Inside China: Beijing’s hot Bo-tato
The show trial in China of recently purged communist leader Bo Xilai has become an unexpected national sensation. Mr. Bo has cleverly — and some say with carefully delivered court eloquence — turned the tables on his accusers and indirectly on the Communist Party judicial system. And the incumbent Communist Party supreme leadership appears to be furious.
Chinese officials initially intended Mr. Bo — China’s disgraced former Politburo member and former viceroy in the southwestern metropolis of Chongqing — to follow the face-saving routine during which the accused would readily confess all guilt to predesignated charges from the party leadership.
He was to have thanked the party for being resolute in fighting official corruption and then would beg current communist leaders for leniency before he would be handed a long-term prison sentence and disappear into political oblivion.
So confident that the show trial would proceed swimmingly as planned, the party staged a publicity stunt, promising unusual transparency for the proceedings, including live television broadcasts. It was expected that the trial, with no anticipation of any hiccups, would be over in just two days.
But Mr. Bo did not follow the script. Signs of the fallen official’s defiance began to show hours before the court opened Aug. 22, in a move that forced the party to relinquish the promise of live television coverage of the trial. Instead, the authorities chose to provide officially approved “live” text tweets of the courtroom drama on social media.
The court tweets proved shocking to the nation during the first day. Selectively released tweets indicated that Mr. Bo unexpectedly denied all charges lodged against him, with convincing rebuttals to the prosecution’s mechanical repetitions of various alleged crimes. More important, Mr. Bo challenged the fairness and legality of the court proceedings.
Mr. Bo loudly protested this regulation as unfair and illegal.
“The prosecution stresses that the two key witnesses [against me] cannot be lying and I am the only one capable of lying,” Mr. Bo protested indirectly, contrary to the judge’s instructions. “This is not what I’d call fair.”
The charge was crucial because almost the entire prosecution case against Mr. Bo turned on confessions and testimonies by criminals already serving prison terms, including his wife, Gu Kailai.
On the trial’s first day, prosecutors spent hours laying out evidence and witness testimony trying to tie Mr. Bo to the purchase of a $3.5 million French vacation home.
But Mr. Bo shot back that the purchase was made without his knowledge by his wife, now in prison serving a suspended death sentence for murdering British businessman Neil Haywood, and her billionaire friend Xu Ming, also in detention.
The evidence against Mr. Bo on another charge — the alleged embezzlement of 5 million yuan, roughly $600,000, back in 2000 when Mr. Bo was the governor of the northeastern Liaoning province — also was based on single-person eyewitness accounts without convincing corroborative evidence.
The Chinese public became transfixed by the Bo court drama that initially was viewed as boring and insipid. Thousands of Bo supporters flooded to the city of Jinan, where the trial was held, to watch and deliver grievances, triggered by the trial proceedings that kept local police busy with arrests and detentions.