By the fall of 1999, there was palpable tension both within the political elite and among intellectuals. The sharp exchange between Wang Xiaodong and Xiao Gongqin, cited at the end of Chapter 7, was all too typical of the relations among disputants, especially those who were identified as liberals and postmodernists (the New Left). The range of opinion among intellectuals was greater than at any time in post-1949 China, but it would be more accurate to say that public opinion was fragmented than to say it had pluralized. If one part of “civil society” is civility, China had not yet reached it. Globalization, including the collapse of socialism in Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union, had provided the context for the deepening disputes between postmodernists and liberals; the WTO and the sometimes acrimonious negotiations that accompanied China's quest for accession made globalization a very real issue for intellectuals, enterprises, and bureaucrats alike. Moreover, the embassy bombing heightened emotions behind a nationalism that had been building in the context of American criticism of China, American triumphalism, and the Taiwan Straits crisis. As postmodernists and nationalists became more emotional, liberals worried openly that nationalism would once again bury hopes for democracy.

The political elite was no less divided than the intelligentsia, as suggested by the criticism of Zhu Rongji and by Jiang Zemin's delicate position vis-à-vis the military and other conservatives.

Between the Fourth Plenum in 1994 and the Fifteenth Party Congress in 1997, “public opinion” played a limited but not insignificant role. As discussed in Part II, the intellectual atmosphere became considerably more conservative and nationalistic in this period, which helped the government preserve the social stability that it prized so highly. Moreover, there was greater interaction between government and intellectual circles as each tried to influence the other (a trend that coexisted with its opposite, as some intellectuals oriented their activities toward society – ignoring the government – while others withdrew into scholarly endeavors or developed new critiques of government). We have seen how intellectuals such as Hu Angang and Wang Shaoguang influenced government policy, at least to some extent, on such issues as tax reform and regional disparities, and how the government tried to organize and solicit new, but acceptable, ideas through such books as Heart-to-Heart Talks with the General Secretary. We have also seen how the Old Left tried to influence both elite politics and public opinion through the various 10,000-character manifestos. There were also clear connections between elements of the elite and expressions of nationalistic opinion, whether through journals such as Strategy and Management or books such as China Can Say No.

These conflicting trends of elite and popular opinion reached a new level of intensity in 1997 as Jiang tried to put his imprint on the post-Deng era, only to face another powerful wave of nationalism that grew up around the issues of China's entry into the WTO and, more importantly, the tragic bombing of the Chinese Embassy in Belgrade.

The violence of June 4 stunned China's intellectual community. Although reflections and introspections began almost immediately, it would be over two years before intellectuals began to regain their voice, and when they did it was not only a different voice that emerged but also a very changed and divided community. Chinese intellectuals would re-emerge in a very different society, and their reactions to the surrounding socioeconomic and political events polarized them in a way not apparent in the 1980s or even, perhaps, before.

The silence and general irrelevance of the intellectual community in the wake of Tiananmen contrasted vividly with the turmoil among the political elite. The Party leadership was neither cowed into silence nor irrelevant, but it was shaken badly. Questions about the goals of reform had simmered just below the surface for years. Was reform, as Party documents repeatedly proclaimed, about the “self perfection” of socialism or was reform leading China away from socialism? Zhao Ziyang was a lightning rod for such issues. Conservative Party leaders believed that Zhao had been leading reform farther and farther from socialism and that Tiananmen was the inevitable and foreseeable denouement of the reform program that Zhao led and symbolized. It is apparent from the tone of many of the denunciations of Zhao appearing in the weeks and months following Tiananmen that such conservatives resented Zhao personally; they believed that he had ignored and insulted them, treating their concerns contemptuously.