Chinese communists have been fighting bribe-takers and embezzlers for three decades. Any progress?

What is behind the Chinese economic miracle? One of the common explanations comes down to the foresight of the leaders of the Communist Party of China (CCP), who abandoned the futile experiment in building a communist society in time. Former Financial Times Beijing bureau chief Richard McGregor takes a critical look at this myth. In Russia, his book is called “Party. The Secret World of China's Communist Rulers" is published by Eksmo Publishing House. Forbes publishes a magazine version of one of the book's chapters.

In September 2008, the former vice mayor of Beijing, Liu Zhihua, who was responsible for the construction of Olympic venues, was convicted of accepting bribes amounting to about $1 million. This news was received with irony in the Chinese Internet community. “Well, is this money?! - wrote one blogger. - Yes, he can generally be considered sinless. And there is no need for any trials. Let the poor official go!”

Profitable positions

Chinese leaders have long argued that corruption is the main threat to the dominance of the Chinese Communist Party. In 2006, speaking before the Anti-Corruption Commission, Chinese President Hu Jintao directly said that the arbitrariness of party bureaucrats entails increased social tension and public protests. “This mine, planted under our social foundations, can lead to a chain reaction of explosions that will wreak havoc and paralyze the work of the state apparatus,” he said. For all its drama, Hu's statement differed little from the equally gloomy prophecies of his predecessor Jiang Zemin. The details emerging with each new scandal cause a storm of indignation in the official media and are accompanied by stern assurances from the party leadership that the party is waging a “mortal battle” against corruption. After this, life goes on as usual, because the anti-corruption system that allows senior officials to control themselves remains the same. However, one change did occur in recent years: the size of the bribe began to amount to millions of dollars even at the lowest levels of the state apparatus.

In the late 1990s, both ordinary citizens and the central government were shocked by the famous Xiamen case. One poorly educated, but very shrewd businessman bribed an entire municipality, and at the same time the border guards, and smuggled in $6 billion worth of contraband. Nowadays, corruption stories in all, even the poorest, corners of the country are so often reported in the press that they are not even noticed, like the usual noise background.

During the months of 2009, while I was writing this chapter, the head of the railway junction of the city of Urumqi (western Xinjiang) was convicted of embezzling $3.6 million from the budget; in Shanghai, a mid-level official responsible for municipal property stole $1 million and, by court decision, also lost real estate worth $6 million; in a small county town in Sichuan province, the secretary of the city committee and the head of a local real estate company were executed for bribes worth $2.5 million; During a search of the home of the police chief of the poorest city in Guangdong province, $4.4 million in cash was found... When we are talking about such sums, it is not surprising that the Beijing vice mayor, who controlled the multibillion-dollar construction budget, was ridiculed for being too modest " achievements".

In a country where tens of thousands of new millionaires appear every year, the temptation to use a position for personal enrichment is irresistible. The Chinese bureaucrat has high status, powers and all the benefits inherent in an administrative system with thousands of years of tradition. However, competition for positions in the state apparatus is not only driven by the desire for prestige and power. Many people want to get this kind of work precisely because it can be “monetized.” Wang Minggao, an apparatchik from Hunan province who led a group studying the so-called honest bureaucrat syndrome, argues that “the idea of becoming an official implies the desire to get rich.” If positions did not have monetary potential, there would be no black market where positions in government bodies are bought and sold.

The meager official salary of an official is another incentive for bribery. Information on salaries in the highest state and party apparatus is not published, but they are certainly not large. Even ministers are not shy about publicly complaining about low salaries. When a university professor complained at a conference in 2007 that he earned less than $13,000 a year, Culture Minister Chen Zhili asked her colleague, Science and Technology Minister Xu Guanhua, how much he earned. About $1,350 a month, Xu replied. On her own behalf, Chen Zhili added that her salary is about the same, $1,450 per month. Even taking into account the social package and benefits (state apartment, company car and guaranteed pension), the official earnings of top managers are simply pathetic, and they are invariably supported by illegal income. “Every official leads a triple life,” confessed one enterprising bureaucrat who ended up in prison for bribes. “Public life, private and, finally, secret.”

The author of one popular blog called corrupt officials "a new class of black collar workers." “They drive around in luxury cars. They go to expensive bars. They sleep on the softest beds in the most luxurious hotels. All their furniture is carved mahogany. Outside the windows of their houses are the most beautiful views in the quietest places. They play golf, travel at public expense and generally lead a luxurious life,” the blogger wrote in July 2009. “This is the new class of black collar workers.” Why "black"? Because they have black cars. Black income. Life in the shadows. And all their deeds are shady. You can’t see anything, as if they were standing, wrapped in a black cloak, in the impenetrable darkness of the night.”

Corruption flourishes in areas with a high share of state participation and significant potential for administrative arbitrariness: customs service, tax service, land sales, infrastructure development, government procurement. In 2008, the most attractive positions in government bodies were by no means elite positions such as the Ministry of Foreign Affairs or the capital apparatus of the Ministry of Finance. Judging by the number of job applications, the top ten most popular departments in the country were headed by territorial tax departments in the most economically developed coastal regions, with two more positions taken by customs services in Shanghai and Shenzhen. The least attractive positions were in provincial statistical offices.

Chief anti-corruption official

The PRC's main anti-corruption body, the Central Disciplinary Commission (CDC), is located in a discreet modern complex in Beijing and has a relatively small staff of 800 people. The work of the CDC is decentralized and covers all government departments. All provincial, municipal and district authorities, including any government organizations subordinate to them, have formed their own anti-corruption commissions to oversee the behavior of party members. Similar commissions have been created at large state-owned enterprises. At first glance, such a wide coverage gives investigators access to any problem area. Alas, the reality is not so rosy.

The disciplinary commission, formed back in the late 1970s, was designed for the realities of bygone days, when officials and citizens coexisted within single labor communes, when there were no developed markets for labor, goods and capital, and when corruption was the lot of individuals or small groups. According to Flora Sapio, an expert on the work of the CDC, the typical staff member of the commission is, so to speak, a “general communist.” He has a poor education, superficial (at best) legal training, and almost no investigative skills.

In 2005, an interview with Li Yuxing, a senior anti-corruption official in Zhejiang Province, received widespread coverage in local media. Lee complained that for eight years he had not had a single day off. All this time he lived in a dilapidated wooden house in Taizhou, a fairly wealthy city. The whole furnishings are a patched sofa, a rusty refrigerator and a broken TV. He was constantly threatened, his wife kept waking up and screaming in fear. But Lee stood his ground. “When the personal needs of a personnel employee conflict with the needs of the organization, he is obliged to submit to the interests of the organization,” he said. “If someone is afraid of dying or losing their position, such a person is contraindicated to work as the head of the disciplinary commission.”

To equalize the chances of the parties, the party allows the CDC to work very harshly. The right to conduct administrative arrests is the most serious weapon in the arsenal of anti-corruption fighters. Following a procedure called shuanggui (“double regulation”), the commission essentially kidnaps the suspected official and holds him in custody until a verdict is reached on whether or not to refer the case to prosecutors. The detainee cannot tell his family about this or hire a lawyer. Detention can last up to six months.

However, concern for the well-being of the detainee is still evident. Such extra-legal restrictions on freedom, reminiscent of house arrest, can be carried out anywhere - at work, in a hostel, or even in a hospital ward - but only under one condition. The detainee must be in a one-story building (or at least on the first floor). In the late 1990s, too many took their own lives by jumping from the windows of their apartments in high-rise buildings. Flora Sapio says that detainees are monitored even in the toilet. Sleep deprivation, round-the-clock interrogations and a skillful combination of brutal pressure and persuasion have long been part of the arsenal of Chinese investigators when it comes to suspects detained by Party decisions. It is extremely rare, and only if officials actively cooperated with the investigation, that they are allowed to return to their previous position. But there are very few people whose careers took off after Shuanggui.

If the commission comes to an indictment, an announcement follows about the expulsion of the culprit from the party. After this, the case is transferred to the prosecutor's office. Expulsion from the party due to corruption is tantamount to a criminal conviction, although the trial may still be months away. Once the official is brought to justice, his fate is sealed. “During shuanggui, a person is still trying to gain personal freedom or at least get rid of a demotion,” says Beijing lawyer Qian Leyang, who works as a public defender for accused officials. “When cases reach judges, the dispute is no longer about guilt or innocence, but about the length of the prison term. To be put on trial means to say goodbye to the hope of a career in the party. When such a case falls into my hands, the client, as a rule, is in a state of deep depression.”

Whistleblower how he founded success

The party - or at least those parts of it that control the anti-corruption body - relishes the fear that the CDC generates. The CCP calls its spies grains of sand, which are scattered throughout any department that falls on a pencil. The editor of one of the Shanghai newspapers admitted to me that he knows for sure: there is one such spy in the editorial office, but who exactly is... “Maybe it’s the janitor. Or maybe my deputy,” he sighed.

The commission's work is shrouded in secrecy and relies on the practice of denunciation, rooted in Chinese culture. Every day, her offices receive piles of anonymous letters and petitions. Wang Minggao estimates that 60% to 70% of all cases begin with a denunciation. The main newspaper of the CCP, People's Daily, reports that in some provinces this figure reaches 90%. “The eyes of ordinary citizens are the most discerning instrument,” Wang says. “The impetus for an investigation most often comes from signals from the public.”

Of course, often the informant only pretends to be an “ordinary citizen.” In reality, such denunciations may be dictated by competition. During political battles at a very high level, anonymous incriminating evidence inevitably leaks into the Chinese-language press of Hong Kong, Western media, and, in recent years, onto Chinese-language websites hosted outside the PRC. The leak has one purpose: the information must be conveyed to official circles in China itself.

Another way to smear your opponent with mud is to introduce him under a false name in a political detective story. In China, this genre is very popular: ordinary citizens really dislike rotten cadres, their greedy relatives and kept women, and enjoy reading about their adventures. Sometimes such detectives can talk about real cases of bribery, presenting them in a fictionalized, adventure form. For example, Heaven's Wrath, the most famous work in this genre, tells the story of the 1995 overthrow of Chen Xitong, then the mayor of Beijing. The book contains many juicy details that cannot be found in the dry reports of official media.

Among other things, "The Wrath of Heaven" tells the story of the dissolute son of the secretary of the Beijing city committee, who robs the treasury to buy a luxurious mansion. He sets up a nest of debauchery in a five-star hotel, father and son share a mistress between themselves, at the same time filming the whole process on video, etc. Jiang Zemin, who personally initiated an investigation against his sworn enemy Chen Xitong, initially spoke highly of the book, but after that When the authorities decided that the dirty laundry had already been aired enough, “Wrath of Heaven” was banned for sale in the PRC.

Officials are afraid of anonymous denunciations and very carefully hide any information about themselves that might lead to suspicion. When, in 2002, Zhang Enzhao, president and chairman of the board of China Construction Bank, one of the country's three largest lenders, received an invitation from an American financier to play golf at the famous Pebble Beach Club in California, he asked the inviting party to buy him a set of clubs.

He motivated his request by saying that he did not want to attract undue attention by boarding a plane with bulky sports equipment.

Prudence did not save Zhang from punishment. The disciplinary commission detained the banker in March 2005, based on a lawsuit registered in the United States in which Zhang was accused of receiving a $1 million bribe from the company that entertained him at the Pebble Beach club. A year and a half later, he finally appeared in court and received 15 years for bribery.

Experts working on behalf of the party apparatus have released many critical reports that prove the ineffectiveness of the anti-corruption system that exists in the country. However, what these reports do not make is the crucial conclusion that systemic corruption will flourish as long as the CCP and its leaders police themselves. “If the party had followed these recommendations,” wrote one Taiwanese expert, “the result would have been a ‘separation of powers’ in the spirit of Montesquieu, a principle the CCP has long rejected as decadent and bourgeois.”

The condition that the commission must obtain permission to open an investigation is especially beneficial to the country's top leadership. There is simply no mechanism by which the commission can obtain authorization to initiate proceedings against any of the nine members of the Politburo Standing Committee - short of civil war or the confession of a member of the Nine himself. As the son of one of the former leaders told me, “these people are, by default, above the law.” The highest position protects not only the party leader, but also his closest relatives.

As long as the leaders and their relatives behave carefully, not exposing their power and wealth to public display, they can be considered inviolable persons by definition. “If the emperor doesn’t want investigators to delve into certain corruption cases, so be it,” says Wang Minggao. “Otherwise, investigators might stumble upon members of his family, and this would go against the interests of the monarch.” In essence, it would be an attempt by a single individual to challenge an entire social class.”

Fighting corruption the Chinese way