The 12- and 24-Character Statements
At the close of the
dramatic year, Deng chose to carry out his long-planned retirement.
During the 1980s, he had taken many steps to end the traditional
practice of centralized power ending only by the death of the
incumbent or the loss of the Mandate of Heaven—criteria both
indefinite and inviting chaos. He had established an advisory
council of elders to which he retired leaders who were holding on
to lifetime tenure. He had told visitors—including me—that he
himself intended to retire soon to the chairmanship of that
body.
Starting in early
1990, Deng began a gradual withdrawal from high office—the first
Chinese leader to have done so in the modern period. Tiananmen may
have accelerated the decision so that Deng could oversee the
transition while a new leader was establishing himself. In December
1989, Brent Scowcroft proved to be the last foreign visitor to be
received by Deng. At the same time, Deng stopped attending public
functions. By the time of his death in 1997, he had become a
recluse.
As he receded from
the scene, Deng decided to buttress his successor by leaving behind
a set of maxims for his guidance and that of the next generation of
leaders. In issuing these instructions to Communist Party
officials, Deng chose a method from Chinese classical history. The
instructions were stark and succinct. Written in classical Chinese
poetic style, they embraced two documents: a 24-character
instruction and a 12-character explanation restricted to high
officials. The 24-character instruction read:
Observe carefully; secure our position; cope with affairs calmly; hide our capacities and bide our time; be good at maintaining a low profile; and never claim leadership.40
The 12-character
policy explanation followed with an even more restricted
circulation among the leaders. It read:
Enemy troops are outside the walls. They are stronger than we. We should be mainly on the defensive.41
Against whom and
what? The multiple-character statements were silent on that issue,
probably because Deng could assume that his audience would
understand instinctively that their country’s position had grown
precarious, both domestically and even more so
internationally.
Deng’s maxims were,
on one level, an evocation of historic China surrounded by
potentially hostile forces. In periods of resurgence, China would
dominate its environs. In periods of decline, it would play for
time, confident that its culture and political discipline would
enable it to reclaim the greatness that was its due. The
12-character statement told China’s leaders that perilous times had
arrived. The outside world had always had difficulty dealing with
this unique organism, aloof yet universal, majestic yet given over
to occasional bouts of chaos. Now the aged leader of an ancient
people was giving a last instruction to his society, feeling
besieged as it was attempting to reform itself.
Deng sought to rally
his people not by appealing to its emotions or to Chinese
nationalism, as he easily could have. Instead he invoked its
ancient virtues: calm in the face of adversity; high analytical
ability to be put in the service of duty; discipline in pursuit of
a common purpose. The deepest challenge, he saw, was less to
survive the trials sketched in the 12-character statement than to
prepare for the future, when the immediate danger had been
overcome.
Was the 24-character
statement intended as guidance for a moment of weakness or a
permanent maxim? At the moment, China’s reform was threatened by
the consequences of internal turmoil and the pressure of foreign
countries. But at the next stage, when reform had succeeded,
China’s growth might trigger another aspect of the world’s concern.
Then the international community might seek to resist China’s march
to becoming a dominant power. Did Deng, at the moment of great
crisis, foresee that the gravest danger to China might arise upon
its eventual resurgence? In that interpretation, Deng urged his
people to “hide our capacities and bide our time” and “never claim
leadership”—that is to say, do not evoke unnecessary fears by
excessive assertiveness.
At its low point of
turmoil and isolation, Deng may well have feared both that China
might consume itself in its contemporary crisis and also that its
future might depend on whether the leaders of the next generation
could gain the perspective needed to recognize the perils of
excessive self-confidence. Was the statement addressed to China’s
immediate travail, or to whether it could practice the 24-character
principle when it was strong enough to no longer have to observe
it? On China’s answer to these questions depends much of the future
of Sino-American relations.