld, Kathleen Young, Victor Asal, and David Quinn, “Mediating 

International Crises: Cross-National and Experimental Perspectives,” Journal of 

Conflict Resolution, Vol. 47, No. 3, September 2003.

Phil Williams, Crisis Management: Confrontation and Diplomacy in the Nuclear Age, 

London: Martin Robertson, 1976.

Samuel S. G. Wu, “To Attack or Not to Attack,” Journal of Conflict Resolution, Vol. 

34, No. 3, September 1990.

H. Peyton Young, ed., Negotiation Analysis, Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan 

Press, 1991.

Frank C. Zagare, “Classical Deterrence Theory: A Critical Assessment,” International 

Interactions, Vol. 21, No. 4, October/December 1996.

Frank C. Zagare, “Rationality and Deterrence,” World Politics, Vol. 42, No. 2, 

January 1990.

I. William Zartman, “Alternative Attempts at Crisis Management: Concepts and 

Processes,” in Gilbert R. Winham, ed., New Issues in International Crisis Management, 

Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1988.
45

APPENDIX II

MAJOR SOURCES ON CHINESE CONFLICT BEHAVIOR,

INTERSTATE BARGAINING, CRISIS MANAGEMENT,

AND STRATEGIC VIEWS AND BELIEFS

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50

ENDNOTES - CHAPTER 2

 1. Jonathan Wilkenfeld, “Concepts and Methods in the Study of International 

Crises,” unpublished paper, University of Maryland, February 2004, p. 4. Also 

see Michael Brecher and Jonathan Wilkenfeld, A Study of Crisis, Ann Arbor: The 

University of Michigan Press, 2000. For a slightly different definition that stresses 

the element of surprise in the emergence of a crisis, see Charles F. Hermann, 

“International Crisis as a Situational Variable,” in J. N. Rosenau, ed., International 

Politics and Foreign Policy, New York: The Free Press, 1969, p. 414.

 2. See Wilkenfeld, “Concepts and Methods,” pp. 4-6. The most recent SinoAmerican political-military crises thus do not all qualify as full crises. For example, 

only the 1995-96 Taiwan Strait crisis can be considered a full-blown crisis, not the 

April 2001 EP3 incident or the 1999 Belgrade embassy bombing. 

 3. Alexander L. George, “A Provisional Theory of Crisis Management,” in 

Alexander L. George, ed., Avoiding War: Problems of Crisis Management, Boulder, 

CO: Westview Press, 1991, pp. 22-23. 

 4. Glenn H. Snyder and Paul Diesing, Conflict Among Nations: Bargaining, 

Decisionmaking, and System Structure in International Crises, Princeton: Princeton 

University Press, 1977.

 5. As Wilkenfeld points out, jointly opposed situations offer the greatest 

opportunity of cooperative strategies, while diametrically opposed situations 

are the most dangerous because they would appear to offer little opportunity 

for management or resolution. Indeed, diametrically opposed situations are 

largely zero sum, while quasi-opposed situations are mixed sum, allowing for the 

possibility of win-win strategies.

 6. Crisis management is most often thought of as “the attempt to control events 

during a crisis to prevent significant and systematic violence from occurring.” 

See Graham Evans and Jeffrey Newnham, The Penguin Dictionary of International 

Relations, London: Penguin Books, 1998, as cited in Wilkenfeld, “Concepts and 

Methods.” Also see John W. Burton, Resolving Deep-Rooted Conflict: A Handbook, 

Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 1987; John W. Burton, Conflict: 

Resolution and Prevention, New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1990; Herbert C. Kelman, 

“Informal Mediation by the Scholar/Practitioner,” in Jacob Bercovitch and Jeffrey 

Z. Rubin, eds., Mediation in International Relations, New York: St. Martin’s Press, 

1992; Marieke Kleiboer, The Multiple Realities of International Mediation, Boulder, 

CO: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 1998; Marieke Klieboer, “Great Power Mediation: 

Using Leverage to Make Peace?” in Jacob Bercovitch, ed., Studies in International 

Mediation: Essays in Honor of Jeffrey Z. Rubin, Houndsmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire, 

New York: Palgrave MacMillan, 2002, pp. 127-40; Deborah M. Kolb and Eileen F. 

Babbitt, “Mediation Practice on the Home Front: Implications for Global Conflict 

Resolution,” in John A. Vasquez, et al., eds., Beyond Confrontation: Learning Conflict 

Resolution in the Post-Cold War Era, Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 

1995, pp. 63-85; Kumar Rupesinghe, “Mediation in Internal Conflicts: Lessons from 

Sri Lanka,” in Jacob Bercovitch, ed., Resolving International Conflicts: The Theory 
51

and Practice of Mediation, Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 1996, pp. 153-

69; and I. William Zartman, “Toward the Resolution of International Conflicts,” 

in I. William Zartman and J. Lewis Rasmussen, eds., Peacemaking in International 

Conflict: Methods and Techniques, Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace 

Press, 1997, p.11.

 7. George, “A Provisional Theory of Crisis Management,” pp. 23, 26. 

See Appendix 1 for other major sources on political-military crises and crisis 

management. 

 8. Once an all-out war erupts, crisis management ceases, and efforts at 

achieving military victory and/or ending hostilities begin. These processes are 

markedly different in nature from crisis management.

 9. As defined in some detail by Alexander George, offensive crisis management 

strategies include: 1) blackmail; 2) limited, reversible probes; 3) controlled 

pressure; 4) attempts to establish a fait accompli; and 5) slow attrition. Defensive 

crisis management strategies include: 1) coercive diplomacy; 2) limited escalation 

combined with deterrence of counterescalation; 3) tit-for-tat reprisals combined 

with deterrence of escalation; 4) accepting a “test of capabilities” on conditions set 

by the challenger(s), to reverse the expected outcome; 5) efforts to draw the line; 6) 

conveying commitment and resolve to avoid miscalculation; and 7) various timebuying actions and proposals in order to explore a negotiated settlement. George, 

“Strategies for Crisis Management,” in George, ed., Avoiding War: Problems of Crisis 

Management, pp. 379-393.

 10. Alexander L. George, “Findings and Recommendations,” in George, ed., 

Avoiding War: Problems of Crisis Management, pp. 557-558.

 11. See J. Philip Rogers, “Crisis Bargaining Codes and Crisis Management,” in 

George, ed., Avoiding War: Problems of Crisis Management, Boulder, CO: Westview 

Press, 1991, pp. 413-442. Rogers stresses that such codes often take the form of 

unarticulated assumptions and often operate on decisionmaking in a less conscious, 

more context-dependent, and often more insidious fashion than is commonly 

understood. Moreover, each decisionmaker within the same national leadership 

can prefer a different code.

 12. Ibid., pp. 416-417.

 13. Ibid., pp. 417-419.

 14. Ibid., pp. 419-421.

 15. Ibid., pp. 421.

 16. Alexander George points out that the political and operational requirements 

of any crisis management approach or theory are not “requirements” in the 

strict sense of “. . . constituting necessary or sufficient conditions for successful 

management of war-threatening confrontations.” However, whether these 

conditions are adequately met can affect the outcome of a crisis and a failure 

to adhere to them increases the likelihood of war. George, “Findings and 

Recommendations,” pp. 560-561. 
52

 17. That is, the possibility of terminating a crisis short of war may depend on 

both sides having careful limits on both ends and means. The danger of escalation 

is obviously greater if both sides have ambitious objectives and means. 

 18. Scholars also point to other operational requirements that have little 

relationship to any particular crisis management strategy; i.e., they should be 

observed in any crisis. These requirements are largely concerned with the need 

to integrate military and diplomatic actions, and to maintain strong control over 

the deployment of military forces. For example, the movement of military forces 

and threats of force intended to signal resolve must be consistent with limited 

diplomatic objectives; political authorities must maintain informed control 

over military options and the selection and timing of military movements; and 

diplomatic-military options should be chosen that signal, or are consistent with, 

a desire to negotiate a way out of the crisis rather than to seek a military solution. 

Moreover, in order to avoid a shooting war, each participant must resist the 

temptation to seize opportunities during a conflict to inflict too severe a defeat on 

the other side; this might force the opponent into choosing between backing down 

or utilizing force in order to avoid a serious setback. See George, “A Provisional 

Theory of Crisis Management,” pp. 23-25. 

 19. George, “Findings and Recommendations,” pp. 553-554.

 20. Ibid.

 21. Ibid., p. 554.

 22. As Rogers states, “The mutual confidence of both sides that their basic 

security interests will be respected is the sine qua non of crisis management; without 

it, efforts at crisis management will, at best, be problematic.” Rogers, pp. 420-421, 

424. 

 23. George, “A Provisional Theory of Crisis Management,” pp. 23-24.

 24. When incentives to avoid war are weak, favorable opportunities for 

crisis management are quite limited, and relevant skills in short supply, then 

the likelihood of getting into a war is higher. Not only the ability but also the 

willingness of leaders to adhere to and satisfy the above political and operational 

requirements are significantly influenced by these variables. George, “Findings 

and Recommendations,” p. 562. 

 25. Rogers, pp. 428-437.

 26. As many scholars observe, multi-actor crises present special complexities 

and obstacles (see, for example, George, “Findings and Recommendations,” p. 563). 

In particular, they pose difficulties in meeting the above political and operational 

requirements. A typical problem is the tension between the desire―at times, the 

necessity―for a major power to provide significant support to a regional ally and 

at the same time to not allow itself to be drawn into (or to inadvertently escalate) 

a dangerous, war-threatening confrontation. This is particularly relevant to the 

U.S.-China-Taiwan situation.

 27. The following features are drawn from a wide range of studies of Chinese 

conflict behavior, interstate bargaining, crisis management, and strategic views 
53

and beliefs (see Appendix II), as well as recent interviews and discussions with 

Chinese and American scholars conducted by the author in 2003 and 2004.

 28. One should also point out that China has not anticipated always accurately 

the “worst case” outcomes in past crises. According to some Chinese observers, 

the Chinese leadership seriously underestimated the reaction of the Soviet Union 

following the Sino-Soviet border clashes of 1969. The Soviet response resulted in 

an unexpected escalation of the crisis, apparently involving the possibility of a 

major Soviet military strike designed to force China into negotiations, and perhaps 

ultimately to force Mao Zedong out of power. This sharp response eventually 

compelled Mao to deescalate the crisis and open talks with Moscow. And yet many 

Chinese analysts view Mao’s retreat as a successful case of Chinese “escalation 

control!”

 29. Despite an emphasis on clear signaling for deterrence purposes, China has 

shown some hesitation over the establishment of a direct line of communication 

with the United States through a hotline. This is apparently because: a) Chinese 

leaders apparently cannot respond to direct contact from the U.S. side until a 

consensus has been reached on how to proceed; and b) the Chinese are concerned 

that phone-based messages or signals might be misunderstood by either or both 

sides.

 30. Interviews, Beijing and Washington, January-February 2004. See also 

Suisheng Zhao, eds., Across the Taiwan Strait: Mainland China, Taiwan, and the 1995-

1996 Crisis, New York: Routledge, 1999; Andrew Scobell, “Show of Force: Chinese 

Soldiers, Statesmen, and the 1995-1996 Taiwan Strait Crisis,” Political Science 

Quarterly, Vol. 115, No. 2, Summer 2000; Allen S. Whiting, “China’s Use of Force, 

1950-1996, and Taiwan,” International Security, Vol. 26, No. 2, Fall 2001; Robert S. 

Ross, “The 1996 Taiwan Strait Crisis: Lessons for the United States, China, and 

Taiwan,” Security Dialogue, Vol. 27, No. 4, December 1996; and Michael D. Swaine, 

“Chinese Decisionmaking Regarding Taiwan, 1979-2000,” in David M. Lampton, 

ed., The Making of Chinese Foreign and Security Policy in the Era of Reform, 1978-2000, 

Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2001, pp. 289-336.

 31. Moreover, as indicated above and reiterated by Chinese observers, when 

facing a superior power, this willingness to use force derived, in turn, partly from 

a sense of vulnerability and weakness, and from the absence of other credible 

means to communicate resolve and to exert leverage in a crisis. 

 32. Perhaps one significant exception to this general pattern of behavior 

occurred during the Sino-Soviet military clash and subsequent crisis of 1969-70. 

At that time, China generally moved incrementally, in a seemingly tit-for-tat 

fashion.

 33. That is, China’s past tendency to regard crises in zero-sum terms, its sense 

of weakness compared with the United States (with its resulting resistance to 

appearing weak in a crisis), and its belief that many crises involve very high stakes 

could together reduce its concerns over falling into a commitment trap. 

 34. Some of the following 20 questions are posed by the author and some 

originate with other interested observers of China’s crisis management behavior.

55

CHAPTER 3

THE TIANANMEN MASSACRE REAPPRAISED:

PUBLIC PROTEST, URBAN WARFARE, 

AND THE PEOPLE’S LIBERATION ARMY

Larry M. Wortzel

 The People’s Liberation Army (PLA) of Communist China 

massed elements of more than a dozen infantry, armor, and 

airborne divisions around the city of Beijing in May and June 1989. 

Workers and students precipitated this massing of military force 

by demonstrating inside the city for more political expression and 

against nepotism and rampant corruption in the Chinese Communist 

Party (CCP). For weeks the CCP senior leadership was divided 

about how to handle the demonstrations. The political divisions 

in the highest ranks of the Party paralyzed decisionmaking and 

reflected ambivalence, even outright disagreement, in the PLA over 

the use of the military to suppress the unrest. A number of older, 

retired Communist Party members who fought to take control of 

China from the 1920s through 1949 emerged with comments and 

advice.1 Many pushed for the suppression of the demonstrations by 

the PLA. Younger, reform-minded Party members coalesced around 

General Secretary Zhao Ziyang as he pushed for greater openness 

and economic liberalization. 

 This situation leading up to the Tiananmen Massacre is best 

characterized as a process of decisionmaking under stress. Initially 

the Communist Party Politburo Standing Committee (PBSC) was 

torn internally about how to respond, and the lack of response 

from student demonstrators put them under considerable stress. 

Later in the process, however, when it was clear that attempts to 

communicate with the students would not end the demonstrations, 

and the demonstrations spread throughout China on a larger scale, 

what had been a stressful situation became a genuine crisis.

 In the end, the more orthodox Communists and other factions 

inside the Party who resisted any shift in the distribution of wealth 

and power won out. The students were suppressed with deadly 

force. 
56

 The disagreements over the pace of reform and the role of the 

Communist Party in the Chinese state that led to the slaughter of 

demonstrators and innocents alike in Beijing was really the extension 

of an earlier dispute about reform within the CCP that resulted in 

the dismissal of CCP General Secretary Hu Yaobang approximately 

2 years earlier. It was Hu Yaobang’s death on April 15, 1989, that 

threw the Communist Party leadership into turmoil and paralyzed 

inner-Party decisionmaking at the highest levels. The lesson from 

this chapter is that the consensus-related system of power among 

factions at the top of the Communist Party created, and will likely 

continue to create, paralysis in decisionmaking, thus delaying the 

ability of the CCP to react and potentially exacerbating any crisis.

A Party Divided.

 Some basic framework to characterize relations among the senior 

leaders in China helps when analyzing political phenomena. As 

events played themselves out in China over the pace and depth of 

reform, the major political actors in the CCP formed into factions or 

“blocks” with different orientations on the issues. Some also would 

characterize the factional formation as a function of the perceived 

benefits to, or action on, certain “interest groups.” For instance, the 

PLA was involved in the situation very early. As an institution, it 

had an interest in maintaining the power and authority of the CCP. It 

also had its own interests in seeing the demonstrations through to a 

peaceful conclusion if possible, because its leadership preferred not 

to be used against the Chinese populace. The public and state security 

offices functioned as another interest group in the process. What 

is clear, however, is that dividing the CCP leadership into merely 

“reformers” and “conservatives” was too simplistic an analytical 

perspective to capture the situation.

 In his 1988 published analysis of the fall of Hu Yaobang, David 

Bachman argues that the Western observer must view the two 

ideological constructs central to the CCP dispute, “reformism” and 

“conservatism,” as two poles of the Chinese political spectrum. But 

Bachman argues that analysts of Chinese politics should not conceive 

of all political actors as fully committed to groups or leaders at either 
57

pole. Thus factional formation and leadership is not merely a “twoline struggle”; coalition building is necessary.2

 It is the building of 

these coalitions, which for various reasons of personal and political 

interest span the poles of the ideological questions involved, that 

make up the active maneuvers in CCP political disputes. To deal 

in the Maoist concept of a two-line struggle of dialectical opposites 

around either pole of an issue simply is not how political life really 

works in the PRC, according to Bachman.

 To illustrate his point, Bachman has suggested a useful 

characterization of the factions that coalesce around what are 

generally believed to be conservative political coalitions in China. 

According to Bachman, there are varying forms of conservatism in 

the CCP, of which he identifies six:3

1. Financial Conservatives, most of whom seek stability, 

predictability, and central control over fiscal and monetary 

policy. He sees the Ministries of Finance and the Central 

Banks as the major institutions that contribute Party members 

to this group, and identifies Chen Yun as the major figure in 

this faction. 

2. Planning Conservatives, a group with a preference for the 

Stalinist command model of economic development with set 

economic targets, output quotas, and an emphasis on heavy 

industry.

3. Moral Conservatives, who focus for the most part on styles 

of behavior, a life of thrift and hard work that follows CCP 

mores. This group complains about lawlessness, decadence 

in the Party, overt sexuality, conspicuous consumption, and 

licentious dress. He identifies Deng Xiaoping, Zhou Enlai, 

and Liu Shaoqi as representatives of this group. 

4. Ideological Conservatives, who see nationalism as important, 

dislike non-Party experts, fight against income differentials, 

and are generally opposed to reformers. 

5. Vested Interests, who seek to retain the power of specific 

institutions such as the Public Security Bureau (PSB), the PLA, 

the ship-building industry, or the Ministry of State Security.

6. Anti-Foreign Conservatives, who support programs to keep 

foreigners separate from Chinese by providing certain 
58

privileges for foreigners like special hotels, housing, and 

travel arrangements. These conservatives are nationalists 

with a “chip on their shoulder” who emphasize China’s sense 

of being “wronged” by foreign powers in the past.

Thus, for varying reasons, different political actors in the 

Communist Party will coalesce around a conservative issue or cause. 

But they will not always agree on other issues. And some political 

actors, such as “moral conservatives,” may be ready to throw out 

a centralized state planning system, threatening a key belief of 

“planning conservatives.” The result of these differences creates 

a complicated and shifting set of political alliances. In the case of 

the Tiananmen Massacre, as this chapter will illustrate, the decision 

eventually came down to one set of choices―to use force to restore 

order or not―but the process of reaching that decision point was 

slow, and the internal arguments exacerbated the crisis. Moreover, 

the crisis over economic reform had brewed for some time, going back 

to the term of Communist Party General Secretary Hu Yaobang.

The Fall of Hu Yaobang and Inner-Party Struggle.

 Failed political coalition management among reform-oriented 

senior Communist Party officials resulted in the forced resignation of 

Hu Yaobang as General Secretary of the CCP in January 1987.4

 This 

inner-Party struggle among coalitions and factions manifested itself 

in the dismissal of Hu Yaobang, but it played itself out over a longer 

period. The ideological differences over the speed of reform and 

arguments over the strength of the CCP grip over different aspects of 

the economy still were not resolved by 1989. They played themselves 

out during the period leading up to the Tiananmen Massacre, and 

the disruptions they caused in CCP political life directly contributed 

to the paralysis in decisionmaking at senior levels of the Party.

 Complaints about Hu Yaobang among CCP elders and senior 

leaders were that he made serious mistakes in a number of areas: he 

resisted the campaign to oppose bourgeois liberalization; he opposed 

the Party’s campaign against spiritual pollution; he shifted the focus 

of the campaign to eliminate opponents of reform by advocating the 

separation of party and state; his economic policies advocated high 
59

consumption; he supported a policy of rule by personality over rule 

by law; he was indiscreet about discussing inner-Party matters with 

foreign guests; and he did not properly consult other central leaders 

before making decisions.5

 It is noteworthy that two ideological conservatives who opposed 

reform, Hu Qiaomu and Deng Liqun, were removed from power at 

the 13th Party Congress in October 1987. Even though removed from 

the center of power, these two actors were still part of a group of 

ideological conservatives who were influential in the inner-Party crisis 

of 1987, and in the disputes over reform in 1989. The group included 

Chen Yun, Li Xiannian, Peng Zhen, and Deng Yingchao (widow of 

Zhou Enlai). Both Hu Qiaomu and Deng Liqun emerged again in 

1989 and were very critical of attempts to settle the demonstrations 

in any way that appeared to give in to the students.6

The Inner-Party Split.

 What should have been apparent to those observing events in 

China at a much earlier point was the depth of the split within the 

Communist Party. One of the major points raised after the fact in 

the Party’s own attempt to justify the Tiananmen Massacre was the 

April 16,1989, dazibao (large character poster) put up by students 

in the aftermath of Hu Yaobang’s death. The text of this poster, 

“Commemorate Hu Yaobang, Protect Zhao Ziyang,” is a clear 

indication that within the senior levels of the CCP, the split was deep 

and contentious.7 More seriously, the general populace in Beijing 

was conscious of the split and, by putting up the poster, the more 

vocal clearly favored reform. Inside the Party, the tone of the poster 

only confirmed the relationship of the split between more orthodox 

elements of the CCP that objected to reforms and Zhao Ziyang’s 

supporters who wanted to speed reform.

 The death of Hu Yaobang, on April 15, 1989, catalyzed popular 

opinion in Beijing. Residents knew that the Party Center was debating 

reform and had been caught up in this debate since well before Hu’s 

dismissal as Party General Secretary in 1987. Beijing’s citizens used 

public expressions of grief over Hu’s death to express their support 

for the reform process. This only created more turmoil in the CCP. 
60

Zhao, with his policies already under attack by conservatives, used 

local Party organizations to mobilize mass support for his policies.8

The initial campaign was subtle, focusing on universities and the 

cultural elite. 

 Indeed the discussion of how to respond to and influence the 

students was part of a continuous discussion inside the CCP. On 

April 24, at a PBSC Meeting, Li Ximing suggested that Party members 

and leaders at universities and from Municipal CCP Committees go 

out and “mingle with the students and do political work” on their 

thinking.9

 This approach―trying to use the CCP members around Beijing 

both to influence the students and to get a sense of their thinking―

continued throughout the confrontations on Tiananmen Square and 

the demonstrations. But by May 17, when it was clear that he might 

lose the day, Zhao went so far as to try to mobilize the military, 

workers in state-owned industry, and the government bureaucracy. 

More than a million persons marched in Beijing that day.10

 If any single act confirmed the breadth and depth of the split 

in the CCP, it was Zhao Ziyang’s statement to student leaders in 

Tiananmen Square on May 19, 2002, that that “we have come too 

late.”11 This tearful “confession,” which should have been a signal to 

the occupiers of the Square that they were going to be dealt with in 

the harshest possible manner, came at 4 a.m. The decision to move 

troops into position around Beijing actually seems to have been 

made earlier, at a meeting on May 17.12 Thus Zhao’s statements on 

May 19 not only represented a certain breach of trust with his senior 

CCP colleagues, but also amounted to a real warning. The decision 

to move in the PLA and impose martial law followed a meeting 

of the elders of the CCP―Deng Xiaoping, Chen Yun, Li Xiannian, 

Peng Zhen, Deng Yingchao, Yang Zhangkun, Bo Yibo, and Wang 

Zhen. Even at this moment of drama, however, a few senior Party 

members seemed to vacillate between poles; or to use Bachman’s 

formulation, to have different reasons to side with a “conservative” 

course of action. 

 For the military, Hong Xuezhi, Qin Jiwei, and Liu Huaqing agreed 

that using the PLA was the only viable alternative at this point. 

Yao Yilin, Hu Qili, and Li Peng supported the use of the military 
61

to impose martial law. Beijing mayor Chen Xitong, with no control 

over his own city and its Party apparatus impotent to stop or direct 

the protesting students and workers, also supported the decision. 

 Qiao Shi’s role in the discussions was far more cautious, even 

ambivalent. As early as April 24, Qiao made it clear that maintaining 

“the growing democratic atmosphere in society” was an important 

goal in managing the demonstrations. However, in a PBSC meeting, 

Qiao also added that “unruly freedom or irresponsible freedom” 

could not be permitted.13 Qiao noted that there had already been 

serious “beating, smashing, robbing, and burning” in Xi’an and 

Changsha, and wanted to prevent a repeat of that around China. As 

late as April 28, Qiao remained essentially tolerant of the students. He 

continued to advocate more dialogue with them while establishing 

clear political borderlines about behavior.14 But by May 4, Qiao was 

very worried about how the students would act. 

 Before the imposition of martial law in Beijing on May 20, Zhao 

used the grass-roots party branches to support his own position. In 

every neighborhood, village, army organization, and work place in 

China, there is normally a blackboard or bulletin board run by the 

local Communist Party cell that relays the “Party line” for all to read 

and to follow. Whether at the PLA Air Force-controlled Nanyuan 

Missile Factory, at People’s Armed Police (PAP) barracks, in the 

battalion cantonment areas of PLA units, or in urban neighborhoods 

in Beijing’s suburbs, the message on these bulletin boards was the 

same. This author consistently observed communications from 

the CCP urging Party members and residents to support reform, 

support Zhao, support the students, and get out and demonstrate. 

This was really a last-ditch struggle for political survival by Zhao, 

who activated the grass-roots CCP infrastructure over which he had 

day-to-day control. But by using the Party infrastructure as he did, 

he sealed his own political fate of house arrest. He also confused the 

messages emanating from the Party center, contravened inner-Party 

discipline, and paralyzed the normal means for political dialogue.15

 Looking back at April 17, at Beijing University, students in a 

number of dormitory buildings organized their peers and other 

students from Qinghua University to march to Tiananmen Square 

and lay a wreath for Hu Yaobang. Interestingly, at this point, the 
62

police and city authorities still were assisting the students and helping 

them bring off organized marches. Traffic was diverted to facilitate 

the student demonstrations, and they sang the “Internationale” in 

front of the Communist Party headquarters at Zhongnanhai after the 

wreath laying.16 As noted earlier, CCP officials were encouraged 

to mingle with the students, both to sense their thinking and to do 

“ideological work.” Their presence among the students may have 

confused the demonstrators about the nature of CCP support for 

their cause. 

 The active support of the PSB and the Party in making the marches 

flow smoothly only emboldened the students. Larger demonstrations 

took place on April 18, with some 10,000 students marching. They 

took over Tiananmen Square temporarily and again marched the 

one-half mile west to Zhongnanhai. This time, however, they did not 

disperse and stood their ground at the front gate, insisting on giving 

a letter to Party officials. These actions led to a confrontation between 

the students, the PSB, and the PAP in front of the main gate of the 

compound. To disperse another crowd on April 19, the police used 

truncheons, injuring a few of the students.

 By April 21, the Beijing government and the CCP were already 

complaining that citizens seeking to hold the memorials for Hu 

Yaobang were disturbing the “social order” in the city.17 Students had 

begun to camp on Tiananmen Square, and, while the government 

monitored them closely, neither the police nor the military took 

active action to remove them. 

The CCP Signals Its Intent.

 The April 26, 1989, issue of People’s Daily (Renmin Ribao) reported 

a meeting in the Great Hall of the People attended by “cadre of the 

Party, Party members, workers, students, residents of areas around 

Beijing, and patriots.” The student demonstrations were labeled a 

“turmoil” that the Party appealed for all to “resolutely and swiftly 

resolve.”18 The Politburo Central Committee, according to the article, 

accused a “small group of people” of using the event of Hu Yaobang’s 

death and the students for the “reactionary call to overthrow the 

Communist Party.” According to the article, 10,000 people attended 
63

this meeting. A similar meeting was held in Shanghai on the same 

day, the newspaper reported, this one attended by 40,000 Communist 

Party cadres from that city. In Shanghai the situation was called 

“unnatural” and was partially attributed to people coming into the 

city from other parts of the country (wai di ren). A parallel editorial 

was published the same day in Renmin Ribao, using the authoritative 

Communist Party bold, italicized type. This “social commentary” (she 

lun) once more accused a small group of reactionaries of continuing 

to use the students for their own reasons.19 It also accused the group 

of organizing attacks on the Communist Party using the students, 

and of encouraging them to write “large character posters.”

 The day after the articles and the editorial, Xinhua Press ran 

another story that cited the incidents in front of Zhongnanhai, where 

students refused to disperse, as an “explosive situation” that was 

attributed to some students who intended all along to use the 

commemoration of Hu Yaobang’s death as an excuse to attack the 

Communist Party.20

 Indeed, while part of the Defense Attaché Office of the American 

Embassy at the time, this writer found notices on CCP bulletin boards 

inside military institutes urging Communist Party members to “get 

out in the street and demonstrate with the students in support of the 

students and workers, in support of Zhao Ziyang―protect reform 

and opening.” This was quite a different message from that of April 

17, which was for CCP members to circulate among the students 

and do ideological work. Clearly such efforts were part of the lastditch effort by Zhao and his supporters to protect their positions. 

That Communist Party bulletin boards contained this line, and that 

it was repeated in a number of places―a military hospital, a logistics 

depot, and a military housing area―means that at some level the 

grassroots organizations of the Party were being used by Zhao as a 

tool to combat the more orthodox and older Party members. 

 Still, Zhao really had no senior party officials on his side. In a 

post-Tiananmen analysis by Beijing-based correspondent Nicholas 

Kristof, carried by The New York Times Magazine on November 

12, 1989, those associated with Zhao Ziyang were Yan Mingfu, 

Bao Tong, Hu Qili, Rui Xingwen, and Yan Jiaqi. All of these men 

were Party officials who had risen to senior levels, but none were 
64

able to compete with the constellation of Communist elders, who 

had coalesced to remove Zhao and end the demonstrations. And 

the elders either were contemporaries to Deng Xiaoping or were 

politically allied to the more conservative wing of the Party. Kristof 

identified among them: Deng Xiaoping, Li Peng, Yang Shangkun, 

Chen Xitong, Li Ximing, Yao Yilin, Qiao Shi, Wan Li, Li Xiannian, 

and Chen Yun.

 Using the typology suggested by David Bachman (pp. 57-58 of this 

chapter), it is possible to roughly categorize how those elders fit in 

to the conservative wing of the CCP from an ideological standpoint. 

Deng Xiaoping generally is thought of as one of China’s moderates, 

pushing for economic reform, contact with the outside world, and 

modernization. Nevertheless, he was a moral conservative and 

a leader with strong ties to the vested interests of the Communist 

Party. Indeed, all of the elders identified in the Kristof article share 

this characteristic. Li Peng fits in with the group of “planning 

conservatives” and is also an ideological conservative. Yang Shangkun 

is another who is compatible with planning conservatives, is a moral 

conservative, and shares the vested interests of the Party as a major 

concern. Chen Xitong was an ideological conservative, a planning 

conservative, and is generally anti-foreign in orientation. Li Ximing 

and Yao Yilin are moral conservatives and planning conservatives. 

Qiao Shi is a moral conservative, as was Wan Li and Li Xiannian. 

However, when one looks at the videotape of Zhao Ziyang escorting 

Li Xiannian into meetings, one has to wonder whether Li was lucid 

at all. Assuming he was, the record in The Tiananmen Papers is that his 

major concern was the vested interest he had in the CCP. Yao Yilin, 

in addition to his emphasis on good central planning, also was very 

concerned in maintaining the vested interests of the CCP. Wan Li 

was almost completely out of the entire situation. He was summoned 

back from the United States, where he was on a visit, on short notice. 

Inside the U.S. Embassy, based on this writer’s experience, some of 

us wondered whether he would defect rather than return to China. 

In the end he did return, and took very leglistic positions supporting 

the authority of the CCP to use force and enforce discipline. Still, 

many of us in the U.S. Embassy questioned whether his heart was in 

his statements. In the end, Wan was one of the most reform oriented 
65

elders in the Party. Chen Yun was probably the most senior and 

committed of the planning conservatives, was a moral conservative, 

and was generally anti-foreign in orientation. 

 By May 13, this split between the orthodox older CCP members and 

the Zhao reform oriented group became more apparent. Tuanjie Bao, 

a student publication in support of reform, noted that conservatives 

(the baoshou pai) were “struggling hard” against the moderate faction 

(the wen he pai).21 The conservative charge was that Zhao and his allies 

were working with a “small group of conspirators” (ji shao shu ren 

de yin mou) to take over the Party and turn it into a bourgeois liberal 

group. Even as late as the day before the declaration of martial law, 

on May 19, 1989, major Communist Party-controlled organizations 

such as the State Economic Reform Institute, the State Council 

Research Center, and the Beijing Youth Research Center published 

letters urging the Party to “listen to the complaints of the students 

and citizens” about corruption and nepotism in China.22

 As the likelihood of military involvement became more apparent, 

the self-understanding of the Chinese military affected PLA actions. 

The PLA bought into its own myth: that the PLA was a “people’s 

army.” At the start of the demonstrations the Army tried to stay 

out of the fray. The PLA leadership had sought hard to avoid 

being the primary instrument of force, hoping that the PSB was up 

to the task. In the end, the PLA was caught up in an inner-Party 

dispute for primacy in a power struggle over the speed and scope of 

reform in China.23 Since 1978, when Deng Xiaoping institutionalized 

the reform of communism at the Third Plenum of the CCP 11th 

Central Committee, the nation was reforming, and private incentive 

systems increasingly were the norm. These reforms, which began 

as experiments in Deng’s home province of Sichuan under thengovernor Zhao Ziyang, stimulated initiative and economic growth. 

By 1989, with Zhao as CCP Chairman, the reforms also brought 

serious inflation. As a consequence, the conservative, orthodox 

Marxist elements in the Party wanted to slow, even reverse, the 

reforms.24 This threatened Zhao’s position, as well as that of other 

reform-minded central leaders.

 Most studies on the Tiananmen Massacre start their narrative by 

examining the outpouring of grief and popular support for reform 

surrounding the death of Hu Yaobang.25 The popular movement 
66

started earlier than that, however, as small private stalls and an 

“individual economy” began to flourish. By mid-1988, indigenous 

rock bands, theater groups, small private clubs, and restaurants had 

opened in most major Chinese cities, more or less institutionalizing 

cultural and economic reform. Centralized, orthodox Stalinist 

planning was being changed, and the change undermined the 

sinecure of CCP bureaucrats, some who had occupied their positions 

since 1949, and others who had risen during the upheavals of the 

Cultural Revolution. Thus, from the national level to the local level, 

whether in the cities or the countryside, there was an entrenched 

cadre of CCP operatives opposed to reform.

 It was this inner-Party fight that paralyzed the political processes 

of China. Under normal circumstances, the “democratic centralism” 

of the Communist Party provided a means by which disagreements 

could be surfaced, conveyed to the Party center, and dealt with.26 The 

CCP might modify a policy based on this feedback or remain firm in 

its approach, but there was a mechanism that at least permitted the 

CCP to sample inner-Party opinion, if not public attitudes, make a 

collective decision at the top reacting to opinion, and communicate 

that decision to cadre and citizens. However, it was not a quick 

process. As the system functioned, once a decision had been made, 

local Party committees conveyed the new line in meetings. On more 

important decisions, the People’s Daily and local, but CCP-controlled 

newspapers, might publish an editorial conveying or reinforcing 

the line. The general population shut up and followed the new line 

on pain of severe criticism or banishment to some labor farm. But 

the reforms were so popular and the impact on entrenched cadre so 

strong that the normal “feedback loops” were paralyzed.27 Moreover, 

once Party members began to get mixed messages from the Party 

center, the situation became more confused. June Teufel Dreyer, in 

her 1989 assessment of the inner-Party arguments over reform, put it 

this way:

The Army’s sluggish response and the apparent disunity in its ranks can 

be explained, at least in part, by the fact that its condition largely mirrors 

that of the Chinese polity as a whole. In the political sphere, factional 

disputes among party leaders have traditionally been reflected in similar 

cleavages within the military. The events of the spring thus involved not 

only a power struggle between different leadership factions, but also 
67

a parallel struggle between conservative and reformist factions in the 

military . . . the army suffers from the same woes that afflict civilians.28

 With the mounting pressure to resign now coming from his 

colleagues on the CPP Central Committee, the Politburo, and the 

military, Zhao saw the handwriting on the wall―his resignation had 

to come. Still, he attempted to marshal last-minute support from 

those in the populace that favored reform.29

 The Hong Kong and Western press picked up the factional 

splits in the CCP fairly quickly. But the disagreement in the Party 

over how to react to, and end, the student demonstrations was the 

focus of attention. The South China Morning Post set out the factional 

alignments pushing Deng Xiaoping toward a hard-line crackdown 

on the students as including Chen Yun, Bo Yibo, Song Renqiong, Hu 

Qiaomu, Deng Liqun, Li Peng, Yao Yilin, and Wang Renzhi.30

South China Morning Post correspondent Willy Wo-Lop Lam best 

summarized the situation in what he reported as a conversation 

between Deng Xiaoping and Zhao Ziyang. According to Lam, in a 

heated discussion, Zhao said to Deng Xiaoping that the Party must 

support reform because “I [Zhao] have the people on my side.”31

In Lam’s version of this conversation, Deng supposedly responded, 

“You have nothing! I have the Army.” Willy Lam probably was not 

in a position to know what actually may have been said in a ZhaoDeng dispute; those exact words may not have been used. Lam 

lacked the access and placement to obtain such direct quotes from 

any conversation that may have taken place at such an elevated level 

within the CCP. Nevertheless, Lam’s column captured the essence 

of the dispute within the Party. It was this dispute that was a major 

factor in the eventual reaction by the PLA to the demonstrations.32

Gathering Discontent.

 The initial public gatherings in Beijing began on April 16, 1989, 

with students gathering on the campus of Beijing University.33 Hu 

Yaobang was a popular figure as the Party general secretary, but 

was removed from CCP positions in 1987 in the aftermath of student 

demonstrations supporting further liberalization in China. Hu sped 

reform, but his haste broke a tacit, inner-Party understanding that the 
68

older generation of revolutionary leaders, who at Deng Xiaoping’s 

urging moved to the “second line” in 1986, would continue to 

guide the country from “behind the curtain.” Although Deng had 

anointed Hu as his successor, Hu’s association with speedier reform 

challenged the elders. For this reason, Hu was removed from office 

and replaced by Zhao Ziyang.

 Even without this challenge to inner-Party discipline, other 

problems plagued the country. Inflation was high, and corruption 

and the use of personal influence and “connections” (guanxi) 

circumvented the political, legal, and social system, effectively 

paralyzing society. Official profiteering from the mixed government 

quota-market system (guan-dao) corrupted commerce and made 

it impossible to work within the established system.34 There were 

no fixed rules or laws; only access and influence produced legal or 

business decisions. Most seriously, however, the people who were 

profiting were senior CCP and military leaders. The children of 

Deng, Chen Yun, and the revolutionary veterans were placed in 

critical positions in military-run companies. Sons, daughters, nieces, 

and nephews of active duty, retired, and even deceased generals and 

marshals (the “party princelings” or tai zi dang) corrupted the system 

for their own benefit, and everyone knew it―workers, students, 

lower level government functionaries, and intellectuals.35

 Even the forces of order (or repression) in the cities, like the PLA 

General Staff Department-controlled PAP, were part of the problem. 

The PAP ran networks of underground bars and nightclubs in 

Beijing and other major cities. The PAP (along with PSB colleagues) 

controlled prostitution. The PAP (and units of the PLA) owned the 

trucks used to smuggle illegal goods.36 Military unit commanders 

knew full well that a retrenchment by the Party would kill the golden 

goose of market reform whose eggs were used to line their pockets. 

It is not surprising, therefore, that when the government began to 

move military units to suppress student demonstrations as early as 

April 15 (to coincide with Hu Yaobang’s death), the PLA and PAP 

leaders were torn between personal self-interest and Party loyalty. 

 The networks of corruption complicated the reaction. Units of the 

PLA were involved deeply in hotel management in Beijing. Thus, 

although the Group Armies of the PLA were far from the capital, 

the children of the army, division, and regimental commanders 
69

were embedded in business in the city. The PAP, which should 

have been the first line of defense in restoring order, lived in the city 

among the populace. PAP junior officers and senior cadre married 

girls from the neighborhoods of Beijing. PAP soldiers, when they 

stood duty, flirted with the girls and played with the children in the 

neighborhood. When finally called on to help restore order, many 

PAP and PLA organizations instead facilitated the marches. These 

were the last people who would “break heads” to end a crisis.

 On April 17, when several thousand university students marched 

toward Tiananmen Square seeking a reassessment of Hu Yaobang 

by the Party, the PAP (and PSB) facilitated their progress through 

the traffic of Beijing. Of course, seeing that it might strengthen his 

own weak position, Zhao Ziyang encouraged the students and the 

PAP through Party grass-roots organizations. By April 22, 200,000 

students demonstrated, again quietly assisted along by the PAP and 

PSB. This happened not only in Beijing, but in other cities as well, 

including Xi’an, Changsha, Chengde, and even the hometowns of 

the 27th and 38th Group Armies, Shijiazhuang and Baoding.37

 Normal political dialogue and feedback in the Communist Party 

depended on a “reading” of signals relaying the final Party position 

under “democratic centralism.”38 The April 26 edition of People’s 

Daily contained an editorial that labeled the student movement as 

an “anti-party” action that was “anti-socialist” and was a form of 

“turmoil.” This editorial used a series of “code words” that relayed 

the concerns of senior leaders, who had been severely repressed 

during the Cultural Revolution, that the limits of forbearance had 

been reached. Under normal circumstances, the average student or 

citizen would have “read the tea leaves” and toed the Party line. But 

these were not normal times, and the political signals were confused 

by the inner-Party battle.

 It was at this time that Zhao Ziyang and his pro-liberalization 

Party colleagues realized they were in serious trouble. Their reaction 

was to encourage workers, government bureaucrats, and industrial 

employees to demonstrate using the grass-roots Party organs and 

bulletin boards. If one entered a PLA or PAP compound, the Party 

bulletin boards told the Army to support Zhao, support the students, 

and encourage reform. Army commanders heard one thing from their 
70

children, another from their orthodox political commissars, and still 

another message from those in the Party struggling for liberalization 

and survival. The result was chaos.

 When ordered to move toward Beijing, some military commanders 

and soldiers reportedly feigned illness. The most notorious case of this 

involved the commander of the 38th Group Army, Xu Qinxian.39 Xu’s 

case came to the direct attention of the members of the PBSC because 

his father was General Xu Haidong. Other military commanders, in 

explaining the deployments, emphasized to their soldiers that, as a 

“people’s army” the PLA should obey the Party but take no action 

to hurt the populace. The PLA’s involvement, according to this line 

of reasoning was designed to stabilize the situation. Meanwhile, 

the demonstrations continued. Almost a million people marched in 

Beijing on April 27; 100,000 people in Shanghai on May 2; 300,000 

people in Beijing on May 4; 10,000 students and writers in Beijing on 

May 10.40

 On May 13, with PLA units surrounding the city but staying on its 

outskirts, the students declared a hunger strike. For the next 3 days 

100,000 people a day demonstrated all around Beijing, some in front 

of PLA units. The army units were torn in their loyalties. Students 

and city residents bombarded them with good will, providing water 

and food at times. The Zhao Ziyang wing of the Party, by activating 

grass-roots party branches, encouraged them to support reform, 

and the orthodox political commissars in the units told them the 

demonstrations were an anti-socialist mass movement. When Soviet 

President Mikhail Gorbachev visited Beijing on May 15, ceremonies 

had to be shifted, and the CCP clearly had no control over the city, 

causing a major loss of face for China’s leaders. The climax came 

on May 17, when a million people, including military organizations, 

marched in Beijing.

 This writer, serving as a military attaché and moving around the 

city, felt the probability of the use of deadly force by the Army to 

settle the demonstrations became clear as early as May 6, when Zhao 

called for more openness in an address to political workers. Zhao 

later disclosed that it was Deng, not himself, that was making all the 

important decisions in the Party.41 This judgment was reinforced on 

May 18, when Li Peng met with student leaders in the Great Hall of 
71

the People and was insulted on national television by student leader 

Wuer Kaixi. So senior a leader as Li Peng, representing the most 

conservative elements of the CCP, could not have this challenge go 

unpunished.

Friction, Weather, and a Critical Missed Opportunity.

 Clausewitz uses the term “friction” in war to describe unplanned 

events or circumstances that complicate operations or plans. 

Had Wuer Kaixi been a good “Confucian” (or Communist) and 

listened to his elder and not insulted Li Peng, violence might have 

been avoided. But he did not act according to script, introducing 

“friction” into the calculations of the central leadership of the CCP. 

Weather and judgment played a factor, too. On the night of May 17, 

the weather was unseasonably terrible for Beijing―chilly and rainy. 

The students were wet, cold, and hungry. Those on Tiananmen 

Square were becoming hypothermic, and probably could have 

been peacefully herded off the square on the morning of the 18th if 

the Army had acted at dawn. Instead, hundreds of buses from the 

city transportation bureau miraculously showed up on Tiananmen 

Square, giving the protestors relief from the weather and subtle 

reassurance that someone in the CCP supported their cause, thus 

creating more friction. Interestingly, it was the night before that, 

according to accounts in The Tiananmen Papers, when the decision 

was made to impose martial law. In a bureaucracy like China’s, this 

sort of thing does not happen unless some official of the Communist 

Party makes it happen. It took the actions of a number of different 

organizations, all controlled in one way or the other by the CCP, to 

make those buses appear. The Beijing City government owned and 

controlled the buses, and Communist Party leaders controlled both 

the government and the bus bureau. The PSB had to clear routes for 

the buses, and the PSB, of course, is controlled by a CCP Committee. 

The most likely explanation is that the appearance of the buses, which 

took so much coordination, was the hand of moderates and reformers 

supporting the Zhao wing of the CCP. The fate of the demonstrators 

and Zhao’s supporters was sealed. Moreover, on May 18, the 5th day 

of the hunger strike by the students on Tiananmen Square, after the 
72

buses showed up to provide shelter on the square, military people, 

some with their units identified on banners, joined demonstrators on 

the streets of Beijing.42

 Turning again to the PSC meeting of May 17, the collective 

decision there was to try to “expose the tiny minority (of students) 

who are agitating and creating turmoil,” while at the same time to 

“soften confrontations.” This was to be accomplished somehow at 

the same time that the CCP managed to “protect the patriotism and 

enthusiasm of the students and the broad masses.”43 In the debate that 

took place at the PBSC meeting, Qiao Shi agreed to the deployment 

of the PLA, but expressed his hope that force would not have to be 

used. He advised taking advantage of the way that the declaration of 

martial law might stabilize parts of Beijing, but also taking advantage 

of any pause it might bring about by having CCP branches encourage 

parents to get their children out of the square. Qiao’s admonition to 

the PBSC was “we do not want to shed blood.”44

The Army Mobilizes.

 Premier Li Peng and Beijing Mayor Chen Xitong declared martial 

law on May 19, to take effect on May 20. Once more, Qiao Shi agreed 

to the declaration of martial law, but expressed hope that no force 

would have to be used. On the evening of May 19, elements of the 

PLA attempted to enter the city from all four cardinal directions. The 

units identified as involved in the initial deployment were elements 

of the following PLA Group Armies: 24, 27, 28, 38, 63, 65, the Beijing 

Garrison Command, 39, 40, 54, and 67 (the latter four from outside 

Beijing Military Region).45

 Workers and citizens rallied to the student cause. The mere 

appearance of troops and the declaration of martial law did not have 

the dramatic effect of cooling the demonstrations that the CCP elders 

and PBSC thought it would. Ordinary residents who realized that 

continued demonstrations could mean a chance to end corruption 

joined together with the student movement to block the PLA and 

come to the defense of the city. One very poignant moment on May 

20 demonstrates how the people of Beijing reacted to martial law. 

Having been moving around the city all day taking stock of events, 

this attaché was dirty, hot, thirsty, and tired when approaching a 
73

roadblock designed to stop the PLA manned by workers on the 

second ring road in Beijing, near the Bell Tower. Two young men 

wore PLA ammunition bandoleers over their shoulders filled with 

one-liter Beijing beer bottles. When offered money for a bottle of 

beer, a young man replied, “These are filled with gasoline; when the 

PLA comes after the students, they’ll see what ‘People’s War’ really 

means. We’ll give it to them.” Two weeks later that is exactly what 

happened.

 On the eve of Children’s Day, May 31 (Children’s Day was June 

1), an italicized letter appeared in the main position above the fold 

of Peoples’ Daily from Deng Yingchao. This was the prototypical 

grandmother of the Communist Party, the widow of Zhou Enlai. 

She was probably the most senior of the CCP officials who were 

also revolutionary veterans and was, indeed, not only a symbolic 

grandmother to the young students in the square, but really a 

grandmother. In the article she made it clear that June 1 was children’s 

day, and a grandmother should be able to take her grandchildren to 

Tiananmen Square without the interference of demonstrations―the 

students should clear the Square. Despite the agreement with the 

“Party elders” on the use of the PLA to stabilize the situation, this 

was a final public warning to the students and other demonstrators. 

Her appeals were ignored. 

The PLA Prepares: A Classic Military Operation.

 It was clear to China’s leaders that the police and PAP were 

ineffective in controlling the crowds, if not disloyal, and that large 

portions of the PLA leadership sympathized with the demonstrators. 

Moreover, additional forces were pouring into marshaling areas 

outside Beijing. Nanyaun Airfield south of Beijing, for example, got 

troops in from the 15th Airborne Army in Kaifeng to reinforce units 

already there from the 54th Group Army. The 12-14 divisions of 

different PLA group armies surrounding Beijing were pulled back, 

away from the city, into military assembly areas. Sequestered and 

isolated from the populace in those encampments, the uneducated, 

rural infantrymen and tankers of the Army were told that the city was 

full of a combination of good, but confused citizens and “counterrevolutionary enemies of the people.” This use of language was a 
74

reversion to the most virulent Maoist terminology associated with 

class warfare. One could hear it on loudspeakers at night when close 

to the troop assembly areas. 

 At dawn on June 3, a regiment of the 196th Infantry Division 

from Tianjin attempted to run into Tiananmen Square unarmed. 

They were turned back by citizens and students. This seems to have 

been the final catalyst for the issuance of a final order to the PLA. 

The “Basic Order” issued to the troops was that they were to cross 

the line of departure outside their assembly areas at 9 on the evening 

of June 3. The initial units were ordered to arrive at Tiananmen 

Square by 1 a.m. on June 4, and the square was to be cleared no later 

than 6 a.m.. The PLA was to permit no delays to interfere with the 

accomplishment of this mission, and was ordered to clear blockages 

“using any and all self-defensive means required.”46 Thus the order 

to clear the Square authorized the use of deadly force.

 At about 4:00 on the afternoon of June 3, a full armor division 

of the PLA left its assembly area near the town of Tongxian, some 

40 kilometers east of Beijing, and formed up along the BeijingTianjin Highway in assault positions at what must have been their 

designated line of departure. The division, like other PLA units 

around the city, had undergone almost 2 weeks of “reeducation” 

designed to convince the soldiers that the demonstrators were 

counter-revolutionary criminals. The troops were armed. Behind 

the tanks were armored personnel carriers, followed by trucks full 

of infantrymen. To the south, in the vicinity of Nanyuan Airfield, 

troops of the 54th Group Army and 15th Airborne Army began to 

form for the assault. Farmers, sensing that the attack on the “counterrevolutionaries” was coming, lined up tractors and backhoes along 

the roads between Nanyuan and the Temple of Heaven to block the 

PLA. In the western and northern parts of the city, the same things 

happened. The stage was set for a phased military operation to gain 

control of Beijing.

People’s War Against the People’s Army.

 From the southern approach outside Nanyuan Airfield, assembled 

PLA units began their approach march to the city at about 2 a.m. The 

lead elements were helmeted PAP, not soldiers, who moved in front 
75

of the troops, trying to disperse the urban defenders with nightsticks. 

They were hopelessly ineffective. Behind them, the PLA tanks cut 

through roadblocks of city buses, trucks, and tractors like butter. As 

the PLA got closer to the center of the city, resistance increased. Young 

urban workers, most of whom either had army or militia training, 

really did conduct a “People’s War.” After tanks passed through a 

road block, the urban fighters often used the steel bars from road 

dividers to disable them, as well as the armored personnel carriers, 

by breaking their tracks. Once a combat vehicle was disabled in this 

manner, street fighters swarmed over the vehicle, covering the engine 

intake with blankets on which they had poured gasoline or diesel 

fuel. When the blankets were ignited, the PLA crews were forced to 

exit the vehicles, after which they were beaten by the people at the 

roadblocks and pelted with rocks or Molotov cocktails (the Beijing 

beer bottles full of gas). Terribly burned soldiers ran among crowds, 

their clothing in flames. This was clearly a tactic rehearsed and even 

practiced among the demonstrators, since it was used in the same 

way in separate places around the city. By this time, having seen their 

fellow soldiers killed, the troops were scared. Political commissars 

had told them for 2 weeks that there were “counter-revolutionary 

criminals” in the city. Predictably, the troops reacted by opening fire. 

Meanwhile, the disabled armored vehicles blocked the progress of 

the trucks and reinforcing troops. A similar scene happened west 

of Tiananmen Square, along Changan Boulevard, in the “Battle of 

Muxidi.”47

 By the time troops neared Tiananmen Square, they were scared 

and angry. The political reeducation at the hands of the CCP 

commissars had come true. There really were “bad elements” 

inside the city. Literally any resident of Beijing foolish enough to 

be on the street was a potential “criminal,” and the troops shot at 

them indiscriminately. Still, this was a military operation, and some 

discipline was obvious; not a single foreign reporter or diplomat was 

shot.

June 4.

 As dawn broke on June 4, 1989, the streets of Beijing were 

littered with brass shell casings from the PLA AK-47s and from the 
76

machine guns on PLA tanks and armored personnel carriers. The 

bodies of dead students and workers filled hospitals.48 Burned-out 

buses, trucks, and armored personnel carriers lined the streets.49

Blood, bandages, and the hard-tack biscuits carried by soldiers were 

ground into the concrete.50 A column of smoke rose from the center 

of the city around Tiananmen Square, and the air was filled with 

the smells of burning flesh mixed with the odor of petroleum. PLA 

helicopters ferried back and forth between Tiananmen and airfields 

in Tongxian, 40 kilometers east of Beijing, Shahe to the north of 

the city, Nanyuan to the south, and Xiyuan (nestled at the base of 

the Western Hills near the PLA General Staff Department (GSD) 

underground command complex). Hanging from a pedestrian 

cross-walk on Chongwenmen Street, south of Tiananmen, was the 

disemboweled body of a PLA soldier burned so badly that his skin 

was browned and his limbs drawn up like an overcooked chicken.51

Half-a-mile away near Qianmen, the corpse of another disemboweled 

soldier was hanging from a burned out bus.52 A sign placed around 

his neck by local residents said, “This man murdered an old woman 

and her granddaughter.” A city that was vibrant and pulsating with 

new ideas, rock music, private businesses, restaurants, and bars was 

transformed overnight into a scene from hell. 

 The PLA fractured its own self-created myth of being a “people’s 

army” when it turned on the residents of Beijing.53 But this was not the 

first time it had done so. From the time of the land-reform movement 

of the late 1940s and early 1950s forward, the PLA had shown its 

willingness to carry out the orders of the CCP central leadership, 

inflicting pain and death on those who were identified as “enemies 

of the Party.”54 Since the height of the Cultural Revolution (1966-69), 

however, when the PLA was called on to restore civil order, it really 

had not been used enmasse against the Chinese people. Of course, 

throughout history, the Chinese military has always been used to 

keep the people in line, but Tiananmen hit a generation of Chinese 

who had bought into the myth that it was more a “people’s army” 

than a “party army.”55

The Death Toll.

 A New York Times reporter, Nicholas Kristof, after visiting a few 

hospitals, arbitrarily set the death toll in Beijing at 900. Truth be told, 
77

Kristof had no idea of the actual toll. The PLA and the CCP set the 

death toll at 200, of which they claimed that only 36 were students. 

Twenty-three members of the PLA and PAP were killed (10 PLA 

and 13 PAP).56 Early in the morning of June 4, a discreet source of 

information to the Defense Attaché Office in the Chinese Red Cross 

set the toll at 2,600, but for 3 more days Beijing was full of gunfire. A 

PLA defector in Hong Kong in 1996 set the toll at 3,700.57 This may 

be nearer the truth, but no one knows. One thing is certain, however, 

despite the claims of Communist Party spokesman Yuan Mu in 1989 

and Minister of Defense Chi Haotian at the U.S. National Defense 

University in 1996, people did die on Tiananmen Square. How 

many is unclear. Officers of the U.S. Embassy watched people have 

their heads blown apart by PLA bullets on the Square. Journalists 

watched people crushed by vehicles. A week later, the monuments 

on the Square were still stained with blood and chipped by bullets. 

The monuments were also marred from armored vehicles driving 

on them. One must ask the question, if no students were left on the 

Square, why was there blood, why were there bullet holes, and why 

did armored vehicles drive onto the monuments?58

Scaring Away Foreigners.

 Immediately after gaining control of Tiananmen, PLA units began 

a methodical campaign to capture demonstrators and eliminate 

resistance around the city. In some parts of Beijing on July 4 and 5, 

shooting continued sporadically, even after dark. Rumors began to 

spread, repeated to the press by Western diplomats, that units of the 

PLA were going to fight each other. In actuality, the PLA was acting 

in a coordinated manner. Supply vehicles from the units rumored to 

be fighting each other could be seen refueling and drawing food and 

ammunition together at the same PLA supply points.

 Both the Army and the CCP were tired of the constant, watchful 

eyes of the foreign press and diplomats. On June 7, the PLA opened 

fire on hotels and diplomatic housing in the embassy district. The 

military claimed that a sniper had fired on a PLA unit from within 

the diplomatic housing compound at Jianguomenwai. This was not 

true. This writer was warned in advance and given the exact hours 

of the shooting incident in enough detail that he was told what floors 
78

of what buildings in the diplomatic compound to avoid. The PLA 

action was part of a carefully planned event to scare the foreigners 

out of the city, and, for the most part, it worked. Embassies and 

businesses withdrew most foreign staffs and their families.

Civil-Military Relations Repaired.

 The Tiananmen Massacre was a tragedy of monumental 

proportions. The fact that a massacre took place, and so many 

lives were lost, can be attributed only to the vacillation inside the 

CCP and ultimately the Communist Party’s bungling paralysis. 

The demonstrations and unrest were resolved reluctantly only by 

brutal urban combat. The leaders of the PLA worked hard to avoid 

the Army’s involvement. And clearly, at least from the objections 

raised initially by PSC members like Qiao Shi, senior CCP officials 

would have preferred to handle the demonstrations peacefully. But 

when ordered to do so, the Party-controlled PLA used deadly force 

against the Chinese people. Chinese armies always have done this to 

preserve a dynasty, perhaps they always will. 

 In the aftermath of the Tiananmen Massacre, entire infantry 

divisions of PLA converted to PAP, simply changing uniforms to 

provide a strong, reliable force in the city. High school and college 

students were taken to the countryside for military training in the 

summer. This familiarized them with the Army and humanized the 

soldiers in the eyes of young men and women. In the intervening 

years, when China reduced the size of the PLA, the PAP grew 

proportionately. PLA junior officers and squad leaders were sent 

into intermediate schools and high schools in Chinese cities to 

assist in physical education classes to teach rudimentary hand-tohand combat and close-order drill. The students liked the change 

in school routine, and parents, products of the Cultural Revolution, 

felt that their sons and daughters were more disciplined at home 

and in school. Civil-military relations improved. Perhaps the most 

significant event that made the PLA more of a “People’s Army” once 

more was the 1998 flooding in China. Here the Army reacted swiftly 

to assist the populace, regaining respect.
79

Conclusion.

 David Bachman’s characterization of coalition formation inside 

the CCP holds up well with time. For different reasons, senior and 

“elder” members of the Party coalesced around conservative positions 

over the time of the crisis. Their primary goal was the maintenance of 

power and authority for the Party when it was faced with real calls 

for reform. Some joined against the moves for reform to preserve 

their own power, some to maintain their networks of influence, 

nepotism, and corruption, and some perhaps out of dedication to a 

cause. But until they coalesced into a cohesive body and while there 

was serious disagreement within the CCP, there was also paralysis. 

Ultimately, even those who counseled against force, like Qiao Shi, 

eventually agreed to the “Basic Order” and the use of deadly force. 

One faction manipulated the populace of the city, if not the country, 

in one direction, while another faction pulled in another. The normal 

signals that sent people to their deaths in the Cultural Revolution, 

like editorials in Party newspapers, had little effect. And the result 

was paralysis. 

 The lessons from the Tiananmen Massacre are that, in the final 

analysis, the CCP will work for its own survival as an institution. 

And the Communist Party can probably count on the PLA to do its 

bidding. Another important lesson of the vacillation in advance of the 

Tiananmen Massacre is that serious inner party struggle will result 

in paralysis every time that the nominal leadership of the Party, to 

include its General Secretary and the head of the Central Military 

Commission, have to go back to a “board of trustees” of older, more 

senior CCP members for a decision. This sort of consensus leadership 

by committee does not lend itself to decisionmaking under stress, let 

alone crisis management and resolution. Without some legitimate, 

institutionalized constitutional form of authority, this leadership 

format likely will exacerbate future crises rather than help to resolve 

them. Whether responding to domestic crisis or international crisis, 

the CCP and the PLA’s inability to follow an established crisis 

management procedure will exacerbate the situation.
80

ENDNOTES - CHAPTER 3

 1. In its September 1989 analysis of events leading up to Tiananmen Massacre, 

the Directorate of Intelligence of the Central Intelligence Agency CIA) described the 

“old guard” of Communist Party elders as “a small group of party elders―most in 

their 80s and 90s―who have criticized Deng’s [Deng Xiaoping’s] economic reform 

program as straying too far from orthodox Marxism-Leninism.” Included in this 

group by the CIA are Chen Yun, Peng Zhen, Bo Yibo, Wang Zhen, and Li Xiannian. 

See Directorate of Intelligence, Central Intelligence Research Paper, The Road to 

Tiananmen Crackdown: An Analytic Chronology of Chinese Leadership Decisionmaking, 

EA-89-10030, Washington, DC: Central Intelligence Agency, September 1989, p. 

vi. Authorized for public release in a redacted version in March 2000. This author 

thinks the CIA analysis is too simplistic and finds the work by David Bachman a 

more nuanced understanding of how some of these Party elders supported some 

elements of modernization, but differed with Deng elsewhere (see footnote 2). 

 2. David Bachman, “Varieties of Chinese Conservatism and the Fall of Hu 

Yaobang,” Journal of Northeast Asian Studies, Spring 1988, pp. 24, 44. 

 3. Ibid., pp. 26-35. 

 4. Ibid., pp. 22-46. 

 5. Ibid., p. 40.

 6. Zhang Liang, Compiler, and Andrew J. Nathan and Perry Link, eds., 

Tiananmen Papers: The Chinese Leadership’s Decision to Use Force Against Their own 

People-In Their Own Words, New York: Public Affairs Press, 2001, p. 4. Hereafter 

cited as Tiananmen Papers.

 7. Editorial Board, Beijing Publishing House, The Truth About the Beijing 

Turmoil, Beijing: Beijing Publishing House, 2nd Printing, August 1990, pp. 7-8.

 8. “Leaders Still Locked in Power Conflict,” South China Morning Post, June 4, 

1989, p. 3.

 9. Tiananmen Papers, p. 58.

 10. Ibid., pp. 193-196.

 11. Michael Oksenberg, Lawrence R. Sullivan, and Marc Lambert, eds., Beijing 

Spring 1989, Confrontation and Conflict: The Basic Documents, Armonk, NY: M. E 

Sharpe, 1990, pp. 288-291.

 12. Tiananmen Papers, p. 189.

 13. Ibid., p. 60.

 14. Ibid., pp. 87, 104. 

 15. “Yang Speech Details Moves Against Zhao,” South China Morning Post, 

May 30, 1989, p. 11.

 16. New York Times, April, 18, 1989. 
81

 17. “Women zenyang daonian Hu Yaobang Tongzhi?” (“How should we hold 

a memorial service for Comrade Hu Yaobang?”) Renmin Ribao, April 21, 1989. 

This article is part of the collection catalogued in The China Democracy Movement 

and Tiananmen Incident: Annotated Catalog of the UCLA Archives, 1989-1993, UCLA 

Asian Pacific Monograph Series, compiled by Jian Ding and Elaine Yee-Man Cha, 

Los Angeles: University of California at Los Angeles UCLA), 1999, catalogued as 

CC1012. The author thanks the library staff at the UCLA East Asian Library for 

assistance and access to the collection. 

 18. Renmin Ribao, April 26, 1989.

 19. Ibid.

 20. “Beijing jin ri chuxian yixie sishi erfei chuanwen yongyuan fangmian zhiqing 

renshi pilu shishi zhenxiang” (“Rumors are Spreading in Beijing: Knowledgeable 

Officials are Revealing the Truth”), Renmin Ribao, April 28, 1989, catalogued at 

UCLA as CC1043. 

 21. See the 39 pages of student flyers in the UCLA Archives catalogued as 

AC1006, dated between May 13, 1989, and June 4, 1989.

 22. Guanyu shiju de liu dian shengming (Six Point Declaration on the Current 

Situation), May 19, 1989, Catalogued in the UCLA Archives as AC1008.

 23. Ben Tierney, “Old Long March Guards Under Pressure of Change,” The 

Hong Kong Standard, June 3, 1989, p.8.

 24. Bachman, p. 22-46; “Attacks on Zhao Renewed,” Foreign Broadcast 

Information Service-China (FBIS-CHI)-89-250, January 2, 1990; “Article Cites Discord 

Among CPC Leaders,” FBIS-CHI-89-250, January 2, 1990.

 25. Michael Fathers and Andrew Higgins, Tiananmen: The Rape of Peking, 

London: The Independent, 1989; Massacre in Beijing: China’s Struggle for Democracy, 

New York: Time Books, Inc., 1989; David and Peter Turley, Beijing Spring, New 

York: Stewart, Tabori and Chang, 1989; China in Crisis: The Role of the Military, 

Surrey, UK: Jane’s Information Group, 1989; Theodore Hua and John Li, 

Tiananmen Square Spring 1989: A Chronology of the Chinese Democracy Movement, 

Berkeley: University of California Press, 1992; June Four: A Chronicle of the Chinese 

Democratic Uprising, Hong Kong: Ming Pao Publishing, 1989; Timothy Brook, 

Quelling the People: The Military Suppression of the Beijing Democracy Movement, New 

York: Oxford University Press, 1992. Andrew Scobell, China’s Use of Military Force: 

Beyond the Great Wall and the Long March, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 

2003, chapter 7.

 26. Stanley Karnow, Mao and China: From Revolution to Revolution, New York: 

The Viking Press, 1972, pp. 162, 230.

 27. Maria Hsia Chang, “The Meaning of Tianamen Incident,” Global Affairs, 

Fall 1989, pp. 12-35.

 28. June Teufel Dreyer, “China After Tiananmen: The Role of the Military,” 

World Policy Journal, Fall 1989, p. 648.
82

 29. Tiananmen Papers, pp. 179-181, 184-190, 257-273. A few words about the 

authenticity and accuracy of Tiananmen Papers: Former National Security Council 

director for China and CIA officer Robert Suettinger says, “the authenticity of the 

document, in my opinion, is questionable. It is just a bit too neat, too convenient, 

and too sympathetic to Zhao (Ziyang).” See Suettinger’s Beyond Tiananmen, 

footnote 44. This author agrees with Suettinger’s assessment. Much of book seems 

to be a review of events reported in the press and most resembles a reconstruction 

of events from memory after the fact, perhaps assisted by a review of news 

accounts.

 30. South China Morning Post, May 28, 1989, catalogued in UCLA Archives as 

CE1002. 

 31. Willy Wo-Lap Lam, “Deng May Agree on Compromise,” South China 

Morning Post, May 29, 1989, p. 4.

 32. Willy Wo-Lap Lam, “Soldiers Prepare to Move Into Beijing,” South China 

Morning Post, May 31, 1989, p. 3.

 33. Fathers and Higgins, Tiananmen: The Rape of Beijing, pp. 4-11.

 34. Gene D. Tracey, “The People’s Liberation Army As ‘Bad Iron,’” Asian 

Defence Journal, November 1989, p. 31-42.

 35. Guocang Huan, “The Roots of the Political Crisis,” World Policy Journal, Fall 

1989, pp. 609-620.

 36. James Mulvenon, Soldiers of Fortune: The Rise and Fall of the Chinese MilitaryBusiness Complex, 1978-1998, Armonk, NY: M. E. Sharpe, 2001, pp. 57-89.

 37. Tiananmen Papers.

 38. Mao Tse-Tung, “On the People’s Democratic Dictatorship,” in Selected 

Works of Mao Tse-Tung, Vol. IV, Peking: Foreign Languages Press, 1975, pp. 411-

424. 

 39. Tiananmen Papers, pp. 213, 219, 239-240.

 40. UCLA Tiananmen Archives AC1003, AC1006, AC1008, and CC1030.

 41. Directorate for Intelligence, CIA; The Road to Tiananmen Crackdown, pp. 5-6.

 42. This author observed a number of groups marching with banners identifying 

the marchers as from military logistics organizations. Also see Tiananmen Papers, 

p. 217.

 43. Ibid., p. 188.

 44. Ibid., quote from p. 175; 210. 

 45. Ibid., p. 212. It is important to remember that PLA units do not make 

deployments in such numbers in a mere 2- or 3-day period. Despite the record in 

Tiananmen Papers that a deployment decision was made on May 17, it is likely that 

the General Staff Department issued a mobilization order far earlier, perhaps as 

early as the time of the April 26 People’s Daily editorial.
83

 46. Tiananmen Papers, p. 370.

 47. Ibid., pp. 372-382.

 48. Up to 2,500 Killed in Carnage at Tiananmen,” The Hong Kong Standard, June 5, 

1989, p. 1.

 49. “Protestors Set Tanks on Fire,” International Herald Tribune, June 5, 1989, p. 1.

 50. “Tanks Ignored Screams,” The Hong-Kong Standard, June 5, 1989, p. 2.

 51. “Corpses, Tanks Paraded in Capital,” The Hong-Kong Standard, June 5, 1989, 

p. 5.

 52. The author of this chapter personally observed these events and was able 

to interview the local residents about the circumstances under which the citizens 

of these districts attacked the soldiers. 

 53. Bernard E. Trainor, “An Army’s Agony,” The New York Times, June 19, 

1989, p. A10; June Teufel Dreyer, “The People’s Liberation Army and the Power 

Struggle of 1989,” Problems of Communism, September-October 1989, pp. 41-

48; Kerry Dumbaugh, Shirley Kan, and Robert Sutter, “China’s Prospects After 

Tiananmen Square: Current Conditions, Future Scenarios, and A Survey of Expert 

Opinion,” CRS Report for Congress, January 15, 1991.

 54. Andrew G. Walder, “The Political Sociology of the Beijing Upheaval of 

1989,” Problems of Communism, September-October 1989, p. 30-40.

 55. Andrew J. Nathan, “Chinese Democracy in 1989: Continuity and Change,” 

Problems of Communism, September-October 1989, pp. 16-29. Scobell, China’s Use of 

Military Force, p. 165.

 56. Oksenberg, Sullivan, and Lambert, pp. 363-376.

 57. Information provided to author by Chinese defector in Hong Kong.

 58. For further reading on the subject, see also Michael Fathers and Andrew 

Higgins, Tiananmen: The Rape of Peking, London: The Independent, 1989; Massacre in 

Beijing: China’s Struggle for Democracy, New York: Time Books, Inc., 1989; David 

and Peter Turley, Beijing Spring, New York: Stewart, Tabori, and Chang, 1989; Paul 

Beaver, ed., China in Crisis: The Role of the Military, Surrey, UK: Jane’s Information 

Group, 1989; Theodore Hua and John Li, Tiananmen Square Spring 1989: A Chronology 

of the Chinese Democracy Movement, Berkeley: University of California Press, 1992; 

June Four: A Chronicle of the Chinese Democratic Uprising, Hong Kong: Ming Pao 

Publishing, 1989; Timothy Brook, Quelling the People: The Military Suppression of 

the Beijing Democracy Movement, New York: Oxford University Press, 1992; Robert 

L. Suettinger, Beyond Tiananmen: The Politics of U.S.-China Relations, 1989-2000; 

Washington, DC: Brookings Institution Press, 2003; James A. Lilley with Jeff Lilley, 

China Hands: Nine Decades of Adventure, Espionage, and Diplomacy in Asia, New York: 

Public Affairs Press, 2004.

85

CHAPTER 4

SARS 2002-2003:

A CASE STUDY IN CRISIS MANAGEMENT1

Susan M. Puska

Introduction,

There have been as many plagues as wars in history; yet always plagues 

and wars take people equally by surprise. 

 Albert Camus2

 Seldom does a domestic health emergency spin out of control 

the way the Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome (SARS) crisis did 

in China during the early months of 2003, threatening global health 

and economic stability. After over 5 months of denial, as information 

of the spread of the disease to Beijing was exposed, growing external 

pressure forced Chinese leaders to shift into action. The Chinese 

Communist Party (CCP), headed by General Secretary Hu Jintao 

since the November 2002 16th Party Congress, when the epidemic 

emerged, was forced to dramatically shift its SARS response strategy 

between late March and early April 2003, as foreign confidence that 

the leadership had the situation under control evaporated. Fearing 

economic and international implications, the CCP leadership initiated 

aggressive and highly visible actions in the fight against SARS by 

mid-April 2003.

 The CCP’s strategy of denial and deception had served it well from 

November 2002 to February 2003, as SARS spread from Guangdong 

Province into Hong Kong and radiated out internationally. The 

uncertainties of the origins, nature, and vector of the disease aided the 

Beijing leadership to delay its release of information, while obscuring 

facts that were known. As SARS spread, official dissemination of 

inaccurate and incomplete information to an increasingly skeptical 

international media and officials became less effective.

 If the Chinese Communist Party and State leaders hoped the 

SARS problem would go away with minimal consequences if they 
86

simply ignored it, by late March their strategy unraveled as scrutiny 

became more intense and critical and the effects of SARS in Beijing 

became publicly known. On March 31, the Wall Street Journal

published a commentary entitled “Quarantine China,” that bluntly 

criticized Chinese officials for withholding information about the 

spread of SARS. It called for a temporary ban on travel to infected 

areas, including China, and the screening and quarantine of persons 

who had been exposed to SARS. WHO issued a travel advisory the 

following day.

 Between late March and April 1, international events scheduled 

for Beijing, such as the International Ice Hockey Federation 2003 

Women’s World Championship, were cancelled or postponed. By 

April 1, word that the China Economic 2003 Summit, scheduled to 

start on April 14 in Beijing, was postponed, raised concerns about 

the economic repercussions of SARS and heralded another flood of 

postponements and cancellations.

 On April 6, Finnish national Pekka Aro became the first foreigner 

to die in China of SARS. Although Beijing health officials tried to 

obscure his case, blaming his infection on foreign exposure, the 

efficacy of continued deception weakened further. It collapsed 

by April 9, the same day that Time Magazine published leaked 

information of falsification of SARS statistics that Jiang Yanyong, a 

military doctor at the 301 military hospital, had provided the China 

Central Television and Hong Kong-based Phoenix television on 

April 4.

 The Party and government were joined in their belated fight by 

the mobilization of the People’s Liberation Army (PLA), particularly 

health and anti-chemical assets, under the direction of Central Military 

Commission (CMC) Chairman Jiang Zemin. Working together, 

the Party, government, and military curbed further spread of the 

epidemic by June 24, 2003, when the World Health Organization 

(WHO) removed its travel advisory for Beijing. As a result, China’s 

leadership largely regained international confidence and enjoyed 

praise for its “decisive” action against SARS. Even though China’s 

eventual response to the crisis showed how national resources could 

be concentrated for a short period of time, what is more telling is the 

protracted failure to respond effectively to the epidemic during the 5 

months between mid-November 2002 and mid-April 2003. 
87

 This chapter will focus on how the CCP’s crisis response 

methodology allowed SARS to spread within China and 

internationally. It raises questions about the CCP’s ability to handle 

future crises, especially public welfare problems.3 As the Party’s key 

guarantor of stability and power, the PLA’s mixed record and shortcomings in civil-military cooperation will also be discussed. 

 The SARS crisis illustrates how the CCP’s priorities have become 

so intertwined with the Party’s own survival and maintaining a 

monopoly on power that the Party leadership from the bottom to 

the top often cannot balance public interest against their own selfinterests. Further, the SARS case illustrates that the CCP has also 

become dependent on foreign investment and trade to underwrite 

its legitimacy that it will delay decisions and conceal information in 

order to protect foreign economic interests, rather than promote the 

public welfare. This latter point was driven home when the CCP only 

decided to take action after SARS had radiated out internationally 

from China, and information about the rate of infection in Beijing 

had been leaked to the international community. But, in the end, 

foreign pressure and scrutiny can still encourage Beijing to take 

positive action.

The SARS Crisis and China’s Response―A View from Beijing. 

Rumors of a previously unknown and deadly fever first surfaced 

in November 2002. When reports of incidents of an “atypical 

pneumonia” occurring in Southern China (Guangdong Province, later 

identified as Fushan City)4

 reached Beijing. Southern China is not only 

known as an economic power-house for China’s modernization, it is 

also one of the world’s disease hot spots. Scientists have determined 

that most new flu strains originate in Southern China, where humans 

and animals live in close proximity.5 After an initial flurry of rumors, 

the mysterious disease seemed to disappear until early 2003, when it 

resurfaced in Vietnam and Hong Kong. On March 12, 2003, the WHO 

issued a global alert for “atypical pneumonia” cases in Guangdong 

Province, Hong Kong, China, and Vietnam.6

 Appendix I presents a timeline of events related to SARS from 

November 2002, when the first known cases occurred in Fushan 

City, Guangdong Province, until late 2003/early 2004, when a second 
88

outbreak of SARS occured in China. Information on specific actions 

taken or not taken is spotty for the period between mid-November 

and the end of the year 2002. By early January 2003, however, there is 

evidence that at least some in the PLA in Beijing already were aware 

of the seriousness of the disease.7

 Guangdong Provincial authorities 

officially knew of the deadly disease at least by the beginning of 

January. They issued guidance in January that was ambiguous 

enough to avoid disrupting the New Year holiday. By late January, 

Guangdong leaders officially reported the situation to Beijing, 

but underreported the rate of infection and recommended Beijing 

impose a media blackout. In early February, the CCP propaganda 

organization issued guidelines for reporting SARS that directed all 

should stress that the situation is under control. 

 News of the SARS epidemic leaked out via the internet during 

early February after a SARS patient was treated at the Guangdong 

No. 2 Hospital, where he infected hospital staff. The Guangdong 

Party Secretary, Zhang Dejiang, continued to enforce a complete 

media blackout until February 11, when Guangdong health officials 

convened a press conference. They reported that only 305 people had 

been infected, five of whom had died, but they insisted the disease 

was under control. (This number was subsequently adjusted to 792 

cases, and 31 deaths at this time.)8

 At the press conference, the head 

of the Guangdong Health Department, Huang Qingdao, further 

obscured the situation when he implied that the disease could be 

prevented, even cured, and that Guangdong had taken the right 

steps to control it. The reality, however, was that critical information 

about the rate of infection and the effectiveness of basic hygiene 

measures was not collected and shared even within Guangdong 

Province. The Guangzhou Air Force Hospital, for example, did not 

have any spread of infection, mainly by employing basic infection 

procedures. But the hospital did not share what it had experienced, 

which may have allowed the disease to spread unchecked and into 

the capital, Guangzhou, and beyond.9

 On February 12, the Nanfang Military Hospital in Guangdong 

Province was the first to perform an autopsy on a SARS patient. The 

hospital concluded that the patient’s death was caused by a viruscaused pneumonia. It distributed tissue samples from the SARS 
89

patient to the Guangdong CDC, Guangzhou CDC, and the No. 8 

People’s Hospital (which provided the corpse).

 The following day, the Academy of Military Medical Sciences 

(AMMS), which has oversight of possible biological and chemical 

attacks, sent two researchers, with the approval of the General 

Logistics Department (GLD) and the Ministry of Health (MOH), to 

collect a specimen. Even though the Guangzhou Military Region and 

Nanfang Military Hospital provided assistance to the researchers, 

they were only permitted to collect a thumb-sized lung tissue sample, 

some serum samples, and a few drops of saliva. 

 By mid-February, two lung tissues from the Nanfang autopsy 

were provided to the Beijing Center for Disease Control (CDC). These 

samples were divided between Hong Tao, the CDC’s chief virologist, 

and two other researchers. All three conducted separate studies. 

Hong’s conclusion that chlamydia, a common sexually transmitted 

bacterium that is not particularly deadly, was the pathogen for the 

atypical pneumonia became the officially accepted theory. 

 Zhu Qingyu, one of the AMMS scientists who obtained a small 

sample from the Nanfang Hospital, detected a distinct halo of 

spikes, which indicated coronavirus, on February 20. On February 

26, Zhu concluded that a new coronavirus was linked to the atypical 

pneumonia, but his findings, which challenged Hong’s chlamydia 

theory, were rejected. Between March 21 and 22, Zhu conducted 

more tests on SARS samples in Beijing which provided even more 

evidence that a new coronavirus was linked to atypical pneumonia. 

He reported his findings to the GLD and MOH for approval. Chinese 

research of atypical pneumonia was inhibited by the officially 

accepted, but erroneous, chlamydia theory from February until 

early April, and the lack of cooperation within and between military 

and civilian researchers.10 The overarching policy issued by the CCP 

propaganda department, however, ensured that information was 

concealed or underreported, while the threat of the disease was 

downplayed. This state of affairs lasted through March, when the 

10th National People’s Party Congress was held in Beijing. 

 By mid-April, however, confidence in the Central Government‘s 

ability to handle the crisis dissipated when the Minister of Health 

was exposed for deliberately concealing information on the rate of 

infection in Beijing. Health concerns within the foreign community 
90

in Beijing fueled panic, as news of official deception leaked to the 

Western Press during April 4-9, 2003. Text messages had been 

circulating within Chinese circles since early February, but this was 

the first official acknowledgement of the seriousness of the situation 

and the presence of the disease in the national capital. The key source 

of the leak was Jiang Yanyong, a 72-year old military surgeon, who 

worked at the 301 PLA Hospital in Beijing. Reacting to Minister of 

Health Zhang Wenkang’s April 2, 2003, press conference claim that 

there were only 12 SARS cases in Beijing, Jiang passed information 

directly to China Central Television and Hong Kong-based Phoenix 

television on April 4. Neither released the information. The 

information then passed to the Western press. Jiang revealed that 

Beijing 301 military hospital alone had more than 100 SARS cases and 

six deaths.11 Once the story broke and the government acknowledged 

a coverup by mid-April, it raised even more questions about how 

much more the government might be concealing about the extent of 

the epidemic in Beijing and elsewhere. 

 In Beijing, which would eventually experience the largest known12

outbreak of the disease during 2003,13 reports of atypical pneumonia 

were largely overshadowed in March by the 10th National People’s 

Congress (NPC) that began on March 5, and the Iraq War, which 

began soon after the conclusion of the NPC. Ironically, on the same 

day the NPC started, a jewelry saleswoman traveled from Guangzhou 

to Beijing with atypical pneumonia symptoms and introduced SARS 

into the city.14

Although WHO issued a global alert in Beijing on March 12, 

2003,15 it was not until after word spread of the death of a 52-year-old 

Finnish national, Pekka Aro, from SARS on April 6, that foreigners 

began a hasty evacuation from Beijing and other cities in China.16

By late April, Chinese citizens also fled from Beijing without any 

checks or restraints until roadblocks (official and local) were set up 

to restrict movement into and out of the city. 

 Official, commercial, and tourist visits to China were delayed 

or cancelled, although almost empty flights continued for several 

weeks. Travelers who did venture out of Beijing from April to June 

were subject to frequent temperature checks (high fever being a 

possible, but not foolproof indicator of SARS infection, but one that 

was embraced with draconian gusto by May). The PLA Armament 
91

Engineering Academy, and perhaps other units, adapted military 

technology to take the temperature of moving crowds at 30 meters. 

These walking detectors were placed at airports and train stations 

throughout China. As far as Qinghai Province, which had no reported 

cases of SARS, body temperatures were scanned at airport, railroad 

stations, and road side check points using infrared scanning devices. 

Small infrared devices or conventional thermometers were also used 

at hotels and other locations to record body temperatures. 

 Some foreign companies temporarily suspended business or relied 

on local staffs to maintain limited operations. Western Embassies and 

businesses authorized nonessential personnel and families to leave 

the country for months until the WHO travel advisory was lifted in 

late June. During April and May, the crowds of Beijing dramatically 

thinned out as foreigners departed and locals fled, and those that 

remained stayed inside their homes or, in the case of an estimated 

30,000 persons, were under quarantine. 

 During the May holiday, normally one of the busiest times of 

the year, Beijing streets were empty, while people stayed home 

watching an endless stream of special television programming. For 

those caught on the inside during a quarantine of a work compound 

or college campus, life was greatly circumscribed, although some 

continued to move freely in and out of compounds. Children 

continued their studies at home on the computer and television. 

Military compounds restricted personnel, although necessities 

continued to enter compounds through side doors. With the 

exception of taxi drivers, who lamented the poor business, drivers 

in Beijing enjoyed the emptied streets, rather than the regular choke 

of cars and trucks on Beijing’s ring roads and streets. Those who 

ventured out not only could move freely, unusual bargains were to 

be had from shopkeepers eager to sell. 

 Ubiquitous white cotton masks hid the faces of many Chinese 

and a few foreigners. The cotton was a useless defense against a 

microscopic virus, but it provided a sense of reassurance, just as 

vinegar, incense, and other old folk remedies provided the illusion 

of safety against SARS. For a brief period, even the sound of hacking 

and spitting stopped, as people became more attentive to public 

hygiene. Outdoor cafes and restaurants ballooned around the city of 

Beijing as people concluded they were safer outside in the air. 
92

 Although some in Beijing had feared the SARS epidemic would 

spread further with the exodus of residents and floating population 

during late April, the worst fears never materialized. Even though 

SARS was contagious and sometimes deadly, it proved far less 

contagious than flu. The nightmare scenario of a pandemic flu, which 

could surpass the 1918 global flu, when 50 million died (or as high as 

100 million, by some estimates) out of a population of 1.8 billion, did 

not materialize.17

 In retrospect, although significant, the number of deaths and 

infections from SARS proved to be relatively modest.Worldwide the 

total number infected was 8,098. Of these, 774 people died. Although 

about 30 countries were infected with SARS, the hardest areas hit were 

China (5,327 infected, 349 dead), Hong Kong Special Administrative 

Region (1,755 infected, 299 dead), Canada (251 infected, 43 dead), 

and Singapore (238 infected, 33 dead).18 Even allowing for possible 

underreporting in Beijing and elsewhere in China, the health damage 

from SARS was relatively minor. Economic damage resulting from 

the crisis proved recoverable for China within a matter of months.19

 As a health crisis management case, even though SARS did not 

result in a pandemic, it should be viewed as a warning to China and the 

world of the necessity of early detection and response to new diseases. 

In China, SARS was able to develop unchecked from November 

2002 to April 2003, largely due to China’s inability to effectively 

respond to the disease. The crisis shows how the politics of deceit 

in the midst of a major health crisis with international implications 

can squander precious time, which can permit a new virus to spread 

and evolve with deadly consequences. Although the leadership 

under Hu and Wen eventually did a better job managing the disease 

and cooperating internationally, once official underreporting was 

exposed by Doctor Jiang in mid-April, there is also mixed evidence 

that China cannot be expected to respond proactively in the future 

in terms of surveillance, detection, and control of newly developing 

diseases, without international pressure and monitoring.

 Publicly, WHO was extremely patient with China during the 

2002-2003 SARS crisis, praising China for its cooperation even before 

mid-April20 when Chinese officials admitted to underreporting 

SARS cases. Once China shifted to a political style mobilization 

campaign against SARS during mid-April, the implications of how 
93

the crisis had been mishandled between November 2002 and April 

2003 became clearer. In early April 2003, David L. Heymann, a WHO 

official testifying before the U.S. Congress said, “We feel that China 

is taking the measures now [that] they can . . . If these measures 

had been taken in November, perhaps the disease would not have 

spread.”21

While the world health community concluded that greater 

openness and action at the inception of a new disease is essential, 

China’s leadership from Beijing down to the local (provincial and 

below) governments appears to have reached a different conclusion. 

As the point of origin for SARS, Guangdong Province did not suffer 

any serious sanctions for failing to adequately report the disease to 

the Beijing beginning in November 2002. Neither Guangdong nor 

Beijing expressed any concern or contrition that SARS had become a 

global event because of a failure in China’s own crisis management. 

 The CCP’s approach to problem solving, which demands 

secretiveness and deception, will likely even continue, as China’s 

belated response to the reoccurrence of SARS during late 2003-

early 2004 demonstrated. Without strong incentives to change, and 

lacking checks and balances on a one-party system, the world can 

expect a slow response from China during the next new disease. If 

that disease proves to be a more highly contagious new influenza, for 

example, China could inadvertently play the key role in spreading a 

pandemic. 

SECTION 1. CRISIS MANAGEMENT―CCP STYLE 

‘[I]t is fine not to tell the public’ because [I] am not legally required to do so.

 Guangdong Health Chief, February 11, 200322

 To analyze the CCP’s handling of the 2002-03 SARS epidemic, it is 

necessary to review the context of the period. Throughout this time, 

the overriding backdrop for the Chinese leadership was preparation 

for the leadership transition that would be announced during the 16th 

Party Congress in November 2002 and the 10th National People’s 

Congress in March 2003. The Party leadership, as well as China 

watchers, was obsessed with the wrangling and horse trading that 
94

takes place prior to these major meetings from the local level up to 

the Central government. These meetings were significant, especially 

since they seemed to indicate a major generational shift between the 

leadership of Jiang Zemin to Hu Jintao. All were preoccupied with 

who would move up, who would move out, and how Jiang’s legacy 

(encapsulated in the Three Represents) would be portrayed. 

 Major changes during an election year in a Western system can 

also be disruptive, but in China, the transition, which does not involve 

any change in the Party in power, is more protracted and secretive. 

Decisions, compromises, wins, and defeats are fought out largely 

behind the scenes among Party members, who are directed not to 

discuss these matters outside of party channels23 until decisions have 

been reached and the unified line is ready for public viewing. 

 Given that this major leadership transition was the backdrop for 

SARS, it is little wonder that the Chinese government was slow to 

react to the SARS crisis. But this should not be exaggerated, and, 

in fact, it only reinforces how brittle China’s one-party system can 

be. The CCP’s routine behavioral, organizational, and informational 

crisis management characterized China’s response to SARS. Lacking 

institutionalized checks and balances and a watchdog free press, the 

CCP is largely unable to police itself to eliminate even the endemic 

corruption within the Party, which has been an ongoing struggle for 

much of China’s recent history. A crisis, such as SARS, threatens the 

delicate balance the Party maintains to perpetuate its own legitimacy, 

while also balancing broad reaching challenges that are posed 

by a large, diverse country undergoing one of the most extensive 

modernization and economic development transformations in 

modern history. 

 In addition to the pending leadership transition, the CCP faced 

a number of crises with international implications during 2001-03. 

Among these, the April 2001 EP-3 crisis, the September 11, 2001 

(9/11), attack on America and subsequent invasion of Afghanistan, 

and the SARS crisis during late 2002–mid 2003 are particularly 

noteworthy. All three of these crises provided China’s leadership 

with opportunities to promote or degrade China’s regional and 

international national interests. They also provided situations 

where individual leaders, mainly Jiang Zemin and Hu Jintao, could 

demonstrate their abilities during a crisis. 
95

 During each of these crises before SARS, CCP leaders relied on 

routine and predictable characteristics for crisis management. The 

overriding priority in any crisis for the CCP is to preserve its power 

and reputation as the essential vanguard political party, regardless 

of the costs. An extreme example of this was during the June 4, 1989 

incident, when the Chinese leadership used the PLA to suppress 

peaceful protest. But the CCP has been equally obsessed with selfpreservation even when the threat is relatively minor, as they have 

demonstrated with the relentless pursuit of Falugong, even if its 

heavy-handed action tarnishes its international reputation. 

 Fearful of any potential loss of power, Party leadership is less 

motivated to analyze even a health crisis, such as SARS, based on 

empirical information, and they are less motivated to collect objective 

data that would assist decisionmaking, as well as ensuring synergy 

between government, Party, and military national assets. 

 Consequently, protection of the Party leads to a defense mentality 

when dealing with a crisis. The leadership will “circle the wagons” 

by delaying acknowledgement of an event and concealing and/or 

distorting relevant information, while the collective Party leadership 

negotiates its position. Even a leader of Jiang Zemin’s stature is not 

usually free to make a unilateral decision based on his position and 

authority within the Party leadership. His self-proclaimed initiative 

to extend his condolences to the United States without Party approval 

after watching the attacks on New York and Washington, DC, on 

September 11, 2001, evidences how unusual it is for noncollective 

decisionmaking in the post-Deng Xiaoping political environment. 

 Internal negotiations to reach a Party decision can be so protracted; 

they inevitably result in delays even in openly acknowledging a 

crisis. In the case of a medical emergency such as SARS presented, 

such paralysis through negotiation can prove disastrous to domestic 

and international health interests. 

 The collective leadership may even be unable to take any action 

at all during an initial phase of assessment and negotiation to reach 

the Party line. Consequently, those who are authorized to speak 

for the Party during this phase will often deny and distort facts 

to stall for time. If information about the incident has been made 

public, the Party will generally blame others―foreigners and/or 

domestic troublemakers are most usually to blame, regardless of the 

situation. 
96

 In the late 1980s, for example, when cases of acquired immune 

deficiency syndrome (AIDS) were exposed in China, it was an article 

of faith that only Westerners could have AIDS. When it became known 

that Chinese were infected, the focus shifted to blaming Westerners 

for infecting Chinese nationals, rather than in determining the extent 

of the infection and how to minimize the spread of the disease within 

China. In another more recent case, the EP-3 incident in April 2001, 

there was never any question that the Chinese pilot’s error could 

have contributed to the accident. 

 Once the Party line is reached, the Party and government 

propaganda departments work collectively to disseminate the official 

story. Information that contradicts the Party line is ignored, denied, 

or ruthlessly suppressed. 

 In the case of the SARS crisis in April 2003, PLA doctor Jiang 

Yanyong directly challenged the official line on SARS when he 

questioned the Minister of Health’s deliberate deception and 

underreporting. Once he went public to the Western media, the Party 

was presented with a difficulty, but at the time they had little choice 

but to temporarily ignore the characterization of Jiang as a national 

hero of conscience. 

 As happens frequently during a crisis, the CCP and/or individual 

leaders will take the opportunity of a crisis to promote an advantage. 

For example, the Chinese negotiators sought to use the EP-3 incident 

as a means to promote recognition of China’s broad sovereignty 

claims, which extend well beyond international limits, while it 

negotiated the release of the crew and later the aircraft with the 

United States. During April 2003, SARS presented Hu and Wen with 

an opportunity to consolidate their power,24 and may have ultimately 

helped encourage Jiang Zemin to step down from his position as 

CMC Chairman in September 2003. But the SARS crisis was also an 

international public relations opportunity for them, for by doing 

anything, they were largely perceived as new and open leaders that 

the West could work with.

 In general, the CCP’s crisis management style is time-consuming 

and may be disconnected from the “facts,” which could be 

counterproductive to handling a health emergency. In the case of 

SARS, China’s delay in handling the epidemic and cooperating with 
97

the international community created the conditions for the disease to 

spread within China, including to the capital, as well as to some 30 

countries.

 The lack of oversight and transparency in the CCP’s crisis 

management style encourages a high degree of groupthink and 

inflexibility when confronting a crisis. Once a decision has been 

made, it is very difficult to acknowledge an error by the Party. 

Scapegoats, such as the minister of health and the mayor of Beijing, 

who were both sacked in April, must be found, even if they are 

largely symbolically punished. 

 Hu’s and Wen’s consultation with non-Party public relations 

and medical experts in mid-April to assess the extent of the health 

crisis and determine what actions were required at that point to 

regain international confidence and contain the disease may have 

demonstrated the shortcomings of a politically-motivated crisis 

management system. But it is not likely to result in dramatic political 

change in China, since CCP cohesion and discipline are essential to 

its continued rule, and even Hu and Wen seek to improve the Party 

rather than replace it or add political competition. 

 Since alternative views are not encouraged and may be harshly 

sanctioned, CCP problem solving is highly limited. Adjustments 

after the party line has been reached are extremely difficult without 

a triggering event, such as Dr. Jiang’s leaking of information and 

international pressure, which helped prompt Hu and Wen to take 

seemingly bold and open initiatives to confront the crisis in midApril. 

Role of the Military―An Assessment.25

As a sub-element of the Party,26 the PLA’s contribution to 

the crisis and its resolution is an interesting case within a case. 

Information about SARS infection at the PLA 301 Hospital were 

certainly concealed until Doctor Jiang leaked the information, but it 

is not entirely clear whether or not the PLA independently concealed 

information from the MOH. It seems more likely that the MOH, which 

had coordinated with the GLD on SARS since at least February, was 

aware that the SARS infection had reached the PLA 301 Hospital 

in March, particularly since the patient was a civilian. In fact, the 
98

opening of military hospitals to civilians with money to pay for care 

complicates the PLA’s ability to control information about military 

health care. More likely, the PLA was enforcing Party propaganda 

guidelines to conceal information prior to mid-April. Nonetheless, 

the rate of infection among military personnel was withheld from 

public reporting in Beijing until mid-May, when WHO released 

statistics that about 150-160 military personnel were infected with 

SARS. Guangdong military hospitals, however, had agreed to report 

SARS infection rates to WHO during mid-April.27 Although the 

PLA can be criticized for withholding information on the number 

of military personnel that were infected, it is understandable 

that they would feel the need to conceal this information since it 

directly reflected on personnel readiness at the time. What is less 

understandable, however, is why Guangdong military units, such 

as the Guangzhou Air Force Hospital, did not disseminate critical 

health information to other military units. In particular, although the 

hospital suffered no cases of staff infection, the unit apparently did 

not share this information through the chain of command. If it had, 

SARS infections of staff in the PLA 301 and 302 hospitals could have 

been avoided.28

 The AMMS’ difficulty in getting samples29 from the first autopsy 

from the Nanfang Military Hospital in early February showed how 

problematic civil-military cooperation was prior to the Party order 

in April. Even another military unit with top level support from the 

GLD and MOH, as well as the Guangzhou Military Region, could 

only obtain a limited amount for its research. Once the academy’s 

own researcher, Zhu Qingyu, made an initial discovery of 

coronavirus that contradicted the Chinese CDC theory, the academy 

was prevented from putting its theory forward. If they had, China 

would likely have been first to identify the pathogen for SARS and 

this information might have encouraged China’s leadership to react 

more quickly to the threat.

 The most important role the military played in the crisis came 

with full mobilization when military technology, primarily from 

biochemical capabilities, was adapted to civilian use. The PLA 

produced numerous protective devices, which were often developed 

in collaboration with civilian companies. Leading the PLA in these 

efforts were units and research activities of the GLD, which has 
99

purview over military medical assets, and the General Armament 

Department, which included anti-chemical capability. Several 

military regions also contributed to the effort. 

Lessons for the Future.

Being proactive is crucial. A reactive approach costs lives.

Barbara Wahl, President

Ontario Nurses Association30

 The relative transparency that Hu Jintao and Wen Jiabao displayed 

during the SARS crisis mobilization was largely reactive and reflected 

political pragmatism in the face of increasing international pressure. 

Domestically, it provided an opportunity to positively promote the 

new leadership team.31 Although China’s efforts to contain SARS 

within Beijing and the rest of the country after mid-April can be 

praised for intense action in a short period of time, the fact remains 

that inaction and deception between November 2002 and March 

2003 resulted in the spread of the disease. 

 China’s inaction and concealment of the next SARS outbreak 

during late 2003 and 200432 showed that the CCP’s natural tendency 

to conceal information and delay crisis response remains largely 

intact. While China’s response to the spring 2004 outbreak was 

better and indicated that international pressure can encourage a 

faster response to SARS, questions still remain about China’s ability 

to handle a serious health crisis. Even with the best of intentions 

and consolidated power, Hu Jintao would face an uphill battle to try 

to change the crisis management character of the CCP from the top 

down, assuming he even wants to do this. 

 Transparency, openness, and cooperation with the international 

community will likely continue to be carefully balanced against the 

Party’s own imperatives of survival and dominance. In the case 

of SARS, Party interests ultimately converged with international 

demands for greater accountability and action. In the future, however, 

the Party leadership cannot be expected to risk CCP dominance, 

regardless of the cost to public health or other issues. The tendency 

to conceal and deceive in order to maintain stability while preserving 
100

foreign interests will likely remain the central guidepost for CCP 

decisionmaking during a crisis. Hence, like Party corruption, the 

pattern of crisis management displayed during the 2002-03 SARS 

crisis will likely continue to characterize how China responds in 

the future. These limitations argue for intensified international 

cooperation and monitoring of China’s health crisis management 

to encourage China to modernize its health care system to curb the 

spread of pandemic disease.
101

APPENDIX I

SARS 2002-03 CRISIS TIMELINE1 WITH 2004 ADDENDUM

Phase One – “Atypical Pneumonia” begins in Guangdong Province 

2002

November 2002

November 8-14 - 16th Party Congress convenes in Beijing.

November 16 - First case occurs in Fushan (Foshan) City, Guangdong Province. 

At least two patients become infected with an atypical pneumonia of unknown 

origin. Similar cases are soon reported in five Guangdong cities. A 35-year-old 

chef working in Shenzhen is transferred to the Heyuan People’s Hospital, Heyuan 

City, where he infects at least 11 people. 

November 2003-January 2004 - An unusual pneumonia spreads through the Pearl 

River Delta. State-run newspapers strongly deny any outbreak. WHO asks Chinese 

Health Ministry to comment on reports that health workers are becoming infected. 

The Health Ministry claims it is a minor outbreak of influenza B. 

December 2002

Mid-December – Two SARS patients seek treatment in Heyuan City. They infect 

eight medical workers.

Late December – Following the small outbreak in Heyuan City, Guangdong 

Province imposes a local news blackout. 

2003

January 2003

Early January – Exaggerated rumors spread about the death of three medical 

workers in Heyuan. Many people line up to buy antibiotics. Local officials try to 

calm the public by denying the existence of the disease in local newspapers and 

meetings. 

A retired Chinese military logistics officer privately warns an American diplomat 

to avoid hospitals in Beijing because of a “deadly disease” that is spreading.

January 1 – On or about January 1, the Guangdong authorities learn of the deadly 

disease. Guangdong Provincial health team goes to Heyuan City to investigate 

cases at the People’s Hospital.

January 2 – A second breakout occurs in Zhongshan, infecting over 12 patients and 

hospital workers. 

January 21 – On or about the 21st, Guangdong Province issues a vague warning 

to provincial hospitals and health officials regarding the seriousness of atypical 
102

pneumonia, but fails to emphasize how infectious the disease is and identify what 

steps should be taken. Many officials did not begin to act on the warning until 

about February 7, after the Chinese New Year holiday. 

Late January – Leading Guangdong epidemiologists survey the outbreak and 

conclude that the disease is an unusual form of pneumonia. Although the provincial 

public health bureau leaders have been aware of the outbreak, they do not report 

it to Beijing until late January as the disease continues to spread rapidly. They 

report only 600 cases, while 600 more cases remain hidden as “suspected” cases. 

They recommend Beijing initiate a media blackout on any news of the epidemic to 

preempt international criticism and maintain domestic stability. 

Phase Two - Infection Spreads through Guangdong and Beyond (Hong Kong, 

Vietnam, Canada, Singapore)

February 2003

Early February – Based on the recommendation of Guangdong authorities, the 

Propaganda Department of the Chinese Communist Party directs that reports of 

SARS should follow specified guidelines and should emphasize that the situation 

is under control. Guangdong authorities use the directive to tighten control 

over media that openly discuss the disease. They issue up to three prohibition 

statements per day and crack down on the more outspoken media.

February 3 – A 40-year old man checked into the No. 2 Hospital in Guangzhou 

with symptoms of atypical pneumonia. He infects members of the hospital staff. 

February 7 – Southern Daily, the official CCP paper in Guangdong Province, reports 

that the province has notified Beijing of the outbreak. Washington Post reports that 

the Southern Daily circumvented a news ban by obtaining the permission of the 

Provincial Governor, Huang Huahua, reportedly allied to Hu Jintao.

February 8 – Text message sent to mobile phones in Guangzhou: “There is a fatal 

flu in Guangzhou.” Message will be resent 40 million times that day, 41 million 

times the next day, and 45 million times on the third day after the original message, 

according to Southern Weekend paper, published in Guangzhou. During February 

8-10, as rumors spread, people in Guangdong rush to buy banlangeng (a Chinese 

medicine to treat colds), vinegar (believed to kill germs), antibiotics, masks, and 

salt. Prices of these products soar. 

February 9 – Beijing reported to have sent an investigation team headed by Deputy 

Minister Ma Xiaowei to Guangdong Province.

February 10 – Rumors of outbreak appear on Teachers.net.com website when an 

American fourth-grade teacher receives an e-mail from a Guangzhou colleague, 

asking: “Have you heard of the terrible sickness in my city?” She passes the email to a former Navy physician, who is an international health consultant in 

Washington, DC. He relays the question to ProMED, run by the International 

Society of Infectious Disease, which has over 130,000 subscribers.
103

February 11 – Provincial Party Secretary Zhang Dejiang said to have reimposed a 

ban on news coverage, which was violated on February 11 when the Guangzhou 

Daily reported on infections and deaths in the province from atypical pneumonia. 

On or immediately prior, Politburo Member and Minister of Public Security 

Zhou Yongkang instructs the PSB on its role in the outbreak. Acting on orders, 

Guangdong police increase patrols, station officers outside markets to prevent 

hording of medicines, increase measures against rumors and on-line information 

that could be “harmful.” 

Guangzhou remains silent about SARS until a press conference, convened on 

February 11 by provincial health officials, who report that 305 people have been 

infected and five have died. (These statistics were later revised to 792 cases and 

31 deaths.) They assert the disease is under control, however. During the press 

conference, Dr. Zhong Nanshan, director of the Guangzhou Institute of Respiratory 

Disease, names the disease “atypical Pneumonia.” When asked if Hong Kong 

should restrict entry of people coming from Guangdong Province, Huang 

Qingdao, head of the provincial health department, says, “Atypical pneumonia 

isn’t an unpreventable or untreatable disease. With the right preventive measures, 

it is absolutely possible to prevent infections. We can see from the measures our 

province has taken and from the [disease] control situation that we’ve achieved 

definite results . . . And up to now, Hong Kong has no reports of illness.” 

Huang also defends official silence, stating, “Atypical pneumonia isn’t a disease 

we’re legally required to report, so we didn’t feel it was necessary to make it 

public. Now, because it has a big social impact, we have decided to make it public.” 

Another report of the February 11 press conference, quotes Huang as saying “it 

was fine not to tell the public,” since epidemics are state secrets. 

The first autopsy is performed on a SARS patient at the Nanfang Military Hospital 

in Guangzhou. Tissue samples are distributed to the Guangdong Center for Disease 

Control (CDC), Guangzhou CDC, and the Guangzhou No. 8 People’s Hospital 

(which provided the corpse). 

February 12 – Nanfang Military Hospital attributes the death of the autopsied 

patient to a virus-caused pneumonia. The Chinese Academy of Military Medical 

Sciences (AMMS), which has purview over possible biological and chemical attack, 

dispatches epidemiologists from the Institute of Microbiology and Epidemiology 

to Guangzhou to obtain a SARS specimen. The academy sends epidemiologist Cao 

Wuchun and virologist Zhu Qingyu after obtaining the approval of the General 

Logistics Department Health Division. Although the PLA No. 1 Hospital, the PLA 

Guangzhou Military Region Hospital, and the Nanfang Military Hospital all assist, 

the military researchers could only obtain a thumb-sized lung tissue, some serum 

samples, and a few drops of saliva.

February 14 – Guangdong Party Secretary, Zhang Dejiang, a Politburo member 

senior to the Minister of Health, tries to allay public fears when he orders provincial 

officials to tell the public to “voluntarily uphold social stability, not believe in 

rumors, and not spread rumors.” 
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Mid-February – Two lung tissues are brought to the Beijing CDC from the Nanfang 

autopsy. The samples are divided in three. One part is provided to Hong Tao, 

the CDC’s chief virologist and a China Academy of Engineering (CAE) member, 

who conducts an electron microscope examination. Virologist Li Dexin conducts 

a polymerase chain reaction (PCR) test. The third part is used for bacterium 

cultivation. Hong Tao concludes that chlamydia, a common bacterium that is not 

particularly deadly, is the pathogen for atypical pneumonia.

February 18 - The Chinese CDC holds a press conference to announce Hong 

Tao’s discovery that chlamydia is the pathogen for atypical pneumonia. Some 

scientists and physicians within the Chinese CDC question Hong’s findings and 

methodology. Doctors in Guangzhou refuse to treat patients with the protocol 

suggested by the Chinese CDC based on chlamydia. 

February 20 – The virologist, Zhu Qingyu, AMMS, Institute of Microbiology and 

Epidemiology, Beijing, working with colleagues from the Institute of Microbiology 

and Epidemiology, detects a distinctive halo of spikes, which indicates the 

coronavirus may be the pathogen for the disease. 

Guangdong Southern Daily, the official paper of the Guangdong Province 

Communist Party Committee, reports that provincial health officials realized 

they had an emergency on February 6 when 45 new cases were recorded on one 

day. The paper said Guangdong reported the matter to party leadership and the 

State Council on February 8 where the report was brought to the attention of Wen 

Jiabao. Wen then dispatched Vice-Minister of Health Ma Xiaowei to Guangdong 

to investigate. 

February 21 – Dr. Liu Jian-Lun, a 64-year-old medical professor at Zhongshan 

University, who had cared for infected patients at the No. 2 Hospital, Guangzhou, 

where over 50 medical staff members became infected, travels to Hong Kong. 

Although he does not feel well, he takes time off to attend a relative’s wedding. He 

and his wife check into the Metropole Hotel in Kowloon on February 21. He stays 

in Room 911. Johnny Chen and others on the 9th floor of the hotel become infected 

with SARS, which would spread quickly to different cities and countries.

February 23 – Washington Post reports that, following a week of relatively open 

media reporting, Provincial Party Secretary Zhang Dejiang reimposes the media 

ban, with the reported support of Hu Jintao, arguing that too much criticism could 

fuel instability. 

26 February – Further testing at the Military Medical Sciences Academy, Beijing, 

tentatively linked the new coronavirus to the atypical pneumonia, but the 

chlamydia theory was too well-established to challenge. The findings are not 

made public. 

Late February – Cases in Guangdong Province had doubled from 305 to 792, with 

31 people dead. The province did not admit this until March 26, 2003.
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Phase Three – SARS Spreads to Beijing, Taiwan, and Mongolia. 

March 2003

March 3 – In Hanoi, Johnny Chen, a 47-year old American businessman based in 

China, became sick. He had arrived from Hong Kong on March 1. 

March 4 – Dr. Liu dies in Hong Kong.

March 5 – A 78-year-old woman (Sui-chu Kwan), who had traveled to Hong Kong 

in February 2003, dies of SARS in Toronto. The Tenth National People’s Congress 

opens in Beijing. Meetings are held during March 5-18. 

SARS outbreak begins in Beijing. The first apparent case is a 27-year-old 

businesswoman who developed symptoms on February 22 while traveling in 

Guangdong Province. She sought treatment in Shanxi Province, where SARS 

afterwards developed in two doctors and one nurse who cared for her. After she 

returns to Beijing, she is hospitalized in a military hospital, and then transferred 

to an infectious disease hospital. Ten healthcare workers who are exposed to her 

at the two hospitals develop SARS. Eight family members and friends in Beijing 

also develop SARS. 

March 9 – Vietnam government permits WHO to send additional staff.

March 12 –WHO issues global SARS alert. The announcement comes too late for a 

WHO employee, Dr. Urbani, becomes infected in Vietnam. The global alert is the 

first in 10 years, but the alert came “too late” to prevent the spread of SARS around 

the world. 

March 15 – A 72-year-old man who developed SARS symptoms on March 14 while 

visiting relatives in Hong Kong returns to Beijing on China Air Flight 112. He is 

evaluated at a Beijing hospital, but not admitted. On March 16, his family takes 

him to a second Beijing hospital, where he dies on March 20. Fifty-nine cases of 

SARS infections will be traced to him in Beijing. In addition, China Air Flight 112 

is linked to cases in Inner Mongolia and Taiwan. Flight attendant Meng Chunying 

spreads the infection to her husband, who dies of SARS. She also infects other 

members of her family in Hohot, Inner Mongolia. Meng considers filing a lawsuit 

against Air China for withholding information about known SARS exposure, but 

drops the idea because of a lack of evidence. Among others who were infected on 

CA flight 11 was Zhu Hong, China Ministry of Trade, who likely infected Pekka 

Aro, while sitting next to him on Thailand Air Flight 614 from Bangkok on March 

23.

March 17-23 - All-Army “Three Defenses” (anti-nuclear, biological, and chemical 

warfare) rescue training is held in Guangzhou Military Region. Experts from 

AMMS, Beijing, and other institutes provide the training. (The training did not 

openly acknowledge any SARS threat, but the biochemical aspects of the emergency 

training could be applicable to the SARS medical emergency.) 

March 19 – Hu Jintao and Wen Jiabao officially become President and Premier, 

respectively. Zhu Hong falls ill on March 19/20, while in Bangkok, and visits a 

clinic.
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March 20 – Hong Kong health officials link recent global spread of SARS to a guest 

in the Metropole Hotel. Epidemiologists trace the illness to Professor Liu who was 

visiting Hong Kong from China. Five other people who come down with SARS 

also stayed at the Metropole. Some were on the same floor as the professor. 

March 21-22 – Following more testing on samples in Beijing, the AMMS, Beijing, is 

able to develop more evidence to link the coronavirus to the atypical pneumonia 

cases and report their findings to the General Logistics Department (GLD) and 

the Ministry of Health (MOH) for approval. Microbial Infectious Disease Institute 

researcher Zhu Qingyu is credited as the first person in China to isolate the virus 

from samples taken from victims. His findings are later confirmed in early April 

by Canadian researchers working in coordination with other scientists. 

March 23 – WHO expert team visits Beijing. Zhu Hong travels on Thailand Air 

Flight 614 to Beijing. He sits in seat 12B, which is next to Pekka Aro in 12A. Aro 

later told WHO physician Daniel Chin, that Zhu seemed weak and complained of 

not feeling well.

March 24 – Singapore health minister orders hundreds of people who may have 

been exposed to SARS into 10-day quarantine. Stars and Stripes Newspaper reports 

that Pacific Command (PACOM) has restricted travel to China and that port calls 

by the U.S. Seventh Fleet to Southern China and Hong Kong have been cancelled. 

March 26 – Zhu Hong is hospitalized in the Ditan Hospital SARS ward. No known 

attempt is made to contact, screen or quarantine other passengers on the Thailand 

Air Flight 614, including Pekka Aro, who sat next to Zhu during the flight. Pekka 

Mykkänen, reporting in the Helsingin Sanomat, quoted an anonymous ILO official 

who said, “They new that Zhu had SARS. They knew that Pekka Aro sat next to 

him. But they did not do anything.” 

Ontario declares a public health emergency and orders thousands of people to 

quarantine themselves in their homes. There are 27 probable cases of SARS in the 

province. Toronto begins to bar visitors from hospitals. 

The Chinese government acknowledges that the disease has spread outside of 

Guangdong Province. The news gets low-key treatment, however. Under orders 

of the city propaganda authorities, the identical three-paragraph story is buried 

within Beijing newspapers under an optimistic headline reading; “Imported 

Atypical Pneumonia in Our City Has Been Effectively Controlled.” Guangdong 

officials admit that by the end of February, 15 days after they claimed the disease 

was under control, cases within Guangdong Province had doubled from 305 to 

792, with 31 deaths. 

March 27 – Hong Kong quarantines over 1,000 people and closes schools. The 

Rolling Stones concert in Hong Kong is postponed. Researchers in Hong Kong 

report they have evidence SARS is coronavirus. They claim to have a quick test for 

the virus, but Toronto experts question its effectiveness. 

Singapore closes its schools. A Taiwanese engineering company closes because 

five of its employees have SARS symptoms. This causes Taipei to go on medical 
107

alert. WHO asks airlines to screen passengers for SARS on flights leaving from 

Toronto, Hong Kong, Singapore, Hanoi, Taiwan, and Guangdong Province. WHO 

reports 1,400 cases worldwide, including 53 dead. Ontario health officials order 

Toronto hospitals closed to visitors, exempting only those who are visiting the 

critically ill and children. 

March 28 – Pekka Aro becomes ill with symptoms of gastroenteritis. He remains 

in his hotel room, unaware that he is infected with SARS. 

Hu Jintao reported to say the Chinese media should do less reporting on official 

meetings and more on matters that the people care about. 

WHO reports 85 new cases of SARS around the world. During a press conference in 

Beijing, Dr. Henk Bekedam and Professor John Mackenzie, team leader, of a WHO 

investigation team, say China has basically “become part of [the] SARS global 

network” and has agreed to provide reports on cases of atypical pneumonia. Dr. 

Bekedam says, “We are pretty certain that most cases of atypical pneumonia that 

Chinese authority has recognized from the middle of November until the end of 

February were indeed cases of SARS.” He says, “China has agreed to provide up 

to date reports of SARS throughout China . . . I would emphasize again that China 

has agreed to provide updates from all provinces on a regular basis in real time 

to WHO.” 

The Chinese government tells WHO it will make SARS a Category B disease, 

which obligates provincial health officials to notify central health authorities of 

cases. Although there has been sporadic reporting on the successful handling of 

SARS, the Chinese media continue to imply that SARS is a distant problem. For 

example, by highlighting the cancellation of the Rolling Stones concert in Hong 

Kong because of its serious SARS problems, while downplaying the cancellations 

of the concert in Shanghai and Beijing, even though it was also because of SARS. 

March 30 - The International Ice Hockey Federation (IIHF) announced its decision 

to cancel the 2003 IIHF Women’s World Championship, scheduled to be held in 

Beijing during April 3-9, citing health risks from SARS.

March 31 – Wall Street Journal publishes article entitled, “Quarantine China,” 

which highlights China’s initial cover-up and that people going out of China are 

continuing to carry SARS elsewhere. It called for a travel ban out of Hong Kong 

and China, and the quarantine of those who have been exposed to SARS. The 

author wrote: “Isolating a large country would certainly cause economic losses . . . 

But these have to be weighed against the cost of doing nothing . . . As to panic, 

information and resolute action are the best antidotes.”

Beijing health officials tell a visiting WHO delegation that they have put enhanced 

SARS surveillance measures in place. In an interview, Hong Tao insists chlamydia 

is the pathogen for atypical pneumonia, despite evidence to the contrary at the 

AMMS, Beijing. Chlamydia continues to be the officially authorized theory into 

April. 
108

The Beijing Evening News publishes guidelines on how people can protect themselves 

from SARS, but provides no context for why this might be necessary. Among the 

guidelines: maintain good air flow within work and living spaces, avoid crowded 

areas, wear a 16-layer mask when visiting the sick, wash hands frequently with 

soap and running water, and seek medical treatment at the first sign of symptoms. 

The newspaper also advises against randomly taking preventive medicines. 

Late March – Long Yongtu, China’s former chief trade negotiator, scoffs to a 

Hong Kong press conference that 300 deaths from SARS (the count at that time) is 

insignificant for a population of 6 million. He chides the press for being “biased” 

and causing “anxiety among members of the public. 

Phase Four – Cover-up Revealed and Anti-SARS Campaign Initiated. 

April 2003 

April 1 – The World Economic Forum announced its decision to postpone its 

annual China Business Summit, scheduled to be held in Beijing on April 14. The 

meeting was held later in the year during November 6-7.

Pekka Aro seeks medical attention.

U.S. State Department authorizes nonessential personnel and families to leave 

Guangdong Province. WHO advises travelers to avoid Hong Kong and China. A 

plane flying from Asia is quarantined in San Jose, CA, after the pilot and several 

passengers complain of SARS-like symptoms. Emergency vehicles and medical 

staff garbed in protective clothing meet the plane to examine the passenger. All are 

later released from the hospital. None are SARS cases. 

April 2 – Peka Aro is admitted to the Ditan Hospital.

China reports 361 new cases of SARS for the month of March and a total of 1,153 

cases in Guangdong. After some delay, the Chinese permit five WHO experts to 

visit Guangdong. 

News media coverage of Iraq War is reduced, Matt Lauer returned home to 

NBC, SARS coverage picks up. WHO issues its first travel advisory in its 55-year 

history, cautioning against travel to Guangdong and Hong Kong. Wu Kejun, 

Department of International Cooperation of the Ministry of Health, is quoted as 

telling reporters that “[t]he ministry has required local governments to report to 

the central government about SARS cases once in a while but how to classify SARS 

is still under discussion.” Shanghai authorities acknowledge a possible SARS case 

(a cook who had traveled from southern China), but Liu Jun, chief of the Shanghai 

Health Department, is reported as saying he is unable to recall when the case was 

identified or which hospital is treating the patient. 

April 3 – “SARS Is Nothing to Be Afraid Of” published by Chinese state-run 

publishing house. Minister of Health, Zhang Wenkang, holds his first press 

conference on the SARS crisis. He says China is safe, and SARS is under control. 

He claims there are only 12 cases of SARS in Beijing. Zhang tries to convey the 
109

message that it is safe to travel to China. He mocks those who worry about SARS 

transmissions, saying, “I am confident that all of you sitting here are safe, whether 

you wear a mask or not.” State Council Information Office Vice-Minister Wang 

Guoqing also criticizes the foreign media for “irresponsible” reporting on SARS 

that raises fears about the situation in China and Beijing. 

April 4 – Jiang Yanyong sends an email to the China Central Television and the 

Hong Kong-based Phoenix television station accusing Minister of Health Zhang 

Wenkang of lying. Jiang claims that in the PLA 301 hospital alone, he knows of 

more than 100 cases of SARS and that six people have died. 

Chinese health officials apologize for not being more forthcoming with 

information. Li Liming, director of the Chinese CDC, says, “We want to apologize 

to everyone,” during a press conference for Hong Kong and Beijing journalists. He 

says, the failure of mainland state-controlled media to report more fully on SARS 

has “affected the public’s understanding of the illness and their ability to protect 

themselves.” The apology is not covered in the China press. 

Health and Human Services Secretary Tommy Thompson and Chinese Minister of 

Health Zhang Wenkang talk for 45 minutes on the telephone and agree to increase 

cooperation in the fight against SARS. Japan Ministry of Foreign Affairs issues 

SARS warning for travel to China, Macau, and Taiwan. Sun Gang, deputy director 

of China’s National Tourism Administration, insists China is safe despite WHO 

warnings against travel to southern China. Sun claims that tourism during the 

upcoming May Day Holiday will prove China is safe. 

April 5 – There are 163 probable or suspected cases of SARS in the Toronto area, 

an increase to 149 from the previous day. 

April 6 - Pekka Aro dies in Ditan Hospital, becoming the first foreigner to die from 

SARS in China. At least 24 persons, who were believed to have come in contact 

with him (UN workers and chauffeurs) are placed in quarantine after his death.

Premier Wen Jiabao meets with the Chinese CDC. The official Xinhua News 

Agency reports that Wen announces that the Chinese Communist Party and 

government are making the public’s health and welfare their top priority. Wen 

says government at all levels needs to recognize the complicated and arduous 

nature of preventing and treating SARS and must be prepared for setbacks. Wen 

also promises the public health departments will report to the public on SARS at 

regular intervals. 

Residents of Sanlitun Diplomatic compound in Beijing witness a standoff between 

a man in a car circled by People’s Armed Police Hospital staff members who 

are clad from head to toe in white body suits, trying to prevent the man from 

leaving his car. The PAP hospital posted a sign a few days earlier announcing 

the hospital will close for “internal rectification.” After several hours, the man 

is allowed to leave his car and enter a hospital building. His vehicle is driven 

away. Subsequently, a guard reveals that the hospital has suspected SARS cases. 

One staff member reports these cases have been taken to another location, but the 
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PAP hospital remains closed and Chinese authorities release no information to the 

public. 

April 7 – Guo Jiyong of the Beijing Health Bureau was reported to have said that 

Pekka Aro believed he had contracted SARS during his international flight from 

Bangkok and that no one who had contact with Aro after his arrival had contracted 

SARS. Guo said Aro’s infection came from outside Beijing. Many foreigners who 

are able decide to evacuate Beijing. 

China claims the outbreak is slowing down, but the number of cases in Hong Kong 

is climbing―44 new cases are reported, bringing the total to 928. Singapore says it 

will deploy army medical personnel to help fight SARS and considers installing 

WebCams in the homes of quarantined persons. David L. Heymann, a WHO 

official, testifies before the U.S. Congress saying, “We feel that China is taking 

the measures now they can . . . If these measures had been taken in November, 

perhaps the disease would not have spread.” 

Wen Jiabao visits China’s Center for Disease Control. The number of suspected 

and probable cases in Canada reaches 226, of which 188 are in Toronto.

April 9 – Following a leak to Time Magazine, the information Jiang Yanyong 

provided on SARS presence in the PLA 301 hospital is posted on the worldwide 

web. Various countries in Asia tighten rules on people entering. Malaysia stops 

issuing entry visas to travelers from China. Indonesia tells its people to stop 

spitting in public. The Philippines advises against unnecessary travel to Hong 

Kong or Guangdong Province. Roman Catholic priests in Singapore are asked to 

stop hearing confession. Taiwan CDC announces that three doctors will travel to 

Beijing to consult on SARS. 

April 9-10 – Non-party experts brief Hu Jintao and Wen Jaibao. Consensus 

reportedly reached that China should stop covering up and begin working closely 

with WHO and other agencies. 

The number of suspected and probable cases in Toronto rises by 11 to 206. On 

April 10, Air China flight CA 117 flies from Beijing to Hong Kong with a 71-yearold passenger who is diagnosed with SARS after complaining of illness when she 

disembarks from the plane. 

Noon television report compares the number of Chinese SARS dead (60) to those 

from traffic accidents (25,395) on Chinese roads during the first quarter of 2003. At 

the April 10 press conference, Vice-Minister of Health Ma Xiaowei tells reporters 

that Beijing city has “designated some hospitals with relatively good conditions 

that are relatively strong technologically, to provide medical services to foreign 

patients.” He says a group of top medical professionals is being assembled to treat 

foreigners in Beijing. 

April 11 – Hu Jintao travels to Guangdong Province. About the same time, Jiang 

Zemin flees to Shanghai with an entourage that includes Zeng Qinghong and 

others. 

China establishes a formal link to Hong Kong regarding health issues. 
111

Combinations of factors (Iraq War, SARS, terrorist threats, etc.) cause the largest 

global exodus (1,400 from 17 countries) of U.S. diplomats and families since 1991. 

Bi Shengli and Li Dexin, who both were Hong Tao colleagues and oppose his 

“new variant chlamydia” theory, announce their coronarvirus findings to local 

newspapers. Both are criticized by Minister of Health Zhang Wenkang for showing 

disrespect to the official conclusion. They are barred from further publication. Bi 

Shengli already had been locked out of the Institute of Virology for disagreeing 

with Hong Tao. Subsequently, the Ministry of Health declares on CCTV that any 

announcements about SARS that lack the prior approval of the Chinese Ministry 

of Health SARS Prevention and Treatment Leading Group are unauthorized. 

April 12 – Wen Jiabao makes his first visits to a hospital in Beijing that is treating 

SARS cases. Wen wears no protective clothing and shakes hands with the medical 

staff. Wen urges the staff to take a “highly responsible” attitude regarding the 

public’s health. 

April 13 – Wen Jiabao chairs a national meeting on SARS. He instructs that “China 

must take resolute measures” to stem the spread of SARS, improve cooperation 

with WHO and Hong Kong, and keep the world informed on the treatment 

and prevention of SARS. Wen says it will be “difficult to avoid” SARS having 

a “temporary impact” on China’s tourism, travel, commerce, and international 

exchanges. He orders that priority must be placed on protecting the health of those 

attending international events in China. 

April 14 – Hong Kong begins screening departing airline passengers for SARS. 

There are random checks on those entering Hong Kong from China. China 

announces 4 more deaths, which brings the total to 64. Taiwan Health Minister 

sends a report on SARS in Taiwan to WHO.

April 15 – Chinese scientists from the AMMS, Beijing, Microbiology and Epidemic 

Research Institute and the Chinese Academy of Science in Beijing report sequencing 

the corona virus genome. 

Beijing agrees to permit a WHO team to visit Beijing military hospitals. 

April 16-19 – Beijing Municipal Government establishes a Joint SARS Leading 

Group to oversee crisis management through 10 task forces. 

WHO reports that two Chinese labs recently joined an international SARS research 

effort. 

April 17 – Hu Jintao calls an unscheduled meeting of the Politburo Standing 

Committee of the CCP, where he acknowledges that the government has lied 

and commits the CCP to an all out campaign against SARS. Beijing designates six 

hospitals for SARS treatment, two of which are military hospitals, which helped 

integrate military medical care into the overall fight against SARS. WHO reports 

that military hospitals in Guangdong recently agreed to report their SARS cases, 

which may set a precedent for other military units. 

April 18 – Xinhua News Agency reports a SARS task force has been set up headed 

by Liu Qi, Beijing Party Secretary and Politburo member. Deputies include Minister 
112

of Health Zhang, Beijing Mayor Meng Xuenong, and Deputy Director, PLA, GLD 

Wang Qian. 

April 19 – A ward in Royal Columbian Hospital near Vancouver is closed when 

a second nurse displays SARS symptoms. British Columbia health care workers 

now are required to wear goggles in addition to gowns, masks, and gloves. Hong 

Kong death toll climbs by 12 to 81 deaths. Hong Kong is officially the worst hit 

location for SARS. The chief executive admits its public health officials were 

slow to respond to the SARS threat. Apartments, office buildings, food markets, 

and back alleys are scrubbed. Passengers arriving in Hong Kong’s airport must 

have their temperatures taken. A temperature over 38 degrees celcius becomes a 

symptom of SARS. The 14th victim of SARS dies in Canada. 

April 20 – New Executive Vice-Minister of Health, Gao Qiang, addresses a press 

conference. He admits to both foreign and domestic reporters that the incidents of 

SARS are nine times higher than the number reported 5 days earlier (339 versus 

37). He adds that Beijing has an additional 405 suspected SARS cases in hospitals. 

Within 1 hour, Xinhua News Agency releases a two-sentence dispatch stating that 

Minister of Health Zhang Wenkang (a former military doctor who, reportedly, is a 

friend of Jiang Zemin) and Beijing Mayor Meng Xuenong both have been removed 

from their Communist Party posts. Wu Yi takes over as new Minister of Health. 

Beijing reporters were told both would appear at the press conference that day, 

but they never appeared. 

China reports 12 more deaths and another 400 cases in Beijing―nearly a 10-fold 

increase. The Chinese government cancels the May Day holiday in an effort to 

reduce mass movement of people. 

Singapore reports a SARS outbreak in its largest vegetable market, spreading 

fears that the disease will spread into its population of four million. Japan MOFA 

extends travel warning to Inner Mongolia. 

PLA 302 Hospital reported to have discovered that simultaneous basic 

immunizations and other treatments (hormones, oxygen, anti-viral medicines, 

and antibiotics) can prevent and treat SARS. 

April 22 – The Philippine government institutes screening of U.S. military 

personnel arriving in the Philippines for the Balikatan 03 exercise. U.S. Air Force 

(AF) said to have confirmed that two retired AF officers contracted SARS during a 

trip to Asia in March and recovered, but this was denied by the Air Force on May 

5. Experts from the U.S. CDC arrive in Toronto to determine why hospital workers 

are getting sick despite taking precautions against SARS. 

The Mainland Affairs Council (MAC) advocates reducing cross-Strait exchanges 

because of SARS. Xinhua News Agency releases a speech by Wen Jiabao in which 

he says that cases of SARS must be reported quickly and accurately, and that “local 

and departmental leaders will be held strictly responsible” if they do not comply. 

April 23 – The Chinese State Council forms a command center for preventing and 

fighting SARS. A fund of 2 billion yuan is established for fighting SARS. 
113

WHO recommends postponing all nonessential travel to Beijing, Shanxi Province, 

China, and Toronto, Canada. These locations join Hong Kong and Guangdong 

Province on the WHO list. One large Beijing hospital with 41 probable cases 

of SARS is closed. The patients are moved to SARS-designated hospitals. The 

remaining patients, staff, and visitors are quarantined for 2 weeks. 

Construction begins on the Xiaotangshan Hospital2

 in northwest Beijing. Over 

1,300 military medical personnel are immediately dispatched from major military 

regions to work at the facility. During this time, 11 more hospitals will be designated 

as SARS treatment facilities. Sixty-three hospitals in Beijing also are designated to 

treat fever patients. 

April 24 – A medical emergency command center is established in Beijing. It 

is organized into a fever clinic that conducts triage of patients and includes 

designated SARS area within hospitals for specialized care and isolation. Protective 

equipment is provided to health care workers. Community-based prevention and 

control measures are established based on detection, isolation, quarantine, and 

community mobilization. Beijing authorities also have established protocols for 

triage, isolation, case management and administrative controls, which prohibits 

visitors to hospitals and separates patients with suspected SARS symptoms from 

other patients. To address an anticipated shortfall in hospital beds, the 1,000-bed 

Xiaotangshan hospital is finished in 8 days. 

U.S. CDC officials say a travel ban for Toronto is not warranted because public 

health officials understand the patterns of transmission within the city, but British 

medical officials support the advisory. SARS forces the closure of a major hospital 

in Beijing. All public schools in China are also ordered closed for 2 weeks. Another 

125 people have come down with SARS in China, and the disease has claimed 110 

lives in China. 

Taiwan bars people from SARS-affected areas (including China) to enter Taiwan. 

Chengdu Military Region convenes videoconference on security and stability. 

Military Region Deputy Commander, Chen Shijun, notes that the security work 

is more challenging than the previous year. He says that the burden of tasks 

associated with controlling and preventing SARS are especially burdensome to 

security forces. 

Third-fourth week of April – The SARS outbreak in Beijing reaches its peak. Cases 

probably number over 100 per day for several days. An increased ratio of patients 

with no known contact with SARS patients is also reported. 

April 25 – Public health officials in Toronto insist that the SARS outbreak is under 

control. They announce three more people have died, raising the death toll to 19. 

Ontario health officials say there have been no new probable cases of SARS in the 

Toronto area since April 9, with the exception of a few hospital workers. Japan 

announces it will send assistance to China for the fight against SARS. The materials 

include surgical masks and protective clothing. 

April 26 – A 79-year-old woman in Toronto is the 21st SARS victim to die in 

Canada. WHO says its advisory against nonessential travel to Toronto may be 

lifted after experts examine new SARS data on April 29. 
114

Although China was reportedly monitoring all passengers on all transport, only 

cursory, self-monitoring measures are in place at Beijing International Airport on 

this date. ASEAN health ministers meet in Bangkok, Thailand. During a telephone 

call, President Bush discusses China’s efforts against SARS with President Hu 

Jintao and U.S.-China cooperation to resolve the North Korea nuclear development 

issue. 

April 27 – Baltimore Sun reports that Fort Detrick has been working on SARS since 

early April 2003. 

In Beijing, all patients suspected with SARS had been relocated to designated 

treatment and isolation areas within hospitals. “At one point, 27 municipalities 

and 21 district hospitals [are] providing care to SARS patients.” 

Ottawa announces it will appeal Taiwan’s decision to turn back Canadian travelers 

because of fears they might have SARS. On the same day, Taiwan announces it 

will temporarily stop issuing visitor and residency visas to people from countries 

hardest hit by SARS. 

April 28 – Beijing government orders residents to stop blocking roads. They had 

spontaneously blocked people from entering and leaving their neighborhoods and 

villages out of a fear of the spread of SARS. 

“SARS refugees,” who began to flee Beijing on or about April 20, continue to leave 

the city without serious restrictions. 

Premier Wen Jiabao attends ASEAN heads of government meeting in Bangkok. 

This is his first official trip outside China since assuming his position in March. 

On April 29, ASEAN issued a declaration containing a statement of measures that 

member countries had committed to in order to share information promptly. 

The Chinese State Food and Drug Administration approves clinical testing of 

a nose spray that was developed by the Academy of Military Medical Science 

Microbiology and Epidemiology Research Institute to safeguard against SARS. 

The spray was originally developed for treatment of Hepatitis B and C. 

Late April – PLA delegation, headed by General Xing, departs China for official 

visit to the United States. The delegation members observed quarantine and took 

western medicines (antibiotics) as a preventive measure prior to their departure. 

North Korea suspends its twice-weekly Beijing flights, initiates strict quarantine 

on land crossings, and stops the ferry from Japan. More than 100,000 visitors are 

affected.

In Beijing hospitals, daily SARS admissions exceed 100 per day for several days; 

2,521 cases of probable SARS have been detected. 

April 29 – WHO announces it will lift a travel advisory against Toronto effective 

April 30. It had been 20 days since a new case and WHO director general, Dr. 

Gro Harlem Brundtland, says the magnitude of cases in Toronto has decreased. 

ASEAN-China emergency summit on SARS held in Bangkok, Thailand.
115

April 30 – Ontario announced two more SARS deaths – a 72-year-old and a 39-

year-old, which is the youngest person to die in Canada. Conference on SARS 

opens in Toronto.

Late April – Chinese officials confidently tell foreign embassy representatives in 

Beijing that SARS would be finished no later than mid-May, which raises questions 

about whether or not the Party would attempt to fudge figures to achieve resolution 

of the problem as quickly as possible. 

Phase Five – China’s Mobilization Pushes toward “Victory.” 

May 2003 

May 1 – SARS peaks in Hong Kong, Toronto, and Vietnam. WHO officials 

conclude a SARS conference in Toronto, stressing the need for better international 

cooperation to control the disease. 

Xiaotangshan Hospital officially opens in Beijing. One hundred fifty-six SARS 

patients from 15 hospitals within the Beijing area are relocated to the hospital. 

The PLA Anti-Chemical Warfare Research Academy is praised for producing 

protective equipment (nose and mouth masks, face masks, protective clothing, 

boots, and gloves) for over 50 hospitals, as well as Public Security and People’s 

Armed Police units in the Beijing area. The unit also has provided disinfectants to 

schools and hospitals, and rushed 1,000 sets of special biological protective clothing 

to the newly opened Xiaotangshan Hospital. The PLA unit additionally has also 

set up a hotline to provide technical advice on protection measures to relevant 

units, such as the General Logistics Department, Ministry of Public Health, and 

Ministry of Public Security. 

May 2 – Beijing concurs with WHO officials visiting Taiwan. 

Japanese government officials meet to develop an anti-SARS strategy.

May 3 – Two WHO officials arrive in Taiwan to provide assistance. 

China reports its No. 361 Ming submarine descended on routine training mission 

killing 70, 2 weeks prior on April 16. The accident was not discovered until 10 days 

after the accident. 

One day after Chinese authorities say the disease has crested, Beijing reports 

200 new cases, and nine deaths. Chinese announce they have permitted WHO 

investigators to visit Taiwan. 

May 4 – China says more than one million school children in Beijing will stay 

home for another 2 weeks. Government officials will conduct classes on television 

or the Internet. 

May 5 – Chinese official television shows Hu Jintao and Jiang Zemin meeting 

with family members of No. 361 Ming submarine, demonstrates unprecedented 

openness. 

May 6 – Authorities in Nanjing order 10,000 people into quarantine as China 

announces 138 new cases of SARS and 8 deaths. WHO reports that SARS is 

receding in Vietnam and Canada. 
116

During one of the twice-weekly SARS press conferences in Beijing, Chinese 

officials read an official statement for 90 minutes and permit no questions. No 

information is released about what Chinese officials understand how the disease 

is transmitted, prevention measures, etc. 

U.S. Secretary Thompson conducts a phone conversation with the new Chinese 

Minister of Health, Wu Yi, on how the two countries can cooperate on SARS 

treatment and prevention. Wu Yi states that Beijing’s policy against Taiwan joining 

WHO has not changed. 

The Harbin Polytechnic University reports developing SARS isolation and 

monitoring cubicles that are self-contained and protected from spreading infection. 

The General Logistics Department Military Equipment Research Center reports 

developing improved SARS-resistant protective clothing and masks. The unit has 

also developed a disinfecting washing machine for bedding and clothing, as well 

as foodstuffs and drinks for fighting SARS. 

May 7 – The Bush administration is reported to have authorized the use of force to 

detain persons suspected of having SARS, which strengthens the Executive Order 

signed in April that permits the U.S. Government to quarantine people infected 

with SARS. 

WHO sends a four-person team to two Chinese provinces where it is believed the 

rural health systems may not be able to cope with spreading SARS. 

The first major study of SARS estimates that about 20 percent of the people who 

are sent to the hospital with SARS in Hong Kong are dying. 

The Japanese government directs Health Minister Sakaguchi to establish an antiSARS system in Japan. 

By this time, Beijing’s ability to house and treat SARS patients has significantly 

improved, including the establishment of 63 hospitals for treating fever patients. 

May 8 – All probable cases have been concentrated into 16 SARS-designated 

municipal hospitals. Thirty district hospitals are also providing care for patients 

with suspected SARS, and more than 60 fever clinics had been established 

throughout Beijing to triage patients and quickly isolate suspected SARS cases. 

WHO estimates that 15 percent of the people who get SARS will die. The rate 

among the elderly is over 50 percent. WHO issues travel warnings for Taiwan and 

Tianjin and Inner Mongolia Provinces. 

Xinhua reports that 120 officials had been relieved for dereliction of duty. 

The U.S. Department of State announces a $500,000 emergency grant to assist 

China’s SARS fight. Secretary Thompson proposes a multi-year, multi-million 

dollar project to promote collaboration in epidemiological training and to develop 

greater laboratory capacity in China. 

The Japanese Minister of Health sends additional anti-SARS assistance to China. 

May 9 – The official number of SARS cases in Beijing is cut from 94 to 48. The 

reduction eases popular anxiety, and people begin to return to the streets. 
117

In a Washington Post commentary, President Chen Shui-bian makes the case 

that Taiwan should join WHO. A Cross-Strait videoconference on SARS is held. 

Taiwan press reports U.S. military members have departed Taiwan following the 

conclusion of the Huanguang Exercise.

May 10 – The PLA Armament Engineering Academy reports developing a thermal 

imaging infrared thermometer that is capable of taking accurate body temperatures 

of moving crowds at 30 meters. 

May 11 – Japan Minister of Health announces an additional relief package for 

China. 

May 12 – A suspected case of SARS in Finland keeps Canada on the WHO list of 

countries affected by the disease. The man is Finland’s first suspected SARS case 

and officials claim he got sick in late April while visiting Toronto. Canadian health 

officials reject this claim. 

May 14 – WHO reports on May 13 that SARS has spread to the PLA. Eight percent 

of Beijing’s 2,000 cases―about 150-160 people―are identified as military personnel, 

but no information is provided on who these people are, or how they contracted 

the disease. 

Canadian Prime Minister Jean Chretien announces that WHO has removed Toronto 

from its SARS-affected areas list. There have been no new local transmissions for 

20 days. 

A new fabric for biological protective clothing for medical and health workers 

fighting SARS is reportedly developed through the joint cooperation of the 

Shandong Ketele Company, the Academy of Military Medical Science, the PLA 

Anti-chemical Research Academy, the GLD Blood Products Technical Research 

Institute, the Beijing University of Chemical Engineering, the Guangdong 

Microbiological Analysis and Testing Center, and other units. The material has 

been tested by the PLA Microbiology and Epidemiology Research Institute and 

other units, which are developing anti-SARS equipment for health workers and 

patients. The anti-SARS equipment includes clothing that has been developed in 

cooperation with China Textile Institute. The institute also has developed a new 

type of positive pressure hood with the assistance of the Academy of Military 

Medicine Sciences Health Equipment Institute, and an isolation capsule to 

transport SARS patients. 

May 15 – China threatens to execute or impose a life sentence on anyone who 

breaks SARS quarantine orders or deliberately spreads SARS. 

Officers of the China State Anti-SARS Command, report that an anti-SARS 

positive pressure respiratory protective system that was developed by the General 

Armament Department Anti-chemical Warfare Research Academy had passed a 

technical appraisal test and demonstrated that it can filter 99.995 percent of the 

SARS virus emissions. 

May 17 – WHO announces that the SARS epidemic shows signs of ending 

everywhere except China. 
118

May 18 – The AMMS, Beijing, Hygiene (Health) Equipment Research Institute and 

Microbe and Epidemic Disease Research Institute report jointly developing an 

emergency vehicle for handling contagious disease cases, an isolation chamber for 

transporting contagious patients, a negative pressure ambulance for contagious 

patients, as well as reusable biological protective clothing and biological protection 

masks. 

The GLD Military Supplies and Equipment (Quartermaster) Research Institute, 

Anti-chemical Warfare Research Academy, Aerospace Medical Engineering 

Research Institute, and China Weapons and Equipment Research Academy are 

praised for developments in protective materials and equipment. 

May 19 – WHO issues a travel advisory for Taiwan after it reports a record daily 

increase in probable SARS cases by 65. The total for Taiwan is 483―the third 

highest after China and Hong Kong.

May 20 – The total of reported SARS cases at this time is 2,444, with a fatality rate 

of 6.4 percent. 

President Chen Shui-bian calls for a referendum on Taiwan membership in WHO. 

Beijing blocks Taiwan participation in a World Health Assembly (WHA) panel on 

SARS. 

Chinese military personnel and units are praised for developing new medicines 

and equipment to fight SARS. Units identified for praise include: AMMS, Beijing; 

GLD Quartermaster Research Institute; Guangzhou Military Region General 

Hospital; Guangdong People’s Armed Police Hospital; Beijing People’s Armed 

Police Hospital; First Military Medical University; Third Military Medical 

University, Oral Hospital; and PLA number 301, 302, 309, 320, and 371 hospitals. 

Personnel who are praised include: Huang Wenjie, Director of the Guangzhou 

Military Region General Hospital Pulmonary Medicine Department; Zhou Guotai, 

Deputy Director of the GLD Quartermaster Research Institute; Xu Zhali, Professor 

of the Fourth Military Medical University, GLD, Xi’an, Oral Hospital; and Zhang 

Dezhou, Director of Infectious Disease, PLA 371 Hospital. 

May 21 – U.S. Secretary Thompson expresses support for Taiwan participation in 

a WHA panel.

May 22 – The Fourth Military Medical Academy Cell Engineering Center director, 

Chen Zhinan, reportedly has discovered 9 polypeptides and 13 antibodies that 

can restrain the coronavirus. The China Center for Disease Control reportedly has 

tested these and found them to be effective in restraining the SARS virus. 

May 23 – Toronto’s SARS infection list grows. Canadian heath officials say they 

are now dealing with at least 25 suspected and probable cases in two Toronto 

hospitals. Two recent deaths are suspected SARS cases. 

China’s Association for Relations Across the Taiwan Straits (ARATS) sends a 

message to Taiwan’s Straits Exchange Foundation (SEF) offering aid for SARS 

fight. 

Japan announces closing two plants in China due to SARS. 
119

The Lanzhou Military Region Highland Disease Research Institute reports that 

it distributed a new book on how to prevent and treat disease in low oxygen 

environments and disseminated information on “scientific” medicines to its border 

defense units. 

The Anti-chemical Warfare Research Academy is reported to have developed a 

protective canister for facemasks to protect against SARS. The canister passed the 

technical appraisal of the State Development and Reform committee, Ministry of 

Science and Technology and Ministry of Health. 

May 24 – At least 500 people in the Toronto area are quarantined as a precaution, 

while health officials investigate two dozen possible SARS cases. Public health 

officials confirm they are looking at 33 new cases. 

Beijing blocks a Taiwan representative from briefing the United Nations press 

corps on SARS. The Taiwan Executive Yuan endorses idea of referendum on WHO 

membership. 

The Fourth Military Medical University, GLD, Xi’an, Oral Hospital reports 

developing, in cooperation with the Xi’an High Oxygen Medical Treatment 

Equipment Company, two devices that provide oxygen to SARS patients. 

May 25 – SEF rejects an offer of SARS aid from ARATS. Two more WHO officials 

arrive in Taiwan to assist.

May 26 – A Washington Post commentary charges that “China’s secrecy and 

dishonesty . . . allowed the SARS virus to become an international problem.”

Toronto officials claim the current SARS outbreak has been contained. About 2,200 

people are quarantined in Ontario―almost half of these are in Toronto. 

Hu Jintao arrives in Russia for an official visit. 

The Academy of Military Medical Science reports developing a new anti-viral 

skin emulsion, which was produced at the Beijing Huitongtianli Biotechnology 

Company. The product combines biotechnology, nanometric technology, and 

“disinfecting technology.” The emulsion is reported to be the first domestic 

nanometric-disinfecting product to obtain a State-level health permit. 

The Second Military Medical University, GLD, Shanghai, Physiotherapy Research 

Office reports developing new anti-SARS medicines, which were approved for 

clinical study by the State Food and Drug Control Administration. Clinical trials 

for a SARS vaccine is reported to have advanced to the animal testing stage in 

Guangdong.

May 27 – A school in the Toronto area is closed after a student comes down 

with SARS symptoms. The student has a definite link to the North York General 

Hospital, the source of the latest SARS outbreak and now closed. The school’s 

1,500 students and 100 teachers are ordered into quarantine as a precaution. 

The People’s Daily details Beijing’s efforts to assist Taiwan with SARS. 
120

May 28 – Two more SARS deaths are announced in Toronto. The Ontario 

government meanwhile announces that it will spend $720 million to assist healthcare workers and facilities involved in the SARS fight. 

A WHA SARS resolution is developed which provides the basis for WHO contacts 

with Taiwan.

May 29 – The number of SARS cases in Toronto rises as Canada adopts WHO SARS 

classification method. Doctors in Toronto say the system is simpler and better 

reflects the extent of the problem. Under WHO’s definition, any unexplained case 

of pneumonia is listed as “probable SARS.” 

The Third Military Medical University, GLD, Chongqing, reports it has developed 

a protection filtration face guard for SARS patients. The face guard is said to filter 

99.9 percent infected airborne particles. The PLA University has also reportedly 

developed protective materials for hospital personnel. The PLA Medical Library 

reports donating computers and Internet equipment to the Xiaotangshan Hospital. 

The hospital was able to open a long-range medical information mobile workstation 

at Chanping with access to over 20 databases, 30,000 medical textbooks, and nearly 

10,000 periodicals and texts online. 

The General Armament Department Anti-chemical Warfare Research Academy 

reports it developed a protective system for pathological research on SARS. The 

Academy also has developed a protective system for Ditan Hospital autopsy rooms 

storing SARS corpses, which the Ministry of Science and Technology and Ministry 

of Health has approved. The system was developed based on military antichemical technology and designed to protect autopsy personnel from infection. 

The system was development under the urgent initiative of the State 863 Plan to 

“Research into the Pathologic Anatomy, Specimen Collection, and Pathological 

Mechanisms of SARS.” 

May 30 – The Academy of Military Medical Science reports developing a protein 

chip that detects SARS antibodies. The protein chip can be used to screen and 

diagnose SARS, as well as for research. 

The Chinese Academy of Medical Science and the General Armament Department 

Anti-chemical Warfare Military Representatives Bureau report jointly developing 

a “BWT Model Positive Pressure Protective System” that has been operational at 

the Xiehe Medical Science University since mid-May. The system maintains a zero 

infection rate among hospital personnel who perform tracheal procedures and 

medical research, as well as personnel who handle SARS corpses. 

May 31 – President Bush signs new legislation regarding Taiwan’s admission to 

WHO.

June 2003

June 1 – At the G-8 conference, Hu Jintao repeats Beijing’s opposition to Taiwan 

independence to President Bush.
121

June 2 – A review of old cases identifies another SARS death in Toronto, bringing 

the total to 32. An Ontario nurse calls for an inquiry into how the Canadian health 

system handled the SARS outbreak. 

June 3 – During a Beijing SARS symposium, China’s vice minister of health appeals 

to Asian countries to increase information sharing on SARS. A New York Times

article dismisses those who believe SARS will do for China what Chernobyl did to 

USSR (i.e., political change). 

June 7 – Ontario health officials announce the death of two more people in the 

Toronto area on June 6, bringing the total number of deaths in Canada to 33. 

Canadian officials say 25 of the deaths are connected to the first cluster, which 

broke out in Canada during March 2004. 

June 9 – Japan cancels travel warnings for all areas of China, except Beijing and 

Guangdong.

June 12 – A consulting firm reports that Toronto’s tourist industry has lost nearly 

$190 million because of the SARS outbreak. 

ASEAN heath ministers declare the Asia-Pacific region SARS-free.

June 16 – A total of 190 deaths are reported among 2,053 probable SARS cases in 

Beijing. The fatality rate is 8.4 percent fatality rate.

June 17-18 – A WHO conference on SARS is held in Malaysia. WHO lifts its travel 

advisory for Taiwan. 

June 18 – Senior Thai and Chinese health officials meeting in Beijing agree to 

increase cooperation to control of SARS. 

The Taiwan CDC director addresses a panel at a WHO SARS conference. 

June 19 – In Beijing, a total of 30,172 persons, who had close contact with SARS 

patients, are quarantined for 2 weeks after their last exposure. 

Ontario Province rejects $250 million in SARS relief from the Federal government 

as insultingly low. The Province seeks Ottawa to cover 90 percent of the estimated 

$1.5 billion in health-care costs. 

June 20 – Washington Post reports a crackdown of Chinese media that ended a brief 

period of relative openness. 

June 23 – Ontario announces that two more people have died from SARS. This 

raises the Canadian death toll to 38 since the outbreak began in mid-March. All 

are in the Toronto area. 

June 24 – WHO removes its travel advisory for Beijing, announcing the situation 

has greatly improved in the capital since the WHO advisory was issued on April 

23. WHO reports that the last new case in Beijing was isolated on May 29, Beijing 

had been isolated for over 20 days. Cases after this date were ruled out as SARS. 

Other recent cases were traced to known transmission cases. The report says that 

for reasons not yet understood, areas of Mainland China experienced a lower 

fatality ratio than most other outbreak areas, but China’s statistical reporting could 

have skewed the ratio.
122

June 30 – Canada’s deaths from SARS rise to 39 when a 51-year-old nurse, who 

worked at the North York General Hospital, becomes Ontario’s first health worker 

to die from SARS.

June 29 – Report of Jiang Zemin’s invitation for a private meeting in Beijing with 

former Health Minister is widely interpreted as a sign of political conflict between 

Hu Jintao and Jiang.

Through end of June – a total of 2,521 patients with probable SARS are hospitalized 

in Beijing. 

July 2003

July 2 – WHO removes Toronto from its list of SARS-affected cities after 20 days 

have passed since the last known infection. This is double the normal length of 

incubation for SARS. It is the second time Toronto is removed from the WHO list. 

Toronto was removed on May 14, but suffered a second outbreak on May 16. 

Taiwan is the only remaining country where the disease is still not under control. 

July 4 – A total of 8,439 probable cases and 812 deaths from SARS had been 

identified in 30 countries. 

July 5 – WHO Director-General declares that the SARS epidemic is over “for the 

time being.” She says: “We do not mark the end of SARS today, but we observe a 

milestone: The global SARS outbreak has been contained.” Speaking in Geneva, 

she adds: “This is not the time to relax our vigilance. The world must remain on 

high alert.” 

July 11 – The Guangzhou Military Region General Hospital reports it has developed 

the “BG-95 Nitric Oxide Treatment (breathing) Apparatus” for the treatment of 

SARS. BG-95 won a State invention patent and an Army Second Class Science and 

Technology Progress award. The apparatus was approved by the State for clinical 

application to treat people with respiratory problems. The apparatus is said to 

have been used successfully during the SARS epidemic for rescuing five seriously 

ill patients in the China-Japan Friendship and Xuanwu Hospitals in Beijing. 

July 21 – An international team of scientists announces it has conclusively identified 

a corona virus (CoV) as the responsible agent for SARS. 

July 26 – The Chinese Minister of Science and Technology, Xu Guanhua, says that 

although SARS has been effectively controlled around the world, many problems 

still have not been resolved. SARS still poses a threat. Xu notes that many problems, 

such as the origin and means of SARS transmission, have not been solved. Xu 

stresses three key issues that need to be addressed: (1) to clearly determine the 

source of SARS and its laws of transmission, to provide the scientific foundation 

and methods to cut off the route of transmission and control the disease; (2) to 

start research and develop specific, flexible, fast and accurate early diagnostic 

technology and drug testing, and provide reliable technological methods for virus 

detection and clinical diagnosis; (3) to accelerate the research and development of 

efficient medicines and vaccines, in order to effectively prevent and treat SARS. 
123

After the Victory―What Next? 

September 2003

September 29 – Ontario’s SARS inquiry opens first of 3 days of public hearings in 

Toronto.

October 2003

October 7 – Dr. David Naylor, dean of medicine at the University of Toronto, 

releases a report investigating what went wrong during Toronto’s SARS crisis. The 

report, commissioned by Health Canada, suggests Canada needs a public health 

agency similar to the U.S. Center for Disease Control. It calls for $700 million in 

new health spending.

2004

January 2004

January 1 – Beijing reports its fiscal revenues are up 18.2 percent for the 9th 

consecutive year, despite the SARS outbreak. 

January 2 – Xinhua reports initial gene sequencing tests show a man with suspected 

SARS has possible corona virus, according to the Guangdong Provincial center 

for disease prevention and control. Xinhua reports that during the 2003 outbreak, 

5,327 were infected, and 349 died in China. 

January 5 – China reports the first case of SARS since the global epidemic was 

declared over in July 2003. The patient is a 32-year-old television producer working 

in southern Guangdong Province.

January 7 – A crackdown on Southern Metropolis Daily, the first newspaper to report 

on newest outbreak during late December, is reported: 

The World Health Organization has praised China’s cooperation in 

dealing with SARS since the latest outbreak. But journalists in Guangdong 

and around the country say that propaganda officials are strictly limiting 

coverage of the disease to official statements and strongly discouraging 

the news media from reporting widely on the topic. 

April 22-29 – The Chinese government reports a total of nine SARS cases to WHO. 

Four of these cases are confirmed. All the cases are believed to be traced to the 

National Institute of Virology, Beijing. (On May 6, after a full investigation of these 

cases, this was not substantiated since the workers at the lab did not work with 

SARS samples.) About 1,000 people in Beijing and Anhui Province, the home of 

one of the victims, are quarantined. WHO praises China for its quick reaction.

May 4 – Beijing confirms three more SARS cases, which confirms all nine cases 

identified in April 2004 are SARS. 

May 18 – WHO declares China’s latest SARS outbreak is over after 3 weeks passed 

without any new infection. The origin of the outbreak remains a mystery, although 

WHO expresses concerns about biosafety. Of the nine person infected, one died on 

April 19, 2004, and the others were released from hospital by May 12. 
124

ENDNOTES - APPENDIX I

 1. This timeline draws from multiple Chinese and Western sources. The 

primary sources include: The Center for Infectious Disease Research and Policy 

(CIDRAP), Academic Health Center, University of Minnesota, www.cidrap.umn.

edu, accessed December 26, 2004; Ming-Dong and Ann Margaret Jolly, “Changing 

virulence of the SARS virus: the epidemiological evidence,” Bulletin of World Health 

Organization, Vol. 82, No. 7, July 2004, available online at www.who.int/entity/bulletin, 

accessed December 27, 2004; the reporting of Susan V. Lawrence, David Lague, 

Peter Wonacott, Matt Pottinger, and David Murphy for The Far Eastern Economic 

Review between April-May 2003; John Pomfret’s reporting for the Washington Post

during May 2003; CBC News, “In-depth SARS,” Timeline, available online from 

http://www.cbc.ca/news/background/sars/timeline.html, accessed February 17, 2004; 

John Wong and Zheng Yongnian, eds., The SARS Epidemic―Challenges to China’s 

Crisis Management, Singapore: World Scientific Publishing Co. Pte. Ltd, 2004; Maryn 

McKenna, Beating Back the Devil―On the Front Line with the Disease Detectives of the 

Epidemic Intelligence Service, New York: Free Press, 2004; Liang, Zhu, Guo, Liu, 

He, Zhou, et al., “Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome, Beijing, 2003,” Emerging 

Infectious Diseases, Vol. 10, No. 1, p. 1, available online from http://www.cdc.gov/

ncidod/EID/vol10no03-o553/htm, accessed September 16, 2004; “WHO Update 

83―One hundred days into the outbreak,” June 18, 2003, 2004; and WHO Update 

87, “World Health Changes Last Remaining Travel Recommendation for Beijing, 

China,” June 24, 2003, available online from http://www.who.int/csr/don/2003_06_

18/en/print.html, accessed February 17; “WHO Global Conference on Severe Acute 

Respiratory Syndrome―Where Do We Go from Here?” Summary report of 17-

18 June conference, available online at http://www.who.int/csr/sars/conference/june_

2003/materials/report/en, accessed February 17, 2004, Chinese military and civilian 

newspaper reporting during January to July 2003 and personal interviews.

 2. Xiaotangshan, which was designated as a “field hospital” was built in 6 days 

and 7 nights using over 7,000 construction workers. Construction took place over 

an existing hot springs facility at Chanping in northwest Beijing. See Xinhua News 

Agency report, “Xiaotangshan Hospital Meets Anti-epidemic Sanitary Criteria,” 

published May 2, 2003, and “Xiaotangshan Hospital―Noah’s Ark,” September 17, 

2003, both available online at http://www.china.org.cn, accessed January 30, 2005. 

The 2004 White Paper states that a total of 18 military hospitals provided medical 

treatment to 420 SARS patients. In Beijing, the Xiaotangshan Hospital worked for 

over 50 days to provide care to 680 patients. It mobilized a total of 1,383 military 

medical personnel from various military units. See “China’s National Defense 

in 2004,” available online at http://english.people.com.cn/whitepaper/defense2004/

defense2004(8).html, accessed January 3, 2005.
125

APPENDIX II

PLA UNITS, PERSONALITIES, ACCOMPLISHMENTS,

AND COLLABORATION IDENTIFIED IN OPEN PRESS REPORTS 

ON SARS BETWEEN APRIL-JULY 20031

General Logistics Department―coordinated with Ministry of Health.2

• Personalities: Wang Qian, Major General, Deputy Director, GLD. 

o Deputy, SARS task force headed by Li Qi, Beijing Party Secretary and 

Politburo Member. Included Minister of Health Zhang Wenkang, and 

Beijing Mayor Meng Xuenong. 

• Subordinate Organizations:

o Health Department.

o Military Supplies and Equipment (Quartermaster) Research Institute 

– Zhou Guotai, Deputy Director.

o Blood Products Technical Research Institute.

 Collaborated with Shandong Ketele Company, PLA Antichemical Research Academy, Academy of Military Medical 

Sciences, Beijing University of Chemical Engineering, 

Guangdong Microbiology and Epidemiology Research 

Institute, among other units, to develop new fabric for 

protective clothing (reported May 14, 2003).

o Academy of Military Medical Sciences (AMMS), Beijing.

 Developed a new anti-viral skin emulsion, which was 

produced at the Beijing Huitongtianli Biotechnology Company 

(reported May 26, 2003). 

 Collaborated with Shandong Ketele Company, PLA 

Anti-chemical Research Academy, GLD Blood Products 

Technical Research Institute, Beijing University of Chemical 

Engineering, Guangdong Microbiology and Epidemiology 

Research Institute, among other units, to develop new fabric 

for protective clothing (reported May 14, 2003).

 Personalities. Cao Wuchun, epidemiologist, and virologist, 

Zhu Qingyu.

Subordinate units:

 Health Equipment Institute (Hygiene Equipment Institute). 

• Developed a new type of positive pressure hood in 

cooperation with Microbiology and Epidemiology 

Research Institute. 
126

 Institute of Microbiology and Epidemiology. 

 Virologist Zhu Qingyu detected a distinctive halo of 

spikes on 20 Feb 2003, which indicated the coronavirus 

may be the pathogen for the disease. Zhu is credited 

as the first person in China to isolate the virus from 

samples taken from victims. 

• Adapted Hepatitis B and C nasal spray to SARS – 

approved by State Food and Drug Administration. 

• Tested new biological fabric developed by collaboration between Shangdong Kelete Company, Academy 

of Military Medical Sciences, et al. Developed clothing 

in cooperation with China Textile Institute.

• Developed anti-SARS equipment for health workers 

and patients.

• Developed a new type of positive pressure hood in 

cooperation with Health Equipment Institute. 

o First Military Medical University, GLD, Guangzhou, Guangdong 

Province. 

o Second Military Medical University, GLD, Shanghai.

 Physiotherapy Research Office.

 Developed anti-SARS medicines that were approved for 

clinical study by the State Food and Drug Administration. 

Animal testing was conducted in Guangdong Province 

(reported May 26, 2003). 

o Third Military Medical University, GLD, Chongqing, Sichuan 

Province.

 Oral Hospital.

 Developed filtration face guard for SARS patients that filters 

99.9% of infected airborne particles, and protective materials 

for hospital staff (reported May 29, 2003). 

o Fourth Military Medical University, GLD, Xi’an, Shaanxi Province.

 Oral Hospital – Professor Xu Zhali.

 Developed devices to provide oxygen to SARS patients in 

collaboration with the Xi’an High Oxygen Medical Treatment 

Equipment Biotechnology Company (reported May 24, 

2003).

 Cell Engineering Center – Chen Zhinan, director.

o PLA Number One Hospital.
127

o PLA 301 Hospital.

 Doctor Jiang Yanyong revealed the number of known SARS 

cases at 301 Hospital on April 4 and 9, 2003. 

o PLA 302 Hospital.

 Discovered simultaneous basic immunizations and other 

treatments (hormones, oxygen, anti-viral medicines and 

antibiotics) can treat and prevent SARS (reported April 20, 

2003).

o PLA 309 Hospital.

o PLA 320 Hospital.

o PLA 371 Hospital.

 Infectious Disease (Department) – Zhang Dezhou, director.

o Nanfang Hospital. 

 First autopsy of a SARS victim performed here on February 

12, 2003.

General Armament Department.

 Subordinate Organizations:

o PLA Anti-chemical Warfare Research Academy.

 Produced protective equipment for over 50 local hospitals, 

Public Security and PAP in Beijing; provided over 1,000 sets 

of protective clothing to Xiaotangshan Hospital; set up hot 

line to provide technical advice to GLD, Ministry of Health, 

and Ministry of Public Security. 

 Collaborated with Shandong Ketele Company, Blood 

Products Technical Research Institute, GLD, Academy of 

Military Medical Sciences, Beijing University of Chemical 

Engineering, Guangdong Microbiology and Epidemiology 

Research Institute, among other units, to develop new fabric 

for protective clothing (reported May 14, 2003).

 Developed a protective system, which was approved by 

the Ministry of Science and Technology and the Ministry of 

Health, for the Ditan Hospital autopsy rooms, which stored 

SARS remains. The system was based on military antichemical technology (reported May 29, 2003). 

o Anti-chemical Warfare Military Representatives Bureau.

 Developed a “BWT Model Positive Pressure Protective 

System” in collaboration with the Military Medical Science 
128

Academy. The system was in operation at the Xiehe Medical 

Science University from mid-May (reported May 30, 2003).

o Aeronautic (Aerospace) Medical Engineering Research Institute.

Other:

• PLA Medical Library. 

o Donated computers and internet equipment for new Xiaotangshan 

Hospital, Chanping, Beijing (reported May 29, 2003). 

• PLA Armament Engineering Academy. 

o Developed a thermal imaging infrared thermometer capable of 

accurately reading moving crowds at a distance of 30 meters (reported 

May 10, 2003).

 China Weapons and Equipment Research Academy.

• Guangzhou Military Region.

o GMR General Hospital.

 Developed “BG-95 Nitric Oxide Treatment [breathing] 

Apparatus” that won a State patent and an Army Second 

Class Science and Technology Progress Award. The device, 

which was approved by the State, was credited with saving 

patients at the China-Japan Friendship and the Xuanwu 

Hospitals, Beijing (reported July 11, 2003). 

 Pulmonary Medicine Department – Huang Wenjie, director.

 Lanzhou Military Region.

o Highland Research Disease Research Institute. 

 Chengdu Military Region.

o Deputy Commander, Chen Shijun – convened videoconference on 

security and stability on April 24, 2003. 

• People’s Armed Police.

o Beijing People’s Armed Police Hospital.

o Guangdong People’s Armed Police Hospital.
129

ENDNOTES - APPENDIX II

1. This Appendix is primarily based on military information extracted from 

Appendix I.

 2. Coordination between the General Logistics Department and the China 

Center for Disease Control does not appear to have been as close as the coordination 

with the Ministry of Health, as evidenced by the disagreement over the chlymidia 

theory, which was advocated by CDC chief virologist Hong Tao.
130

ENDNOTES - CHAPTER 4

 1. The author would like to thank Susan V. Lawrence, Andrew Scobell, Larry 

Wortzel, and Donald Boose, among others who were in China during the 2002-

2003 SARS epidemic and preferred not to be mentioned by name, for their input to 

the research for this paper, as well as comments on early drafts.

 2. Albert Camus, The Plague, New York: The Modern Library, 1948, p. 34. 

 3. Other studies of the SARS epidemic in China have ably discussed numerous 

factors that contributed to the mishandling of this crisis in China during late 2002 

to early 2003. Among these factors, for example, were the disruptive role that elite 

politics played during a time of leadership transition during the November 2002 

16th Party Congress and the March 2003 National People’s Congress. Additionally, 

the highly compartmentalized People’s Liberation Army played its part by 

withholding information on the spread of the disease within military hospitals 

in Beijing by March 2003. A recent publication, John Wong and Zheng Yongnian, 

eds., The SARS Epidemic―Challenges to China’s Crisis Management, Singapore: World 

Scientific Publishing Co., 2004, comprehensively discusses the SARS crisis from 

the perspective of China’s ailing and increasingly commercialized health care 

system, its lack of a free press, and other economic, legal, and political factors that 

contributed to the crisis.

 4. Rui-Heng Xu, Jian-Feng He, Meirion R. Evans, Guo-Wen Peng, Hume E. 

Field, De-Wen Yu, Chin-Kei Lee, Hui-Min Luo, Wei-Sheng Lin, Peng Lin, Linghui Li, Wen-Jia Liang, Jin-Yan Lin, and Alan Schnur, “Epidemiologic Clues to 

SARS Origin in China,” Emerging Infectious Diseases, p. 1, Vol. 10, No. 6, June 2004, 

available online at http://www.cdc.gov/nicdod/EID/vol10no6/03-0852.htm, accessed 

September 16, 2004.

 5. Maryn McKenna, Beating Back the Devil: On The Front Lines of the Epidemic 

Intelligence Service, New York: Free Press, 2004, p. 236. 

 6. World Health Organization, “WHO Issues Global Alert About Cases of 

Atypical Pneumonia: Cases of Severe Respiratory Illness May Spread to Hospital 

Staff,” Geneva: The Organization, March 12, 2003, available from http://www.who.

int/crs/sars/archives/2003_03_12/en/, cited in Xu, Rui-Heng, et al., p. 1.

 7. PLA activities are included within the Appendix I timeline. Appendix II 

extracts details of PLA units that were mentioned in open press reports, as well 

as their accomplishments, collaboration with military and civilian activities and 

some individuals that were recognized for their contributions. 

 8. Ming-Dong and Ann Margaret Jolly, “Changing Virulence of the SRAS 

Virus: The Epidemiological Evidence,” Bulletin of the World Health Organization, 

Vol. 82, No. 7, July 2004, available online at http://www.who.int/entity/bulletin/, 

accessed December 27, 2004. 

 9. The SARS Epidemic, p. 88. 
131

 10. Chinese researchers did not cooperate with international research until 

mid-April, when two laboratories linked into the network of international labs 

that were cooperating on SARS. WHO Update 31―Coronavirus never seen before 

in humans is the cause of SARS, April 16, 2003, available online at http://www.who.

int.csr/archives, accessed December 27, 2004.

 11. John Pomfret, Washington Post, May 13, 2003, p. A14.

 12. Unconfirmed rumors of continued underreporting of cases persisted during 

2003, even after mid-April when the Chinese government initiated its anti-SARS 

campaign in Beijing and cooperated with WHO officials. There are at least four 

reasons why the number of reported cases in Beijing and elsewhere may not be 

completely accurate: (1) Openness may have been limited to an acceptable number 

of cases, which inhibited reporting; (2) Strict controls on who could say a case 

was SARS may have lead to some undiagnosed cases; (3) There was considerable 

pressure at the local level to overcome SARS as quickly as possible. In late April, 

Party officials readily declared that SARS would be eliminated no later than midMay, a deadline that could not be met, but which may have provided a disincentive 

for reporting of potential SARS cases and encouraged local officials to declare 

success sooner than the disease may have been achieved; and, (4) Poorly managed 

and compartmentalized information may have resulted in the loss of information, 

despite best efforts of health care givers. 

 13. Liang, et al.

 14. Ibid.

 15. The SARS Epidemic, p. 168.

 16. Pekka Aro, an International Labor Organization (ILO) employee, flew from 

Finland via Bangkok to attend the China Employment Forum in Beijing. He stayed 

in Bangkok during March 18-23. On March 23, Aro flew on Thai Airways Flight 614 

to Beijing. He sat next to Zhu Hong, an official of the Chinese Ministry of Trade. 

Zhu had flown from Hong Kong to Beijing on China Air Flight 112 on March 

15, according to Helsingin Sanomat investigative reporter, Pekka Mykkänen. This 

flight carried a 72-year-old super-infector, who spread the infection to stewardess 

Meng Chunying, among others. Meng spread the infection to her husband, who 

later died, and other family members in Hohot, Inner Mongolia. Zhu complained 

of illness while in Bangkok and sought treatment at a Thai clinic before boarding 

the flight, apparently unaware of the risks. According to Mykkänen, Zhu was 

admitted to the SARS ward at Ditan Hospital on March 26, 2003, two days before 

Pekka Aro became ill. The reporter believed Chinese authorities were aware that 

Zhu was exposed to SARS as early as March 20, but they took no action to inform 

other members of Thai Air Flight 614. Unaware that the man he sat next to on the 

flight from Bangkok was infected with SARS, Pekka Aro remained ill in his hotel 

room until April 1, 2003, according to Mykkänen’s reporting, when Aro sought 

medical treatment. He was admitted to the Ditan Hospital SARS ward on April 

2 and died four days later. At an April 7 news conference, Guo Jiyong, Beijing 

Health Bureau, said Aro had immediately sought treatment on March 28, when he 
132

first developed symptoms, and also said that Aro believed he had been infected 

while abroad. Guo did not mention anything about Zhu’s SARS infection or Zhu’s 

ties to the March 15th CA Flight 112 from Hong Kong to Beijing and the Thai 

Airway Flight 614 on March 23. See “Chinese Premier: SARS Spread Contained 

in China (April 7, 2003), issued by the Chinese National Tourist Office, April 7, 

2003, available online at www.ChinaTravelNews.com [accessed May 31, 2005]; 

“Announcement of the Death of Pekka Aro,” Disabled People’s International 

Current News and Updates, May 3, 2003, available online at: www.dip.org (accessed 

May 31, 2005); and “China withheld vital information from Finnish SARS victim,” 

by Pekka Mykkänen, Helsingen Sanomat, May 27, 2003, available online at 

http://www2.helsingensanomat.fi/english/archive/news (accessed May 31, 2005).

 17. Gina Kolata, “Flu: The Story of the Great Influenza Pandemic of 1918 and 

the Search for the Virus that Caused It”; William H. McNeal, Plagues and Peoples, 

New York: Doubleday, 1977. 

 18. The SARS Epidemic, p. 172. 

 19. Chen Huai, Director of the Development Research Center of the State Council 

Research Institute for the Market Economy, in FBIS Compilation Supplemental of 

PRC Central and Provincial Media Reports on Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome 

for July 9-22, 2003. Also see John Wong, Sarah Chan, and Liang Ruobing, “The 

Impact of SARS on Greater China Economies,” The SARS Epidemic, pp. 11-43.

 20. See “Severe Actute Respiratory Syndrome―Press Briefing, Beijing, China, 

March 28, 2003, available online from http://www.who.int/csr/sars/2003_03_28/en/

print.html, accessed February 17, 2004, for example, which stated that the Chinese 

had agreed to provide up to date reports on SARS cases for all provinces on a real 

time basis to WHO. 

 21. Fred Hiatt, “Lies in the Absence of Liberty,” Washington Post, April 14, 

2003, p. 17.

 22. John Pomfret, “Outbreak Gave China’s Hu an Opening―President 

Responded to Pressure Inside and Outside Country on SARS,” Washington Post, 

May 13, 2001, p. A14.

 23. During the late summer of 2002, these restrictions on party members against 

talking about possible leadership changes at the upcoming 16th Party Congress 

were reinforced based on personal direct and indirect discussions by the author 

with Party members in Beijing. 

 24. Joseph Fewsmith, “China and the Politics of SARS,” Current History, 

September 2003, pp. 250-255. Also see James Mulvenon, “The Crucible of Tragedy: 

SARS, the Ming 361 Accident, and Chinese Party-Army Relations,” Chinese Leadership 

Monitor, No. 8, Fall 2003, available online at http://www.chinaleadershipmonitor.org, 

accessed October 29, 2004. Mulvenon argues that Hu Jintao “appear[ed] unwilling 

or unable to directly challenge Jiang Zemin’s leadership” during the SARS crisis, 

however, I would stress that Hu skillfully and realistically took advantage of 

the SARS crisis to promote his power base without causing disruptive cleavages 

within the Party or even between the Party and Army. 
133

 25. Also see Appendix II, which highlights PLA actions beyond mere 

propaganda efforts. 

 26. The near-symbiotic relationship between the PLA and CCP rests upon the 

subordination of the military to the Party, but also depends upon Party penetration 

throughout the military since military officers and others within the military are 

Party members. The Party’s leading role is also strengthened by the prominent 

role of the General Political Department, which is represented down to the lowest 

level by the political officers. 

 27. “World Health Organization Update 32―Situation in China and Hong 

Kong, status of diagnostic tests,” April 17, 2003, available online from http://www.

who.int/csr/sars/archive/2003. 

 28. The SARS Epidemic, p. 88-89.

 29. The PLA was not the only organization having difficulty obtaining 

specimens in February. Chinese news reported hospitals in Guangdong Province 

refused to give specimens to representatives from the Beijing Genomics Institute 

(BGI), for example, who were forced to steal specimen. (See The SARS Epidemic, 

p. 166.) Among the reasons for this possessiveness was economic competition, 

since hospitals and research units hoped to patent a “cure” for SARS. There may 

also have been a shortage of specimens since a limited number of autopsies were 

conducted worldwide out of a fear of infection. Canada appears to have led the 

world, with 21 autopsies conducted in Toronto. See Anne-Marie Tobin, “SARS 

Coronavirus Found in Lungs, Other Organs of Those Who Died: Autopsies,” 

December 20, 2004, reported online at http://news.yahoo.com, accessed December 

26, 2004. The biggest problem, however, was a lack of leadership that would have 

directed coordinated investigation of the disease in China. 

 30. SARS Commission―The Testimony, September 29, 2993, accessed July 1, 2004, 

available online from http://www.cbc.ca/news/background/sars/sars_commission.html.

 31. Joseph Fewsmith, “China and the Politics of SARS,” Current History, 

September 2003, pp. 250-255; John Pomfret, “Outbreak Gave China’s Hu an 

Opening―President Responded to Pressure Inside and Outside Country on SARS,” 

p. A1. Also see James Mulvenon, “The Crucible of Tragedy: SARS, the Ming 361 

Accident, and Chinese Party-Army Relations.” 

 32. See Appendix 1, 2004, Addendum to Timeline. China’s performance during 

late December 2003 and early 2004 was similar to the original outbreak of SARS, 

although the timeline for action was shortened. The later outbreak in the spring, 

however, was more promising, although problems remain in China’s ability to 

handle biohazards, and the source of the infection could not be fully traced. 

135

CHAPTER 5

CHINESE DECISIONMAKING UNDER STRESS:

THE TAIWAN STRAIT, 1995-2004

Richard Bush

Introduction.

 Several times during the last decade, tensions in the Taiwan 

Strait rose to a dangerous degree. In each case, the People’s Republic 

of China (PRC) concluded that actions by Taiwan threatened its 

fundamental interests and that action, not excluding some kind of 

military action, was necessary to demonstrate Chinese seriousness 

and compel a Taiwan retreat. Because the possibility of conflict―at 

least as the result of accident or miscalculation―was not trivial, 

the United States intervened to reduce that possibility and restore 

stability. The episodes, in summary form, are as follows:

 • In June of 1995, Taiwan President Lee Teng-hui made a visit 

to the United States. He spoke at Cornell University, his alma 

mater, about the island’s democratic transformation after 

decades of authoritarian rule. China irately suspended the 

semi-official contacts that had developed with the Taiwan 

government and engaged in military exercises to show its 

displeasure. It also downgraded its relations with the United 

States because Washington had allowed Lee to visit in the first 

place. Then in March 1996, at the time of the Taiwan election, 

it mounted even more aggressive displays of military force, 

including the launch of ballistic missiles to targets outside 

of the island’s ports. The United States, concerned that war 

might occur through accident or miscalculation and that 

China might misread its own resolve, sent two aircraft carrier 

battle groups to the Taiwan area. 

 • In July 1999, Lee Teng-hui announced in a press interview 

that cross-Strait relations were between two states (or 

countries―the Chinese term that Lee used is ambiguous). 
136

China then unleashed a propaganda barrage against Lee. 

Chinese fighters patrolled further out over the Taiwan Strait 

than usual. To prevent tensions from escalating, the United 

States sent diplomats to both Beijing and Taipei to encourage 

restraint.

 • In March 2000, it became clear that Chen Shui-bian, the 

candidate of the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP), a party 

that had advocated establishment of a Republic of Taiwan 

completely separate from China, might win the election for 

president. At a press conference a few days before Taiwan 

voters were to cast their ballots, China Premier Zhu Rongji 

declared in threatening tones that, “Taiwan independence 

means war.” Because Beijing had already in effect declared 

that Chen was the candidate of Taiwan independence, Zhu’s 

bluster suggested that a Chen victory would be a casus belli. 

Chen did win the election, and Washington again sent envoys 

to urge restraint.

 • In 2002 and 2003, Chen Shui-bian, as part of his campaign for 

re-election, made a series of statements that Beijing interpreted 

as evidence that he was preparing to “break out” of the status 

quo. It believed that his proposals to institute referenda and 

write a new constitution signaled that he would make Taiwan 

independent under the cloak of democracy, and so issued 

increasingly shrill warnings. The United States sought in 

various ways to dissuade Chen from this course, culminating 

in President Bush’s criticism of Chen on December 9, 2003. 

Beijing responded to Chen’s subsequent victory more calmly 

than it did 4 years before, yet the belief became increasingly 

common in China that military conflict was inevitable.

 We may debate whether all of these episodes necessarily meet 

the Brecher and Wildkenfeld definition of a crisis, that is, a situation 

that (a) is a threat to basic values or core interests; (b) produces a 

sense of urgency in devising a response; and (c) has the potential for 

military conflict, large-scale violence or mass casualties. In all four, 

Beijing perceived that there was an acceleration of a trend toward the 

permanent separation of Taiwan (“independence”) and foreclosure 
137

on the aspiration of national unification. That outcome was utterly 

unacceptable because the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) regime 

had bound its legitimacy to “returning Taiwan to the Motherland.” 

Arguably, the first two episodes better qualify, because the PRC 

responded with displays of force and so they had the potential to 

lead to conflict, at least through accident or miscalculation. The other 

two did not include that critical element, yet even they were not 

trivial because they included Chinese rhetorical threats to use force. 

The Clinton administration certainly took the 2000 case seriously, 

and the Bush administration worked hard to contain the 2003-04 

one. The degree of urgency is also a question mark. The 1995-96 and 

2003-04 episodes occurred over a period of months. Moreover, in no 

case was there a specific Taiwan action that Beijing required before 

tensions could decline (analogous to withdrawing missiles from 

Cuba). Often the objective was to reshape the environment, slow the 

unwanted trend or reduce its obviousness, and influence the views 

of the United States.

 So these episodes may fall within the mini-crisis or near-crisis 

part of the spectrum. Yet they all placed the Chinese system under 

some degree of stress. And the fact that Taiwan is at the center of 

each allows us to assess PRC behavior over the range of cases. Is 

there a common Chinese approach to stress or crisis management in 

all of them or do we observe some degree of learning?1

Context: Security Dilemma.

 At the outset, it is worth observing that Taiwan and the PRC are 

trapped in a security dilemma. Each sees the power of the other and 

fears how it might be used. Each takes steps to guard against that 

threat, only to trigger a hedging response from the other side. Thus 

Beijing and Taipei each add new systems to their respective arsenals 

to counter the acquisitions of the other. In the 1990s, the PRC acquired 

advanced fighter aircraft from Russia (the Sukhoi-27s and 30s) and 

Taiwan secured F-16s from the United States and Mirage 2000s from 

France. Over that same decade, Beijing bought Kilo-class submarines 

from Russia and Taiwan requested diesel-powered submarines from 

the United States. The PRC produced indigenously a growing force 
138

of short- and medium-range ballistic missiles, and Taiwan sought to 

acquire missile defense capabilities―and did get Patriot batteries―

from the United States. In addition, the Taiwan armed forces worked 

to improve institutional ties with their American counterparts.

 This state of affairs has a long history, of course. Yet the series of 

episodes that began with Lee Teng-hui’s U.S. trip demonstrates that, 

even though the two sides of the Strait are engaged in something of 

an arms race, this is not the classic security dilemma as described 

in the international relations literature. It is not a simple case where 

Beijing fears that Taipei’s arms acquisitions make it more vulnerable 

to attack. What Beijing dreads instead are Taiwan political initiatives 

to permanently separate the island from China, or, as they might 

put it, seizing Chinese national territory by fiat rather than force. 

Taiwan’s military power and its de facto alliance with the United 

States become relevant not because they are inherently threatening 

but because they are seen as useful in defending those political 

initiatives. It is at least to deter those steps and to counter Taiwan’s 

defensive military build-up that the PLA acquires new capabilities. 

And it is supposedly to allay those fears that Beijing has asked Taipei 

to reaffirm the one-China principle. The central political dimension of 

this security dilemma gives it an asymmetrical and perhaps unique 

character. As Thomas Christensen so elegantly puts it:

Security dilemma theorists have assumed that international security 

politics concerns merely defending sovereign territory from invasion 

and foreign acquisition. [But] to a large degree, the Taiwan question is 

one more of the island’s political identity than of the PRC’s territorial 

expansion. The danger to the PRC is that Taiwan might eventually move 

from de facto independence to legal independence, thus posing an affront 

to Chinese nationalism and a danger to regime stability in Beijing.2

 This security dilemma has another political dimension. That is 

the PRC’s use of united-front tactics within Taiwan to try to prevent 

what it most seeks to avoid (independence) and perhaps secure 

what it seeks (unification on its terms). Beijing’s effort to manipulate 

Taiwan politics aggravates the anxiety felt by some segments of the 

Taiwan public and leads them to suspect the worst of PRC intentions. 

(Note the asymmetrical nature of this situation; Taipei doesn’t have 

the option of meddling in Chinese politics). 
139

 An important dimension of this dilemma is a heavy overhang of 

mistrust. Not only does each side watch the actions of the other and 

take steps to deter the worst, neither believes that the other will keep 

its word, no matter what promises it might make. 

 For Taipei, the dilemma is even more profound. It has relied 

on the United States for its security since 1950 and will continue 

to do so because it is in an increasingly weak position militarily. 

With this quasi-alliance come the problems of any alliance: fears 

of abandonment and entrapment. Taipei worries, sometimes to a 

paranoid degree, that Washington will, either by accident or design, 

sacrifice its interests for the sake of relations with Beijing. Washington 

worries sometimes that the initiatives of Taiwan’s leaders will drag 

it into an unnecessary conflict with China. 

Context: PRC (Mis-)Perceptions of the Taiwan Threat 

to Its Interests.

 If it is Taiwan political developments that drive the security 

dilemma for China, then how Beijing defines the threat that those 

developments pose becomes important in assessing its crisis 

management. This is a complicated issue, but Beijing’s working 

hypothesis has been that Lee Teng-hui’s goal since at least the early 

1990s, and Chen’s since before he became president, was to obstruct 

unification and permanently separate Taiwan from China. That 

general perception has colored China’s reaction to specific initiatives 

and events and so contributed to the level of stress it felt in each of 

the cases under review. 

 There are, to be sure, people on Taiwan who would like their 

homeland to be a totally independent country with no special 

relationship to China, and they exert pressure within the political 

system. Even more Taiwan people would share that objective if it 

could be achieved without cost (military action by China). There 

is no question that Lee Teng-hui and Chen Shui-bian have during 

their presidencies said things and taken actions that violate Beijing’s 

sense of how they should talk and act and reinforces its own fears of 

a break-out. 

 Yet my own research on their statements and actions suggests that 

Beijing has generally misunderstood Lee’s and Chen’s agenda (and 
140

that of the Democratic Progressive Party, which Chen leads). Contrary 

to the PRC view, Lee Teng-hui did not, in fact, oppose unification in 

principle. Instead he took a firm and consistent stand on the terms 

and conditions that would define Taiwan and its unification with the 

mainland. And although Chen led a traditionally pro-independence 

party, his formal statements clearly preserve the option of certain 

kinds of unification. For both presidents, the question was not so 

much whether Taiwan was a part of China but how it was a part 

of China. For them, one country, two systems was simply not an 

acceptable answer to that question, because it would place the postunification Taiwan government in a subordinate status vis-à-vis the 

central government in Beijing. In their view, their government is a 

sovereign entity, and the PRC has to take that into account. Beijing, 

however, has interpreted Taiwan initiatives that are contrary to one 

country, two systems as separatist. It tends to reject the idea that 

national unification can occur among sovereign entities (which it 

has). Of course, designing a workable confederation, federation, or 

commonwealth for the cross-Strait context would not be easy. But that 

is different from saying that Lee and Chen were ipso facto separatists 

because they adopted the substantive approach that they did. A less 

narrow approach to the question of national unions might yield a 

different outcome. A different Chinese approach to how Taiwan was 

part of China might produce Taiwan acceptance that it should be a 

part of China. 

 Some might argue that Lee and Chen said one thing and did 

another. Thus Beijing has cited an array of their actions as further 

evidence of separatist intent (such as, reform of the political structure, 

fostering a Taiwan identity, purchasing weapons from the United 

States, and seeking more international space). Yet most of these steps 

were important for their own sake, and responded to demands from 

within Taiwan society. The purchase of arms from the United States 

was, in part, a response to Beijing’s own military modernization 

and its refusal to renounce the use of force. All were consistent 

with Taipei’s definition of its status as a sovereign government. 

None constituted prima facie proof that Lee and Chen intended to 

separate Taiwan from China permanently―unless the formula for 

unification excluded those elements, as China’s did. If one looks at 

specifics, moreover, Lee’s actions―his 1995 visit to the United States, 
141

for example―do not necessarily have the meaning that Beijing and 

others attribute to them. 

 Moreover, Lee and Chen were right in the mainstream of Taiwan 

views since democratization on the basics of cross-Strait relations. 

Public opinion and all major political parties shared their view 

that the government possessed sovereignty, that the people of the 

island had a right to be represented in the international system, and 

that the PRC’s growing military capabilities were an obstacle to 

reconciliation. Lee and Chen helped shape that opinion, of course. 

They exploited the fears of Taiwan people toward China’s threat 

to the island’s security and political well-being. But the consensus 

they fostered would not have been possible had such sentiments not 

already existed in latent form and Beijing not taken steps designed 

to intimidate the Taiwan populace. 

 Beijing’s definition of Lee and Chen as separatists became the 

lens through which it interpreted any new actions, particularly 

the unexpected and the departure from routine practice. Those 

initiatives became evidence of the acceleration of a negative trend, 

one that would only get worse if it was not nipped in the bud. Lee’s 

American trip, his “two-state” formulation, Chen’s 2000 election, 

and his re-election proposals all signaled, in PRC eyes, a looming 

break-out that required rapid and decisive action if the situation was 

to be contained.3

 As an aside, it is worth noting that the Taiwan initiatives that 

Beijing found so provocative did not occur in a vacuum. Both Lee and 

Chen, each in his own way, were responding to a rigid PRC stance 

that continued even after they, in their minds, sought to demonstrate 

an openness to some form of unification. Each responded to Chinese 

recalcitrance with mounting frustration and toughening of their 

respective approaches. Thus, Lee Teng-hui’s decision to pursue a 

visit to the United States was driven in part by his unhappiness with 

Beijing’s strong opposition to his search for a flexible reentry into 

the international system. There is evidence that he made his stateto-state pronouncement in part because he had received information 

that Beijing would make an announcement that would frame crossStrait relations in a way that would put Taiwan on the defensive. 

He therefore decided that he should preempt that statement with 
142

one of his own.4 One can make a persuasive argument that Chen’s 

initiatives during the 2003-04 election campaign reflected not only 

his compelling need to rally his political base but also his frustration 

that Beijing had not reciprocated his effort to steer a middle course 

during the previous campaign and the first 2 years of his presidency. 

Lee’s and Chen’s reactions to Beijing’s actions then fostered an even 

harsher Chinese response.

 To sum up the argument so far: China and Taiwan are locked in a 

security dilemma in which Beijing fears political initiatives by Taipei 

that would foreclose its goal of national unification and permanently 

separate Taiwan from China. For at least the last decade, it has had 

a strong bias to believing that Taiwan’s leaders have just such a 

separatist intention, even though there is another explanation for 

their behavior. And Beijing ignores the possibility that its own actions 

may be stimulating that behavior and the resulting spiral of hostility. 

How do these contextual factors condition China’s response when 

a stress-inducing situation occurs? The decisionmaking system, an 

absence of cross-Strait dialogue, domestic politics, and the role of the 

United States are all relevant factors.

The PRC Decisionmaking System.

 Michael Swaine offers the most thorough description of PRC 

policymaking concerning Taiwan. He concludes that during routine 

periods the policy process on Taiwan has become “highly regularized, 

bureaucratic, and consensus oriented.” As the issue has become 

more complex and its salience for senior leaders increased, so too 

has the number of actors and their responsibilities. Decisionmaking 

is characterized by “extensive horizontal and vertical consultation, 

deliberation, and coordination.” At the highest levels, discordant 

views are harmonized or muted through a process of informal 

deliberation among the senior leadership.5

 Yet Swaine’s information suggests a policymaking process that 

remains fairly centralized. Jiang Zemin dominated Taiwan policy 

during his time as state chairman and did so until he gave up the 

chairmanship of the Central Military Commission in September 

2004. The consensus norms of the Politburo Standing Committee 

(PSC) created some constraint on him, but not an absolute one. Line 
143

agencies provide information and carry out instructions but appear 

to have no role in policy initiative or formulation. This is consistent 

with Chinese foreign policymaking as a whole, which Ning Lu 

describes as “highly centralized and . . . very much personalized.6

Moreover, Swaine suggests that in a crisis, centralization is even 

more pronounced. Then the PSC asserts itself relative to the Taiwan 

Affairs Leaders’ Small Group, and senior military leaders and the 

Central Military Committee (CMC) participates in decisionmaking 

that has a military dimension.7

 The danger of this centralized, personalized policy process that 

already starts with a general misunderstanding of Taiwan intentions 

is that senior-level officials of the foreign-policy process will 

“highjack” the policy response. Because those leaders are senior, they 

are unlikely to be challenged by lower levels whose understanding 

is more nuanced, but instead will receive deference and obedience 

from their subordinates. To be sure, this phenomenon is not unique 

to the PRC. It is common with all actors, including Taiwan and the 

United States. But it is a tendency to which China is particularly 

prone.

 We can see the dysfunctional character of the PRC decisionmaking 

system in how it performed in the Taiwan Strait crisis of 1995-96. The 

consensus of a number of scholars on that episode is as follows:8

• The PRC leadership believed that Lee’s actions to expand 

Taiwan’s international space reflected his intention of “Taiwan 

independence.” 

 • It regarded Lee’s activities and American complicity in them 

as a threat to China’s vital interests. 

 • It chose to employ coercive diplomacy to demonstrate China’s 

serious resolve, to compel Taiwan and the United States to 

reverse course, and to deter other countries from following 

the U.S. lead. 

 • It concluded after the fact that the benefits of the action 

outweighed the liabilities. 

 In evaluating the quality of Chinese decisionmaking during this 

episode, there are several questions that must be addressed. First of 
144

all, was this simply a case of a PRC reaction to a Lee Teng-hui action? 

Although it is a staple of PRC foreign policy rhetoric that it is always 

others (not China) that create problems, I have suggested that the 

Taiwan actions to which the PRC reacted may, in fact, have been Lee 

Teng-hui’s and Chen Shui-bian’s response to Beijing’s rigid approach 

to cross-Strait relations (concerning unification formulas, Taiwan’s 

international space, etc.).

 Second, did Beijing accurately perceive Lee Teng-hui’s intentions 

when it concluded that he was pursuing an independent Taiwan? By 

and large, the scholars cited here tend to accept the PRC’s assessment. 

Yet as discussed above, Beijing’s narrow approach to unification (one 

country, two systems) ignored approaches to unification that were 

more Taiwan-friendly and fostered a very expansive definition of 

what constituted independence. 

 Third, did the PRC accurately judge U.S. intentions? It appears 

that Beijing believed what it wanted to believe: that Washington 

would not allow Lee Teng-hui to visit the United States. But Warren 

Christopher clearly tried in late April 1995 to signal Vice Premier 

Qian Qichen that the Congress might well take the decision out 

of the Administration’s hands. Washington’s dual signals may 

have continued, but China can be faulted for not taking seriously 

the negative warnings. It is also worth noting that if Lee was not 

pursuing a secessionist agenda, then the United States could not have 

been supporting such an agenda either, as Beijing claimed. Indeed, 

the Clinton administration was the victim of domestic political 

pressure to treat Lee well, pressure that Lee himself had stimulated. 

A more controversial question concerns the PLA’s summer 1995 

exercises, which it conducted to show China’s displeasure and 

resolve concerning Lee’s trip. Did Beijing interpret the relatively 

mild American rhetorical response as an invitation to act more 

aggressively later on? On this question, on which there may be no 

early answer, there is obvious disagreement. It does seem, however, 

that the dispatch of the two carrier groups in March 1996 caught 

Beijing by surprise.

 Fourth, did Lee Teng-hui’s course of action threaten China’s vital 

interests? If Beijing misperceived and exaggerated Lee’s intentions, 

then its assessment of China’s interests was probably flawed. If Lee 
145

truly sought the permanent separation of Taiwan from China, then 

his success would thwart China’s goal of national unification―or at 

least undermine the legitimacy of the CCP, as it defined it. But if his 

goal was to not to reject unification per se but to question Beijing’s 

terms and conditions, then Beijing miscalculated the challenge he 

posed. 

 Fifth, was coercive diplomacy the appropriate way to deal with 

the challenge that Lee represented? Again, if the definition of the 

problem and assessment of the affected interests were flawed, then 

the action taken could well be flawed also. In a way, PRC leaders 

were attacking symptoms of the problem and not addressing the 

cause of the problem itself. They responded to Lee Teng-hui’s 

high-profile travel (and American cooperation) and succeeded in 

discouraging subsequent trips. But if the underlying problem was a 

rather fundamental difference of opinion on how Taiwan might be a 

part of China, then perhaps coercive diplomacy only exacerbated the 

problem.

 Finally, how should we assess the balance of costs and benefits 

of its displays of force? Chinese spokesmen admit there were costs. 

Beijing has been more cautious in subsequent elections about taking 

even low-level military steps because it has gradually realized that 

its actions in 1996 (and statements in 2000) were counterproductive, 

in that they probably strengthened the political positions of those 

they opposed. On the other hand, the overall Chinese assessment is 

that benefits outweighed costs. Robert Ross reports that this was the 

conclusion of the leadership.9

 Yet if we look again at the two sides of 

the ledger above and do so more objectively, it is difficult to avoid the 

conclusion that on balance the negatives outweighed the positives. 

Lee Teng-hui was more restrained, and the United States reaffirmed 

the basic principles of its China policy and became more engaged in 

encouraging Lee’s restraint. Taiwan understood better the dangers of 

crossing China’s bottom line, but it was also more hostile to the idea 

of unification. Other countries, including the United States, were less 

likely to cooperate with Lee Teng-hui’s international initiatives, but 

they were more worried about Chinese intentions and the prospects 

for conflict. (That Beijing sees the episode as a relative success should 

itself be a cause for concern.)
146

 We see the same rush to judgment and, sometimes, rush to 

action in other episodes. In 1999, Beijing interpreted Lee Teng-hui’s 

state-to-state formula as a new step toward permanent separation 

and undertook more aggressive PLA Air Force (PLAAF) patrols 

in the Strait. Yet a case can be made that Lee was merely making 

explicit what was implicit in Taiwan’s long-standing position in 

anticipation of political negotiations. How he deployed that formula 

was inappropriate (and his staff knew it), but the content was not 

really new. In early 2000, Beijing suddenly woke up to the possibility 

that Chen might win and responded by threatening war (Zhu Rongji 

may have thus secured Chen’s victory). During late 2003 and early 

2004, Beijing took an absolutist approach to constitutional revision 

(in contrast to the United States, which focused more on problems of 

substance and process). 

 It is true that as a result of the 1995-96 crisis and the 1999 and 

2001 episodes, the PRC has sought to remedy the defects in its 

decisionmaking process concerning Taiwan. For example, the 

agencies responsible for interpreting developments on the island 

are probably more accurate in their analysis of events and their 

significance. The temptation to over-react has been resisted. Beijing 

showed greater restraint as the campaign for the March 2004 

presidential election unfolded.10 Yet Robert Suettinger’s judgment 

on how the new Chinese leadership would cope in a future crisis 

is probably on the mark. “At some point, . . . Hu [Jintao] and Wen 

[Jiabao] may find themselves in a situation in which they need reliable 

information, short time-frame decisions, and sound judgment on a 

foreign policy issue. It is fair to wonder whether the decisionmaking 

system currently in place in China―opaque, noncommunicative, 

distrustful, rigidly bureaucratic, inclined to deliver what they think 

the leaders want to hear, strategically dogmatic, yet susceptible to 

political manipulation for personal gain―will be up to the task of 

giving good advice.”11

The Politics of National Security.

 Chinese decisionmaking, on Taiwan and anything else, takes 

place within a political context in which leaders must take account 

of both the views of their colleagues and competitors and the public 
147

mood. By virtue of history, nationalism, and foreign policy, therefore, 

a PRC leader who is perceived to have mismanaged the Taiwan Strait 

issue and to have been duped by the United States is a leader who 

is vulnerable to criticism from his colleagues, from foreign policy 

experts, and from the public. The danger for the party is that its 

already weak legitimacy would be further undermined. Regaining 

the island is the brass ring of Chinese politics; to somehow “lose” 

Taiwan can be the kiss of death. How the leaders respond to these 

political forces can affect crisis-management.

 On the elite level, Jiang Zemin was fairly free to call the tune 

concerning Taiwan from around 1994, and did so until he stepped 

down from his various positions, beginning in the fall of 2000 and 

departing the final one in March 2005. The only major exception to 

his dominance came in 1995 when some of his colleagues criticized 

him for allowing the Lee Teng-hui visit to the United States. Even 

in this case, information is limited and Western scholars disagree 

to some extent on the degree of elite conflict. Robert Suettinger 

concludes that during the 1995-96 crisis “there can be little doubt 

that leadership frictions and competition for power continued 

throughout the period, and may have intensified, given the high 

tension of the situation.” At least two of Jiang’s civilian political 

rivals―Qiao Shi and Li Ruihuan―used the Taiwan crisis to put Jiang 

on the defensive. 

 What is less clear is whether there was a split between the military 

and the rest of the leadership on how to respond to the Lee visit. 

One school of thought, represented by Suettinger, John Garver, and 

Tai-ming Cheung, concludes that the military had opposed civilian 

policies for some time and used events like the Lee visit to impose 

their views on Jiang, constraining his options and forcing a tougher 

policy that employed training exercises as tools for intimidation. 

They, along with some civilians, constrained Jiang’s options. Others, 

particularly Michael Swaine and You Ji, tend to dismiss the idea of 

a deep division over Taiwan. They see a consultative policy process 

(not a factional one), in which the leadership altered its policy 

consensus to respond to changing circumstances. Both civilian and 

military leaders agreed that a tough response to Lee’s visit was 

required. The military was one participant in that process and had a 

relatively significant impact when national security issues were on 
148

the agenda. Actors differed on the timing and nature of the response. 

Civilians stressed diplomatic and political measures, while military 

officers favored military ones. In a more recent assessment, Jing 

Huang says there are differences between civilian and military 

leaders but attributes them to institutional differences. Civilians 

focus on containing crises; generals prefer to show strength and 

resolve (which could exacerbate the crisis).12

In the summer of 2004, there were reports of policy conflict 

between Jiang on the one side, and Hu Jintao and Wen Jiabao on the 

other.13 Most observers concluded, however, that the toughening of 

the Chinese position was primarily a response to what the Chinese 

regarded as a deteriorating situation and secondarily an effort by 

Jiang to reaffirm his authority as CMC chairman. There was no 

observable difference between him and Hu and Wen on the substance 

of Taiwan policy.

 Beyond the elite, Jiang appears to have developed a skillful 

approach for responding to outpourings of nationalistic sentiment 

over perceived external challenges on controversial issues like 

Taiwan. The most sophisticated case study of this pattern remains 

David Finklestein’s analysis of the “peace and development” debate 

of 1999, which occurred in the aftermath of the accidental North 

Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) bombing of the Chinese 

embassy in Yugoslavia, when righteous indignation and moral 

grievance combined to fuel the most serious demonstrations since 

Tiananmen.14 Jiang did not try right away to suppress the public 

response and did not restrict discussion on call-in shows, thus 

allowing the public to vent its anger for a while. He also fostered a 

debate on foreign and security policy among intellectuals, which fed 

into the summer leadership meetings at Beidaihe. One side argued 

that the Kosovo War and the Belgrade bombing did not represent a 

significant change in the geopolitical equation, the intentions of the 

United States, or the context of China’s security. They argued that 

for a relatively weak China to confront the United States would be 

too dangerous. Another asserted that the United States was “bent 

on maintaining its global hegemony by military means,” and that 

China should take the lead in organizing a coalition against U.S. 

hegemonism. In the end, the leadership arrived at a new consensus 

that emphasized continuity (“peace and development” was still the 
149

dominant trend) but which bowed toward the more negative view 

and admitted that “hegemonism and power politics” was on the 

rise. 

 It happened that Lee Teng-hui’s July 1999 statement concerning 

“special state-to-state relations” occurred during the middle of the 

response to Kosovo and Belgrade. Again, there was an outburst of 

nationalistic fervor, which continued for a month or so. When the 

leadership met at Beidaihe for its summer conclave, Taiwan was 

discussed at length and critics said their piece. Jiang likely reminded 

them that relations with the United States were on the mend after 

the damage caused by Belgrade, and that China lacked the ability to 

respond militarily. Ultimately, however, the meeting “agreed on a 

nuanced but only slightly less militant approach to the Taiwan issue. 

Qian [Qichen] announced . . . essentially a reiteration of existing 

policy.” And Jiang secured a symbolic victory at his September 

meeting with President Clinton at the Asia Pacific Economic 

Cooperation (APEC) Summit, when Clinton acknowledged that 

Lee’s remarks had created trouble.15

 Similar dynamics were at play after Lee Teng-hui’s visit to the 

United States, Jiang came under some pressure not only from within 

the immediate leadership circle but from outside it as well. Leftist 

forces had been criticizing him publicly over the difficulties facing 

state-owned enterprises and the growth of private firms. Then Lee’s 

visit sparked a firestorm of nationalistic attacks. This was, for example, 

the period that the nativist tract, China Can Say No, was published. 

Moreover, elements of the party and the government criticized 

the Ministry of Foreign Affairs for its weakness over U.S.-China 

relations. Under this pressure, “those with more moderate views on 

Sino-U.S. relations found it difficult to express their opinions.” Jiang 

had to bide his time before regaining the initiative.16 In 2003 and 

2004, some intellectuals and chat-room netizens called for a stronger 

response to Chen Shui-bian’s proposal for a new constitution and his 

re-election. 

 In sum, Jiang Zemin and his colleagues in the leadership have 

managed the politics of foreign policy by permitting the controlled 

expression of conflicting views, some of them fairly critical.17 His 

modus operandi is consistent with the view of those scholars (Suisheng 
150

Zhao, for example) who believe that the regime uses nationalism 

pragmatically, in a way that is instrumental, reactive, and statecentered.18 It is also appropriate for the asymmetrical strategic 

situation in which the PRC finds itself, with a security culture that 

favors robust displays of resolve in the face of threats, but a military 

establishment that does not yet possess the capabilities necessary to 

successfully engage in coercive diplomacy.

 In terms of crisis management, however, a strategy that 

manipulates nationalism instrumentally by permitting constrained 

public ventings in times of trouble carries some risks. There was, 

for example, the danger that the violent demonstrations against the 

United States in May 1999, which the regime tolerated, might be 

turned against it. 

Cross-Strait (Non)Communication.

The absence of authoritative cross-Strait communication 

compounds the difficulties of crisis management. Again, this is a 

complicated subject with a long history. The essential point is that since 

1995, with one exception, Beijing has insisted that Taiwan commit to 

the “one-China principle” before formal dialogue can occur. It does 

so because it has concerns about Taiwan’s fundamental intentions 

and wants some reassurance that what it believes is goodwill will 

not be exploited. Yet this stance has a perverse impact. The desire 

for reassurance on the big picture deprives Beijing of a mechanism 

to ensure that episodes of tension do not spin out of control.

 Taipei is unwilling to accept the one-China principle, for fear 

of making concessions up front that would sacrifice fundamental 

interests. And it has reason to be wary. As part of its negotiations 

playbook, Beijing seeks to get its adversary’s acceptance of basic 

principles at the outset, which it then manipulates to its advantage 

thereafter. Even without this clear tendency, imposing preconditions 

for negotiations generally denies the side that is asked to accept 

them sufficient information about what the end of the process will 

be. Knowing the end-state is particularly important in the case of 

Taiwan, for which the issue is the island’s ultimate future and where 

leaders are publicly accountable through elections.19
151

Substantively, Taiwan has had several concerns about the oneChina principle. For purposes of cross-Strait relations, it is now 

defined as follows: “There is only one China in the world. Both the 

mainland and Taiwan belong to one China. China’s sovereignty and 

territorial integrity brook no division.” The Taiwan government 

would find this formulation problematic on a couple of counts. First 

of all, it would fear that accepting the idea that China’s sovereignty 

cannot be divided would undermine its fundamental claim that 

it possesses sovereignty. Second, it would not necessarily regard 

the statement that the mainland and Taiwan belong to one China 

as concurrence with the equality it asserts between the Republic of 

China (ROC) and the PRC. In referring to the mainland and Taiwan, 

Jiang is citing geographic entities, not governmental ones. And to 

say that both “belong” implies no equivalence. 

 Moreover, Taipei is also quite aware that this is the definition of 

the one-China principle that Beijing uses for cross-Strait relations. 

There is another one, often used for the international community, 

that is an even more explicit rejection of Taiwan’s view of its legal 

identity. Its elements are that there is one China in the world, Taiwan 

is a “province” of that China, and the PRC government is the sole 

representative of China. This formulation indicates clearly that, in 

Beijing’s eyes, Taiwan is a unit subordinate to the central government 

and has no equivalent role in the international system. As such, it is a 

stronger reason to view the one-China principle as a negotiating trap 

and a reason to refuse to accept it.

 There is another formula that Beijing cites as a means to resume 

dialogue, if only Taipei would reaffirm it. That is the so-called 1992 

consensus, the exchange of fax messages by which the two sides 

agreed to “orally” express their respective views on the one-China 

principle in order to facilitate the April 1993 meeting between Koo 

Chen-fu and Wang Daohan and the signing of several technical 

agreements.20 In theory, this set of overlapping statements might 

be a basis for the two sides to return to dialogue, if Beijing needs a 

symbolic fig leaf to justify resuming dialogue for pragmatic reasons, 

and if Taipei were willing to take a chance on offering one. But in the 

absence of a prior consultation to build mutual confidence as to what 

the “consensus” means, it may have outlasted its value as a means to 
152

bridge differences. The two sides now differ considerably on what 

the consensus means. Beijing asserts, as Qian Qichen put it in January 

2003, that “the two organizations reached a consensus allowing each 

side to express in verbal form the formulation ‘both sides of the 

Strait uphold the one-China principle.’”21 The most that people in 

Taiwan would say is that the two sides had their respective ways 

of defining one China, a view that Beijing has consistently rejected. 

That being the case, the Chen government feared that accepting the 

1992 consensus would end up being a back-door acceptance of the 

one-China principle as Beijing defines it. 

The breakdown of public dialogue has been accompanied by 

an absence of private contacts. There was at least one instance―in 

the early 1990s―when the authoritative representatives of the 

senior Beijing and Taipei leaderships met regularly over a period 

of 4 1/2 years. Lee Teng-hui’s representative was Su Chih-ch’eng, 

the member of his staff whom he trusted the most. There were a 

series of interlocutors on the PRC side: Nan Huajin, a Hong Kong 

figure with good mainland connections; Yang Side, a subordinate 

of Yang Shangkun, then PRC state president and the key figure on 

Taiwan policy; Wang Daohan; and Zeng Qinghong. What we know 

of the operation of this channel suggests key interlocutors were 

clearly speaking for their principals, so all could have confidence in 

what was said. Each side could explain the dynamics of its domestic 

political environment and how they would―or would not―affect 

negotiations. Each could test its ideas for removing substantive and 

procedural obstacles. Each could preview upcoming actions and 

statements, place them in an objective context, and influence the 

other’s reaction. But the contacts ended with Lee’s visit to the United 

States, and as far as is known, have not resumed in any similar 

form.22

Subsequently, there have been any number of individuals―

businessmen, scholars, and so on―who act as self-appointed vehicles 

of private communication. And there are times when one side or the 

other at least gives the impression that these go-betweens operated 

with its blessing. All too often, however, these mechanisms fail 

because intermediaries do not really speak for the leaders they claim 

to represent. As a result, confidence in these channels has declined 

over time. Similarly, some individuals in the Democratic Progressive 
153

Party (DPP) have contacts with people on the mainland. Again, 

there is often uncertainty how effective such channels would be in a 

crisis.

The upshot is that no authoritative channels currently exist to 

mitigate tensions and contain conflict when they occur. For Beijing, 

communication with Taiwan takes a back seat to securing a pledge 

of the latter’s bona fides. Rejected is the contrary approach, that 

communications channels are most required when mutual suspicion 

is the greatest―the stance that the PRC has taken since October 2002 

concerning the United States and North Korea. 

The American Factor.

China, of course, regards the United States as a key factor in the 

Taiwan equation. In January 2001, Qian Qichen offered a telling―

and exaggerated―commentary on China’s view of the American 

impact: 

If foreign countries [i.e., the United States] interfere in the Taiwan issue, 

the local Taiwan Independence factions will rely on this kind of foreign 

interference to stir up splittism, and cause the Taiwan problem to drag on 

forever. That is just not possible. The question of national reunification 

must be decided. If the American Government takes a stance of supporting 

peaceful reunification, then it will be of very great use. If it says to Taiwan, 

“do not be afraid, we will protect you and we will sell you arms, we 

will stand behind you, we can act behind the scenes for you,” then the 

situation is quite different. Consequently, if the U.S. wants to play a role 

here, first they must not support Taiwan independence, and they must not 

support Taiwan splitting away. They must not support any type of splittist 

activities by Taiwan on the international stage. [If they do not,] I do not see 

where Taiwan has any power, nor any reason to refuse reunification.23

That is, Beijing sees American support to Taiwan as both the only 

obstacle to a successful application of pressure and intimidation and 

a stimulus for the Taiwan initiatives that, in its eyes, reflect a looming 

separatist break-out. By implication, energizing the United States to 

block those initiatives has been an essential element in Chinese crisis 

management. And in each of our four episodes, Beijing both blamed 

Washington to some degree for encouraging Taipei’s behavior and 

sought to get the United States to put it back in the box. 
154

In 1995-96, China concluded that the United States betrayed an 

absolute obligation to deny Lee a visa and was therefore complicit in 

his effort. Once the visit occurred, the PRC then suspended various 

unrelated elements of the bilateral relationship and used displays of 

force to challenge American credibility. There then ensued a lengthy 

process, over 2 years in toto, of putting the relationship back together. 

The culmination of that process, as far as Taiwan was concerned, 

was Clinton’s “three nos.”

In 1999, Washington was concerned enough about the PRC 

reaction (and specifically that an incident might result from ROC Air 

Force (ROCAF) and PLAAF planes flying close to each other) that it 

dispatched me to Taiwan and Stanley Roth and Ken Lieberthal to 

Beijing to urge restraint on both sides. That concern continued until 

September and the APEC meeting, when Clinton told Jiang Zemin 

that Lee’s words had “caused trouble.” China portrayed this as an 

American judgment that Lee was a troublemaker.

In early 2000, the Clinton administration was very worried that 

Beijing’s intemperate remarks―both in the February white paper and 

Zhu Rongji’s March warning―reflected a move towards some sort of 

military action. Again to encourage restraint, it sent Lee Hamilton 

and me to Taipei and used the previously scheduled Beijing trips 

of Richard Holbrooke and Sandy Berger. Washington remained 

firm in its opposition to the use of force, and added a new rhetorical 

requirement, that the Taiwan Strait issue be resolved with the assent 

of the people of Taiwan. 

 In late 2003, after keeping a low profile in the Taiwan election 

campaign, Beijing temporarily abandoned its policy of restraint. On 

the one hand, it sought to reassert the credibility of its resolve. PRC 

military experts warned that losing Taiwan was not an option. China 

was prepared to pay a high cost to “oppose Taiwan independence,” 

including giving up the Olympics, economic modernization, and so 

on.24 On the other, it intensified pressure on the Bush administration 

to restrain Chen. (In fact, Washington was itself frustrated that 

Taipei had ignored its repeated requests for restraint and had not 

engaged in the kind of prior consultation on initiatives that might 

provoke a forceful PRC response and draw the United States into a 

conflict by virtue of its security commitment to Taiwan and the need 

to preserve its own credibility.) Frustration and concern culminated 
155

in President Bush’s public statement on December 9, 2003, in the 

presence of PRC Premier Wen Jiabao that, “We oppose any unilateral 

decision by either China or Taiwan to change the status quo. And the 

comments and actions made by the leader of Taiwan indicate that he 

may be willing to make decisions unilaterally to change the status 

quo, which we oppose.” 

 Washington’s default approach on the Taiwan Strait issue is one 

of dual deterrence, combining warnings and reassurance to both 

sides of the Strait. On the one hand, it warns Beijing not to use force 

at the same time that it reiterates American nonsupport (or even 

opposition) to Taiwan independence. On the other, it warns Taiwan 

not to take political initiatives that might provoke a violent response 

from China, while reaffirming its support for Taiwan’s security. 

Beijing’s strategy in times of stress is to maximize Washington’s 

reassurance to it and encourage it to constrain Taipei more effectively. 

And it showed a willingness, particularly in the early episodes to use 

displays of force to demonstrate its resolve and, perhaps, rattle the 

United States into restraining Taipei. Moreover, the fact that the PRC 

usually does not have authoritative communications channels with 

Taiwan increases the American role.

Summing Up.

 There remains much that we do not know in the United States 

about how China manages the Taiwan Strait issue under conditions 

of stress. We would understand much more if we had the fine detail 

of leadership behavior, such as that which has been available for 

decades on the Kennedy administration’s actions during the Cuban 

missile crisis. Also valuable would be more information on the 

operational dimension of crisis management, the difficulty of which 

has become apparent in the post mortems on the Clinton and Bush 

administrations’ struggle to meet terrorist threats.

 What seems clear is that China approaches the Taiwan Strait 

issue fearful that the island’s leaders are going to “break out” and 

permanently separate Taiwan from China, thus posing a challenge 

to its fundamental interests in national unification. Aggravating 

this fear, I argue, is a Chinese misperception of Taipei’s intentions. 

In situations that qualify as crises, China’s decisionmaking system 

is prone to become even more centralized and personalized than 
156

it normally is, and to overreact to perceived Taiwan provocations. 

Political dynamics are mixed. Within the leadership, the Taiwan 

issue has not created factional splits, but it does not lend itself to 

moderate responses when tensions are high. With respect to the 

broader public, the leadership has shown some skill in managing 

nationalistic sentiment, but at some risk. The absence of direct 

dialogue makes crisis management more difficult. And Beijing relies 

on the United States to restrain Taiwan politically so it does not have 

to act militarily. 

 Has China learned anything from the episodes that occurred over 

the last 9 years? There is, it appears, a contrast between Beijing’s 

response to Lee Teng-hui’s American visit and his “state-to-state” 

proclamation on the one hand, and the stance taken toward the 2000 

and 2004 elections. The former were met with displays of force, the 

latter with talk of force (“Taiwan independence means war”). And 

from 1996 to 2000 to 2004, China took a progressively more restrained 

approach to the island’s presidential elections. China gained, it is 

clear, a growing understanding that taking an aggressive stance 

during the election campaign would inflame Taiwan opinion and 

bring about the very result that it sought to prevent.25 We can debate, 

however, whether this greater moderation in the attempted exercise 

of Chinese influence reflects learning, or was simply a function of the 

political strategy that Beijing adopted after May 2000. That strategy 

was to rely on economic attraction between the two sides of the Strait 

and the pan-Blue opposition within Taiwan to make Chen Shui-bian 

a one-term president. Whatever the case, the lesson for China of the 

March 2004 election, in which the campaign skill of the pan-Green 

overcame the pan-Blue’s critiques of Chen’s performance, would be 

that moderation does not work.

 If we look at the six factors discussed above, and granting that 

managing situations of stress is not easy and that other actors do 

have their own deficiencies, the future as it applies to Beijing is not 

comforting:

 • China’s sense of threat is probably more profound, as its 

confidence in the pan-Blue as a check against Chen has 

declined. Although some in China are studying creative 

alternatives to long-standing policy, the more dominant voice 

emphasizes the need for coercive capabilities.
157

 • Similarly, Beijing’s assessment of Chen Shui-bian’s and Lee 

Teng-hui’s intentions has not changed (“It’s independence, 

stupid!”). It has no trust in his recent inaugural commitments 

concerning constitutional revision.

 • Although the membership of the Taiwan Affairs Leaders’ 

Small Group has turned over, it is not clear whether the Fourth 

Generation’s views are any more creative than those of Jiang 

Zemin’s cohort, or whether it will reduce the tendency of 

the system to over-react when it comes to perceived Taiwan 

challenges.

 • Politically, Taiwan is still the third rail and nationalistic 

sentiment appears to remain strong.

 • Whereas a way was found after 1996 to resume dialogue, 

Beijing missed a significant opportunity in 2000 to engage 

Chen Shui-bian. How it did so made Chen more cautious. 

Having set Chen’s acceptance of the one-China principle as the 

precondition for dialogue in 2000 and so backed itself into a 

corner, China will find it very difficult to set that precondition 

aside in 2004 and beyond.

 • Finally, the United States remains deeply involved in ensuring 

that those crises or mini-crises that occur do not spin out of 

control. In Beijing’s mind, Washington’s role has become even 

more significant as hope for the pan-Blue recedes.26

 In short, there is little reason to believe that China’s handling of 

future situations of stress concerning Taiwan will be any better than 

its performance in the past. To be sure, China has many reasons not 

to go to war over Taiwan, and the leadership understands them. Yet 

the leadership also believes that there are certain lines that Taipei 

cannot be allowed to cross. The process by which will weigh these 

competing interests in the future will itself affect the outcome. 

ENDNOTES - CHAPTER 5

 1. This chapter draws extensively from my volume on cross-Strait relations, 

to be published in the summer of 2005 by the Brookings Institution Press and 

entitled Untying the Knot: Making Peace in the Taiwan Strait.
158

 2. Thomas J. Christensen, “The Contemporary Security Dilemma: Deterring a 

Taiwan Conflict,” Washington Quarterly, Vol. 25, No. 4, Autumn 2002, pp. 12-13.

 3. Some would argue that Chen went further than Lee in a separatist direction. 

They certainly spoke of these issues in somewhat different ways. Yet the core of 

their thinking―that the entity over which they presided possessed sovereignty and 

that any unification had to begin on that premise―was the same. Their differences 

were largely a function of where they started out (Lee in an anti-independence 

party and Chen in an anti-unification one), and the political constituencies to 

which they therefore had to appeal. 

 4. Zhongguo Shibao investigative report, Zhongguo Shibao, December 12, 2000 

(translation in author’s files); “Li Teng-hui Defends State-to-State Relationship,” 

Zhongguo Shibao, September 1, 1999, Foreign Broadcast Information Service (FBIS), 

CP9909010005, accessed September 1, 1999; interview with Lin Bih-jaw, February 

24, 2003. It is interesting to speculate whether the announcement that PRC leaders 

reportedly intended to make was, in fact, an earlier version of “The One-China 

Principle and the Taiwan Issue,” the “White Paper” ultimately issued in February 

2000.

 5. Michael D. Swaine, “Chinese Decisionmaking Regarding Taiwan, 1979-

2000,” in David Michael Lampton, ed., The Making of Chinese Foreign and Security 

Policy in the Era of Reform, Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2001, pp. 307-309.

 6. Swaine, “Chinese Decisionmaking Regarding Taiwan,” p. 309; Ning Lu, The 

Dynamics of Foreign-Policy Decisionmaking in China, Boulder: Westview Press, 1997, 

p. 76.

 7. Swaine, “Chinese Decisionmaking Regarding Taiwan,” p. 309.

 8. See, for example, Robert L. Suettinger, Beyond Tiananmen: The Politics of 

U.S.-China Relations, 1989-2000, Washington, DC: Brookings Institution Press, 

2003, pp. 200-263; John W. Garver, Face Off: China, the United States, and Taiwan’s 

Democratization, Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1997; the authors 

in Suisheng Zhao, ed., Across the Taiwan Strait: Mainland China, Taiwan, and the 

1995-1996 Crisis, New York: Routledge, 1999, particularly You Ji, “Changing 

Leadership Consensus: The Domestic Context of War Games,” pp. 77-98; Swaine, 

“Chinese Decisionmaking Regarding Taiwan”; Ross, “The 1995-96 Taiwan Strait 

Confrontation,” International Security, Vol. 25, No. 2, Fall 2000, pp. 87-123; Allen 

S. Whiting, “China’s Use of Force, 1950-1996, and Taiwan,” International Security, 

Vol. 26, No. 2, Fall 2001, pp. 120-123; and Tai Ming Cheung, “Chinese Military 

Preparations Against Taiwan Over the Next 10 Years,” in James R. Lilley and 

Chuck Downs, Crisis in The Taiwan Strait, Washington, DC: National Defense 

University Press, 1997.

 9. Ross, “The 1995-96 Taiwan Strait Confrontation,” p. 118. For a more recent 

assessment of the 1995-96 events by Major General Huang Bin of China’s National 

Defense University that emphasizes the benefits, see “Peace Will Prevail Only 

When the Two Sides of the Taiwan Strait Are Reunified―an Interview with Maj. 

Gen. Huang Bin, Noted Military Strategist on the Mainland,” Dagongbao, May 13, 

2002, FBIS, CPP20020513000048, accessed February 28, 2004.
159

 10. For an example of this restraint in operation, one in which PRC Taiwan 

specialists argued for “calmness” in Beijing’s response to Chen Shui-bian’s August 

2002 statement that there were “two countries on each side” of the Taiwan Strait, 

see “Roundup: Chen Shuibian’s Blunt Remarks Stir Up Turmoil, Mainland 

Experts Call on Making a Counterattack with Rationality and Calmess,” Zhongguo 

Tongxunshe, August 9, 2002, FBIS, CPP20020809000090. Presumably, the scholars’ 

public advice was a similar to what they were telling officials. And by inference, 

the officials listened.

 11. Robert L. Suettinger, “China’s Foreign Policymaking Process,” paper 

prepared for a Center for Strategic and International Studies meeting on “PRC 

Policymaking in the Wake of Leadership Change,” October 31, 2003. 

 12. Suettinger, Beyond Tiananmen: The Politics of U.S.-China Relations, 1989-

2000, pp. 224-225, 245-246, 262-263; You Ji, “Changing Leadership Consensus”; 

Garver, Face Off; Cheung, “Chinese Military Preparations”; Michael Swaine, 

“Decisionmaking Regarding Taiwan,” pp. 319-327; Jing Huang “The PLA’s Role 

in Policymaking Under the New Leadership,” paper prepared for a session on 

“PRC Policymaking in the Wake of Leadership Change,” Center for Strategic and 

International Studies, October 31, 2003, p. 13. David Finkelstein, in his paper for 

the same conference, states that the precise PLA role is basically unknown; see his 

“The Role of the PLA in the Chinese Policymaking Process.”

 13. “Jiang Puts Hard Line to the Test in China, Washington Post, May 31, 2004.

 14. David M. Finkelstein, “China Reconsiders Its National Security: The Great 

Peace and Development Debate of 1999,” Project Asia, The CNA Corporation, 

December 2000.

 15. Suettinger, Beyond Tiananmen, pp. 384-385.

 16. Joseph Fewsmith and Stanley Rosen, “The Domestic Context of Chinese 

Foreign Policy: Does Public Opinion Matter?” in David Michael Lampton, ed., The 

Making of Chinese Foreign and Security Policy in the Era of Reform, Stanford: Stanford 

University Press, 2001, pp. 176-177.

 17. Finkelstein, “China Reconsiders Its National Security,” p. 6. 

 18. Zhao, “Chinese nationalism and its International Orientations,” p. 23.

 19. Richard H. Solomon, China’s Negotatiating Behavior: Pursuing Interests 

Through ‘Old Friends’, Washington, DC: United States Institute for Peace Press, 

1999, pp. 71-75.

 20. The Association for Relations Across the Taiwan Straits (ARATS) said, 

“Both sides of the Taiwan Strait uphold that One-China principle and strive to 

seek national unification. However, in routine cross-Strait consultations, the 

political meaning of ‘One China’ will not be touched upon.” The Straits Exchange 

Foundation (SEF) said, “Although the two sides uphold the One-China principle 

in the process of striving for cross-strait national unification, each side has its own 

understanding of the meaning of one-China.”
160

 21. “Apparent Text of Qian Qichen Speech at Forum on Jiang’s Eight-Point 

Proposal,” Xinhua Domestic, January 24, 2003, FBIS, CPP20030124000041, accessed 

January 24, 2003.

 22. For this channel, see Zou Jingwen, Li Denghui Zhizheng Gaobai Shilu (Record 

of Revelations on Lee Denghui’s Administration), Taipei: INK, 2001, pp. 194-197.

 23. “Shemma Wenti Dou Keyi Taolun: Qian Qichen Fuzongli Jieshou 

Huashengdun Youbao Jizhe Pan Wen Caifang” (Anything Can Be Discussed: Vice 

Premier Qian Qichen Accepts an Interview by John Pomfret of the Washington 

Post), Shijie Zhishi, 2001, No. 3, February 2001, p. 14.

 24. Yang Liu, “Military Experts on War to Counter ‘Taiwan Independence’: 

Six Prices; War Criminals Cannot Escape Punishment,” Renmin Wang, December 

3, 2003, FBIS, CPP20031203000036, accessed March 27, 2004.

25. And at least one PRC scholar, Xu Shiquan, believes that Zhu Rongji’s 

bristling prediction did not help Chen win in March 2000.

26. It was after the pan-Blue caved on the referendum issue in November 2003 

that China escalated its pressure on the United States.
161

CHAPTER 6

DECISIONMAKING UNDER STRESS:

THE UNINTENTIONAL BOMBING OF CHINA’S BELGRADE 

EMBASSY AND THE EP-3 COLLISION

Paul H. B. Godwin

INTRODUCTION

 The accidental bombing of China’s Belgrade embassy in 1999 and 

the 2001 collision between a U.S. Navy (USN) reconnaissance aircraft 

and a Chinese navy fighter over the South China Sea were serious 

incidents in Sino-American relations. Both resulted in Chinese and 

American leaderships making decisions under high stress. At a simple 

descriptive level of analysis, both events were potentially avoidable 

tragedies. In the night of May 7, 1999 (early morning of May 8 in 

China), a faulty target designation process resulted in a U.S. Air 

Force (USAF) B-2 bomber unintentionally striking China’s Belgrade 

embassy with three global positioning system (GPS)-guided 2,000 lb 

bombs. Three Chinese journalists were killed and 20 embassy staff 

injured, together with extensive damage to the embassy compound. 

The collision between a USN EP-3 electronic surveillance aircraft 

and a People’s Liberation Army Navy (PLAN) F-8 on April 1, 2001, 

resulted from one of the two F-8 interceptors making an error as 

it maneuvered around the EP-3. The Chinese aircraft disintegrated 

and crashed into the South China Sea. The pilot was never recovered. 

The EP-3 was so extensively damaged, it had to make an emergency 

landing at the People’s Liberation Army Naval Aviation (PLANAv) Lingshui airfield on Hainan Island, where the aircraft’s 24 crew 

members were detained for 11 days. In both cases, human error 

rather than a deliberate policy choice was the incident’s catalyst. 

 This chapter will assess these incidents as case studies of Chinese 

and American decisionmaking under stress. The assessment will be 

structured into five components. First, the “context” will evaluate the 

state of Sino-American relations at the time of the incident. Second, 

the “response” will be assessed by evaluating the manner in which 
162

both governments reacted to the incidents. Third, the “negotiations” 

will be evaluated to determine what each government sought to 

achieve and tried to avoid as they negotiated a resolution to the 

incidents. Fourth, the “resolution” will be assessed to determine to 

what extent each government achieved its negotiating objectives. 

Finally, the negotiating strategy employed by Beijing will be assessed 

to determine whether there are patterns of decisionmaking under 

stress that are potentially useful for predicting China’s behavior 

in any future incidents producing high levels of tension in SinoAmerican relations.

THE UNINTENTIONAL BOMBING

Context.1

 Sino-American relations were rapidly deteriorating when the 

USAF B-2 unintentionally bombed China’s Belgrade embassy. 

The immediate cause of the degeneration was China’s objection 

to the North Atlantic Treaty Organization’s (NATO) air attack on 

Yugoslavia. NATO’s decision to launch Operation ALLIED FORCE 

was not taken to the United Nations Security Council (UNSC) for 

consideration and was therefore in Beijing’s eyes an illegitimate use 

of military force. China’s concerns, however, ran deeper than what 

Beijing saw as unilateral action by a U.S.-dominated alliance.

 Following the Taiwan Strait confrontation of 1995-96, President 

Jiang’s 1997 visit to the United States and President Clinton’s 

reciprocal visit to China in 1998 had significantly improved SinoAmerican relations. Nonetheless, Beijing’s longstanding concerns 

about U.S. post-Cold War strategy and intentions toward China 

remained.2 The core issue that arose was whether Deng Xiaoping’s 

“peace and development” principle declared in 1985 remained valid. 

Deng had argued then that the primary concern of the world’s major 

powers was peace and economic development. By the late 1990s, 

some Chinese analysts were suggesting that U.S. post-Cold War 

foreign policy had negated Deng’s prediction and China’s security 

was now threatened by American “hegemonism and power politics.” 

In addition to the Kosovo intervention, those arguing that American 
163

interventionism and power politics were a trend that threatened 

China’s security had much to draw upon. The United States was 

strengthening its alliances in Europe and Asia, and in recent years 

had intervened in Panama, Haiti, Somalia, and Bosnia. Furthermore, 

the United States was legitimizing its “interventionism” by declaring 

that gross violations of human rights required the international 

community to override the sovereign right of a state to govern within 

its own borders. NATO had applied this rationale for its bombing 

campaign on Yugoslavia.3 In essence, Beijing argued that as the 

world’s sole superpower, U.S. “hegemonism” and “power politics” 

were the prime source of the threat to global stability and to China.

 Furthermore, U.S. domestic politics made Beijing fully aware of 

the anti-China disposition in the Congress and its support for Taiwan.4

The Defense Authorization Act of 1999 authorized the Secretary of 

Defense to study the theater missile defense (TMD) architecture that 

would be required to defend U.S. allies in the Asia-Pacific region. 

Taiwan was not mentioned, but it was evident Taipei was included 

as an ally to be defended. In part responding to domestic political 

pressures, in 1999 China’s human rights deficiencies returned as 

a major irritant in Sino-American relations. The U.S. sponsored 

a resolution criticizing Beijing’s human rights record at the UN 

Human Rights Commission―something it had not done in 1998. 

These developments were compounded by a New York Times story 

in March originating in the Cox Committee.5

 The Times reported the 

committee as concluding that China had stolen a nuclear weapon 

design from one of the Department of Energy’s laboratories, most 

likely Los Alamos. This story revived past allegations of Chinese 

illegal contributions to political campaigns. These events clearly 

endangered the President’s objective of working toward a “strategic 

cooperative partnership” with China announced during President 

Jiang Zemin’s 1997 visit to the United States. What is more, even 

as President Clinton’s China policy was under severe attack his 

presidency was weakened by personal failings that led to his 

impeachment, making his commitment to a partnership with China 

even more endangered.

 Despite internal disagreement, but seeking to improve SinoAmerican relations, the Clinton administration revived consultations 
164

with Beijing over China’s accession to the World Trade Organization 

(WTO). Some in Beijing were cautious or opposed because they 

feared the consequences of opening up China’s economy. Premier 

Zhu Rongji, however, was confident that China’s economy could 

withstand the opening up WTO would require and that agreement 

could be reached.6 Negotiations between the United States and China 

were undertaken in Beijing meetings held in March, and Premier 

Zhu planned a visit to the United States for April. Unfortunately, 

the timing of his visit coincided with the opening phase of NATO’s 

air assault on Serbia, which commenced in the night of March 24-

25, during President Jiang Zemin’s state visit to Italy. Some of the 

attacking aircraft were launched from Italian bases.

 With NATO bombing Serbia, there was growing opposition in 

Beijing to Zhu Rongji’s visit to the United States. Zhu himself was 

reluctant. Upon returning to China, Jiang Zemin called a Politburo 

meeting to resolve this issue. It was decided that the benefits of 

maintaining a working relationship with the United States, together 

with WTO membership, outweighed the potential costs, so Premier 

Zhu’s visit should proceed as scheduled. Nonetheless, it was also 

agreed that China would increase its criticism of the United States 

and NATO.7 As it transpired, disagreement within the Clinton 

administration and the President’s concern that political opposition 

to China in the Congress was too intense caused President Clinton 

to conclude on April 7 that he could not support China’s accession. 

Despite the concessions he brought with him to Washington, Zhu 

Rongji returned to Beijing empty-handed and subjected to severe 

criticism. His failure became the kindling for the dissatisfaction 

within China’s leadership over the Sino-American relationship.

Response.

 Beijing’s reaction to the bombing of its Belgrade embassy in the 

morning of May 8 (May 7 in Europe) was one of stunned incredulity. 

China could not believe the bombing was an accident. It touched 

off an angry, sharp, and deeply felt patriotic reaction across China, 

especially among students. Moreover, coming as it did on the heels of 

Zhu Rongji’s failure to get the expected agreement on WTO accession 
165

and in the midst of a major deterioration in Sino-American relations, 

it unleashed even more criticism of Premier Zhu Rongji. Internet chat 

rooms charged him with being a “traitor.” Jiang Zemin’s past concern 

with sustaining a working relationship with Washington exposed 

him to the criticism that he was “soft” on the United States.8

 At a Politburo meeting in the morning of May 8, Jiang Zemin faced 

a dilemma: How not to sacrifice what he saw as the need to sustain a 

pragmatic relationship with the United States while simultaneously 

responding effectively to the outpouring of nationalism and 

patriotism unleashed by the bombing.9

 For Jiang and other Chinese 

leaders, the importance of Sino-American relations was linked 

to China’s strategic objectives. Trade, technology transfers, and 

investment from the United States were critical for China’s economic 

development. Jiang therefore had to respond to the bombing in such 

a way as to be seen as tough on the United States by his critics, but 

without totally undermining the relationship itself. It was also useful 

to Jiang Zemin that the patriotic anger of students could be directed at 

the United States. With the 10th anniversary of the PLA’s crackdown 

on student demonstrators in Tiananmen less than 1 month away, it 

was far better that their anger now be focused on the United States. 

 After considerable debate, the Politburo made the following 

decisions: 1. To condemn the bombing and summon the U.S. 

Ambassador and charge him with delivering China’s strongest 

protest to NATO; 2. Demand a special meeting of the UNSC to discuss 

and denounce the bombing; 3. Dispatch an aircraft to Belgrade to 

bring back the appropriate embassy personnel; 4. Provide guidance 

for the conduct of organized protests at U.S. diplomatic facilities 

across China; and, 5. Ensure that there were sufficient public security 

personnel to prevent any extremist behavior and to maintain public 

order during the demonstrations.10

 In the morning of May 8, Ambassador Sasser reached China’s 

Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MFA) to apologize for the tragic error 

and offer his condolences. Later in the day, angry crowds began 

gathering around the American Embassy as news accounts of the 

bombing and TV coverage of Yugoslav rescue teams comforting the 

wounded and weeping survivors enraged Chinese viewers even 

more. The MFA described the bombing as barbaric and summoned 
166

Ambassador Sasser to receive China’s protest. That afternoon, 

President Clinton met with reporters where he declared the bombing 

to be a tragic mistake and expressed his condolences to the Chinese 

people. 

 Although transported to the embassy area and watched by police 

and soldiers, the anger of the university students, like all the others 

gathering to protest the bombing, was clearly genuine.11 What does 

seem to be in accord with observers on the scene is that China’s 

authorities were regulating and using this anger. That evening, 

however, as busses returned students to their campuses the crowd 

grew larger and harder to control. Rocks and paint bombs were 

thrown over the embassy walls. More dangerous were the occasional 

Molotov cocktails. To the ambassador and embassy staff, it appeared 

that, despite the presence of large numbers of police, the mob was 

out of control. Early Sunday morning, May 9, fearful that the unruly 

horde outside could break into the compound, embassy staff began 

destroying sensitive documents.12

 On the same day, President Clinton sent a letter to President Jiang 

Zemin expressing his apologies and condolences. The day before, 

Secretary of State Madeline Albright had personally delivered a letter 

to the Chinese embassy for Foreign Minister Tang Jiaxuan. Beyond 

their apologies and condolences, however, both letters declared the 

bombing campaign was warranted and would be sustained.13

 Although it is unclear whether the action was in response to 

these letters, on Monday, May 10, Xinhua reported that China was 

suspending military contacts with the United States and postponing 

consultations on human rights, arms control, international security, 

and nonproliferation.14 May 10 also saw China’s Foreign Ministry 

make its demands to the United States. These were a formal 

public apology to the Chinese government and people and to the 

families of the victims of the bombing; a complete investigation of 

the bombing with prompt disclosure of the findings followed by 

severe punishment of those responsible. Beijing sought international 

pressure on the United States by requesting a UNSC meeting to 

condemn the bombing while threatening to veto any UN sponsored 

peace plan for Yugoslavia unless the bombing was terminated.15

 As these actions were underway, the government’s channeling 

of the public’s fury continued. A speech by Vice-President Hu Jintao 
167

broadcast on Sunday afternoon reflected the dual concerns of Jiang 

Zemin that he must be seen as tough on the United States, while not 

completely disrupting relations with Washington. Hu condemned 

U.S. and NATO’s bombing and praised the patriotism of the crowds 

protesting around the embassy compound and American diplomatic 

facilities across China. He equally emphasized the need to be orderly 

and not to overreact and disturb social order. On Monday, May 10, 

the message was somewhat different. The morning newspapers 

charged the United States with criminal acts and seemed designed 

to increase public anger. Students were again bussed to the embassy 

area, as were government employees. Now, however, they were 

required to show proof they had permission to demonstrate and 

were closely supervised. Thousands marched on Monday, but the 

numbers dwindled to a few hundred on Tuesday, and on Wednesday 

the demonstrations ended.16

 On Thursday, May 13, Jiang Zemin headed a leadership meeting 

honoring the returning bodies of those killed in the May 7 bombing, 

whom he declared “martyrs.” Jiang’s speech17 reflected his effort to 

compromise on those aspects of Sino-American relations dividing 

China’s leadership. He sought to be tough on the United States 

and a supporter of the patriotism reflected in the demonstrations 

around the embassy compound and across the country, while also 

stressing the continuity in China’s domestic and foreign policies. 

The demonstrations, he said, had confirmed the cohesion of the 

nation and that China cannot be bullied. The embassy bombing was 

declared to be a “brutal act” and the United States was charged with 

using its “economic, scientific, technological, and military prowess” 

to “practice hegemonism and power politics” and interfere in the 

internal affairs of other countries. Nevertheless, Jiang stressed that 

building China’s strength was the country’s “central task.” This 

required continuing the policy of “opening wider to the outside 

world” and maintaining “social and political stability and unity.” 

Over succeeding days, People’s Daily articles suggested that Jiang’s 

speech did not reflect a leadership compromise. Rather, that the 

division over China’s policy toward the United States continued. 

Articles reflecting quests for both a hard line, confrontational 

approach to United States and for sustaining a pragmatic policy 

were evident.18
168

 At the request of China’s UN Mission, the UNSC met to consider 

the bombing. On May 14, the UNSC observed a minute of silence 

and expressed its “profound regrets” over the bombing and its “deep 

sorrow” over the lives lost, injuries, and property damage to China’s 

Belgrade embassy. It also took note that “regrets and apologies were 

expressed” by NATO’s members, and that NATO had initiated an 

investigation of the bombing.19 The same day saw President Clinton 

call President Jiang Zemin to personally apologize and repeat that a 

thorough investigation was underway and that its findings would 

be fully disclosed. 

Negotiations.

 Continued division within the Chinese leadership probably 

explains why Under Secretary of State Thomas Pickering was 

unable to promptly visit China and provide the official and very 

detailed explanation of what had led to the unintentional bombing. 

Secretary Pickering was prepared to travel with his delegation in 

late May or early June, but Beijing delayed the trip on the grounds 

that public opinion was yet too intense for such a visit. On June 12, 

however, Prime Minister Qian Qichen declared that “China does 

not want a confrontation with the United States.”20 On June 17, 

accompanied by a delegation of high-level officials from the White 

House, the Department of State, Department of Defense (DoD), and 

the Intelligence Community, Secretary Pickering was finally allowed 

to present his briefing to Foreign Minister Tang Jiaxuan.21 President 

Jiang Zemin, however, had departed Beijing, presumably to avoid 

meeting the U.S. Undersecretary of State.22 Not unexpectedly, China 

rejected the explanation.23 Moreover, despite the Central Intelligence 

Agency’s firing in April 2000 of one unnamed employee and taking 

disciplinary actions against six others for the targeting errors, the 

Chinese government has yet to accept Washington’s explication.24

Resolution.

 Nonetheless, when preparing to leave his post at the end of 

June 1999, Ambassador Sasser met separately with President Jiang 

Zemin, Premier Zhu Rongji, and Minister of Defense Chi Haotian. 
169

In the Ambassador’s view, Beijing was signaling that China wanted 

to get Sino-American relations back to a more normal footing.25

Further easing the tensions, in late July after 3 days of negotiations, 

the United States agreed to pay U.S.$4.5 million in damages to the 

victims of the bombing.26

 The months following Secretary Pickering’s unsuccessful mission 

to Beijing were a mix of continued degradation in Sino-American 

relations and easing of the tensions generated by NATO’s attack on 

Yugoslavia and the embassy bombing. In July, President Lee Tenghui strained the continuing tensions between Taipei and Beijing 

even further. In an interview with reporters from a German radio 

station, he declared that cross-Strait relations were now “at least 

a special state-to-state relationship,” and that Taiwan no longer 

claimed sovereignty over all Chinese territory. “Consequently, there 

is no need to declare Taiwan independent.”27 Beijing’s suspicions 

immediately turned to Washington, which then took great pains to 

reiterate that the United States maintained its “one China” policy, 

including a telephone call from President Clinton to Jiang Zemin. 

As Beijing’s rhetoric and military threats escalated, the precedent of 

China’s use of military coercion in the 1995-96 confrontation raised 

concern over a new flare-up. American delegations were quickly 

sent to Taiwan and China in largely successful efforts to temporarily 

ease the growing tensions. 

 With the relaxation of cross-Strait tensions, Sino-American 

relations began wending their way back toward a more normal 

pattern. In late September, President Clinton met with President 

Jiang during the Auckland, New Zealand, sessions of the AsiaPacific Economic Cooperation (APEC) forum. Clinton once more 

assured Jiang Zemin that the U.S. “one China” policy was firm, 

although he also cautioned China against the use of force, and used 

the meeting to reopen negotiations with Beijing for China’s WTO 

accession. These negotiations were to be no easier than the earlier 

efforts, but on November 15, 1999, agreement was reached.28 On 

November 20, Deputy Assistant Secretary of Defense Kurt Campbell 

held discussions in Beijing with his Chinese counterparts to reopen 

military-to-military contacts and restart the Defense Consultative 

Talks (DCT) suspended by China in response to the bombing. 
170

 Improving relations eased negotiations over compensation for the 

physical damage to China’s Belgrade embassy and U.S. diplomatic 

and consular facilities in China. On December 16, after five rounds 

of discussions, Beijing and Washington arrived at a compensation 

agreement. The United States would seek funding from Congress to 

pay damages of $28 million to China in the State Department’s fiscal 

year 2001 budget. China agreed to pay $2.87 million for the damage 

to American diplomatic facilities.29

Decisionmaking Under Stress.

 The unintentional bombing of China’s embassy arguably 

brought Sino-American relations to their lowest point since the June 

1989 brutal repression of the Tiananmen demonstrations. What is 

more, the bombing occurred at a time when relations were already 

deteriorating with severe divisions within both China and the United 

States over their future policies toward each other. For Jiang Zemin, 

seen within his own government as “soft” on the United States, the 

bombing demanded a circumspect response. He had to effectively 

respond to the eruption of emotional patriotic anger by being 

perceived as tough without completely forfeiting the advantages of 

a pragmatic relationship with the United States. For Jiang Zemin, the 

most difficult problems created by the bombing were the internal 

political ramifications. The bombing had served as a catalyst to 

reignite leadership disagreements over major domestic and foreign 

policy issues, including the appropriate policy to pursue toward the 

United States.

 For the United States, the bombing was a profoundly humiliating 

tragedy. Who could believe that, with its vaunted technological 

superiority, the United States had misidentified a target for precision 

bombing in a city its diplomatic and military personnel knew well? 

Perhaps forgotten was the accidental shooting down of an Iranian 

commercial airliner in 1988 by the USN cruiser Vincennes. Human 

error had in that case interacted with the world’s most technologically 

advanced air defense system to create a tragic mistake. As with Iran 

in 1988, the U.S. objective was to have its apology and acknowledged 

responsibility for the tragedy accepted by the Chinese government 
171

together with a compensation agreement. Quick achievement of 

these objectives would best serve the United States.

 Whereas the United States sought the quickest resolution possible, 

disagreements within China’s senior leadership and the emotional 

public response to the bombing meant that President Jiang Zemin 

would be best served by stretching out the resolution process. This 

would demonstrate his willingness to be tough in dealing with the 

United States. U.S. interest in quickly resolving the incident therefore 

served Jiang Zemin well. Jiang could end the process at a time when 

he had satisfied the internal political requirement that the United 

States be handled with resolute toughness but before Sino-American 

relations were significantly harmed. This strategy appears to be 

reflected in the events following the bombing and the emotional 

outburst of patriotism. Rather than seeking a quick resolution, Beijing 

dragged out the process while simultaneously signaling that China 

did not want a confrontation with the United States. This strategy 

can be seen in the high-level meetings granted Ambassador Sasser in 

June as his posting was coming to an end; in the September ClintonJiang summit on the fringes of the Auckland APEC meetings; and in 

the agreement to reopen WTO negotiations. In short, Jiang Zemin’s 

strategy was to make the United States the petitioner in an extended 

resolution process. In this, he was successful.

THE EP-3 COLLISION

Context.

 Although tension from the unintentional bombing of China’s 

embassy was receding, the final year of the Clinton administration 

was an uneasy period for Sino-American relations. On the one hand, 

Beijing and Washington were attempting to restore relations to 

something approaching normalcy. On the other, Beijing produced 

two policy papers Washington found disturbing. A white paper on 

cross-Strait relations issued in February 2000 appeared to lower the 

threshold for China to use force against Taiwan.30 Beijing’s Defense 

White Paper issued in October identified the United States as the 

principal threat to global stability and China’s security.31 Governor 
172

Bush’s presidential campaign in 1999-2000 added only more 

uncertainty to the future of bilateral relations by identifying China 

as a strategic competitor and criticizing the Clinton administration’s 

policy of working toward a strategic partnership with Beijing.32

 Under these uneasy conditions, progress toward normalcy was 

made. The Defense Consultation Talks were restored with General 

Xiong Guangkai’s visit to the United States in January 2000. It was 

agreed that military-to-military contact would be reinstated including 

high-level meetings, professional military education exchanges, and 

PLA participation in U.S. sponsored multinational military forums. 

This agreement spurred a series of high-level military and DoD 

officials traveling to China for discussions on security and other 

issues of mutual concern. Port calls to Hong Kong and Shanghai 

were restored. President Clinton met with President Jiang Zemin in 

September while both were in New York for the UN Millennium 

Summit. During his visit, President Jiang gave a luncheon address to 

business executives and foreign affairs experts. Later in September, 

President Clinton signed the bill granting China permanent normal 

trade relations (PNTR) with the United States―legislation that had 

required considerable political effort to pass through Congress. In 

November, Clinton and Jiang met again in Brunei where both were 

attending the APEC leaders meetings. They agreed to reopen the 

suspended human rights dialogue.

 Even as these and other steps toward normal bilateral relations 

were undertaken, the underlying tensions remained. Most were 

those that had dogged Sino-American relations for many years. 

On the U.S. side, human rights, proliferation, and Beijing’s refusal 

to forgo the use of military force against Taiwan and the lack of 

transparency in defense policies and modernization were at the 

top of the list. For China, it was arms sales to Taiwan, national and 

theater ballistic missile defense programs, and what Beijing saw 

as U.S. “hegemonism and power politics” joined with a “cold war 

mentality.” Beijing’s October 2000 Defense White Paper added U.S. 

“interventionism” to these concerns. This pattern of U.S. policies led 

Beijing to conclude that it was necessary “to enhance its capability to 

defend its sovereignty and security by military means.”33

 Even with these continuing underlying frictions, when the 

Clinton administration ended Sino-American relations could be 
173

defined as approaching “normal.” For some years, normal bilateral 

relations had encompassed the mutual suspicion and distrust with 

which Beijing and Washington viewed each other. Nevertheless, the 

United States and China each had pragmatic reasons for avoiding 

confrontation and cooperating wherever possible. 

 This pragmatism can be seen in Secretary of State Colin Powell’s 

January 2001 confirmation hearings and in President Jiang Zemin’s 

Washington Post interview 2 months later. In his testimony before 

the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, Powell stated that although 

China was not a strategic partner, neither was it an enemy. He defined 

China as “a competitor, a potential regional rival, but also a trading 

partner willing to cooperate in areas where our strategic interests 

overlap.”34 Jiang Zemin’s interview was conducted in Beijing shortly 

after Vice Premier Qian Qichen visited the United States to become 

acquainted with the new administration. In answering a reporter’s 

question, Jiang Zemin observed, “I don’t have a naïve or romantic 

view that the strategic partnership proposed by President Clinton 

was a relationship free from struggle or containment. It involved 

both. Conversely, I do not believe the competitor President Bush 

talked about does not contain any element of cooperation.”35 Thus, 

the unfortunate collision between a USN EP-3 and PLAN aircraft 

occurred at a time when the new Bush administration was clarifying 

its view of China and the Chinese government was making its 

adjustments to the new president and his senior advisers.

 There were, however, a series of events central to the collision that 

did not affect high-level Sino-American relations until the incident 

occurred. For almost a year before the collision, tension over U.S. 

reconnaissance flights had been intensifying.36 There had been a 

candid exchange over this issue during the May-June 2000 Honolulu 

meetings of the Military Maritime Consultative Agreement (MMCA). 

Beijing used the MMCA for its complaints because it had been 

established to prevent military accidents and misunderstandings.37

A Chinese military official stated that the frequency of American 

reconnaissance patrols had increased in the latter part of 2000 to four 

or five times a week some 50 miles off China’s coast. In 1997-99, he 

said, the average number of patrols had been 200 flights a year. The 

Chinese delegation complained that the patrols were coming too 
174

close to China’s coastline, and this could cause trouble. The senior 

U.S. officer at the meeting, Lieutenant General Michael Hagee, 

USMC, confirmed China’s protest. General Hagee recalled replying, 

“It is international airspace, and we have no intention of modifying 

what we are doing.” 

 China responded to the increased reconnaissance patrols by 

conducting more aggressive interceptions. A U.S. Navy official stated 

that the intercepting fighters had started flying closer and closer to 

the patrolling aircraft. On Christmas Day, a Chinese fighter came 

within 30 feet of the aircraft it was intercepting, prompting a formal 

diplomatic protest by the United States to the MFA. According to an 

American official, the MFA seemed to know little about what China’s 

military was doing, and suggested the pilots or the military units 

they were attached to were acting on their own. It would appear 

from such reporting that the April 1 collision was an accident waiting 

to happen. Furthermore, Lieutenant Shane Osborn, commander of 

the EP-3, would have been warned about the increasingly aggressive 

Chinese tactics before commencing his patrol.

 In the morning of April 1 (March 31 in the United States), 

Lieutenant Osborn’s EP-3 departed Kadena Air Force Base, Okinawa, 

on what would normally be a 9-hour patrol.38 Two PLAN F-8-IIs 

joined up with the EP-3 shortly before the collision occurred around 

9:00 a.m. According to the U.S. investigation of the incident, as the 

EP-3 turned eastward onto a 070-degree course to return to base, 

Lieutenant Osborn observed the two Chinese aircraft about a mile 

distant. As the F-8s began their interception, the EP-3 was on autopilot 

flying straight and level with an airspeed of 185-190 knots. The lead 

F-8 piloted by Lieutenant Commander Wang Wei then made two 

passes before the collision occurred during the third. On the first, 

he brought his aircraft to within 10 feet of the EP-3’s port side and 

saluted the flight station. On the second pass, he had removed his 

oxygen mask when he closed to five feet and gestured to the EP-3’s 

crew. On what was to be the final pass, the F-8 closed too quickly and 

was below and slightly forward of the EP-3’s port wing when the 

pilot raised his aircraft’s nose to bleed off some airspeed. In doing so, 

the Chinese fighter collided with the EP-3’s number one propeller 

just forward of the F-8’s vertical stabilizer and was torn apart. The 
175

Chinese aircraft then crashed into the South China Sea some 70 

nautical miles southeast of Hainan Island. Lieutenant Commander 

Wang Wei bailed out and was not recovered. As the result of the 

damage it received, immediately after the collision the EP-3 started 

a hard turn to the left. The U.S. Navy’s investigation report suggests 

this may be why the other F-8 pilot, Commander Zhao Yu, reported 

that the American aircraft had caused the collision. 

 Bringing the severely damaged EP-3 under control, Lieutenant 

Osborn made an emergency landing at the PLAN’s Hainan Island 

Lingshui air base after transmitting some 10 to 15 “Mayday” calls. 

The transmissions were not answered or, if they were, the EP-3 could 

not hear them because of the noise generated by the air rushing into 

the damaged aircraft.39 Upon landing, the EP-3 was surrounded by 

Chinese soldiers and its crew of 24 detained on the island. 

 China’s later insistence that the EP-3 was at fault is almost certainly 

based on Commander Zhao Yu’s account of the collision when he 

returned to Lingshui air base.40 Indeed, he could have interpreted 

the EP-3’s post-collision sharp left turn as the cause rather than the 

consequence of the collision, as the U.S. Navy’s investigation report 

suggests. However, two further aspects of China’s interpretation 

are more difficult to accept. First, that the EP-3 did not request 

permission to land at Lingshui air base. Second, Commander Zhao 

Yu’s contention that that the F-8s were flying a parallel course 400 

meters from the EP-3’s port side.41 It is possible that the EP-3 was 

not using the radio emergency frequency most probably used by 

the Chinese military. If this were the case, then the Lingshui tower 

likely did not hear Lieutenant Osborn’s “Mayday” transmissions.42

The contention that the Chinese interceptors were 400 meters distant 

from the EP-3 is not supportable. Lieutenant Commander Wang 

Wei’s history as an aggressive, risk-taking pilot43 supports Lieutenant 

Osborn’s report that F-8’s distance was no more than 10 feet.

Response.

 China made its position clear: The American aircraft was 

responsible for the collision. Moreover, the EP-3 had entered 

China’s airspace and landed at Lingshui airbase without requesting 
176

permission to do so.44 Consequently, China had the right to search 

the airplane and conduct its own investigation of the incident. For its 

part, the United States must accept its responsibility and apologize 

to China. Beijing’s insistence on an apology from the United States 

was to be the central issue for both sides. The United States could not 

accept China’s interpretation of the collision and therefore would 

not apologize. Ambassador Prueher, a retired Admiral and former 

commander of U.S. Pacific forces, was an experienced naval aviator. 

He knew that China’s representation of the accident described an 

impossible situation. If the Chinese fighter had been 400 meters 

distant when the EP-3 banked to the left, the slow moving American 

aircraft about the size of the Boeing 737 would have passed behind 

the F-8. Nevertheless, the EP-3 and its crew were being held by China 

on Hainan Island. The United States wanted the 24 crew members 

and the EP-3 promptly returned, but did not want the incident to 

degenerate into a hostage crisis. Nor, as both sides worked toward a 

mutually acceptable resolution to the incident, it seemed did China. 

 Proceeding toward the negotiations was far more complicated 

than one would anticipate.45 First, there was a lack of communication 

between the Chinese government and the American embassy. It was 

not until some 12 hours after the collision that China’s MFA responded 

to Ambassador Prueher’s request for a meeting. Assistant Foreign 

Minister Zhou Wenzhong, who was to be Ambassador Prueher’s 

interlocutor throughout the negotiation, presented China’s position 

on the incident and informed the ambassador that the EP-3’s crew 

was safe. The following 3 days were a critical period. Admiral Dennis 

Blair, commander of U.S. Pacific Command (PACOM), and President 

Bush both had harsh words to say about the lack of communication 

between the Chinese government and the U.S. Ambassador. Around 

noon on April 2 (about midnight in Beijing), President Bush told 

reporters he was “troubled by the lack of a timely Chinese response” 

to Ambassador Prueher’s request for access to the crew and their 

aircraft. He stated U.S. priorities as “prompt and safe return of the 

crew and return of the aircraft without further damage or tampering.” 

First, however, China should grant embassy staff immediate access 

to the crew. Failure to do so, the President stressed, “is inconsistent 

with standard diplomatic practice and with the expressed desire of 

both our countries for better relations.” 46
177

 On April 3, Defense Attaché Brigadier General Neal Sealock (USA), 

together with staff from the American embassy and the Consulate 

General in Guangzhou, were finally allowed to meet with the crew. 

General Sealock validated the crew list and learned how they were 

being treated and the extent of the damage to their aircraft. Because 

Chinese officials were present, General Sealock did not ask for 

Lieutenant Osborn’s assessment of the accident. The following days 

saw movement toward the opening of negotiations. In a variety of 

venues, President Bush and Secretary Powell expressed their regrets 

and sorrow over the death of the Chinese pilot. President Bush sent a 

personal letter of condolences to Wang Wei’s widow after receiving 

a letter from her charging him with cowardice. Although expressing 

regret and sorrow, the United States was equally insistent there would 

be no apology. Fearing a hostage crisis was looming, in the afternoon 

of April 4, Ambassador Prueher held a brainstorming session with 

his staff. After the meeting, Ambassador Prueher sent the outline 

of a negotiating strategy to Secretary Powell. Powell accepted the 

strategy and sent a letter to Vice Premier Qian Qichen proposing a 

series of steps to resolve the incident.47 As he departed on April 4 for a 

scheduled 14-day state visit to Latin America, President Jiang Zemin 

repeated China’s demand for an apology, adding the suggestion 

that the United States take a step favorable to easing Sino-American 

relations.48 This last comment suggested Jiang was looking to resolve 

what was beginning to look like an impasse.

 In sharp contrast to the May 1999 violent demonstrations around 

the American embassy in Beijing and consular facilities across China 

following the unintentional embassy bombing, in the aftermath of 

EP-3 collision the Chinese government kept a tight leash on potential 

demonstrators. Security around the embassy was tight, with police 

detaining the few protestors who did show up.49 This behavior, 

together with President Jiang’s departure for Latin America and 

China’s acceptance of Secretary Powell’s approach to resolving the 

incident, suggested Beijing was willing to accept a less conspicuous 

form of “apology” from the United States. No doubt, the expressions 

of regret and sorrow by President Bush and Secretary Powell had 

assisted in creating this atmosphere.

 With Powell’s letter as a road map, on April 5 Ambassador 

Prueher and Assistant Foreign Minister Zhou agreed to a 5-step 
178

negotiating process. For step 1, Secretary Powell agreed to the 

Chinese government publishing the first paragraph of his letter to 

Vice Premier Qian in which he expressed his regret over the loss of the 

Chinese pilot. Step 2 would be an official U.S. statement expressing 

condolences over the loss of life in the accident and regret that the 

EP-3 had entered China’s airspace. Steps 3, 4, and 5 would focus on 

the release of the crew, an MMCA meeting to discuss procedures for 

avoiding future accidents, and arrangements for the return of the 

EP-3.

Negotiations.

 Negotiations for the crew’s release extended from April 6 to 11. 

The Chinese government sought a letter apologizing for the loss of 

its pilot and for the EP-3’s entering China’s airspace and landing at 

Lingshui air base without permission. The United States sought a 

factually accurate letter that did not apologize for anything related to 

the collision nor impede the President’s ability to conduct relations 

with China in the future.50 Ambassador Prueher and Assistant 

Foreign Minister Zhou usually met twice daily to negotiate the 

precise language of the letter. While the negotiations were underway, 

General Sealock met with the EP-3 crew on five separate occasions, 

beginning with a second visit on April 6.

 By April 8, the United States was signaling that without some 

progress in the negotiations Sino-American relations would be 

damaged. During a CBS “Face the Nation” interview, Secretary 

Powell stated that “serious damage is now starting to be done” with 

congressional delegations canceling scheduled visits to China and 

businessmen wondering whether they should cancel theirs.51 The next 

day, President Bush made the same point with reporters at the close 

of a cabinet meeting. He stressed that although effective diplomacy 

takes time, “Every day that goes by increases the potential that our 

relations with China could be damaged.” The President concluded 

with the observation, “It is now time for our troops to come home 

so that our relationship does not become damaged.”52 The criticism 

President Bush was receiving from the conservative members of 

congress and media commentators such as William Kristol,53 served 
179

only to increase pressure on the administration to reach a solution by 

taking a harder line with China. It is probable that China’s embassy 

was reporting these pressures to Beijing.

Resolution.

 What influence the public statements of President Bush and 

Secretary Powell had on China’s assessments of the negotiations 

is not known. Nevertheless, by April 9 (April 8 in Washington), 

the U.S. embassy had the impression that resolution was near.54

Despite the intense negotiations, however, they did not know when 

China would be satisfied with the text of the letter Ambassador 

Prueher was preparing for Foreign Minister Tang Jiaxuan. When 

the embassy learned on April 11 that Tang would meet Prueher 

later that day, it also appeared China was backing away from the 

negotiated agreements. The Chinese government wanted a signed 

letter before Ambassador Prueher met with the Foreign Minister, 

and would not say when the crew would be free to go. Both of these 

provisions violated agreements Ambassador Prueher had made 

with Assistant Foreign Minister Zhou. Finally, China wanted a 

U.S. official to sign a “memorandum of transfer” the Chinese had 

prepared. The “memorandum of transfer” was problematic for 

two reasons. It included language assigning responsibility for the 

collision to the United States―language Ambassador Prueher had 

specifically rejected. Additionally, some of the crew members names 

were spelled incorrectly.

 Interpreting these new provisions as a Chinese effort to force 

a resolution without the negotiated compromises, Ambassador 

Prueher decided to be firm. Embassy personnel informed the Chinese 

government there would be no pre-signed letter. The ambassador 

would provide an unsigned letter with a cover note saying he would 

present a signed copy when he met with the Foreign Minister. On 

the matter of crew release, Ambassador Prueher was equally firm. 

The negotiated draft letter called for the crew to be released “as soon 

as possible.” This meant immediately after the Foreign Minister 

accepted the signed letter. Ambassador Prueher expected Foreign 

Minister Tang to use just these words at the meeting. The ambassador 

also wanted assurances that China would provide flight clearance for 
180

the aircraft that would fly from Guam to Hainan to pick up the crew. 

Finally, although he saw no need for the “memorandum of transfer,” 

Ambassador Prueher would agree to it if the names of the crew were 

spelled correctly, and the language assigning responsibility for the 

collision removed. The only language acceptable was that employed 

in the letter already negotiated. If China did not provide assurances on 

the crew’s release and flight clearance for the American aircraft, there 

could be no meeting that day. When delivering these requirement, 

the embassy staff advised the MFA that if members of the Chinese 

media were at the meeting, or there was anything else that could 

potentially embarrass Ambassador Prueher, he would leave without 

handing his letter to the Foreign Minister.55

 The meeting that day went as the U.S. embassy hoped. When 

Ambassador Prueher presented his letter, Foreign Minister Tang 

informed him the aircrew was free to leave. MFA staff provided 

flight clearance data for the chartered Continental aircraft that was to 

arrive at Haikou Airport at 6:00 a.m. the following day to pick up the 

EP-3 crew, refuel, and depart for Honolulu. With the crew’s release 

on April 12, negotiations then turned to recovering the damaged 

EP-3 and arranging a special MMCA meeting focused on avoiding 

future aerial collisions.

 At this point, U.S. lead in the negotiations passed from the 

Department of State to the Department of Defense (DoD).56 Chinese 

negotiations continued to be an MFA responsibility. Both teams were 

at a lower official level than that used for negotiating the crew release. 

The U.S. delegation was led by Peter Verga, Deputy Under Secretary 

of Defense for Policy Support. The Chinese team was headed by Lu 

Shumin, a deputy to Assistant Foreign Minister Zhou Wenzhong. 

Mr. Verga brought two proposals to the meetings scheduled for 

April 18-19. First, that arrangements be made for the MMCA session 

devoted to avoiding future accidents. The second proposal was that 

the United States send an assessment team to determine whether the 

EP-3 could be repaired and flown out. If it could not be flown out, the 

aircraft should be moved by barge or disassembled and transported 

by some other method.

 At the opening meeting, the Chinese team persisted in repeating 

China’s position on the collision with no reference to the EP-3’s 

return. The U.S. team was so frustrated by this that Mr. Verga 
181

threatened to walk out. Ambassador Prueher then arranged a meeting 

with Assistant Foreign Minister Zhou that resulted in the Chinese 

agreeing to discuss the EP-3’s return the following day. When these 

initial discussions ended, the Chinese had agreed to study Verga’s 

two proposals. The U.S. team then returned to the United States, and 

the American embassy assumed responsibility for negotiating the 

EP-3’s recovery. On April 29, China agreed to a U.S. inspection team 

determining how the EP-3 should be recovered. China, however, 

would not permit the United States to repair the EP-3 so that it 

could be flown out. The United States also agreed to pay the cost 

of recovery.57 The final agreement a month later was that the EP-3 

would be dismantled and returned by cargo aircraft.58 On July 3, the 

last components were loaded into a Russian-chartered An-124 cargo 

plane and the disassembled EP-3 began its final journey back to the 

United States.

 With the return of the EP-3, acrimonious negotiations began over 

compensation for the crew’s 11-day detention on Hainan and the 

cost of disassembling the EP-3. China presented a bill for $1 million, 

which the U.S. rejected as exorbitant.59 About a month later, the 

United States said it would pay $34,567.00 as compensation, which 

China rejected as unacceptable. DoD insisted the amount was nonnegotiable. 60

 More progress was made on the agreement that the United States 

and China would hold a special meeting of the MMCA to discuss 

ways of avoiding future accidents. On September 14-15, Chinese 

and American military representatives met on Guam where they 

discussed international law principles and procedures for ships and 

aircraft to follow when operating near each other. Both delegations 

agreed that the MMCA was the appropriate venue for assuring that 

air and maritime incidents be minimized in the future.61

 Thus, although the compensation issue was yet unsettled, 

shortly after the 9/11 tragedy that was to dramatically change the 

environment of Sino-American relations, commitments made in 

the negotiations over the April 1 collision were completed. These 

negotiations, although frequently contentious, followed the pattern 

set by Secretary Powell’s letter to Vice Premier Qian Qichen 5 months 

earlier. 
182

Decisionmaking Under Stress.

 Jiang Zemin faced much the same political dilemma he had to 

confront after China’s Belgrade embassy was bombed. A Chinese 

naval officer had been killed in a collision with a U.S. military 

aircraft conducting hostile surveillance of China. What is more, 

the U.S. aircraft had penetrated China’s airspace and landed at a 

Chinese military airfield without receiving permission to do so. In 

China’s perception, the United States that Beijing had condemned 

for its “hegemonism” and identified as the principal threat to China’s 

security in the defense white paper issued just 6 months earlier, 

was clearly at fault. Jiang Zemin had again to demonstrate that he 

was “tough” on the United States without severing the pragmatic 

relationship that served China’s interests. He could not be seen as 

weak in confronting yet another example of American hegemonism 

and arrogance. As the days passed, the Chinese leadership may have 

suspected that Commander Zhao Yu’s explanation of the collision 

was faulty. By then, however, the die was cast. China’s position 

on responsibility for the collision and demand for an apology was 

established. 

 The United States was in a different situation. In such an accident, 

the United States understood international law and practice as 

requiring prompt return of the crew and their aircraft. As details of 

the collision became known from General Sealock’s discussions with 

the EP-3 crew, the United States became even more irate with China’s 

position. Nonetheless, with the crew and aircraft in China’s control, 

Washington had to avoid placing so much pressure on Beijing that 

it believed only continued detainment of the crew would force any 

kind of U.S. concession. Should this happen, then the United States 

would face a hostage crisis.

 Although the United States and China had distinctly different 

perceptions of what the collision implied, both had good reason to 

work out a diplomatic compromise. Thus, avoiding a “hostage crisis” 

while achieving their objectives seems to have been the negotiating 

strategy followed by both China and the United States. The United 

States wanted the quickest resolution possible. Jiang Zemin and the 

Chinese leadership appeared to believe they would gain the most 
183

by prolonging the resolution process. Jiang would be seen as tough 

on the United States, and China would be seen as refusing to bow 

under American pressure. As in the Belgrade embassy bombing 

incident, U.S. interest in a quick solution served Jiang Zemin well. 

Furthermore, controlling the U.S. crew and aircraft, but especially 

the crew, provided China an advantage in the negotiations. The 

United States may well have had international law and practice on 

its side, but China had physical control of U.S. military personnel 

and their aircraft. China could therefore end the negotiation process, 

when it concluded two political objectives had been achieved. First, 

when Jiang Zemin believed he had satisfied his political objective 

of being seen as resolute in dealing with the United States. Second, 

when sufficient time had passed and the incident received enough 

global media attention for China to be perceived as being strong 

enough to squeeze concessions out of the United States.

 From Beijing’s perspective, this strategy could be seen as 

successful. First, President Bush and Secretary Powell expressed 

their regret and sorrow for the consequences of the collision. Then 

Ambassador Prueher’s tightly negotiated letter declared that the 

United States was “very sorry” for the loss suffered by the family 

of Wang Wei, and was “very sorry” that the EP-3 entered China’s 

airspace without verbal permission.62 The Chinese press, as one 

would expect, declared these expressions to be the apology Beijing 

had demanded and therefore the incident concluded with diplomatic 

victory for China.63 The United States, of course, had a different view. 

The United States had accepted no responsibility for the collision and 

had not formally apologized. An anonymous White House “senior 

official who was deeply involved in the negotiations” asserted that 

China’s decision to end the confrontation came only after President 

Bush and Secretary Powell warned that the entire relationship was 

at risk.64 Nonetheless, China’s negotiating tactics became stiffer in 

the days immediately after President Bush and Secretary Powell 

expressed their discontent with the lack of progress being made by 

the negotiations.

 Where China and the United States meshed was in their efforts 

minimizing the possibility that the collision and its consequences 

become a hostage crisis. As President Bush sought to ease American 
184

public opinion and criticism from political conservatives by stressing 

that diplomacy takes time, so China prevented demonstrations, 

spontaneous or otherwise, around the American embassy’s 

compound.

 Beijing’s insistence on detaining the EP-3’s crew for 11 days, 

however, did little to ease the Bush administration’s suspicions of 

China as a strategic competitor. Nonetheless, testifying before the 

Congress 2 months after the EP-3’s crew had been released, Assistant 

Secretary of State for East Asian and Pacific Affairs James Kelly sought 

to place the U.S. posture in clearer focus. In his testimony, although 

carefully stating that China was not an enemy and listing the areas 

where China and the United States had complementary interests, 

Secretary Kelly was quite frank in his assessment. He observed,

Recent events have called into question where we stand in our 

relationship with China and where we want to go. They have highlighted 

the importance of not allowing our relationship to be damaged by 

miscommunication, mistrust and misunderstanding about our respective 

intentions and objectives.

Despite this admonition, much of Secretary Kelly’s testimony 

highlighted the most positive aspects of Sino-American relations. 

The United States continued to support China’s entry into WTO 

and its hosting of the coming APEC summit in Shanghai. Perhaps 

most telling, Secretary Kelly underscored President Bush’s intent 

to attend the APEC summit and go to Beijing. In short, the United 

States wanted to put the EP-3 incident behind it and move ahead.65

China clearly wanted to do the same. Indicative of China’s intent 

was its response to the renewed reconnaissance patrols that had 

been suspended during negotiations over the EP-3 crew’s release. 

Speaking to reporters flying with him on the way to Australia after a 

1-day stop in Beijing, Secretary Powell stated that Chinese pilots had 

stopped using the aggressive tactics that had led to the F-8’s collision 

with the EP-3. He viewed this change as but one of many signs China 

wanted to improve relations with the United States.66

 Restoring the military relationship severed by the United States 

in response to China’s detention of the EP-3 crew was the slowest 

of all moves toward normalization. Despite the rapprochement that 
185

occurred in other realms of Sino-American relations following the 

9/11 tragedy, military relations remained almost on hold. It was 

not until December 2002 that the Defense Consultation Talks were 

restored with General Xiong Guangkai’s meeting with Douglas Feith, 

the Under Secretary of Defense for Policy.67 In all other respects, SinoAmerican relations moved swiftly toward normal beginning in the 

fall of 2001 when the United States reordered its security priorities to 

focus on global terrorism. 

CONCLUSIONS AND SPECULATIONS

 In the best of times, China views the United States with 

apprehension. In the worst of times, this apprehension degenerates 

into hostility. Beijing reluctantly accepts that China’s pragmatic 

interests require it to avoid sustained confrontation with the United 

States and to cooperate where possible. This reluctant recognition 

of American power and China’s need for U.S. cooperation enhances 

Beijing’s sensitivity to what it perceives as American arrogance and 

“power politics.” This core context of apprehension and hostility 

joined with Beijing’s recognition that China cannot afford and does 

not have the power for sustained confrontation with the United 

States was at the root of Beijing’s responses to these incidents. 

 Despite the dramatic differences between them, a pattern emerges 

common to both cases. In each, Beijing applied an asymmetric 

strategy designed to exploit the U.S. quest for a quick resolution to 

the incidents. Beijing evidently believed that Washington’s desire to 

end the diplomatic impasse stemming from these incidents could be 

manipulated into granting China the initiative in the negotiations. 

Beijing thus prolonged the negotiations. It did so in order to achieve 

quite specific political objectives. First, to highlight Chinese patriotism 

and nationalism by demonstrating to the world that regardless of the 

power differences between them, China could not be cowed by U.S. 

might. In Beijing’s view, the longer it took to resolve the incidents, 

the stronger China would appear to be. Second, by prolonging 

resolution of the incidents China sought to demonstrate that the 

United States was the supplicant in the negotiation process. Third, 

extending negotiations was seen as way of publicly extracting as 
186

many concessions from the United States as possible. Of particular 

importance were public expressions of regret and sorrow by 

Presidents Clinton and Bush. Fourth, the strategy was to prolong the 

negotiations but not to the point where the protraction would cause 

severe damage to the bilateral relationship. 

 It must be noted that this strategy was made possible by two 

specific conditions. The United States immediately announced that the 

bombing of China’s embassy was a tragic error. In the EP-3 incident, 

China had physical control of the crew and the aircraft. Without such 

favorable conditions, employing an effective asymmetric negotiating 

strategy would be far more difficult. 

 Although these incidents were military in origin, the role China’s 

military leaders played in the diplomacy resolving them is completely 

opaque. It can be safely assumed that the PLA’s leadership had a 

voice in determining what China’s responses should be, but there 

was no overt military presence in either set of negotiations. It was 

evident that China was keeping the negotiating process in the hands 

of professional diplomats. Interestingly, the negotiating strategy 

pursued by China mirrored a core doctrinal principal held by the 

PLA: gain and hold the initiative. 

ENDNOTES - CHAPTER 6

 1. This discussion draws extensively from Joseph Fewsmith, China Since 

Tiananmen: The Politics of Transition, NY: Cambridge University Press, pp. 208-224; 

and Robert L. Suettinger, Beyond Tiananmen: The Politics of U.S.-China Relations 

1989-2000, Washington, DC: Brookings Institution Press, 2003, pp. 328-407.

 2. See David M. Finkelstein, China Reconsiders Its National Security Strategy: 

“The Great Peace and Development Debate of 1999,” Alexandria, VA: The CNA 

Corporation, December 2000, for a full analysis of this issue.

 3. Fewsmith, China Since Tiananmen, p. 209; and Finkelstein, China Reconsiders 

its National Security, p. 17.

 4. The following discussion draws extensively from Suettinger, Beyond 

Tiananmen, pp. 358-369. 

 5. The House of Representatives Select Committee on U.S. National Security 

and Military/Commercial Concerns with the People’s Republic of China chaired 

by Representative Christopher B. Cox.

 6. The following discussion is taken from Zong Hairen, Zhu Rongji zai 1999 

(Zhu Rongji in 1999), “Visit to the United States,” translated in Chinese Law & 

Government, Vol. 5, No. 1, January-February, 2002, pp. 36-52. 
187

 7. Zong Hairen, Zhu Rongji in 1999, p. 40; Suettinger, Beyond Tiananmen, p. 365; 

and Fewsmith, China Since Tiananmen, p. 209.

 8. Fewsmith, China Since Tiananmen, p. 211.

 9. Zong Hairen, Zhu Rongji in 1999, “The Bombing of China’s Embassy in 

Yugoslavia,” p. 75.

 10. Ibid., pp. 74-75.

 11. Observers on the scene remarked on this genuine anger, as did James 

Mulvenon in a personal communication on May 21, 1999.

 12. Suettinger, Beyond Tiananmen, p. 371.

 13. Ibid., p. 372.

 14. Beijing, Associated Press, 11:33 p.m. EDT.

 15. Suettinger, Beyond Tiananmen, p. 373.

 16. Ibid., p. 372.

 17. Beijing, Xinhua Domestic Service, May 13, 1999.

 18. Fewsmith, China Since Tiananmen, p. 212; and Suettinger, Beyond Tiananmen, 

p. 374.

 19. UN Security Council Press Release SC/6675, May 14, 1999. 

 20. Beijing, Xinhua, June 12, 1999.

 21. Oral Presentation by Under Secretary of State Thomas Pickering on June 

17 to the Chinese Government Regarding the Accidental Bombing of the PRC 

Embassy in Belgrade, U.S. Department of State, Office of the Spokesman, released 

July 6, 1999. Xinhua says the briefing was given on June 16.

 22. Joseph Fewsmith, “The Impact of the Kosovo Conflict on China’s Political 

Leaders and Prospects for WTO Accession,” NBR Publications: NBR Briefing, July 

1999.

 23. Beijing, Xinhua, June 17, 1999.

 24. Suettinger, Beyond Tiananmen, p. 376.

 25. Bonnie S. Glaser, “Sino-American Relations Challenged by New Crises,” 

Comparative Connections, Vol. 1, No. 1, July 1999, p. 7.

 26. Beijing, CNN, July 30, 1999.

 27. Transcript, “Responses to Questions Submitted by Deutsche Welle. Lee 

Teng-hui, President, Republic of China,” pp. 2-3. Provided by the Taipei Economic 

and Cultural Representatives Office in the United States, July 14, 1999.

 28. See Suettinger, Beyond Tiananmen, pp. 385-388, for an insightful assessment 

of this period 

 29. Transcript, State Department Legal Adviser David Andrews at Conclusion 

of Negotiations, Beijing, China, December 16, 1999.
188

 30. The One China Principle and the Taiwan Issue, Beijing: Taiwan Affairs Office 

and the Information Office of the State Council, February 21, 2000.

 31. China’s National Defense 2000, Beijing: Information Office of the State 

Council, October 16, 2000.

 32. See, for example, Governor Bush’s speech at the Ronald Reagan Public 

Library, “A Distinctly American Internationalism,” November 19, 1999; and 

Condoleezza Rice, “Promoting the National Interest,” Foreign Affairs, Vol. 7, No. 1, 

January-February 2000, p. 56. 

 33. China’s National Defense 2000, p. 3.

 34. “Confirmation hearing by Colin L. Powell,” Department of State, 

Washington, DC, January 17, 2001.

 35. John Pomfret, “Jiang has caution for the U.S. China’s Leader Says Taiwan 

Arms Deal would Spur Buildup,” Washington Post, March 24, 2001.

 36. The following discussion is drawn from Thomas E. Ricks, “Anger Over 

Flights Grew in the Past Year. Proximity Riled China; U.S. Cited Interceptors,” 

Washington Post, April 7, 2001.

 37. See Article II, “Agreement between the Department of Defense of the United 

States of America and the Ministry of National Defense of the People’s Republic of 

China on Establishing a Consultation Mechanism to Strengthen Military Maritime 

Safety,” signed in Beijing, January 19, 1998.

 38. This description of the collision is drawn from “Statement of Facts 

Regarding Chinese Intercept Aircraft’s Collision with U.S. EP-3, April 16, 2001, 

1630,” obtained by Judicial Watch through the Freedom Of Information Act, FOIA, 

“Documents Related to the U.S. Navy EP-3’s Collision and Emergency Landing 

on Hainan Island” (n.d.), released by the Commander in Chief, U.S. Pacific Fleet, 

Pearl Harbor, Hawaii.

 39. Transcript of a telephone call between Secretary of Defense Donald H. 

Rumsfeld and Lieutenant Shane Osborn provided by the Armed Forces Press 

Service, Washington, April 13, 2001. 

 40. See James Mulvenon, “Civil-Military Relations and the EP-3 Crisis: A 

Content Analysis,” China Leadership Monitor, No. 1, Winter 2002, for a full discussion 

of this possibility.

 41. Interview with Commander Zhao Yu, Beijing, Xinhua, April 6, 2001.

 42. Personal communication with Rear Admiral Eric McVadon, USN, ret., 

April 15, 2001.

 43. Steven Lee Myers with Christopher Drew “Chinese pilot reveled in risk, 

Pentagon says,” The New York Times, April 6, 2001. 

 44. “Chinese Foreign Ministry Spokesman Gives Full Account of Air Collision,” 

Beijing, Xinhua, April 4, 2001.
189

 45. The experience of Ambassador Joseph Prueher and the United States 

embassy staff is drawn from John Keefe, Anatomy of the EP-3 Incident, April 2001, 

Alexandria, VA. CNA Project Asia, January 2002. Mr. Keefe was special assistant 

to Ambassador Prueher at the time of the EP-3 incident. 

 46. “Statement by the President on the American plane and crew,” The White 

House, Office of the Press Secretary, 11:38 EDT, April 2, 2001.

 47. Keefe, Anatomy of the EP-3 Incident, p. 7.

 48. “U.S., China Soften Words, Seek Way Out,” Seattle Times, April 5, 2001.

 49. Kenneth T. Walsh, “The China Conundrum,” U.S. News & World Report, 

April 16, 2001; and Keefe, Anatomy of the EP-3 Incident, p. 13.

 50. Keefe, Anatomy if the EP-3 Incident, p. 8.

 51. Secretary Colin L. Powell, Interview on CBS “Face the Nation” by Bob 

Schieffer of CBS and Tom Friedman of The New York Times, U.S. Department of 

State, April 8, 2001.

 52. “President Bush Warns Risk of Damage to U.S.-China Relations Increases 

Daily,” U.S. Department of State, Office of International Information Programs, 

April 9, 2001.

 53. William Kristol, intervied by Mara Liasson, “All Things Considered,” 

National Public Radio, April 10, 2001.

 54. Keefe, Anatomy of the EP-3 Incident, p. 10.

 55. Ibid., p. 11.

 56. This discussion draws heavily from Keefe, Anatomy of the EP-3 Incident, pp. 

12-13.

 57. Beijing, Xinhua, April 29, 2001.

 58. Beijing, Zhongguo Xinwen She, May 24, 2001.

 59. Alan Sipress and Thomas E. Ricks, “China Bills U.S. Over Collision. $1 

Million in Surveillance Plane Dispute Termed ‘Exaggerated’,” The Washington 

Post, July 7, 2001.

 60. Elisabeth Rosenthal, “China Spurns Spy Plane Offer as Inadequate,” The 

New York Times, August 13, 2001.

 61. “U.S. Concludes Military Talks with China,” U.S. Department of Defense 

News Release, No. 432-01, September 15, 2001. 

 62. Ambassador Prueher’s letter can be found in Keefe, Anatomy of the EP-3 

Incident, Appendix A.

 63. See, for example, He Chong, “China wins diplomatic victory in forcing U.S. 

to apologize,” Hong Kong, Zhongguo Tong She, a PRC-owned press agency, April 

12, 2001; and Yu Shuyang and Hu Siyuan, “The United States Peremptoriness is 

Rebuffed in the End,” Beijing, Zhongguo Guofang Bao, April 13, 2001.
190

 64. David E. Sanger and Steven Lee Myers, “Delicate Diplomatic Dance Ends 

Bush’s First Crisis,” The New York Times, April 12, 2001.

 65. U.S. Department of State, “United States Policy in East Asia and the Pacific: 

Challenges and Priorities.” Testimony of James A. Kelly, Assistant Secretary of 

State for East Asian and Pacific Affairs before the Subcommittee on East Asia and 

the Pacific of the House Committee on International Relations, June 12, 2001.

 66. Philip P. Pan, “Powell says China Eases Pursuit of U.S. Jets,” The Washington 

Post, July 30, 2001.

 67. James Dao, “U.S. and China Resume High-Level Military Talks,” The New 

York Times, December 10, 2002.
191

CHAPTER 7

DECISIONMAKING IN TRIPLICATE:

CHINA AND THE THREE IRAQI WARS

Yitzhak Shichor

INTRODUCTION

 Over the past quarter of a century, Iraq has been the progenitor 

of three international confrontations: the Iran-Iraq War (1980-88, 

hereafter the first Gulf War); Saddam Hussein’s invasion of Kuwait 

that triggered a U.S.-led offensive under United Nations (UN) 

auspices (1990-91, hereafter the second Gulf War); and the Iraq War, 

launched by a U.S.-led coalition in the spring of 2003 (hereafter 

the third Gulf War). Though not identical, these conflicts have 

taken place in the same region, with similar players, reflecting 

similar circumstances and around similar issues, thereby providing 

outstanding case studies for a comparative analysis.1

 Iraq, the culprit 

in all three, first attacked Iran, then invaded Kuwait, and finally 

refused to expose the weapons of mass destruction it had supposedly 

accumulated. While the first conflict had remained basically regional 

and bilateral, the other two involved a coalition led by an American 

Republican administration (headed by a president of the same family 

and same officials). Both offensives aimed at removing a leader 

considered a regional (and some would say a global) threat. What 

was China’s role in the three conflicts?

 To be sure, the People’s Republic of China (PRC) was not 

directly involved in any of them. Nevertheless, Beijing could by no 

means overlook these conflicts. It was forced to react not only as a 

leading member of the international community, but also because 

some of its regional and global interests were at stake. Willingly 

or not, the PRC was implicated in these conflicts indirectly, both 

actively and passively, and, furthermore, could have affected their 

outcome. Still, in all these cases, Beijing’s decisionmaking was 

intended less to avert the confrontations, slow them, or stop them, 

and more to minimize its own losses and maximize its own gains. 

Determined by its international, regional, and domestic conditions, 
192

Beijing’s reaction to the three conflicts respectively could have, and 

eventually has, affected some of its regional, domestic, and global 

interests. Ultimately, and given the differences among the three 

conflicts, Beijing’s response has apparently been almost identical and 

very consistent―less by choice and more by necessity. In this respect, 

China’s handling of the Iraqi wars can be regarded as decisionmaking 

in triplicate. 

 Basically, the same pattern has been repeated in all three crises. 

While attempting to please all parties concerned, the Chinese have 

always tried to dissociate themselves from any direct involvement 

in the conflict. As a rule, Beijing has always called for a peaceful 

settlement of the conflict, preferably by the parties concerned or 

their peer (Arab, Afro-Asian, Third World) governments. UN 

Security Council intervention was less acceptable, not only because 

of Beijing’s own negative historical experience but primarily because 

of the Chinese unwillingness to becoming involved in the conflict 

resolution process which, by necessity, would mean alienating one of 

the parties. Also as a rule, China has firmly opposed the use of force 

to settle conflicts, both under and definitely outside UN auspices. 

This policy, again, has not been based only on principles but also 

on expediency. Post-Mao China needed international stability to 

proceed with its economic development and modernization, which 

could be disrupted by a military confrontation. Still, military action 

has not been without its benefits. For one thing, it provided China 

with an opportunity to sell arms, often to all sides. For another, a 

point that will be elaborated later on, it provided Beijing with a 

golden opportunity to become exposed to more advanced military 

technologies and invaluable intelligence―impossible to get 

otherwise―without any risk, either direct or indirect. China’s double 

standards and subterfuge have reached their climax in response to 

external conflicts, far away from its borders. A different set of rules 

exists for dealing with conflicts nearby.

 If uncovering the dynamics of decisionmaking by any government 

is difficult, it is next to impossible in the case of the Chinese. For 

one thing, China’s decisionmaking processes are far less transparent 

compared to other countries’ and cases of dealing with external 

conflicts are hardly touched by existing studies.2

 For another, a certain 
193

distance in time is needed to provide for declassified and archival 

documents, for personal reminiscences and for interviews. All are 

now available for the Korean War, and indeed shed more light on 

China’s decisionmaking then, but are not available for the first Gulf 

war, let alone for the second and third. Under these circumstances, the 

only way to study Beijing’s decisionmaking in the three Gulf conflicts 

is by reaching conclusions on the basis of a reconstruction of events; 

an interpretation of responses; an evaluation of the consequences; 

an understanding of the Chinese mind and way of thinking―and a 

good deal of intuition. This “method” is adopted hereby.

THE FIRST GULF WAR: ELEMENTARY DECISIONMAKING

 On September 22, 1980, Iraqi forces invaded Iran in an attempt 

to seize control of Khuzestan Province, including a large part of 

Iran’s oil wealth. Failing to reach a swift military victory, Iraqi forces 

were bogged down in an attrition war that lasted until 1988. The 

eruption of the war between two countries considered friendly to 

them presented the Chinese with a dilemma. In 1958 Baghdad had 

become the fourth Arab government to establish full diplomatic 

relations with the PRC.3

 Despite occasional tension―caused by the 

persecution of Iraqi communists in the late 1950s, Iraq’s growing 

dependence on the Soviet Union, and China’s anxiety about Iraq’s 

destabilizing role in the Persian Gulf―relations between the two 

countries developed smoothly especially since the mid-1970s. 

 By that time, relations between China and Iran had gathered 

momentum. Regarded as an outpost of “U.S. imperialism” in the 

Middle East and as an opponent of the PRC, Iran finally recognized 

Beijing only in August 1971, precisely when Sino-U.S. relations had 

begun to improve. Under these circumstances, China now perceived 

Iran’s association with Washington and firm opposition to Moscow 

as an asset. This Chinese perception was perhaps best illustrated by 

a series of high-level visits crowned by Chairman Hua Guofeng’s 

arrival in Teheran in August 1978. This was the first ever visit by 

China’s supreme leader to any Middle Eastern country. Yet this SinoIranian honeymoon was short-lived. Soon after Hua’s visit the U.S.-

backed Shah’s ancien régime disintegrated, paving the ground for a 

radical Islamic government. Beijing’s brief romance with the Shah 
194

suddenly became a liability. However, despite its distaste for Islamic 

radicalism, Beijing had to act swiftly to restore its good relations with 

Teheran. By the time of the Iraqi invasion, China had already taken 

steps in this direction. The war could be used to further consolidate 

this process, essential not only in bilateral or trilateral terms but also 

in terms of China’s domestic and international situation.

 Domestically, China’s post-Mao leaders had just launched farreaching reforms that, definitely in a retrospective view, have 

been nothing less than dramatic. Despite early uncertainties they 

represented firm commitments to modernization and development, 

overturning Mao’s legacy of continuous revolution. Gradually 

dismissing the theory of an imminent third world war, the Chinese 

perceived the international arena in more benevolent terms, 

conducive to their own agenda of accelerated economic growth. To 

be sure, the international landscape had also changed. For the first 

time since the PRC establishment, Sino-American official relations 

had been formed that allowed China not only to better integrate 

in the world community, but also to confidently oppose the Soviet 

Union. Regarded since the late 1960s as the most immediate threat 

to China’s security, Moscow was facing an unprecedented BeijingWashington partnership in Asia (where its troops were bogged down 

in Afghanistan), and the Middle East. These regional, domestic, and 

international situations had determined China’s response to the first 

Gulf war.

 One day after the outbreak of the war Prime Minister Zhao 

Ziyang expressed concern about the armed conflict and set out 

Beijing’s three main official objectives―that the conflict would be 

settled peacefully through negotiations; that it would remain free 

of superpower intervention; and that it would not deteriorate.4

 In 

words, these objectives appeared to be consistent, but not in deeds. 

As the only permanent member of the UN Security Council with good 

relations with both Iraq and Iran, the PRC could have led the way in 

mediating between them toward reaching a peaceful settlement to the 

war, according to its official stand, but did not. Beijing’s reluctance 

to offer its mediating services originated in its unwillingness to 

take sides, primarily in regions beyond its immediate interests and 

comprehension, and in its overall suspicion of the UN. Nine years 
195

after its admission to the UN, Beijing was still feeling, and behaving, 

like an outsider. It was only toward the late 1980s that the Chinese 

began to realize their UN power―and use it, though cautiously.5 It 

was only following the adoption of UN Security Council Resolution 

598 on July 20, 1987, calling for Iraq and Iran to cease fire and start 

peaceful settlement negotiations, that Beijing finally sent its deputy 

foreign minister Qi Huaiyuan as a special envoy to Teheran (August 

25, 1987). Within 1 year, on August 20, 1988, the Iran-Iraq war 

ended―not necessarily thanks to China or in line with its interests.

 Allegedly, the Chinese did not want the war to deteriorate or 

extend. This could have undermined their economic growth in 

general and interests in the Gulf in particular. To be sure, throughout 

the conflict, the Chinese consistently criticized the superpowers for 

sustaining the war, thereby causing human suffering and economic 

devastation. In fact, the war was not as detrimental to China’s 

economic (and military) interests as we might have assumed. 

By 1987, just before the war was over, Iraq had become China’s 

number one market for labor service cooperation (labor export), 

valued at US$657.67 million, or nearly 70 percent of the total! 

Iraq had also become Beijing’s number one market for contracted 

projects (construction services), valued at US$670.04 million, or 

over 18 percent of the total. Altogether, China’s turnover for these 

activities with Iraq alone reached US$1.328 billion, or nearly 30 

percent of the total. These figures are amazing, given the fact that 

these activities began in 1979 and that Iraq was at war for most of 

the time. While the war hardly affected China’s economic interests 

in Iraq, its conclusion could undoubtedly benefit the Chinese even 

more. Yet, notwithstanding its statements, Beijing―very much like 

Washington and Moscow, perhaps even more―must have welcomed 

the continued Iraqi-Iranian deadlock and, moreover, directly and 

soberly contributed to its persistence by supplying weapons to both 

sides.

 It is possible that Beijing’s decision to supply arms to Iraq 

and Iran had already been made before the war. Washington’s 

termination of its military supplies to Iran after the Shah’s downfall 

and the slowdown in Moscow’s arms exports to Iraq in the late 1970s 

had provided China with an opportunity. This opportunity could 
196

become even more lucrative with the eruption of the war and the 

anticipated erosion of weapons on both sides. Beijing could not stand 

the temptation. Of the four options of selling only to Iraq, only to 

Iran, to neither, or to both, Beijing opted for the last, although by any 

standard it contradicted its rhetorical insistence on a peaceful and 

speedy end of the conflict. Regular Chinese arms supplies to Iraq 

and Iran began in 1981-82, covering more or less the same weapons: 

hundreds of fighter planes, tanks, artillery pieces, and armored 

personnel carriers, and thousands of missiles of different kinds. In 

the 1980s Iraq and Iran became China’s leading arms market, valued 

at US$7-7.5 billion, around 55 percent of all Chinese arms agreements 

and nearly 70 percent of Beijing’s total arms deliveries.6

 To be sure, Beijing consistently denied selling arms to Iraq and 

Iran during the war. To some extent, it was right. As early as 1987, 

I pointed out that Chinese arms to the two belligerent states had 

been sold indirectly.7 Unclassified trade statistics published by the 

International Monetary Fund (IMF), as well as in Chinese customs 

and trade statistics revealed the incredible swell in Chinese exports 

to Jordan, a small and underdeveloped country of 2.4 million. The 

value of Chinese exports to Jordan jumped from practically nothing 

to about US$1.32 billion in 1982, to US$1.53 billion in 1983, and to 

US$1.26 billion in 1984. Overnight Jordan became China’s fourth 

export market preceded by such economic giants as Hong Kong, 

Japan, and the United States and still outranking Singapore! There 

is no doubt that Jordan provided a clearinghouse, and partly also a 

channel, for the Chinese military supplies to Iraq (it is interesting that 

Jordan’s import statistics by no means even come close to China’s 

export statistics and reflect a huge gap). Other regional governments 

concerned about Teheran’s territorial designs in the Gulf may have 

provided a channel for Chinese arms to Iraq (e.g., Egypt, Saudi Arabia, 

and Kuwait). At least some Chinese arms may have been channeled 

to Iran indirectly by Syria and perhaps Pakistan. Officially, all direct, 

and even indirect, arms sales to Iraq and Iran―both designated as 

“sensitive” countries―had been generally forbidden. Exceptions 

must have been cleared by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and 

approved by the central leadership. China’s use of proxies to supply 

Iraq and Iran has been confirmed much later. The flow of Chinese 

arms to Iraq and Iran, occasionally without official endorsement, 
197

was also the outcome of the fierce competition between the People’s 

Liberation Army’s (PLA) arms exports drive and that of the defense 

industrial establishment.8 Firmly denying that China had sold arms 

to Iran and Iraq, PRC Ministry of Foreign Affairs’ spokesman Ma 

Yuzhen pretended innocence: “The International arms market is very 

complicated . . . Therefore, we have no way of finding out how other 

countries procure their weapons from this market.” Asked if China 

would take action to prevent Chinese arms from reaching Iran or Iraq 

through indirect channels, he declined to comment. In a similar vein, 

when interviewed by NBC, Premier Zhao Ziyang failed to concede 

that Iran had acquired Chinese arms―either directly or indirectly. 

Pleading inconceivable ignorance, he confided: “Up to now I still 

do not believe that the missiles Iran has are Chinese missiles . . . 

acquired through other channels. [However] if a country has the 

money and is willing to offer a high price, there will be no difficulty 

for this country to find channels in which it can acquire weapons.”9

Needless to mention, both Iraq and Iran were also supplied directly 

by the Chinese. 

Year Iraq Iran Jordan Saudi 

Arabia Kuwait Egypt Syria

1978

1979

1980

1981

1982

1983

1984

1985

1986

1987

1988

 69

135

124

200

120

 35

 55

128

151

 74

 75

 65

 37

121

149

 41

267

155

 84

 50

 94

222

―

―

―

―

 1,287

 1,516 (1,582)*

 1,235 (1,264)*

 984 (1,060)*

1,031 (940)*

 1,341

 723

 37

 68

136

168

180

149

133

133

134

247

230

 93

136

157

146

109

 99

 85

 73

 73

 94

131

 54

 69

215

230

254

205

167

 98

130

125

166

―

―

―

―

 71

166

343

 66

320

382

184

Source: International Monetary Fund, Direction of Trade Statistics Yearbook 1983, 

1990. 

*Almanac of China’s Foreign Economic Relations and Trade, 1984-1986.

Table 1: China’s Export to Selected Middle Eastern Countries,

1978-88 (In Million U.S. Dollars).
198

 Apparently, Beijing provided these arms supplies primarily in 

terms of the Iran-Iraq war as an attempt to prevent a radical change 

in the regional power balance that could deteriorate to chaos and 

instability. Intended also to bolster China’s relations with the two 

countries, these supplies allegedly had been aimed at undermining 

and perhaps excluding the Soviet presence in the Persian Gulf. These 

sophisticated interpretations, however, conceal the possibility that 

the simple motivation for China’s arms supplies to both Iraq and 

Iran had been economic, or to be more precise, military. In addition 

to the income earned from these arms sales―that was channeled, 

at least partly, to fuel China’s own defense modernization―the 

Iran-Iraq war provided a testing ground for Chinese weapons 

under battlefield conditions. Coming shortly after China’s poor 

performance in Vietnam, the Iran-Iraq war was a godsend. Chinesemade weapons could be tested against Iran’s U.S.-made weapons 

and Iraq’s Soviet-made weapons―simultaneously. Viewed in these 

economic and military perspectives, the early conclusion of the war 

was the last thing Beijing wanted. It was only in 1987, when Chinesemade weapons were used by Iraq and Iran to threaten, and eventually 

harm, U.S. interests and traffic in the Gulf, that the bilateral conflict 

was internationalized and efforts to settle the conflict were given a 

push, leading to the end of the war in 1988.

 Though occasionally regarded as a sideshow and neglected by 

academic research, the first Gulf War was crucial in determining 

China’s attitudes and responses to external conflicts. The Chinese 

response to the Iran-Iraq war can be termed “elementary” 

decisionmaking because the equation and the choice were rather 

simple. Only two countries were directly involved in the conflict, 

which the two superpowers and the rest of the international 

community, including the UN, basically ignored. Until 1987 there was 

no real threat of diplomatic, political, let alone military intervention 

that would have required Beijing to determine its policy beyond 

the rules that had been adopted in 1980. These called for making 

the most out of the crisis with as little involvement as possible and 

without antagonizing the parties concerned, whether regionally or 

globally. These rules were applied yet again in the second Gulf War 

when the decisionmaking equation and the potential choices became 

a little more complex.
199

THE SECOND GULF WAR: 

INTERMEDIATE DECISIONMAKING

 Although the Chinese must have already been aware of Saddam 

Hussein’s aggressive predilections, his assault on Kuwait on August 

2, 1990, caught them (and most others) by surprise.10 Apparently, 

the second Gulf conflict began very much like the first, which had 

ended only 2 years earlier. By that time Beijing had already realized 

that not all the Third World problems could be blamed, in Mao’s 

style, on Western imperialism. For many of these problems had 

originated in genuine conflicts and particularistic issues that had 

had nothing or little to do with U.S. imperialism or Soviet socialimperialism. Reached in the mid-1980s, one of China’s most 

important strategic lessons of the Iran-Iraq War was that localized 

conflicts and protracted wars became the main threat to regional and 

international stability, rather than an imminent nuclear world war 

involving the two superpowers. At the beginning, the second Gulf 

conflict had promised to be a reincarnation of the Iran-Iraq War, 

but it soon turned to be something completely different, definitely 

from Beijing’s perspective. Conforming so nicely to their internal 

and external agenda in strategic, military, and economic terms, the 

first Gulf conflict had paralyzed the Chinese into believing that the 

next regional war would be very much the same as the last. It is this 

belief that somewhat explains China’s “profound shock” in view of 

the Western intervention, and even more so―military performance. 

Supposedly, both had been unexpected, not to mention that, when 

the conflict erupted, the PRC was not only unprepared but was, 

moreover, stuck in a triple quagmire, in the Middle East, at home, 

and internationally. 

 To begin with, Beijing used to have traditionally good though 

contradictory relations with both Iraq and Kuwait. In 1961 Kuwait, 

which had long been regarded by Iraq as an integral part of its 

own territory, was granted independence by the British, creating a 

dilemma for Beijing. Instant recognition of Kuwait’s independence 

and liberation from British colonialism must have been the right thing 

to do. Instead, however, the Chinese chose the traditional midway 

by avoiding direct recognition of Kuwait, yet supporting its right 
200

to independence from the British. They soon realized their gross 

miscalculation. In 1963, only after more than 70 governments (among 

them Taiwan) already had recognized Kuwait, did the Chinese 

began negotiations that finally led to the overdue establishment of 

diplomatic relations between the two countries on March 22, 1971―

nearly 10 years after Kuwait had become independent.11

 Since then, Beijing’s relations with Iraq and Kuwait developed 

smoothly, primarily in economic terms. As mentioned above, by 

1991 Iraq had become China’s primary market for labor export―over 

four times greater than the next market (Hong Kong)—and China’s 

second most important market for contracted projects (after Hong 

Kong). Around 60 Chinese companies and some 4,000 workers, 

including military staff, were caught in Iraq throughout the war and 

could not be evacuated, unlike those in Kuwait. Kuwait had also 

been one of China’s leading markets for labor export and contracted 

projects (at US$124.7 million and US$363.66 million, respectively). 

When these new activities began in 1979, Iraq and Kuwait had been 

China’s nearly exclusive markets for labor export and construction 

services. Kuwait had also provided China with loans and foreign 

direct investment, primarily for its energy economy.12

 Furthermore, as mentioned above, by the time Saddam invaded 

Kuwait, Iraq had been China’s leading arms customer. By 1990 the 

Iraqi share in China’s arms deliveries had reached nearly one-third 

(about US$4.2 billion)―more than any other country. They included 

six B-6 (H-6) bombers, 128 C-601 anti-ship missiles, 72 HY-2 (Haiying, 

also known as Silkworm) missiles, 700 Type-59 MBTs, 600 Type-69 

main battle tanks (MBTs), 650 Type 531 armored personnel carriers 

(APCs), and 720 Type 59/1 130mm towed guns.13 At the time of the 

Iraqi invasion of Kuwait Chinese-made armor accounted for nearly 

one-third of the Iraqi armored forces. There is also some evidence 

of Chinese attempts to supply Iraq with chemicals that could be 

used for the production of missile fuel and perhaps also of nuclear 

weapons.14 Still, Iraq and Kuwait were only one part of China’s 

crisscross interests in the Persian Gulf.

 After many years of unwillingness, and following the acquisition 

of Chinese-made DF-3 intermediate range ballistic missiles (IRBMs), 

Saudi Arabia finally decided to establish full diplomatic relations 
201

with the PRC on July 21, 1990, some 12 days before Saddam Hussein’s 

invasion of Kuwait. For China, and especially in a retrospective 

view, this was a major coup that also included a serious blow to 

Taiwan. Riyadh, Iraq’s rival and Kuwait’s ally, could by no means 

be overlooked by Beijing―and the same goes for Iran that the 

PRC had systematically cultivated since the downfall of the Shah 

in 1979, primarily with arms supplies. Also, since the launch of its 

post-Mao reform, Beijing managed to establish diplomatic relations 

with all Persian Gulf countries, including Oman (May 25, 1978), the 

United Arab Emirates (November 1, 1984), Qatar (July 9, 1988) and 

Bahrain (on April 18, 1989). In sum, China had a good deal at stake 

in the Persian Gulf, not only economically and militarily, but also 

politically: all these countries, without exception, also chose to stand 

by the PRC during and after the Tiananmen confrontation, a stand 

China had to take into account. 

 The Tiananmen confrontation, its internal and even more so 

international outcome, governed China’s role in the second Gulf 

conflict. This was the beginning of the Sino-American mutual 

disillusionment following a decade of honeymoon―the best years 

ever in the relations between the two countries. It is not simply that, 

since Tiananmen, China had been targeted. In a retrospective view, 

the U.S.-orchestrated political, economic, and military sanctions 

against China had triggered the process of unilateralism that was to 

culminate with the forthcoming Soviet collapse. Thus, it is already 

after Tiananmen that the United States had apparently given up 

China as a partner to the containment of the Soviet Union―when no 

one did or could predict its disintegration―and not after the Soviet 

collapse 2 years later, when China’s partnership was no longer 

needed. Primarily concerned about economic growth and 

global stability, China was about to face the shaping of a new 

international order where only one voice ultimately counted―that 

of Washington.

 It was China’s conflicting interests in the Middle East, its internal 

challenges after the Tiananmen confrontation, and its deteriorating 

relations with the United States and the Western countries that had 

determined its hesitation and ambivalence with regard to the second 

Gulf conflict. Initially it appeared like a clear-cut case. While Beijing 

firmly condemned Iraq’s aggression and insisted on its withdrawal 
202

from Kuwait, its instinctive response was that the conflict should be 

peacefully settled without the interference of external powers and 

“within the scope of the Arab countries.”15 This attitude reflected 

Beijing’s time-honored Maoist and traditional policy that external 

powers, certainly the superpowers, had used and even fueled regional 

conflicts in order to consolidate their presence and promote their 

interests. Therefore these powers, and international organizations 

such as the UN that they allegedly control and manipulate, should 

by no means become involved in regional armed confrontations. 

 Soon, however, Beijing realized that the world―as well as 

China―had changed. The PRC itself was now a permanent member 

of the UN Security Council, charged with forging world peace. Ten 

years of successful economic reforms had injected a good deal of 

self-confidence into the PRC’s internal and international behavior, 

winning a good deal of respectability and legitimacy both at home 

and abroad, at least until June 1989. Viewed in this perspective, the 

Iraqi invasion was a godsend that could be used to overturn the 

negative outcomes of Tiananmen. Managing the Gulf War correctly, 

the PRC could buy a ticket to the great powers’ club by making its 

own contribution to the settlement of the conflict; by proving its 

indispensability as a UN Security Council veto power holder; and by 

forcing Washington and its allies to revoke, or at least relieve, their 

imposed sanctions on China. Nearly 20 years after its admission to 

the UN, this was surprisingly the first time that the Chinese could, 

and would, actually play a significant role in international crises, 

something they had consistently avoided in the past.16 This, however, 

was easier said than done.

 To begin with, Beijing had to make the crucial choice between 

its traditional zuoshi (sit and watch) noninvolvement policy 

and involvement. Given China’s domestic and international 

predicaments, involvement was not only imperative in the negative 

sense (China could no longer escape its international obligations) but 

also and primarily in the positive sense (namely the opportunities 

that the conflict presented for China). Yet this was the first, and 

easy, step in Beijing’s decisionmaking process. The next step was 

much more complicated and tricky. Beijing had to choose among 

three options. The first was to identify with the Iraqi side in the 
203

conflict. This, however, would have forced the Chinese to alienate 

some of the Arab countries, something they had been trying hard to 

avoid and that could have led to undermining their relations with 

some of their main Middle Eastern allies (such as Egypt, Iran, Saudi 

Arabia, and Kuwait―the victim itself). Furthermore, such a choice 

would have also contradicted Beijing’s aspirations to reverse the 

Western verdicts―not to mention the premise that Iraq was doomed 

militarily. Beijing’s second option was to support the U.S.-Western 

side in the conflict. This, however, would have created an uneasy 

association between China and former colonialism and would have 

tarnished China’s self-determined image as the only representative of 

the Third World among the world’s board of directors. Such a choice 

also could have undermined China’s credibility in the Middle East. 

Finally, Beijing picked the third option, steering midway between the 

other two. Rather than voting for the resolution to intervene by force 

or against it, the Chinese, in a typically Confucian way, decided to 

abstain. Thus, China did become involved in the crisis but only in a 

limited sense, adopting the minimal commitments that would make 

all of the parties at least partly satisfied. China’s decisionmaking with 

regard to the Gulf War reflected a clear distinction between words 

and deeds, multilateralism and unilateralism.

 For example, Chinese media as well as classified speeches and 

documents treated Saddam Hussein, named “the little (or regional) 

hegemonist,” much more leniently than President Bush, named 

“the big (or global) hegemonist.” While Iraq, according to the 

Chinese, simply used the disintegrating international system and 

the weakening of the Soviet Union to push forward its territorial 

ambitions, the United States used the opportunity to consolidate 

its position as the predominant superpower. In other words, at the 

beginning Beijing tended to interpret the war as a particular indication 

of the gradual breakup of the bipolar international system and its 

replacement by a multipolar one.17 It did not take long, however, 

for Beijing to realize the longer-term universalistic implications of 

the war. Given the collapse of East European (as well as Mongolian) 

socialism and the Soviet difficulties, bipolarity had indeed begun to 

crumble yet in favor of unipolarity rather than multipolarity. China’s 

decisionmaking reflected no perceived illusions. European leaders 
204

were hardly consulted during the war.18 All Chinese diplomatic 

efforts were channeled to Washington whose determination to use 

military force had been unshakable. As in a Greek tragedy where 

the end is known from the very beginning, there was nothing the 

Chinese could have done but to make the best out of their own 

predicaments.

 This fundamental choice dictated China’s decisionmaking 

process. It distinguished between two kinds of issues: those directly 

related to Iraq’s aggression and those that involved external military 

intervention. Based on this distinction and despite repeated Iraqi 

requests, the PRC voted for all 11 UN Security Council relevant 

resolutions including Resolution 661 (that imposed economic and 

military sanctions against Iraq). Yet instead of supporting (or 

opposing) Resolution 678 (adopted on November 29, 1990, and 

authorizing the use of force to expel Iraq’s forces from Kuwait), 

Beijing decided to abstain. There was no other way after China had 

already voted for several resolutions that imposed sanctions (661), a 

naval blockade (665), and an air blockade (670) against Iraq.19 Since 

the Chinese could not vote for military intervention even under UN 

auspices―invoking bitter memories of the Korean War―least of all 

veto it, this abstention was enough to put Sino-American relations on 

track again as well as to avoid antagonizing China’s Middle Eastern 

friends.20 To be sure, Beijing’s decision had been preceded by several 

meetings intended to guarantee its expected outcome.

 A shrewd bridge player, Deng Xiaoping had launched a 

brinkmanship policy without any trump card, and Washington 

blinked first. In September PRC MFA Qian Qichen met U.S. 

Secretary of State James Baker at the UN for the first time after Iraq’s 

invasion and again in Cairo in early November. Washington had 

been concerned that China would veto a military action against Iraq. 

In the words of Richard Solomon, then Assistant Secretary for East 

Asia and Pacific Affairs at the State Department: 

After the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait, it was evident that if we were going 

to have a UN coalition, or at least the UN sanction of some collective 

effort to deal with Saddam’s aggression, we would have to work with the 

Chinese, given their veto position on the Security Council. The Chinese 

basically took a passive position. They were very anxious to avoid setting 

a precedent on the use of force, or seeming to cooperate with us too 
205

closely. It was in that environment that the State Department reactivated 

its [post-Tiananmen] dealing with the Chinese, at least at the assistant 

secretary level.21

 Yet, a careful study would have shown that Beijing had never 

used its veto power, and it was inconceivable that it would, given the 

circumstances. Furthermore, China must have warned Iraq that by 

no means would it veto the use of military force given Iraq’s breach of 

international law.22 It is inconceivable that Washington did not know 

about it. Yet the pretension that China could use its veto had paved 

the ground for the lifting of the economic sanctions that affected not 

only China’s modernization, but also some U.S. commercial circles. 

In return for not using its veto (which, most likely, it would not 

have done anyway), Beijing requested and expected, as a first step, a 

meeting between Foreign Minister Qian Qichen and President Bush 

in the White House the day after the voting. Still, although the UN 

resolution passed, the Chinese abstention irritated U.S. policymakers 

to the point of canceling the agreed meeting. It was only under 

intensive PRC pressure and after it appeared that China might have 

been asked by the United States to avoid vetoing the proposal rather 

than support it, that Washington gave in. The next day Qian Qichen 

became the first senior Chinese official to obtain a meeting at the 

White House since June 1989.23 Thus, even before military action 

was initiated to resolve the Gulf conflict, Beijing had won its most 

significant victory. Western Europe had outrun the United States in 

the race to lift the sanctions against China even before the voting 

took place. By the end of December, Japan had resumed its heldup loans and financial assistance to China. Finally, despite strong 

congressional opposition, Washington approved, yet again, China’s 

Most-Favored-Nation trading status. As a side benefit, the Gulf War 

and China’s role in it also helped to distract international public 

opinion from China’s harsh treatment of “counterrevolutionaries” 

accused of fomenting the Tiananmen demonstrations.24

 The second Gulf conflict had presented China with an opportunity 

to play an active and independent role in an international issue and 

restore its distinctiveness compared to the other powers. Yet, instead 

of underscoring moral values, the nonuse of military power to settle 

conflicts and its own indispensability as a permanent member of 
206

the UN Security Council, China once again retreated into the warm 

comfort of traditional inaction (or lack of effort, wuwei), hoping (as 

the term implies) that all would be done anyway. Beijing’s abstention 

was, indeed, a demonstration of independence, but one that reflected 

passivity rather than activism. According to a Hong Kong journal, 

Deng Xiaoping (who undoubtedly had authorized this abstention 

and had definitely known about it) reportedly commented: “When I 

saw on the television that Qian Qichen unhurriedly raised his hand 

in ‘abstention,’ I nodded to him and saluted him. By holding up his 

hand, he again showed the whole world that China has a decisive 

say in solving major disputes in the world. Our foreign policy is firm 

and principled.”25

Since this was supposedly said to his bridge partners and elder 

Chinese Communist Party (CCP) leaders, it reflects the extent 

to which China’s leadership has been out of touch with reality or 

refused to face it. For by abstaining, Qian in fact indirectly supported 

a resolution that subjugated UN interests to those of the United 

States, not essentially different from the process that had led to the 

Korean War that Beijing has always condemned. 

 China failed to utter a single word for strengthening UN 

peacekeeping, let alone propose an alternative multilateral 

nonhegemonic peacekeeping force to deal with the Persian Gulf 

crisis. China’s actual role can be better described as an unprincipled 

fishing expedition in troubled water, making the best of all possible 

worlds and seeking an escape route from international sanctions. 

China failed to capture the high moral ground in allowing the Security 

Council to legitimate an American war in the Persian Gulf.26

 Although the Chinese had better access to all parties compared 

to other powers, they deliberately avoided any attempt to mediate,27

something that could have won them international prestige, respect, 

and political capital―all lost since June 1989. One could speculate 

that, deep down, Beijing deliberately failed to prevent the war also 

because of the rare opportunity to observe and glean intelligence 

about Washington’s military capabilities. Beijing’s second Gulf 

War decisionmaking ultimately had been determined by two timehonored predispositions: tradition, and fear of the United States. In 

these respects, China won the short-term tactical and particularistic 

battle but lost the long-term strategic and universalistic war.
207

 The outcome of the war reinforced Beijing’s earlier suspicions that 

Washington had deliberately exacerbated the Gulf War and used it 

in order to increase its control over the Middle East, another step 

toward world domination. In explicit terms, remindful of similar 

concerns from the 1940s (Germans) to the 1970s (Americans and 

Russians), Beijing considered U.S. presence and predominance in the 

Middle East as a threat and a stepping-stone directed against China. 

Mao’s siege mentality had resurfaced. To a considerable extent, this 

U.S. threat had literally been China’s hand-made. By raising its hand 

in abstention, Beijing, in fact, had paved the ground for the American 

buildup in the Middle East―and all its consequences. It could have 

been avoided, but at an exorbitant cost that China could not afford. 

China’s mission has been, from now on, to combine and reconcile 

its dialectical relationship with the United States as a rival and a 

partner at the same time. One way has been to upgrade its military 

capabilities.

 It is conventionally accepted that the alleged phenomenal success 

of Operation DESERT STORM had “profoundly” shocked China’s 

military (and political) leadership so as to trigger a Chinese-style 

Revolution in Military Affairs.28 While the first Gulf conflict had been 

based on a low-tech protracted confrontation that fundamentally 

conformed to China’s own outdated military doctrines and deficient 

hardware, the second Gulf conflict―based on high-tech operations 

and sophisticated equipment―allegedly betrayed at a stroke the 

miserable backwardness of China’s defense system. I use the term 

“allegedly” for a number of reasons. One, as impressive as the U.S.-

led offensive had appeared at the time, it later emerged that much 

of it had been public relations, and many supposedly advanced and 

sophisticated systems had failed to function properly. The Allies 

had, of course, enough firepower and technology to overcome Iraq 

(though never entirely) and thereby to impress the Chinese, yet their 

victory should be somewhat qualified, definitely in a retrospective 

view. Two, the Chinese did not need Operation DESERT STORM 

to reveal the “secret” of their own outdated military system.29 There 

was no secret, and China’s post-Mao leadership―not to mention 

all Western academics and observers without exception―had been 

well aware of China’s military incompetence at least since its 1979 
208

malfunction in Vietnam, if not before. It is likewise inconceivable 

that China’s military leaders and intelligence services had been 

totally unaware of the outstanding sophistication of the Western 

and especially U.S. defense systems.30 Finally, one has to take into 

account Beijing’s tendency to inflate certain situations and threats 

out of all proportions. This “blow-up” has been intended either 

for internal consumption as an incentive to overcome domestic 

conservative and bureaucratic opposition or, more often, as a Sun 

Zi-style deception campaign intended for external consumption. 

Traditional Chinese dialectics stipulates that becoming powerful 

should begin with an awareness of being weak. Such awareness can 

be infused by constantly reiterating the adversary’s power―which is 

what China has been doing in countless military publications since 

the early 1990s.

 To be sure, there is no doubt that, objectively speaking, the PRC 

was weak militarily. Accorded the last priority among China’s Four 

Modernizations, the so-called military “reform” undertaken by the 

PLA in the 1980s was marginal in the sense that it hardly touched on 

issues of technology and related military theory. By the time of the 

second Gulf War, the PLA had indeed undergone some reorganization, demobilization, and modernization of advanced weapons―

yet on a limited scale. Its fundamental concept of traditional 

and conventional military competition with its adversaries had 

remained unchanged. The PLA still had a long way to go to achieve 

conventional parity, not to mention high-tech military technologies. 

In the meantime, Beijing used the Gulf War deliberately to underline 

and advertise its military weakness rather than vice versa. 

 Apparently, the impact of the second Gulf War on China’s military 

was immediate. Within 1 year of the conflict, the Chinese had indeed 

“adopted” a revised national defense strategy―“winning a regional 

limited war under high-tech conditions” (xiandai gaojishu tiaojianxia 

de juebu zhanzheng). However, China often uses words as a substitute 

for action, and for a few years, it practically remained a slogan, a 

theory that has been displayed in numerous books and articles 

but never really internalized or implemented. A former Minister 

of Electronics, President Jiang Zemin, suddenly made a startling 

discovery. Summarizing the experience of the Gulf War, he stated that 
209

“military electronics has a bearing on national security” and “must 

be given first place.” Indeed, since the early 1990s, China began to 

increase systematically and consistently its defense budgets and to 

buy large quantities of weapons and military technology, primarily 

from Russia, a source that had been unavailable for 30 years. Still, 

all these developments should be interpreted in terms of China’s 

traditional strategy of relying on conventional and nonconventional 

low-tech weapons. Actual, to distinguish from rhetorical, adaptation 

to high-tech warfare has been far slower. 

 There is no way to transform any military system immediately, 

let alone China’s conservative and bureaucratic colossus, in response 

to external (or internal) crises. In addition to problems in short-term 

defense allocation, China’s military development processes are linked 

to long-term plans and concepts that can by no means be changed 

overnight. Therefore, it is only since the mid-1990s that Beijing 

sources have begun to underline the significance of asymmetrical 

warfare and to realize that in no way would China be able to 

withstand the United States in conventional terms. However, since 

the United States has become so totally dependent on computerized 

high-tech military systems―the ultimate lesson of the Gulf War was 

to use digital, space, and information warfare so as to disrupt the 

“brains” of U.S. military technology and make them ineffective. It 

is only since the late 1990s that the first actual results of this new 

Chinese military modernization drive have become visible, while its 

most important components, if any, probably remain invisible. 

 The visible aspects of China’s defense modernization tell very 

little about China’s actual defense modernization. Scores of books, 

articles, and Internet information about high-tech warfare mostly 

reflect foreign experience, primarily based on the 1991 Gulf War. 

They aim at making such warfare more familiar to the public, both 

civilian and military,31 but by no means reflect China’s actual defense 

modernization.

The output is so vast that the proverbial unsuspecting visitor from 

Mars would be forgiven for thinking that the PLA is in the forefront 

of the dramatic changes taking place in how we think about and 

wage conventional war on Earth. It is not. Writing about and 

dissecting the RMA theoretically and conceptually, and actually 

being able to exploit it are two totally different endeavors. Whether 

the PLA succeeds in the second is another matter altogether.32
210

 This vast literature has also been used to refute Washington’s 

“China threat” allegations by implicitly or even explicitly 

underscoring the huge technological gap between China’s obsolete 

military system and that of the United States. The establishment of 

scores of military academies, the dramatic increase in international 

military exchanges, and the “gradual but noticeable” increase in 

professional military education33 are, at best, an initial step toward 

defense modernization and by no means a substitute for the real 

thing. It was only in early 1999 that the first major revision of the 

PLA operational doctrines since the mid-1980s was implemented, 

incorporating for the first time lessons of the Gulf War.34 Some of 

these lessons have been adopted even later, and some not at all.

 In sum, Beijing’s reaction to the second Gulf conflict had indeed 

produced a more lenient U.S. policy toward China, but only for a short 

while. With the collapse of the Soviet Union, Washington has begun 

to perceive China as its main regional and even global rival. At the 

same time, the two countries’ economies have become intertwined 

to the point of being mutually dependent. As for China’s position 

in the Middle East, some observers believed that China’s abstention 

that eventually facilitated the U.S.-led offensive in Iraq would have 

crippled its relations with the Arab countries, primarily with Iraq, and 

that its credibility would have suffered “serious damage.”35 This did 

not happen, nor could have, given the history of Sino-Arab relations. 

Earlier frictions have always been forgotten and forgiven (which is 

true of many countries). If Beijing did suffer a “serious damage,” 

it was in economic and military relations. China failed to prevent 

Iraq’s punishment, and the lucrative Iraqi arms market suddenly 

evaporated. In fact, China’s arms exports in general have begun 

to decline since the early 1990s, not simply because the Iraqi arms 

market was blocked but mainly because of the poor performance of 

Chinese conventional weapons in the war. Overall market demand 

for Chinese weapons declined considerably afterward.

 Yet the outcome of the war, in Beijing’s perspective, has not been 

totally negative. Actually, China’s smart policy of having the cake 

and eating it too had managed to differentiate itself from both the 

war coalition and the antiwar coalition. Despite their abstention, 

the Chinese continued to maintain good relations with Iraq and, in 

1997, won a number of oil-sharing concessions that―once the UN-
211

imposed sanctions were to be lifted―would contribute to reducing 

China’s growing oil shortages. Some argue that China’s abstention 

has damaged its image as a Third World leader. Yet, by the early 

1990s China already had begun not only to dissociate itself from Third 

World developing countries, but also to successfully compete with 

them over Western capital resources. To be sure, notwithstanding 

their rhetoric, the Chinese have never been terribly fond of Saddam 

Hussein, nor of Islamic Iran, but they have been uncompromisingly 

fond of their interests. Thus, for example, they used the interArab friction, Israel’s restraint in the face of Iraqi SCUD missiles, 

and the war’s propulsion of the Palestine problem to the top of the 

international agenda, to establish full diplomatic relations with 

Jerusalem on January 24, 1992―with virtually no Arab, Iranian, or 

Palestinian resistance.

 For the Chinese, the second Gulf conflict was more complex 

and multifaceted than the first, since it involved an external armed 

intervention, though under UN auspices, which made it easier 

for them to go along with the coalition. This is why Beijing’s 

decisionmaking concerning the second Gulf conflict could be termed 

“intermediate.” In the next Gulf conflict, China had to manage an 

even more intricate and problematic situation.

THE THIRD GULF WAR: ADVANCED DECISIONMAKING

 Unlike the previous two, the third Gulf conflict was essentially 

different. For one thing, while the first two had erupted suddenly, 

giving Beijing practically no time to prepare, the third conflict was 

brewing for months, if not years. For another, China’s multilateral 

situation in 2003 was substantially different compared to 1990 and 

1980. Tiananmen had been practically forgotten, if not forgiven, both 

at home and abroad. Reflecting growing self-confidence, China, 

which had by and large been cast aside after 1989, now has been 

recognized as an upcoming economic power and―at least from 

Washington’s viewpoint―as a regional or even a global military 

threat. Finally, the global bipolar system that still had existed when 

the first two Gulf crises had taken place, has been replaced by a 

unipolar system whereby the United States plays the predominant 

global role, overruling and undermining international norms, 
212

procedures, and organizations. And, while in the past the Middle 

East had played a marginal role in China’s actual, to distinguish 

from rhetorical, interests, by the early 2000s, Middle Eastern oil had 

become indispensable for China’s continued economic growth. Arms 

sales, labor export, and construction services have declined. All these 

circumstances had to be taken into consideration by China’s reaction 

to the third Gulf War.

 One of Beijing’s greatest concerns with regard to the forthcoming 

U.S.-led offensive against Iraq had been to ensure a steady oil 

supply, not only from Iraq but also from the entire Persian Gulf. 

Since the early 1980s and 1990s, when China’s policymakers had 

failed to anticipate that China’s energy needs would grow much 

faster than its (phenomenal) gross domestic product growth, China 

has become more and more dependent on Persian Gulf oil (see Table 

2). A disruption of oil supply and/or a rise in oil prices could slow 

down China’s impressive modernization drive and development.36

It was only in the early 1990s, after the second Gulf War and at a 

rather late stage, that China began to diversify its oil resources. But 

China miscalculated and underestimated the amounts of oil it had to 

import, not to mention the belated realization that ultimately there is 

no substitute to Middle Eastern oil and that most alternative sources 

of supply are either unreliable in the long-run and of limited potential 

or politically risky. Admittedly, Middle Eastern oil is no exception. 

Persian Gulf oil-producing countries are usually perceived as 

unstable, violent, and subject to international power politics. Still, this 

is the only part of the world that contains plenty of easily accessible 

oil for all, China included. Indeed, in June 1997, Beijing committed 

$1.26 billion for the development of the al-Ahdab oilfield in Iraq, in 

an agreement for 22 years to become effective after the removal of 

the UN sanctions. At the same time, Beijing held negotiations aimed 

at signing additional concessions (production sharing agreements 

[PSA]) related to at least three other oilfields. China’s 50 percent share 

in their combined output could, if accomplished, provide China with 

about one half of its annual oil imports in that year, an enormous 

amount. This is why the PRC was so interested in the lifting of the UN 

sanctions imposed on Iraq following the second Gulf War. Military 

interests have also been involved. Northern Industries Corporation 

(NORINCO), an armament industrial conglomerate, has been partner 
213

to the oil agreement in Iraq.37 Unlike the two previous Gulf crises 

that had affected Chinese interests moderately―the imminent war 

against Iraq could lead to a dramatic deterioration in China’s energy 

balance. 

Exporter 1997 1998 1999 2000 2001

Iran

Iraq

Kuwait

Oman

Qatar

Saudi Arabia

UAE

Yemen

 2,756,718

 239,010

 68,790

 9,033,023

 80,752

 499,908

 48,438

 4,055,011

 3,619,989

 607,352

 282,285

 5,793,430

 ―

 1,807,618

 514,506

 4,043,151

 3,949,291

 974,155

 330,443

 5,020,825

 ―

 2,496,968

 ―

 4,132,183

 7,000,465

 3,183,182

 433,428

15,660,840

 1,598,902

 5,730,211

 430.474

 3,612,424

10,847,008

 372,056

 1.459,823

 8,140.355

 1,325,553

 8,778,376

 649,766

 2,286,946

Sub-Total 16,781,650 16,668,331 16,903,865 37,649,926 33,859,883

Percent of Total 47.31% 61.01% 46.17% 53.58% 56.19%

Source: Almanac of China’s Foreign Economic Relations and Trade, various years.

Table 2. China’s Crude Oil Import from the Middle East,

1997-2001 (In Million Tons and Percent).

 China began to increase its oil imports frantically, mainly 

from Africa and Russia, in February 2003, just 1 month before the 

outbreak of the war. This effort coincided with calls to raise China’s 

strategic oil reserve to about 90 days’ net import. As one of China’s 

countermeasures to deal with the coming war between the United 

States and Iraq a National Energy Commission was established. 

The new organization was set up to design a national energy and 

oil security plan, map out an integrated security and development 

strategy, adjust the structures of energy production and consumption, 

and reduce reliance on crude oil and natural gas.38 Articles warned 

that the anticipated war would ignite an oil panic that would not 

only lead to a rise in oil prices but would also affect trade, labor 

export, and construction services―essential Chinese activities in the 

Persian Gulf since the 1980s. “Once war begins between the United 

States and Iraq, it will not only be disadvantageous to China’s 

manufacturing industry and export trade, but it will weaken the 
214

momentum of economic growth.”39 In fact, by July 2002, over 40 

Chinese companies, with over 200 staff members, already had been 

engaged in power, locomotive, petroleum, and chemical industries 

in Iraq.40 This, however, was a relatively minor problem.41 More 

disturbing was the Chinese belief that, in addition to seizing Iraq’s oil, 

Washington had broader geopolitical objectives. Beijing perceived 

the overthrowing of Saddam Hussein as the key for suppressing 

Iran, for restraining Syria, for promoting democracy, and fighting 

terrorism. “Regardless of how a new war in the Gulf is concluded, 

the United States inevitably will establish a more solid and powerful 

military base in the Middle East. This will have a disadvantageous 

impact on China’s strategic development in the Asia-Pacific region 

and the strategic balance in the region will come under definite 

assault.”42 In fact, long before the war the United States had begun to 

shatter China’s foothold in Iraq. Hua Wei Technology, a large telecom 

equipment manufacturer based in Shenzhen (and reportedly linked 

to the military), had been alleged by Washington to have installed 

fiber optic cables to help upgrade Iraq’s air defenses. While denying 

the allegations, the company nevertheless pulled out of a US$28 

million Iraqi mobile telephone project that had won UN approval.43

 Given these interests, China’s official best choice was, as in the 

past, to settle the conflict peacefully, by consultation, and preferably 

under UN auspices. If inevitable, war should be carried out and 

commanded by the UN, to be over as soon as possible. The Chinese 

obligations in Iraq had reached more than US$7 billion. “If the war 

ends quickly, the situation will also rapidly return to calm, which 

will bring economic and trade opportunities to China . . .”44 Soon 

after the end of the second Gulf crisis, China began to consistently 

urge the removal of the UN-imposed sanctions against Iraq. The 

persistence of the sanctions damaged China’s “economic and trade 

opportunities” not to mention military ones. Based, perhaps, on more 

intimate intelligence, Beijing has maintained all along that Iraq did 

not have any weapons of mass destruction. Foreign Minister Qian 

Qichen was occasionally quoted: “I can say that what was discovered 

has been destroyed. And there are doubts about the existence of 

those [arms of mass destruction] which have not been discovered 

yet.”45 But there was practically nothing China could, or would, have 

done.
215

 Unlike the second Gulf conflict when China―as a permanent 

member of the UN Security Council―could have made a difference, 

Washington’s decision to sidestep the UN in the third Gulf conflict 

had led to the marginalization of Beijing (and a few others).46 This 

time the Chinese could not threaten Washington even implicitly, let 

alone explicitly, and could in no way prevent the U.S.-led offensive. 

Its veto power had become useless. By the beginning of the 21st 

century, the PRC, notwithstanding its phenomenal economic 

achievements (or partly because of them), had been incapacitated 

politically. Though the similarities are limited, one could say that its 

obsession with economic growth and increased interaction with the 

world economy in terms of both input and output, have led China 

to a gradual “Japanization.” By putting the economy at the top of 

its agenda since the early 1980s, Beijing has, by necessity, inevitably 

restricted its ability to assert itself politically and militarily. Yet its 

clipped wings by no means implied that China could or should have 

remained indifferent to the evolving war. Too much had been at 

stake, and Beijing was compelled once again to carefully make the 

right policy choice.

 From the very beginning, Beijing had kept a low profile with 

regard to the conflict and especially to Washington’s plans. Although 

the Chinese intrinsically opposed the war in general, and the United 

States in particular, their attitude was more restrained than France’s, 

Germany’s, and Russia’s―that articulated the same opposition yet in 

a vocal, official, and consistent way. Although China backed a FrenchGerman-Russian proposal that would extend weapon inspections in 

Iraq and thereby prevent, or at least delay, the war, this was no more 

than a tactical move. Beijing had had no intention of counteracting 

Washington’s determination to attack Iraq, considered practically 

as a fait accompli.

47 No endeavor was made to mobilize the masses 

against the United States or to provoke anti-American feelings 

among the crowds, as Beijing had done following the bombing of 

its embassy in Belgrade. Unlike the mass demonstrations against the 

war held throughout the world, only a few took place in China and 

with a relatively small number of demonstrators.48 China deliberately 

excluded itself from the “antiwar axis,” perhaps on the basis of earlier 

understandings with Washington.49
216

 Some of the reasons for Beijing’s behavior are obvious, some are 

not. Obviously, and based on their reading of the second Gulf War, 

China had been disillusioned as to the successful outcome of the 

U.S.-led offensive. This time there was no reason for the leadership 

to be “profoundly shocked.” Although there is no concrete evidence, 

and will never be, it appears that Beijing was interested in a U.S.-led 

military intervention on the assumption that in this way the crisis 

would be brief and least disruptive. Eager to sustain regional and 

international stability for the sake of its economic growth and now 

substantially dependent on Persian Gulf oil, China could not afford 

the time nor the patience for a protracted struggle. If crises could not 

be solved peacefully, then an immediate and swift military action 

was preferable, mainly from an economic point of view. Yet, from 

a strategic and political perspective, as long as the United States 

is occupied in Iraq, China and North Korea are off the hook.50 But 

Beijing’s implicit interest in a military action could imply another, 

even less obvious reason. Based on the lessons of the second Gulf 

crisis, Beijing must have expected another free, not less and probably 

much more educational, display of advanced U.S. military power, 

far away from PRC territory. If, as conventional wisdom says, the 

American military performance in the second Gulf crisis had become 

a, or rather the, major booster for the Chinese defense modernization, 

the anticipated American performance in 2003 promised to be an 

even better gift. Furthermore, too much emphasis on the need to 

settle conflicts peacefully could have undermined Beijing’s refusal to 

rule out the use of military force to solve the Taiwan problem. Time 

and again Washington has provided China with precedents that 

some problems could be solved only by force, thereby legitimizing 

a Chinese use of force against Taiwan in the future.51 Outwardly 

concerned about the war, Chinese officials, both civilian and military, 

could by no means betray any interest in the war either publicly or 

privately.

This is why Beijing has so easily, almost eagerly, given up some 

of its fundamental principles. At best, post-Mao China has always 

insisted on a peaceful settlement of conflicts, preferably by the 

parties concerned and without any external intervention. At worst, 

Beijing has been ready to accept exogenous collective action, but 
217

only under UN auspices. In these respects, the first Gulf conflict had 

been the simplest for China to deal with, since there had been no 

external involvement and China could sit, watch, and make money. 

The second Gulf conflict was more complex because of the external 

involvement, but the Chinese still excused themselves, for the military 

action had been sponsored by the UN. In these terms, the third Gulf 

conflict has been the worst, from China’s standpoint, as it involved 

external military action, not under UN but under U.S. auspices, 

usually an unacceptable proposition. Still, Beijing had to weigh its 

interests against the odds and finally come up with a decision. This 

is why China’s response to the third Gulf conflict should be called 

“advanced” decisionmaking. 

 Despite its friction with Washington and its refusal to deploy 

troops in Iraq, it seems that China’s lower-key attitude toward the 

offensive, compared to the vocal Russian, French, and German 

opposition, has begun to pay off. Beijing pledged $25 million in 

humanitarian aid to Iraq, and indicated its readiness to write-off a big 

chunk of Iraq’s debt, estimated at $5.8 billion. In return, the Chinese 

expect to take an active part in Iraq’s reconstruction after the end of 

the war, and to activate their vital oil production sharing agreements. 

As a result of its cautious policy, the PRC is not on the U.S. list of 

countries such as Russia, France, and Germany that are excluded 

from bidding for the reconstruction of Iraq. Although its agreements 

have been suspended, by March 2004 two Chinese companies have 

secured deals, both in the telecommunications sector. A month 

earlier, a small Chinese team started preparations for reopening the 

PRC embassy in Baghdad, seriously damaged during the war.52 It is 

also quite possible that Washington’s readiness to overlook Beijing’s 

opposition to the Iraqi War also reflects its recognition of China’s 

crucial role in dealing with the North Korean crisis.53

 While it might be too early to estimate the military lessons that 

Beijing has drawn from the third Gulf War, initial conclusions can 

still be reached.54 Perhaps the most important is that, contrary to the 

lessons of the 1991 and 1999 offensives in Iraq and Kosovo, air power 

and long-range precision strikes alone are not sufficient to prevail in 

an armed conflict. Ground forces are still essential to overcome an 

enemy, yet not in the traditional Chinese sense. An additional lesson 

drawn by the Chinese includes the integration of psychological 
218

warfare with air and rapid ground operations directed at the enemy 

leadership, its ability to communicate and willingness to fight.55 The 

war also has reinforced PLA plans to improve weapons mobility 

and firepower and accelerate acquisition of information technology 

and advanced command, control, communications, computer, 

intelligence, survelliance, and reconnaissance (C4ISR) systems to 

upgrade joint operations capabilities and interservice cooperation 

and integration. Yet reading PLA reports and commentaries on 

modern warfare, one can get the impression that almost nothing has 

been done so far, and that military reform has yet to be launched 

by using the “historic opportunity” or “strategic opportunity.” 

Commenting on the lessons of the war in Iraq, Dr. Zheng Yanping of 

the Military Science Academy underscored in bold terms the main 

reasons for China’s failure to modernize its military system:

It is fair to say [in July 2003, a quarter of a century after the beginning 

of China’s so-called defense reform!] that our military is still a surface 

combat military. Our strategic thinking is inevitably imprinted with 

much traditional thinking. The backwardness in thinking is fundamental 

backwardness. To push forward with Chinese characteristics, we should 

be brave in emancipating ourselves from those modes of thinking that 

once brought us glory, but have proved outdated by practice. . . . We 

should bring about new military theories with new thinking so as to 

bring about and guide military reform with Chinese characteristics.56

CONCLUSION

 While all three conflicts discussed in this chapter similarly 

involved Iraq and Saddam Hussein’s intransigence against Iran, 

Kuwait and the United States (or UN), they led to different 

international responses. The first conflict, the Iran-Iraq War, had 

failed to draw world attention until 1987, when the vital traffic in the 

Hormuz Straits was threatened. Only then did the powers intervene 

to cut short the confrontation. The second war, that had begun with 

Saddam’s invasion of Kuwait, immediately triggered a Western 

response in the form of a military offensive led by the United States 

yet under UN auspices. International response to the third war and 

Saddam’s refusal to allow an in-depth inspection of Iraq’s (actual 

or virtual) nonconventional weapons had provoked a unilateral 
219

U.S. response that bypassed not only the UN but also some of its 

European allies, as well as Russia and China.

 Despite these variations, China’s decisions on all three conflicts 

have been basically identical, although one could detect different 

attitudes by diverse groups representing different interests 

(including the military, the economy, the Foreign Ministry, and the 

CCP). Fundamentally and officially, post-Mao China always has 

been interested in maintaining regional and international stability 

as a precondition for its modernization and economic growth. 

Consequently, Beijing has consistently upheld the principle of 

settling conflicts peacefully through consultation between the parties 

concerned and without external interference. Yet, while paying lip 

service to this principle, the PRC has become involved in the Iraqi 

wars and―directly (in the first) or indirectly (in the two others)―

contributed to prolonging and extending their military dimensions. 

In all three, the Chinese have hardly lifted a finger to enable a peaceful 

settlement and have ultimately, though implicitly, gone along with 

the U.S.-led coalition’s offensive, either within the UN framework 

or without. Given the growing U.S. hostility against China from the 

early 1990s and Washington’s reiterated “China threat” theory, why 

have the Chinese opted to follow, unofficially of course, the U.S. 

rules of the game?

 One conventional answer is that the Chinese have had no choice. 

Following the fall of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, Beijing’s 

dreams of a multipolar international system were shattered as U.S. 

unilateralism began to gather momentum.57 The Chinese could not 

afford to defy the United States primarily because of their economic 

dependence on the American market, but also because of their 

military inferiority. Apparently, this inferiority was irrelevant in 

terms of the three Iraqi wars, but as we shall see in a minute, it has 

been crucial for understanding Beijing’s response. As Beijing has 

been trying to restore its image as a responsible and reliable partner 

to the United States following Tiananmen; its admission to the World 

Trade Organization; and its attempts to curb nonconventional arms 

proliferation, it could not but join―implicitly rather than explicitly―

the U.S.-led coalition. All these explanations proceed from the basic 

assumption that the Chinese wanted very much to prevent the 
220

Iraqi wars, but have been forced to give up active opposition to the 

offensive under the existing circumstances and constraints. Is that so?

 A nonconventional explanation would suggest that, while these 

confrontations have entailed some short run nonessential losses 

for Beijing, their benefits have been more essential, far greater, 

and long run―less in economic terms, more in political terms, and 

mostly in military terms. This is evident in three wars. As we have 

seen, China’s economic relations, trade turnover, labor exports, 

and construction services increased dramatically during the first 

Iraqi war. The second Iraqi conflict and the UN-imposed sanctions 

brought Sino-Iraqi economic relations almost to a standstill, though, 

in view of the overall size of China’s foreign economic relations, the 

damage has not been so bad. The same goes for the third conflict. 

Some Chinese companies already have been allowed by Washington 

to take part in Iraq’s post-war reconstruction, including nearly US$3 

billion agreements on the construction of some 20 electric power 

stations, signed before the war.58 Still, China’s 1997 oil production 

agreements with Baghdad remain suspended, and the prospects of 

Iraq becoming a major oil supplier to the PRC still look poor. Yet 

alternative large-scale suppliers such as Saudi Arabia, Iran, Oman, 

and others have already stepped in. In economic terms, the damage 

has been limited; in some sectors, marginal.

 In political terms, China’s management of the Iraqi crises has 

produced much better outcomes. Despite its cooperation with both 

belligerents in the Iran-Iraq War, China managed to maintain its 

credibility and good relations with the other Middle Eastern countries. 

Furthermore, at the beginning of the conflict, no one had taken the 

Chinese seriously as noteworthy players in international affairs. Yet 

by the end of the war, and from then on, Beijing has had to be taken 

into consideration as an actual (as well as potential) conventional 

(and nonconventional) arms supplier. Its arms proliferation policies 

have become an issue―and a bargaining card―in its relations with 

the United States. Covered by an implicit alliance with Washington, 

Beijing has used the Iran-Iraq War to become actively and substantially 

involved in a region far away from its borders for the first time in its 

history. In a retrospective view, this should be considered China’s 

first step on the long march to a world power status. 
221

 Along this march, China was crippled by Tiananmen. Iraq’s 

invasion of Kuwait had provided the Chinese with a golden 

opportunity to recuperate. Beijing’s agreement not to use its (virtual) 

veto power in the UN Security Council opened the gate for the 

offensive against Iraq and also led to the removal of the civilian 

sanctions imposed on China following Tiananmen. China used the 

conflict smartly to regain its international standing and recover 

from its isolation. However, these impressive achievements were 

short-lived. With the collapse of the Soviet Union, China has been 

designated by the United States as its main adversary, leading to a 

growing pressure on China and to a number of incidents including 

the bombing of the PRC Embassy in Belgrade, the interception of 

the EP3, and China’s military exercises in the Taiwan Straits. All 

these incidents show in one way or another the military imbalance 

between China and the United States. It is in this field that China has 

ironically managed to gain the most from the three Gulf conflicts.

 As we have seen, the first Gulf War was used by China to supply 

large amounts of weapons to both sides, thereby accumulating an 

additional income of several billions of U.S. dollars that were partly, 

or mostly, channeled to feed China’s defense reforms. Moreover, 

although little has been published about it, the Iran-Iraq War 

provided an unprecedented large-scale testing ground for Chinesemade weapons, substantially more extensive both in scope and in 

time than the 1979 experience in Vietnam. It is quite possible that the 

two consecutive confrontations produced the ultimate evidence of 

the poor performance of China’s military hardware. It is no accident 

that Chinese arms transfers have declined considerably following 

the war. Even more important is the role of the Iran-Iraq War in 

underlining the urgent need to modernize the Chinese defense system 

drastically. How to do it? In which direction to go? It is Washington 

that offered the answer in the second and third Gulf conflicts.59

 It is inconceivable that Beijing was unaware of the advanced 

American military technology that had been sporadically displayed 

well before the second Gulf conflict, but this awareness was shallow 

at worst and theoretical at best. The amazing military performance 

of the United States in Iraq has twice exposed its state-of-the-art 

technological and conceptual practical edge, thereby producing a 

model for the Chinese, either to follow or to prepare against. A good 
222

deal has been written on the impact of the second Gulf War on the 

Chinese defense modernization and military thinking. Although we 

do not know how far this modernization has actually gone, we do 

know confidently that it is the U.S. performance in the second Gulf 

War that had triggered China’s Revolution in Military Affairs. If 

Beijing had been interested implicitly in enabling the second Gulf 

War primarily for political reasons, but perhaps also (if we attribute 

any sophistication to China’s decisionmakers) for military ones, all 

the more so with regard to the third Gulf War. China’s low-profiled 

“opposition” to the war in fact suggests that Beijing has been almost 

eager (again implicitly) to watch a repeat performance and to draw 

its own military lessons. 

 Viewed in a wider perspective of a long-run Sino-American 

rivalry, rather than in a narrower Iraqi-American perspective, the 

U.S. exposure of its military sophistication in 1991 and 2003 has been 

a duplicated mistake. By employing such advanced military power 

against such a primitive enemy (that could have been dealt with in 

other, more traditional ways), Washington, in fact, unnecessarily and 

impulsively betrayed military technologies, systems, and methods 

that could have otherwise surprised an adversary like China in 

case of a violent confrontation between the two. Now, China could 

learn how to cope with the U.S. military strength and weaknesses, 

while the United States will have to upgrade its military system at 

a huge cost in order to retain its edge. Strategically, the Chinese are 

undoubtedly also pleased to see the United States stuck in Iraq and 

forced to reduce its military presence in East Asia.60

 From Beijing’s perspective, all these conflicts have signified 

a change, occasionally sudden, in the regional and international 

system that affects China’s interests, at least indirectly. Beijing’s 

response to these conflicts has been determined by a number of 

inputs including the time dimension, the degree and location 

of the conflict, and its impact on its interests both in the negative 

sense (threats) and in the positive sense (opportunities). In these 

respects, Beijing’s decisions have been made under stress of time and 

threatening implications, yet in a region far away and in a situation 

that has also offered opportunities. Ultimately and even under stress, 

China’s decisionmaking process has been rational, representing a 

sophisticated balancing act of pros and cons. 
223

 Had similar conflicts taken place in a nearby region or along its 

borders, the Chinese reaction could have likely been substantially 

different. In such a case, Beijing would have done its utmost―possibly 

as far as using its veto power―to actively contain the conflict as soon 

as possible. This was the case with the bombing of the PRC embassy 

in Belgrade, the EP-3 incident, and it is the case with North Korea. In 

the case of Iraq, on the other hand, the extension of the conflicts has 

paid Beijing handsome dividends―primarily in political, military, 

and even economic terms. 

ENDNOTES - CHAPTER 7

1. I am grateful to Mr. Itamar Livni for his research assistance.

2. See, for example, Lu Ning, The Dynamics of Foreign-Policy Decisionmaking in 

China, 2nd ed., Boulder, CO: Westview, 2000; David M. Lampton, ed., The Making of 

Chinese Foreign and Security Policy in the Era of Reform, Stanford: Stanford University 

Press, 2001; and Carol Lee Hamrin and Suisheng Zhao, eds., Decisionmaking in 

Deng’s China: Perspectives from Insiders, Armonk, NY: M. E. Sharpe, 1995.

3. The following is based on Yitzhak Shichor, The Middle East in China’s 

Foreign Policy 1949-1977, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1979. See also 

Mohamed Bin Huwaidin, China’s Relations with Arabia and the Gulf 1949-1999, 

London: RoutledgeCurzon, 2002; Lillian Craig Harris, China Considers the Middle 

East, London: Tauris, 1993.

4. Beijing Review, No. 39, September 29, 1980, p. 5.

5. Yitzhak Shichor, “China and the Role of the United Nations in the Middle 

East: Revised Policy,” Asian Survey, Vol. XXXI, No. 3, March 1991, pp. 255-269.

6. Data from Richard F. Grimmett, Conventional Arms Transfers to the Third 

World, 1982-1989, CRS Report to Congress, Washington, DC: Congressional 

Research Service, June 19, 1990. See also R. Bates Gill, Chinese Arms Transfers: 

Purposes, Patterns, and Prospects in the New World Order, Westport, CT: Praeger, 

1992, pp. 93-113.

7. Yitzhak Shichor, “The Year of the Silkworms: China’s Arms Transactions, 

1987,” in Richard H. Yang, ed., SCPS Yearbook on PLA Affairs 1987, Kaohsiung: 

Sun Yat-sen Center for Policy Studies, National Sun Yat-sen University, 1988, pp. 

155-156.

8. Lu Ning, pp. 122, 137, 154-155, n. 13, 14, 158, n. 62.

9. AFP, Hong Kong, August 5, 1987, in Foreign Broadcast Information Service

(FBIS)-CHI, August 5, 1987, p. A2; Washington Post, September 27, 1987.

10 . Much of the information in this section is drawn from Yitzhak Shichor, 

“China and the Gulf Crisis: Escape from Predicaments,” Problems of Communism, 
224

Vol. XL, No. 6, November-December 1991, pp. 80-90. See also J. Mohan Malik, 

“Peking’s Response to the Gulf Crisis,” Issues and Studies, Vol. 27, No. 9, September 

1999, pp. 107-128; Lillian Craig Harris, “The Gulf Crisis and China’s Middle East 

Dilemma,” The Pacific Review, Vol. 4, No. 2, 1991, pp. 116-125.

11 . On China’s relations with Kuwait, see also Hashim S. H. Behbehani, China’s 

Foreign Policy in the Arab World 1955-1975: Three Case Studies, London: Kegan Paul 

International, 1981, pp. 189-232.

12. Data from China’s Almanac of Foreign Economic Relations and Trade, 1992-

1994, pp. 790-804. More details in Yitzhak Shichor, “China’s Economic Relations 

with the Middle East: New Dimension,” China Report, Vol. 34, Nos. 3-4, 1998, pp. 

419-439. About 5,000 Chinese workers were evacuated successfully from Kuwait 

after Iraq’s invasion.

13. Data from Grimmett, Conventional Arms Transfers to the Third World, 

1983-1990, pp. 64, 67; and Daniel L. Byman and Roger Cliff, China’s Arms Sales: 

Motivations and Implications, Santa Monica: RAND, 1999, p. 51.

14. R. Bates Gill, Chinese Arms Transfers, pp. 105-113.

15. Gu Yuqing, “Qian Qichen Says That China Is Gravely Concerned over 

Iraq’s Invasion of Kuwait,” Renmin Ribao (People’s Daily), hereafter RMRB, August 

5, 1990, in FBIS-CHI, August 6, 1990, pp. 14-15.

16. Shichor, “China and the Role of the United Nations.”

17. “Li [Peng]: Gulf Crisis Should be Resolved by Peaceful Means,” Beijing 

Review, September 10-16, 1991, p. 4.

18. Michael B. Yahuda, “China and Europe: The Significance of a Secondary 

Relationship,” in Thomas W. Robinson and David Shambaugh, eds., Chinese 

Foreign Policy: Theory and Practice, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994, p. 282.

19. Richard Clutterbuck, International Crisis and Conflict, New York: St. Martin’s 

Press, 1993, pp. 186-187.

20. According to a senior UN Western diplomat, the PRC representative was 

always present in the discussions of the five UNSC permanent members who 

drafted the resolutions regarding the Gulf crisis, but he “was often silent.” Craig 

Harris, China Considers the Middle East, p. 318, n. 4. A Latin American diplomat 

characterized China’s behavior in the Security Council: “They never take part in 

the give and take of preparing resolutions... If they can, they let others to weave 

together a resolution, then say they can live with it. They do not waste any time on 

things that are not fundamental to their interests.” Quoted in David M. Lampton, 

Same Bed, Different Dreams: Managing U.S.-China Relations, 1989-2000, Berkeley: 

University of California Press, 2001, p. 168. China was the only Security Council 

member to abstain. Twelve voted for the resolution and two―Cuba and Yemen―

against.

21. Nancy Bernkopf Tucker, ed., China Confidential: American Diplomats and 

Sino-American Relations 1945-1996, New York: Columbia University Press, 2001, 

p. 453.
225

22 . Craig Harris, China Considers the Middle East, p. 250.

23. This section is based on James Mann, About Face: A History of America’s 

Curious Relationship with China, from Nixon to Clinton, New York: Vintage Books, 

2000, pp. 248-250.

24. Tai Ming Cheung, “Silence in Court: Gulf War Mutes Foreign Concern 

over Dissident Trials,” Far Eastern Economic Review, January 31, 1991, p. 14.

25. Quoted by Michael Yahuda, “Deng Xiaoping: The Statesman,” in David 

Shambaugh, ed., Deng Xiaoping: Portrait of a Chinese Statesman, Oxford: Clarendon 

Press, 1995, pp. 157-158.

26. Samuel S. Kim, “China’s International Organizational Behaviour,” in 

Robinson and Shambaugh, eds., Chinese Foreign Policy, p. 423, 424.

27. Qian Qichen’s visit to the Middle East in November 1990 was described 

retroactively as an effort to mediate, but earlier the trip had been called “a factfinding mission.” If indeed the visit represented a Chinese effort to mediate―an 

unlikely possibility―nothing happened. “Qian Drums Up Peace in Gulf,” Beijing 

Review, November 19-25, 1990, p. 4.

28. David Shambaugh, Modernizing China’s Military: Progress, Problems, and 

Prospects, Berkeley: University of California Press, 2002, pp. 1-3; Nan Li, “The 

PLA’s Evolving Warfighting Doctrine, Strategy and Tactics, 1985-1995: A Chinese 

Perspective,” The China Quarterly, No. 146, June 1996, pp. 456-458; You Ji, The 

Armed Forces of China, St. Leonard: Allen & Unwin, 1999, pp. 11-15. This claim is 

repeated over and over again.

29. One of the first―and few―to point it out was Ellis Joffe, “China After the 

Gulf War,” SCPS Papers No. 7, Kaohsiung: Sun Yat-sen Center for Policy Studies, 

National Sun Yat-sen University, May 1991, pp. 8-9. See also Ellis Joffe, “The 

Chinese Army: Coping with the Consequences of Tiananmen,” in William A. 

Joseph, ed., China Briefing, 1991, Boulder, CO: Westview, 1992, pp. 54-55.

30. On China’s efforts to collect information―and technologies―in the United 

States, see Huo Zhongwen and Wang Zongxiao, Guofang Keji Qibaoyuan ji Huoqu 

Jishu (Sources and Techniques of Obtaining National Defense Science and Technology 

Intelligence), Beijing: Kexue Jishi Wenxuan Chubanshe, 1991. English translation 

in http://www.fas.org/irp/world/china/docs/sources.html. See also Nicholas Eftimiades, 

Chinese Intelligence Operations, Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1994; and Kenneth 

deGraffenreid, ed., The Cox Report: U.S. National Security and Military/Commercial 

Concerns with the People’s Republic of China, Washington, DC: Regenery Publications, 

1999.

31. Dennis Blasko, “PLA Force Structure: A 20-Year Retrospective,” in James 

C. Mulvenon and Andrew N. D. Yang, eds., Seeking Truth from Facts: A Retrospective 

on Chinese Military Studies in the Post-Mao Era, Santa Monica: RAND, 2001, p. 81.

32. Ahmed S. Hashim, “The Revolution in Military Affairs Outside the West,” 

Journal of International Affairs, Vol. 51, No. 2, Spring 1998, p. 440.
226

33. Thomas J. Bickford, “Professional Military Education in the Chinese 

People’s Liberation Army: A Preliminary Assessment of Problems and Prospects,” 

in James C. Mulvenon and Andrew N. D. Yang, eds., A Poverty of Riches: New 

Challenges and Opportunities in PLA Research, Santa Monica, CA: RAND, 2003, pp. 

11, 15, 16-17.

34. Lonnie Henley, “PLA Logistics and Doctrine Reform, 1999-2009,” in 

Colonel Susan M. Puska, ed., People’s Liberation Army after Next, Carlisle: Strategic 

Studies Institute, August 2000, pp. 68-69. The definitive Chinese history of the 

war was not published until long after it ended. Academy of Military Sciences, 

Military History Research Department, Haiwan Zhanzheng Quanshi (The Complete 

History of the Gulf War), Beijing: Jiefangjun Chubanshe, 2001.

35. Craig Harris, China Considers the Middle East, pp. 251-252; and “Myth and 

Reality in China’s Relations with the Middle East,” in Robinson and Shambaugh, 

eds., Chinese Foreign Policy, pp. 339, 343.

36. Ding Gang, “Will Oil Crisis Erupt Again?” Renmin Ribao, November 25, 

2002, in FBIS-CHI-2002-1125.

37. U.S. Energy Information Administration, “Country Analysis Brief: Iraq,” 

February 1998, p. 4; “Middle East Oil and China,” Financial Times Middle East 

Energy, No. 9, January 22, 1998, p. 4.

38. “Mainland Stocks Up on Strategic Oil Reserves,” Sing Tao Jih Pao, Hong 

Kong, February 17, 2003, in FBIS-CHI-2003-0217.

39. Chen Mao-sheng, “U.S.-Iraq War Brings Economic Challenges for China,” 

Ta Kung Pao, Hong Kong, February 27, 2003, in FBIS-CHI-2003-0227. See also Yang 

Jijian, Economic and Commercial Attaché in the PRC Consulate General in San 

Francisco, “War to ‘Topple Saddam’ Will Hit China’s Economy,” Wen Wei Po, 

Hong Kong, January 31, 2003, in FBIS-CHI-2003-0203.

40. Xinhua, February 13, 2003, in FBIS-CHI-2003-0213. A year later, there 

were only eight Chinese companies with branch offices in Iraq, with 23 Chinese 

employees. Xinhua, April 12, 2004, in FBIS-CHI-2003-0412.

41. As early as September 2002, in anticipation of the Iraqi crisis, Beijing had 

advised its personnel to leave Iraq. Urged to do so in early 2003 as tension in Iraq 

was growing, most economic and diplomatic staff had left Iraq by February 10, 

according to Lai Qinwei, the Commercial Attaché at the PRC Embassy in Baghdad. 

Zhang Lanhua and Liang Youchang, “Chinese Companies Evacuate Personnel 

from Iraq,” Xinhua, February 13, 2003, in FBIS-CHI-2003-0213.

42. Lung Hua, “A New War in the Gulf and China’s Strategic Security,” Hsin 

Pao, Hong Kong Economic Journal, February 19, 2003, in FBIS-CHI-2003-0219; 

Gong Zhenxi, “The United States Adjusts Its Middle Eastern Strategy,” Liaowang, 

No. 8, February 24, 2003, pp. 60-61, in FBIS-CHI-2003-0307; Zhang Shuguang, 

“What Is the United States Expecting from the Iraqi War?” Renmin Ribao, March 

27, 2003, p. 13, in FBIS-CHI-2003-0327.
227

43. AFP, Hong Kong, September 5, 2001, in FBIS-NES-2001-0905.

44. Chen Maohong, “U.S.-Iraq War.”

45. AP, December 26, 1997; Reuters, January 6, 1998.

46. “Beijing was likely relieved that after several weeks of haggling with the 

other UNSC members, the United States decided not to ask the UN Security Council 

to vote on a new draft resolution on the Iraq issue. Had a vote been taken, China 

probably would have abstained rather than veto to avoid a negative backlash in its 

relations with the United States.” Bonnie Glaser, “China and the U.S. Disagree, but 

with Smiles,” Comparative Connections, Vol. 5, No. 1, First Quarter 2003, p. 31.

47. On the power balance, see Xie Pu, Han Qinggui, and Li Zhishun, Research 

Fellows at the PLA Military Science Academy, “A Glance at U.S. and Iraqi Military 

Strength,” Renmin Ribao, February 10, 2003, p. 3, in FBIS-CHI-2003-0210. See also 

Lin Hsing-chih, “It Would be Better To Follow the United States If the Tide Cannot 

Be Turned,” Hsin Pao (Hong Kong Economic Journal), February 6, 2003, in FBISCHI-2003-0206.

48. See also John J. Tkacik, Jr., and Dr. Nile Gardiner, “China Will ‘Stand Aside’ 

on Iraq,” Policy Research & Analysis, Heritage Foundation, February 12, 2003.

49. “Bush’s China Visit Is To Pave Way for Attacking Iraq,” Sing Tao Jih 

Pao, Hong Kong, February 16, 2002, in FBIS-CHI-2002-0216. Some argue that 

Washington’s listing of the Eastern Turkestan Islamic Movement as a terrorist 

organization (without much evidential basis) in August 2002 was extorted by 

Beijing in return for its promise not to use its veto if a vote in the UN Security 

Council would take place. Jabin T. Jacob, “China’s Position on Iraq vis-à-vis 

UNSCR 1441,” China Report, Vol. 39, No. 3, 2003, pp. 407-410.

50. Sources in Beijing believed that the Chinese absolutely did not want the 

U.S.-Iraq war to end swiftly, despite the economic costs to China. On Beijing’s 

dilemma, see Lung Hua, “China’s Conflicted Feelings Toward the U.S.-Iraq War,” 

Hsin Pao, Hong Kong Economic Journal, March 26, 2003, p. A23, in FBIS-CHI-2003-

0326.

51. Jasper Becker, “War Poses a Double Dilemma for China,” International 

Herald Tribune, March 28, 2003.

52. AFP, “China Tempered Criticism on Iraq and Now Reaping Benefits,” 

March 11, 2004. See also Chen Hong, “Who Will Foot the ‘Bills’ for Iraq’s 

Reconstruction?” Renmin Ribao, Guangzhou South China News Supplement, April 

16, 2003, p. 2, in FBIS-CHI-2003-0416. 

53. Ralph Cossa, “Diplomacy Fails with Iraq; Is North Korea Next?” Comparative Connections, Vol. 5, No. 1, First Quarter 2003, p. 4.

54 . The following is based on FY04 Report to Congress, Annual Report on the 

Military Power of the People’s Republic of China, May 2004, in www.defenselink.mil, 

accessed on August 8, 2004. See also Willy Lam, “Beijing Studies the U.S. War in 

Iraq,” The Jamestown Foundation, China Brief, April 8, 2003; and Garret Albert, 
228

Michael Chase, Kevin Pollpeter, and Eric Valko, “China’s Preliminary Assessment 

of Operation Iraqi Freedom,” Chinese Military Update, Vol. 1, No. 2, July 2003, pp. 

1-4.

55. See, for example, Li Xuanliang, “The Iraq War Opens the Door to the Use 

of Information Technology for Psychological Warfare,” Xinhua, May 13, 2003, in 

FBIS-CHI-2003-0513. Though the PLA has had military psychology courses in its 

academies for well over a decade, it was only in 1999 that an office of psychological 

warfare was established and only 2 years later, in 2001, that the PLA’s first 

psychological warfare experts graduated from the Xi’an Political Institute. See 

Bickford, p. 12.

56 . Zhang Guoyu, “Seize Development Opportunities and Push Forward 

Reform Practices―Notes on ‘How to Push Forward Military Reform with Chinese 

Characteristics’ Special Discussion session,” Jiefangjun Bao, July 22, 2003, p. 6, in 

FBIS-CHI-2003-0722.

57 . Although some Chinese still would argue differently, see Sun Zifa, 

“Unipolar World Does Not Work. Multipolarism Order of the Day,” Zhongguo 

Xinwen She, March 20, 2003, in FBIS-CHI-2003-0320.

58 . Weng Yang, “Beijing Expert Says War in Iraq Will Have a Limited Impact 

on China’s Foreign Trade and Economic Relations,” Zhongguo Xinwen She, March 

20, 2003, in FBIS-CHI-2003-0320; Economic Research Office under the Financial 

and Economic Committee of the National People’s Congress, “How Much Impact 

the Iraq War Had on China’s Economy,” Renmin Ribao, August 4, 2003, in FBISCHI-2003-0804.

59 . See also Paul H. B. Godwin, “The PLA’s Great Leap into the 21st Century: 

Implications for the U.S.,” China Brief, Vol. 4, Issue 9, The Jamestown Foundation: 

April 29, 2004.

60. Willy Lam, “China’s Reaction to America’s Iraq Imbroglio,” The Jamestown 

Foundation, China Brief, Vol. 4, No. 8, April 15, 2004, pp. 1-2.
229

CHAPTER 8

“DECISIONMAKING UNDER STRESS” OR “CRISIS 

MANAGEMENT”?: IN LIEU OF A CONCLUSION

Frank Miller and Andrew Scobell

 Since its founding, the People’s Republic of China (PRC) has 

had its share of crises; some of its own doing, some forced upon it 

by nature or external forces. At times, Chinese leaders have acted 

quickly to take control of a situation and resolve the issue at hand. 

At other times, Beijing has seemed incapable of even recognizing 

a crisis existed, much less indicating it knew how to respond. This 

dichotomy exists both for domestic and international crises, in times 

of strong unified leadership, and in times of divided leadership. 

The overarching question that the contributors to this volume have 

wrestled with is whether they could discern a pattern for how China 

handles crises. What can one learn from analyzing case studies of 

Chinese crisis management? Of particular interest to the contributors 

was the role of the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) in managing 

crises. In each case study, to what extent was China’s military 

involved? Was the PLA central, pivotal, peripheral, or irrelevant? 

CRISIS? WHAT CRISIS!?

 As the editors of this volume note in their introductory chapter, 

there was widespread consensus that China’s leaders did not consider 

all of the cases in this volume as crises. Nearly all participants agreed 

that in most instances the crisis was short-term and often positiondependent. In other words, notification of an unexpected event, such 

as explosions at the Chinese embassy in Belgrade or the emergency 

landing of a foreign military aircraft on Chinese territory, may be 

viewed as a crisis at least for a particular desk officer at the Foreign 

Ministry or the commander of a PLA Air Force base. But more senior 

leaders may not view the situation as a crisis. In addition, a military 

conflict in Southwest Asia will not have the same sense of urgency as 

a military conflict on the Korean Peninsula.
230

 Moreover, cultural factors may lead Chinese leaders to think 

about crises differently than, say, American leaders. Chinese, for 

example, appear to view crises as not entirely negative phenomena. 

The Chinese term for crisis (weiji) is a combination of the words for 

danger (weixian) and opportunity (jihui). 

 With all this in mind, the editors decided to sidestep the crisis 

management minefield by adopting a rubric of “national security 

decisionmaking under stress.”

 Significant attention has focused on China’s management of crises 

both inside the country and out. Whatever the rubric adopted in this 

volume, it is important to ask what the findings from this volume can 

tell us about Chinese handling of national security decisionmaking 

in times of great stress. Consequently, we will attempt to prepare a 

matrix demonstrating how the Chinese, and more specifically the 

PLA, respond to crises by type and importance.

 So what constitutes a crisis? Using Jonathan Wilkenfeld’s 

conception, we define a crisis as a situation that (1) presents a serious 

threat to the “basic values” or “core interests” of the actors involved; 

(2) involves a finite time or sense of urgency in the minds of the 

key actors; and (3) presents a key opportunity to advance or damage 

substantially the core interests of the key actors, including significant 

potential for military conflict.1

 With so many variables, causes, degrees of severity, outcomes, 

and participants in the cases reviewed, it was a challenge to tie them 

all together. Moreover, because of the dearth of information available 

to the outside observer regarding China’s decisionmaking processes 

and contemporary leadership dynamics for each case, no conception 

can claim total inclusiveness. Still, this treatment addresses the 

commonality observed in each case, with the presumption that a 

critical look at other crises will find a similar pattern. It is based not 

on any over-arching political science or foreign policy theory, nor 

does it really lend itself to traditional categories. It is purely based on 

direct observation, intuition (in the words of one participant), and in 

the belief that communist regimes tend to thrive in crises situations.
231

CRISIS MODE AS THE NORM?

 One could make the argument that the Chinese Communist Party 

(CCP) requires crises for its continued existence. Communists came to 

power by convincing (or coercing) its constituents into believing that 

only the Communist Party could save them from the crisis in which 

they found themselves. The Communists built an “urban myth” 

around themselves that depicts them as the proverbial cavalry riding 

to the rescue just in time to save China from complete annihilation. 

This myth appears to be an important dimension in maintaining 

popular support for the regime. It is often said that the CCP has all but 

abandoned Marxism-Leninism and Maoism to justify its continued 

rule, and this has been replaced by “performance-based legitimacy.” 

In other words, China’s rulers rely very heavily on sustained 

economic growth and rising living standards for popular support. 

While this is so, this is only half of the story. The CCP leadership 

also leans very heavily on nationalism.2 Crises provide invaluable 

opportunities for China’s leaders to exploit deep and emotional 

groundswells of nationalism and conflate CCP rule with the power 

of and pride in the “new China.” Hence the oft repeated mantra: 

“Without the Communist Party, there would be no new China” 

(meiyou gongchandang, meiyou xin zhongguo). Manufacturing and/or 

manipulating crises to whip up nationalist sentiment and national 

solidarity can be useful to China’s leaders. There are three topics in 

particular that can really stir the passions of Chinese people: Taiwan, 

Japan, and the United States. Taiwan is the ultimate nationalist cause, 

and mere mention of efforts by “independence forces” on the island 

brings outpourings of popular indignation. Similarly, any perceived 

slight against China by unrepentant “Japanese militarists” or brazen 

“American hegemonists” can be counted on to produce expressions 

of outrage in Chinese on-line chat rooms and radio call-in shows. 

Thus, sometimes there are important reasons for the Party to create 

a crisis if one does not present itself. 

 A communist regime typically seized power in a protracted 

crisis, has operated for many years of its existence in a hyper crisis 

mode, and constructed a savior myth. As a result, a communist 

regime tends to be designed, organized, and its leadership trained 

to respond to crises. Therefore, communist leaders believe they need 

periodic crises to move policy forward and retain popular support. 
232

WHY DOESN’T PRACTICE MAKE PERFECT?

 So why, then, does the CCP often seem so inept at handling crises? 

The assertion that they thrive on crises presents a paradox. How can 

the regime thrive on crises and yet be incapable of managing them? 

This apparent paradox is key to appreciating the differences in how 

Beijing approaches crises. We suggest that it is useful to divide crises 

that China manages into three categories: fabricated, anticipated, 

and unanticipated. For fabricated crises (and partially for anticipated 

crises), China’s leaders do have crisis management down to a 

science (but not an art). But they are so scientific in their approach 

that they cannot react in a flexible, swift, or artful way, explaining 

the time it takes to respond to real crises. For unanticipated crises, 

crisis management is far less impressive than it is for the former two 

categories (see Figure 1).

Fabricated Anticipated Unanticipated

Type of Coherent, Outward paralysis Graduated

Response decisive internal uncertainty 

Speed of Swift, if not Initially very slow Slow reaction

Response immediate

Unity of Strong, cohesive Imperfectly Uncoordinated

Action well-coordinated coordinated

Figure 1. Crisis Response Typology.

 Moreover, handling crises in the post-Mao and post-Deng 

eras is not simple anymore. Management of crises in earlier eras 

was considerably more straightforward for the CCP leadership. 

Power tended to be much more centralized and located in a single 

individual―the paramount ruler. Decisions could be made by one 

man, and, once he gave the order, the crises were handled according 

to his instructions. In the era of Mao Zedong, and to a somewhat 

lesser extent in the era of Deng Xiaoping, the regime’s performance 

in a crisis could be understood relatively easily, employing a unitary 
233

actor model. In the Jiang Zemin and the Hu Jintao eras, power is far 

more dispersed and bureaucratic politics far more important. One 

leading academic, Kenneth Liberthal, has dubbed China’s system in 

the post-Mao era as “fragmented authoritarianism.”3 In short, crisis 

management in the 21st century has become far more challenging 

than before for China’s communist rulers. 

CRISIS MANAGEMENT IN THE POST-DENG XIAOPING ERA

 Because of the increasing challenge crisis management presents 

to Chinese leaders in the post-Deng era, there have been considerable 

efforts to develop coordination mechanisms to manage crises. There 

has been keen interest in establishing a Chinese version of a U.S.-

style National Security Council. This was especially evident in the 

aftermaths of the Belgrade bombing episode of 1999 and the EP-3 

Incident of 2001.

4

 The Chinese trend to institutionalize crisis response 

was recently highlighted in a 2005 State Council report to the National 

People’s Congress Standing Committee. In this case, a pre-packaged 

“counteremergency” response mechanism was proposed for the 

multitude of natural disasters that befall China annually.5 Whether 

the Chinese government really believes it can perfect a response to 

any future crisis, the establishment of the nationwide contingency 

framework supports their need to seem as if they can. Some would 

argue that the government must be seen as in total control. Dr. Jiang 

Jinsong, in his seminal work on the National People’s Congress, 

provides the historical basis for the Chinese concept of central power. 

According to Jiang, the lessons learned in the Spring and Autumn 

and Warring States periods included the concept that “a state under 

one supremacy will be orderly . . .”6

 Perhaps the closest to an existing crisis management mechanism 

are the Leadership Small Groups (lingdao xiaozu) that exist to handle 

coordination between bureaucratic stovepipes.7

 These approximate 

what U.S. Government bureaucrats call “Interagency Working 

Groups.”
234

GOALS IN A CRISIS

1. Survival of the Party. 

 First and foremost is the survival of the party. Absolutely no 

action will be taken that threatens the viability of their chosen political 

coattails upon which they believe the future of China rests. Puska 

breaks this priority into two parts―protecting the party’s power 

and the party’s reputation [Puska, 95]. Ensuring unchallenged rule 

of the CCP is accomplished through maintaining domestic stability 

and popular legitimacy. Given the importance of pressing forward 

with economic growth and reform, in the immediate aftermath of 

the Tiananmen crackdown it was critical to select a successor to 

Deng Xiaoping who could continue to push forward with economic 

development and had strong progressive/reformist credentials. Jiang 

Zemin met these requirements well: while he had demonstrated his 

loyalty to Deng, he was not viewed as a hardliner or conservative.

2. Enforce Party Unity. 

 The primacy of the first goal helps explain why an unanticipated 

crisis normally does not lead to competition between various 

entities for a solution, as party unity must be protected at all costs. 

The cashiering of Zhao Ziyang in May 1989 is a prime example of 

sacrificing a dissenter in order to preserve Party unity. This action 

indicated Party leaders saw the only way to weather the crisis was to 

enforce Party discipline and reassert Party unity. Wortzel’s assertion 

that Zhao was using the Party’s own organization department to 

attack the older leadership from within indicates that Zhao was 

indeed considered a direct threat to the party’s core. [Wortzel, 61] 

Jiang Zemin was selected to replace Zhao in part because he adeptly 

and peacefully managed the protests in Shanghai, but also because 

he demonstrated his loyalty to Deng and the Party. 

3. Protect China’s International Credibility. 

 This goal is closely linked to the CCP’s domestic credibility (see 

the first goal), but it remains important in its own right. In the case 
235

of Tiananmen, Jiang Zemin, the individual selected to succeed Deng 

Xiaoping, clearly had nothing directly to do with the use of lethal 

force in Beijing. Therefore he was untainted in the eyes of foreign 

governments who would have no reluctance to deal with him (in 

contrast to Premier Li Peng).

PHASES OF CRISIS MANAGEMENT

Study the Problem.

 Considerable research and/or analysis is undertaken to create 

a strategy or game plan to determine how best to meet the goals 

listed above through management of the crisis. China is now in the 

post-Mao era where there is no longer a single all-powerful leader 

who decides everything. In a manufactured crisis, leaders may seek 

the advice of experts at various research institutes that have become 

important players in China’s national security affairs over the past 3 

decades.8 The research step is a necessary one in a regime that rules by 

committee, and allows the decisionmakers to hear different opinions, 

recommendations, and the possible impact of each considered course 

of action on all concerned (affected) organizations. To an outside 

observer, however, this part of the process may resemble political 

“paralysis” [Wortzel, 56], when in all probability, it is better described 

as a blackout of information external to the concerned party organs. 

In this period, leaks should be viewed as either a breakdown in party 

discipline or a calculated trial balloon to test a potential response.

Devise a Strategy.

 Develop a game plan and coordinate the implementation with 

different bureaucracies/xi tongs playing different roles. For example, 

on Taiwan the PLA played bad cop to the mainland’s east coast 

provinces’ good cop wooing of Taiwan investment to help finance 

their industrial modernization plans. These provinces have received 

at least U.S. $70 Billion in Taiwan investments, while as many as 

75 new ballistic missiles have been deployed each year among their 

factories. According to official Chinese statistics, Taiwan investment 
236

in 2004 alone amounted to 9 U.S. billion dollars, while bilateral 

trade approached U.S. 78 billion dollars.9

 Finally, their research will 

focus on finding a solution to prevent the same crisis in the future. 

Understanding this step is critical in understanding the nature of 

crisis management in China. The real danger in a crisis is that the 

governing party will come under such blame by the public for the 

crisis itself that it loses its ability to govern. The idea is to survive 

the political crisis first, then handle the actual problem that created 

it. Shichor’s representation of China’s finding opportunity in the 

early Iraqi Wars without the presence of danger indicates they were 

comfortable operating within a crisis though they themselves were 

not working under crisis conditions. Only their observations of the 

unexpected U.S. military successes in the second and third Iraqi War 

created a crisis, as they pointed out serious deficiencies in the PLA’s 

own modernization efforts. 

Assign Blame Somewhere Else.

 It is important to find a scapegoat for the crisis. It is also important 

to find a financier of the crisis recovery. Note that this logic is one step 

removed from the crisis facing the public. It is important to establish 

blame for the crisis somewhere other than on the shoulders of the 

Party. If the government can be spared as well, all the better, but the 

above Zhao example shows that even the government (and highranking Party leadership) is not immune if the Party is threatened. 

Often, this laying of blame is accompanied by an information 

operation (IO) to gain support for the decision. This IO is directed 

against the natural or intended antagonist in expected negotiations 

in an attempt to undercut the other party’s negotiating positions 

vis-a-vis their own. Swaine referred to this substep as “shaping,” 

meaning the Chinese will take steps to set favorable conditions for 

their own opening position.

 The ultimate goal, to again use Swaine’s words, is to create a fait 

accompli. For example, while Harlan Jencks’ comment that the “PLA 

entering Tiananmen when ordered to do so is an indication of their 

increased professionalization in the late 1980s” is valid,10 we would 

add that it also followed weeks of condition-setting (shaping) by the 
237

central leadership in which the deployed units were isolated from 

any external source of news and briefed that the capital was under 

siege. Wortzel gives an excellent example of troops being briefed of 

the conditions in the city over loudspeakers and using such Maoist 

class-warfare terms as “counter-revolutionaries” [Wortzel, 73]. This 

internal IO campaign continued after the events of June 3-4, with 

the awarding of each soldier involved a medal and watch inscribed 

“Liberator of the Capital,” and the closing of Tiananmen Square until 

its subsequent cleaning and repair allowed history to be written on 

Beijing’s terms. Chinese propaganda continues to insist that no one 

died in Tiananmen Square itself.

 Nearly 12 years later, the U.S. Government’s failure to counter 

China’s IO campaign identifying the EP-3 as a spy plane illegally 

flying in Chinese airspace may have actually helped Beijing set the 

terms for how the world discusses that event. While the principal 

concern was to avert a hostage crisis [Godwin, 176], Washington’s 

passiveness allowed China to establish the terms and conditions to 

such an extent that they continue to be used by even the American 

media today.11 As Godwin also points out, Beijing’s reluctance 

to follow international norms and laws for the quick return of the 

crew and aircraft was due to the central leadership’s domestic and 

international need to be seen as tough on the United States. [Godwin, 

183] Their delay in effect created a political crisis in Washington, 

which the Chinese used to their advantage.

Keep The Opponent Off Balance/Maintain the Initiative.

 It is important to understand that none of this theory tries to 

explain the logic behind the decision made, though it probably is 

based in part on traditional teachings using modern methods. A 

study of the logical basis for Chinese decisionmaking would help in 

this regard. Richard Solomon notes that the absence of rationality in 

a Chinese negotiating position usually indicates factional political 

pressures.12 Rational behavior is, of course, a subjective perception 

based on the observer’s own experiences and logic. While factionalism 

may have much to do with this approach by the Chinese, equally 

possible is a calculated attempt to confuse their interlocutor or to 

force an attempt around the impasse from which the Chinese can 
238

better achieve their objectives. In so doing, the Chinese negotiator 

would force the western negotiator out of his planned approach, 

thereby creating a crisis of sorts that―while secondary to the main 

line of negotiations―must be dealt with first. Combined with a 

propensity of the Chinese to spend scheduled negotiating time 

establishing friendships with their interlocutors that would later be 

used to manipulate the friend’s feelings, the Chinese easily can create 

the sense of a time crunch (crisis) toward the end of a negotiating 

period. Other pressures identified by Solomon as used by Chinese 

negotiators include leaks to the press, accusations of injury to China’s 

prestige, word games, “killing the chicken to warn the monkey,” and 

threats against favored Chinese officials.13 All are designed to create 

a crisis in the mind of the interlocutor that, in turn, creates favorable 

conditions for the Chinese side.

Stack the Deck in Your Favor. 

China’s Communist leaders work very hard to create favorable 

conditions for achieving their goals. This is especially true for 

negotiations, and they undertake extensive preparations well before 

formal negotiations even begin. The idea that an external cause for a 

crisis must be found implies that negotiations will always be part of the 

Chinese crisis management calculus. Thus, the setting of conditions 

is critical to ensuring a favorable outcome. Historical examples are 

numerous to show that China uses all manner of techniques to put the 

other party in any future negotiations at a disadvantage, including 

cross-border attacks or other demonstrations of force. 

 Attacks in the open media are commonplace and serve to secure 

public opinion behind their position. Godwin’s characterization 

of Chinese writings prior to the Belgrade Embassy bombing as 

increasingly anti-American [Godwin, 162-3] implies the creation 

of an opportunity waiting to happen. The Politburo decision to 

increase the public criticism of the United States and the North 

Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) can be seen as a worried 

Beijing setting the conditions in anticipation of a crisis they could 

use to slow a worrisome post-cold war U.S. strategy of intervention 

that marginalized China’s position as a third pole. The accidental 
239

bombing of their embassy on May 7, 1999, gave them the opportunity 

they sought.

 Signals are sent through an empathetic third party to the second 

negotiating party. This move not only gives China a credible witness 

to their warnings (vice direct contact), but it also removes the 

distraction of emotion between interlocutors/negotiators. China’s 

record of success with this portion of their management plan is 

spotty. As Swaine implies, Asian countries are more likely to receive 

the signal as it was intended than Western countries. In a potential 

conflict scenario, signaling through a third party also ensures that 

it is China who makes the first international steps toward peaceful 

resolution.

 Direct communications are also part of China’s steps toward 

establishing favorable conditions. The primary objective prior to 

the start of formal negotiations is to get the other party to agree 

to a set of preconditions (or “principles”) which will be used later 

to measure whether negotiations by the other party are sincere. 

Refusal by the other party to accept China’s preconditions will 

invoke a series of increasingly direct and public attacks on that 

party to increase domestic and international pressure on it to enter 

negotiations. President George Bush points this out with regards to 

Beijing’s hammering away at Chen Shuibian”s refusal to accept the 

“One China” principle. However, whether China may be willing to 

set that precondition aside at some time in the future is debatable 

[Bush, 150]. Godwin also identified this phenomenon in his study 

of the EP-3 crisis, noting that China’s negotiating tactics became 

“stiffer” following unconciliatory statements by President Bush 

and Secretary of State Colin Powell. Japan is facing this tactic at the 

moment regarding the chemical weapons left behind in 1945, with 

the Chinese goal of engaging the Japanese in negotiations to accept 

responsibility (giving them greater leverage over Japan in other 

negotiations) and to pay for the cleanup and compensations. 

THE PLA AND THE CRISIS TYPOLOGY

 Not all crises are created equal, and therefore the speed and 

manner to which they are reacted is dependent on their type. For 

simplicity, this theory categorizes crises into three types: fabricated, 
240

anticipated, and unanticipated. Each category has visibly distinct 

reactions to an observer looking for the right indicators, providing 

a relatively high potential of identifying the type of crisis (from the 

Chinese point of view) before entering into negotiations or deciding 

on some other course of action. In general terms, when faced with 

a planned or anticipated crisis, the government will act with speed 

and decisiveness. The difference between planned and anticipated 

is in the degree of unity with which the government acts (see Figure 

1). 

 The anticipated category allows for differences of preparedness 

between the various ministries or other sub-elements of the 

government. In the case of an unplanned or real crisis, however, 

reactions are very different. Chinese reactions to a real crisis are very 

slow. In the words of one conference participant, they “circle the 

wagons,” [Puska, 95] instituting various study groups to research 

the issue before determining what position―and what actions―to 

take. 

The PLA and Fabricated Crises. 

 The perfect conditions for the Chinese are situations in which 

they can exert complete control and can create and manipulate a 

crisis in the minds of their target audience. Such was allegedly the 

case for the Taiwan Strait crisis of 1996. According to participants of 

Harvard’s Senior Executive Course in March 1998 who claim to have 

been personally involved in managing the crisis, the whole purpose 

of the missile firings was to prompt a two-carrier response by the 

United States. Anything less, they commented, would have been a 

disappointing indication that Washington did not get the intended 

message.14 This is perhaps ex-post facto wisdom and bravado, as most 

Chinese civilian and military analysts one author spoke with in Beijing 

and Shanghai in 1998 about the Strait crisis said that Chinese leaders 

were caught completely off-guard by the U.S. response―they were 

quite simply shocked!15 If the latter is the actual case, the delegates 

at Harvard must have wanted to appear in control, unless they were 

victims of their own IO spin. Regardless, the Taiwan Strait crisis of 

1996 was planned by the PRC to create a political crisis for the Taiwan 

national elections. There is little evidence to suggest they strayed 
241

from their game plan during this period, even after the heavy U.S. 

response.16 This crisis is therefore marked as fabricated in Figure 2.

Fabricated Anticipated Unanticipated

Taiwan (95-96) X

SARS X X

 (PLA) (MOH/Beijing)

Tiananmen Sq X X

 PLA (CCP Elders)

EP-3 X

Belgrade Bombing X

Persian Gulf crises X

Figure 2. Crisis Response Typology.

 The PLA’s role in crisis negotiations depends in large part on 

the location of the other party. During many of the country’s border 

negotiations with its neighbors, the PLA was often used to send 

a show of resolve to the other party. At times, this was direct, as 

in the case of the fight with the Soviet Union over several islands 

in the Ussuri River. At other times, it was indirect, such as using 

the border skirmishes against India in 1962 to pressure Burma to 

acquiesce to China’s demands.17 The PLA can also be repositioned as 

a warning of China’s seriousness. The buildup of surface-to-surface 

missiles across from Taiwan is discussed openly by the Chinese in 

this manner. Rumors of PLA repositioning of forces along the North 

Korean border may also have been meant to signal Pyongyang not 

to pull out of the six-party talks. Given recent rumors of instability 

in Pyongyang, these PLA redeployment rumors may also have been 

targeted as a warning to any domestic Korean threat to Kim Jong il’s 

leadership.

The PLA and Unanticipated Crises.

 In the case of the severe acute respiratory syndrome (SARS) crisis, 

however, the PLA played a much different role. As demonstrated 

through Puska’s in-depth analysis of this completely unanticipated 
242

crisis, the PLA was the first Chinese organ to break the official 

silence and take action to treat the outbreak in a cohesive manner. 

Perhaps the best example provided was of the relative speed and 

decisiveness shown by the PLA Medical Department’s response to 

the SARS outbreak in Beijing, long before the Ministry of Health and 

the Beijing City Government reversed their policies of denial. 

 This indicates, perhaps, a different set of goals for the PLA than 

for the Party, and supports the idea that China is not a unitary actor in 

all cases. We would argue that, while the SARS epidemic was truly a 

crisis for most of the Chinese leadership, the PLA had decided postTiananmen to take advantage of every opportunity to redeem itself 

in the eyes of the Chinese people. 

The PLA and Anticipated Crises.

 The flooding of the Yangzi River in 1998 offered the best example 

of a clear campaign by the PLA not just to help contain the damage 

being done by nature, but to do so in full view of the people in an 

attempt to regain their support. In other words, the PLA anticipated 

the crisis and seized this as an opportunity to publicly demonstrate its 

connection to the people. SARS allowed them another opportunity, 

and again they took it, this time at the expense of other government 

organs―the Ministry of Health and the Beijing City Government. 

The PLA was able to act faster than these other organizations by 

redefining the nature of the crisis to highlight the opportunity over 

the danger. Only later were other entities ready to play a part, 

but by that time the PLA had taken the credit for saving the day, 

creating in this manner a separate crisis in party unity that was only 

solved a year later when the PLA’s hero during the SARS crisis, Dr. 

Jiang Yanyong, was arrested for publicly criticizing the Tiananmen 

decisions and calling for an open apology by the Party.18

 By looking at Chinese crisis management in this manner, actions 

previously seen as illogical or beyond understanding seem to make 

sense. In the spring of 1989, the leadership was prepared to act 

only when international events hosted by Beijing (first the Asian 

Development Bank meeting and then the first Sino-Soviet summit 

in 30 years) had all concluded. There were, therefore, no distractions 

to prevent the leadership from focusing on the issue of getting the 
243

students back into the classrooms before a second Cultural Revolution 

occurred. Once the leadership was ready to act, the crisis allowing 

them to do so was orchestrated and publicly portrayed. Observers 

have often opined that many of the actions by the PLA and People’s 

Armed Police (PAP) in late May and early June seem to have been an 

attempt to pick a fight. The attempted infiltration of troops in civilian 

clothes and the later reports that many of the vehicle fires were set by 

their own drivers both point to increasingly direct attempts to place 

the troops in harm’s way, waiting for an armed or violent response 

by the students.19 When that did not happen, was it fabricated? 

 One participant”s recollection of PLA Commanders’ feelings 

following the actions of June 3-4 and another participant”s 

discussion of a possible “Duality of Command” make one wonder 

if “dual orders” were issued intentionally on that fateful weekend 

to foment the appearance of chaos and hence provide justification 

for a crackdown. To be specific, was there deliberate differentiation 

between the instructions given to those already deployed in inner-city 

areas and those units outside that were given the orders to “retake” 

the city to restore order. Was all of this part of a larger plan to set 

the favorable conditions necessary to get units of the People’s Army 

to take action against the people? Wortzel’s observations of innercity PAP bulletin boards support this possibility, and it certainly fits 

the model. One author’s research indicates that Academy of Military 

Sciences and National Defense University students were allowed to 

join the mass of civilians that delayed for 3 days one unidentified 

armor unit from crossing the western canal bridges near their 

campuses.20

CONCLUSION

 If Swaine’s assertion is true that China believes the United States 

will choose to avoid a crisis of force with China, then it suggests the 

possibility that China will seek to create crises in dealing with the 

United States. [Swaine, 18] For this reason, if no other, the United 

States must identify the methods by which China creates crises, 

and then acts to “resolve” them. When analyzing a crisis, both the 

dangers and the opportunities must be identified for all players 

and at all levels. Linear decisionmaking cannot be assumed, nor 
244

can China be considered a unitary actor. This implies the need to 

identify seams that can be exploited (as well as working to close the 

seams between the various players on the U.S. side). China’s center 

of gravity is clearly identified as the Party. Above all things, the 

continued prominence of the party will be protected. Attacking this 

center of gravity in a crisis, therefore, is likely to create a unitary 

response and is probably not in the U.S. interest.

 Determining whether the crisis being presented is fabricated, 

anticipated, or unanticipated is crucial. The value of the crisis typology 

identified in this chapter (see Figure 1) is that it allows one to clarify 

key crisis characteristics and permit swift identification of crisis 

type. Once this is determined, the other party can then better decide 

its own courses of action. If it is unanticipated, then in the minds of 

Chinese leaders, the crisis threatens the continued existence of the 

Party. If fabricated, the “crisis” may be designed to push forward an 

agenda or to deflect attention away from a real crisis. 

 A fabricated crisis is indicated by swift, decisive action (Figure 

1). An unanticipated crisis is indicated by a “circling of the wagons,” 

loud and repeated messages of an initial party line, while tangential 

actions are taken to gain control or divert attention. Only later will 

actions be taken against the original crisis. This is due to the fact that 

a “real” crisis implies surprise, with no preparation or plan on how to 

react. This situation requires studying, with the inherent tendency of 

communist study processes to be slow because of the need to allow 

every faction a say in the proceedings.

 As Swaine pointed out, do not expect a tit-for-tat approach to 

a crisis [Swaine, 19]. The Chinese feel they will lose control if they 

become reactive in nature. The decisionmaking system does not 

allow for real or near-real time decisions. The idea of creating the 

perfect condition before entering the fray supports the principle that 

China does not “respond” to crises, if given the choice. 

 Is there an institutional explanation for why some crises receive 

quicker responses than others? Perhaps the PLA is just better 

organized to anticipate and plan for crises. As Godwin points out, 

the PLA was not directly involved in the negotiations that followed 

the Belgrade bombing and aircraft collision. [Godwin, 186] There 

can be no doubt, however, that the PLA was closely involved in the 

latter, perhaps even to the extent that internal Chinese negotiations 
245

were taking place in parallel to the international set. Perhaps it was 

the capability of the PLA, as an institution and as represented by the 

Central Military Commission (CMC), to conclude their position and 

draw their negotiating lines before the Ministry of Foreign Affairs 

or the Politburo Standing Committee could decide the national 

position.21 If so, this capability for the PLA to get ahead of policy 

in the event of a crisis bodes negatively in any future increase of 

tensions over Taiwan, the Diaoyutai/Senkaku Islands, or on the 

Korean Peninsula. If the trend identified by Robert Suettinger 

continues, this could equate to military action in extremis of a policy 

decision, placing everyone in a crisis mode. [Bush 148, n12] The 

recently legislated Anti-Secession Law may actually make this more 

of a danger in the future.

 Whether the topic is dubbed “decisionmaking under stress” or 

“crisis management,” this volume represents only a first cut. More 

research is needed desperately on this subject. Analyses of other 

case studies that examine the roles of key actors in the Chinese 

national security establishment, including the PLA, are essential. 

This is especially true where Taiwan and the Korean Peninsula are 

concerned. A case study of the drafting and passage of the AntiSecession Law should be made a priority. The bill, which became 

law in March 2005, appears to be an instance of Beijing attempting 

to fabricate a crisis. What are the goals of the regime here? What was 

the role of the PLA in generating this legislation? Regarding the SixParty talks on North Korea, what was the genesis and evolution of 

this initiative, which brought the United States, North Korea, and 

other concerned parties to the same table? The story behind the 2003 

launching of these talks would provide fascinating insight into how 

Beijing handles complex and pressing challenges on its periphery.

ENDNOTES - CHAPTER 8

 1. Jonathan Wilkenfeld, “Concepts and Methods in the Study of International 

Crises,” Unpublished paper, College Park: University of Maryland, February 2004. 

See also Michael Brecher and Jonathan Wilkenfeld, A Study of Crisis, Ann Arbor, 

MI: University of Michigan Press, 2000.

 2. For a recent treatment of Chinese nationalism, see Peter Gries, China’s New 

Nationalism: Pride, Politics, and Diplomacy, Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of 

California Press, 2004.
246

 3. Kenneth Lieberthal, Governing China: From Revolution Through Reform, New 

York: W. W. Norton, 1995, pp. 169-170. See also Lieberthal’s chapter in David M. 

Lampton and Kenneth Lieberthal, eds., Bureaucracy, Politics, and Decisionmaking in 

Post-Mao China, Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1992.

 4. See, for example, Charles Hutzler, “China’s Heir Apparent May Encounter 

Turf Battles,” Wall Street Journal, April 30, 2002, p. A15.

 5. Ling Hu, “Crisis Countermeasures Drawn Up,” China Daily, Weekend 

Edition, February 26-27, 2005, p. 1.

 6. Jiang Jinsong, The National People’s Congress of China, Foreign Languages 

Press, Beijing, China, January 2003, p. 6. Jiang was quoting the writings of Xun 

Kuang.

 7. On this subject, see Taeho Kim, “Leading Small Groups: Managing All 

Under Heaven,” in David M. Finkelstein and Maryanne Kivlehan, eds., China’s 

Leadership in the 21st Century: The Rise of the First Generation, Armonk: M. E. Sharpe, 

Inc, 2003, pp. 121-139. 

 8. For more on the role and importance of Chinese think tanks, see Evan 

Medeiros, “Agents of Influence: Assessing the Role of Chinese Foreign Policy 

Research Organizations after the 16th Party Congress,” in Andrew Scobell and 

Larry Wortzel, eds., Civil-Military Change in China: Elites, Institutes, and Ideas After 

the 16th Party Congress, Carlisle Barracks, PA: U.S. Army War College, Strategic 

Studies Institute, 2004, pp. 279-308; and China Quarterly, Issue No. 171, September 

2002, which contains several articles on Chinese think tanks.

 9. The 70 billion figure comes from “China-Taiwan Ties Strengthen Despite 

Political Unease,” OxResearch, January 31, 2005, p.1. The 2004 figures were reported 

by a China Radio International broadcast on March 31, 2005. 

 10. Harlan W. Jencks, “Civil-Military Relations in China: Tiananmen and 

After,” Problems of Communism, Vol. XL, No. 3, May-June 1991, pp. 14-29.

 11. Hear, for example, on any news broadcast regarding this event, how “the 

American spy plane collided with the Chinese fighter,” instead of how the Chinese 

fighter collided with the American reconnaissance plane.

 12. Richard H. Solomon, Chinese Political Negotiating Behavior: A Briefing 

Analysis, Santa Monica, CA: RAND, December 2005, p. 4. 

 13. Solomon, pp. 10-14. 

 14. Susan A. Lawrence, Impressions of the Second Kennedy School Executive 

Program for Senior Chinese Military Officers, March 7-21, 1998, unpublished, p. 31.

 15. See Andrew Scobell, China’s Use of Military Force: Beyond the Great Wall and 

the Long March, New York: Cambridge University Press, 2003, p. 182. See also John 

W. Garver, Face Off: China, the United States, and Taiwan’s Democratization, Seattle: 

University of Washington Press, 1997, chapters 9 and 10.

 16. However, it does appear that the PLA tested fewer missiles in March 1996 

for some reason. Scobell, China’s Use of Military Force, p. 183.
247

 17. Frank Miller, unpublished notes from the joint Atlantic Council―Asia 

Pacific Center Conference on Asian Approaches to International Negotiations: 

Borders and Territories, Honolulu, HI, September 8-10, 1998.

 18. Dr. Jiang’s subsequent arrest for criticizing the Party may help explain 

why he broke ranks (thereby creating an exception for this model) with the Party 

during the SARS crisis. It stands as a good example, though, of how intra-Party 

debates are handled when they become public.

 19. Scobell, China’s Use of Military Force, pp. 162-163.

 20. Miller, Discussion with individuals who were National Defense University 

students in 1989, Beijing, China, November 2003.

 21. For details on the extraordinary powers of the PLA, through the Central 

Military Commission, to propose laws and present its views to the central 

leadership faster than any other government entity, see Jiang, The National People’s 

Congress of China, pp. 137-140. For the CMC’s role in decisionmaking, see Tai Ming 

Cheung, “The Influence of the Gun: China’s Central Military Commission and 

Its Relationship with the Military, Party, and State Decisionmaking Systems,” in 

David M. Lampton, ed., The Making of Chinese Foreign and Security Policy in the Era 

of Reform, Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2001, pp. 191-122.

249

ABOUT THE CONTRIBUTORS

RICHARD BUSH is a Senior Fellow at the Brookings Institution 

and Director of its Center for Northeast Asian Policy Studies. The 

Center serves as a locus for research, analysis, and debate to enhance 

policy development on the pressing political, economic, and security 

issues facing Northeast Asia and U.S. interests in the region. Dr. 

Bush came to Brookings in July 2002, after serving almost 5 years as 

the Chairman and Managing Director of the American Institute in 

Taiwan (AIT), the mechanism through which the U.S. Government 

conducts substantive relations with Taiwan in the absence of 

diplomatic relations. He began his professional career in 1977 with 

the China Council of The Asia Society. In July 1983, he became a staff 

consultant on the House Foreign Affairs Committee’s Subcommittee 

on Asian and Pacific Affairs. In January 1993, Dr. Bush moved up to 

the full committee, where he worked on Asia issues and served as 

liaison with Democratic members. In July 1995, he became National 

Intelligence Officer for East Asia and a member of the National 

Intelligence Council (NIC), which coordinates the analytic work of 

the intelligence committee. He left the NIC in September 1997 to 

become head of AIT. Dr. Bush is the author of a number of articles on 

U.S. relations with China and Taiwan, including At Cross Purposes, 

a book of essays on the history of America’s relations with Taiwan 

(Armonk, NY: M. E. Sharpe, March 2004), and his study on crossStrait relations, Untying the Knot: Making Peace in the Taiwan Strait

(Washington, DC: Brookings, forthcoming 2005). Dr. Bush received 

his undergraduate education at Lawrence University in Appleton, 

Wisconsin. He did his graduate work in political science at Columbia 

University, New York, receiving an M.A. in 1973 and his Ph.D. in 

1978.

PAUL H. B. GODWIN is a Senior Fellow at the Foreign Policy Research 

Institute, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. He retired as professor of 

international affairs, the National War College, Washington, DC, in 

the summer of 1998. In the fall of 1987, he was a visiting professor at 

the Chinese National Defense University. His teaching and research 

specialties focus on Chinese defense and security policies. Dr. 
250

Godwin’s most recent publications are “Change and Continuity in 

Chinese Military Doctrine: 1949-1999,” in Mark A. Ryan, David M. 

Finkelstein, and Michael A. McDevitt, eds., Chinese Warfighting: the 

PLA Experience Since 1949 (Armonk, New York: M.E. Sharpe, 2003); 

“China’s Defense Establishment: The Hard Lessons of Incomplete 

Modernization,” in Laurie Burkitt, Andrew Scobell, and Larry 

Wortzel,eds., The Lessons of History: The Chinese People’s Liberation 

Army at 75 (Carlisle, PA: U.S. Army War College, Strategic Studies 

Institute, 2003); Preserving the PLA’s Soul: Civil Military Relations and 

the New Generation of Chinese Leadership, CAPS Papers No. 33 (Taipei, 

Taiwan, Republic of China: Chinese Council of Advanced Policy 

Studies, October 2003); and “China as Regional Hegemon?” in Jim 

Rolfe (ed.) The Asia-Pacific Region in Transition (Honolulu, Hawaii: 

Asia-Pacific Center for Security Studies, 2004). Dr. Godwin graduated 

from Dartmouth College with a degree in International Relations, 

and received his Ph.D. in Political Science from the University of 

Minnesota. 

JAMES R. LILLEY is Senior Fellow in Asian studies at the American 

Enterprise Institute. Mr. Lilley was the U.S. Ambassador to the 

People’s Republic of China from 1989 to 1991 and to the Republic of 

Korea from 1986 to 1989. He served as Assistant Secretary of Defense 

for International Security Affairs from 1991 to 1993. Mr. Lilley wrote 

the forewords for the AEI publications Chinese Military Modernization, 

Over the Line, and China’s Military Faces the Future. He is also the 

coeditor of Beyond MFN: Trade Beyond MFN: Trade with China and 

American Interests and Crisis in the Taiwan Strait. He is the author 

most recently of: China Hands: Nine Decades of Adventure, Espionage, 

and Diplomacy in Asia (with Jeffrey Lilley), New York: Public Affairs, 

2004.

FRANK MILLER is currently the Army Attaché to the U.S. Embassy 

in Beijing. As a Special Forces Officer assigned to First Special Forces 

Group and as a China Foreign Area Officer, he has served throughout 

East Asia, including tours in Okinawa, Hong Kong, and Hawaii 

as the J5 Country Manager for China, Taiwan, Hong Kong, and 

Mongolia. His previous tour was as the Defense and Army Attaché 
251

to the Socialist Republic of Vietnam in Hanoi. Colonel Miller is a 

graduate of the U.S. Military Academy, Naval Postgraduate School, 

and the U.S. Army War College. 

SUSAN M. PUSKA retired from the U.S. Army on February 1, 2005. 

As a military logistician, she served in various command and staff 

positions in Germany, Korea, Fort Hood, Texas, and Aberdeen 

Proving Ground, Maryland. Her last position prior to retirement 

was Political-Military Advisor, Bureau of Asian and Pacific Affairs, 

Department of State. Prior to this she served as the Army Attaché, 

U.S. Embassy, Beijing, during 2001-03. During 1999-2000, Colonel 

Puska was the Director of Asian Studies, Department of National 

Security and Strategy, U.S. Army War College. Between 1996 and 

1999, she served as the China Political-Military Desk Officer, Office 

of the Deputy Under Secretary of the Army, International Affairs. 

During 1992 to 1994, she was an Assistant Army Attaché at the 

U.S. Embassy, Beijing. Her publications include “SARS 2002-2003: 

A Case Study in Crisis Management,” in Chinese Crisis Management

(Carlisle, PA: Strategic Studies Institute, forthcoming 2005); “The 

People’s Liberation Army General Logistics Department: Toward 

Joint Logistics Support,” in PLA As Organization (Santa Monica, 

California: RAND, 2002); editor of People’s Liberation Army After Next

(Carlisle, Pennsylvania: Strategic Studies Institute, 2000); and New 

Century, Old Thinking: The Dangers of the Perceptual Gap in U.S.-China 

Relations, (Carlisle, Pennsylvania: Strategic Studies Institute, 1999). 

She studied Mandarin Chinese at the Defense Language Institute, 

Monterey, California, and The John Hopkins-Nanjing University 

Center for Chinese and American Studies, Nanjing, PRC. Colonel 

Puska has a BA from Michigan State University, an M.A. from the 

University of Michigan, and is a 1997 graduate of the U.S. Army War 

College, Carlisle, Pennsylvania. 

ANDREW SCOBELL is Associate Research Professor at the U.S. 

Army War College Strategic Studies Institute and Adjunct Professor 

of Political Science at Dickinson College, both located in Carlisle, 

Pennsylvania. Dr. Scobell’s research focuses on political and military 

affairs in the Asia-Pacific Region. He is the author of China’s Use of 

Military Force: Beyond the Great Wall and the Long March (Cambridge 
252

University Press, 2003). Dr. Scobell earned a Ph.D in political science 

from Columbia University. 

YITZHAK SHICHOR is Professor of East Asian Studies and Political 

Science and Acting Chairman of the Department of East-Asian 

Studies at the University of Haifa. He is also a Senior Fellow at the 

Harry S Truman Research Institute for the Advancement of Peace at 

the Hebrew University where he served as Executive Director. Before 

his retirement from the Hebrew University in 2002, he had held the 

Michael William Lipson Chair in Chinese Studies and served as Dean 

of Students and Chairman of the Department of East Asian Studies 

and the Department of Political Science. Dr. Shichor is the author 

of The Middle East in China’s Foreign Policy, 1949-1977 (Cambridge: 

Cambridge University Press, 1979) and East Wind over Arabia: Origins 

and Implications of the Sino-Saudi Missile Deal (Berkeley: University of 

California Press, 1989). Dr. Shichor’s articles dealing with Chinese 

military affairs, China’s Middle East policy, China’s international 

energy policy, and Muslim unrest in Xinjiang have appeared in Asian 

Survey, The China Quarterly, Problems of Communism, China Report, 

Survival, and Pacifica Review.

MICHAEL D. SWAINE came to the Carnegie Endowment after 12 

years at the RAND Corporation. He specializes in Chinese security 

and foreign policy, U.S.–China relations, and East Asian international 

relations. At RAND, he was a senior political scientist in international 

studies and also research director of the RAND Center for Asia-Pacific 

Policy. Dr. Swaine was appointed as the first recipient of the RAND 

Center for Asia-Pacific Policy Chair in Northeast Asian Security, in 

recognition of the exceptional contributions he has made in his field. 

Prior to joining RAND in 1989, Dr. Swaine was a consultant with a 

private sector firm; a postdoctoral fellow at the Center for Chinese 

Studies, University of California at Berkeley; and a research associate 

at Harvard University. He attended the Taipei and Tokyo InterUniversity Centers for Language Study, administered by Stanford 

University, for training in Mandarin Chinese and Japanese. One of 

the most prominent U.S. analysts in Chinese security studies, he is the 

author of more than 10 monographs on security policy in the region. 

Some of his publications are “US Security Policy under Clinton and 

Bush: China and Korea” in Chae Jin Lee, ed., U.S. Security Policy 
253

Under Clinton and Bush: Continuity and Change, Claremont: The Keck 

Center for International Affairs, 2004); “Taiwan’s Defense Reforms 

and Military Modernization Program: Objectives, Achievements, 

and Obstacles” in Nancy Bernkoppf Tucker, ed., Dangerous Strait

(New York, Columbia University Press, 2005); “China: Exploiting a 

Strategic Opening,” in Ashley J. Tellis and Michael Wills, eds., Strategic 

Asia 2004-2005 (Seattle: National Bureau of Asian Research, 2004); 

“Deterring Conflict in the Taiwan Strait,” Carnegie Paper No. 46 (July 

2004); “The Taiwan Relations Act: The Next 25 Years,” Testimony 

to the U.S. House of Representatives Committee on International 

Relations, April 2004; “Trouble in Taiwan,” Foreign Affairs, March/

April 2004. Dr. Swain received a B.A. from George Washington 

University and an A.M. and Ph.D. from Harvard University. 

LARRY M. WORTZEL is a commissioner on the U.S.-China 

Economic and Security Review Commission, a Congressionallyappointed body. He is also a fellow with The Heritage Foundation, 

where he previously was Vice President for Foreign Policy and 

Director of the Asian Studies Center. Dr. Wortzel was a career Army 

officer, retiring as a colonel after 32 years of military service in 1999. 

He spent 7 years as an infantryman. He has long experience as a 

counterintelligence officer and foreign intelligence collector for the 

Defense Department. In 1971-72, while assigned in Southeast Asia, he 

collected communications intelligence on Chinese forces in Laos and 

Vietnam. He was an intelligence analyst on China at the U.S. Pacific 

Command from 1978-82. Dr. Wortzel served as a military attaché 

in China from May 1988 to June 1990 and June 1995 to December 

1997. He also served as a strategist on the Department of the Army 

staff. His last military position was Director of the Strategic Studies 

Institute, U.S. Army War College. Dr. Wortzel is the author of two 

books on military history and political issues in China and has edited 

and contributed chapters to five other books on the Chinese armed 

forces. He has been quoted widely on these subjects in newspapers 

and on wire services. He studied at the Chinese Language and 

Research Centre of the National University of Singapore in 1982-83. 

A graduate of the Armed Forces Staff College and the U.S. Army 

War College, Dr. Wortzel earned his B.A. from Columbus College, 

Georgia, and his M.A. and Ph.D. from the University of Hawaii.