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hHow easy would it be to find yourself? accused to be one Chinese intelligence assetsPretty difficult, you might think – until you enter a bit of the gray zone of travel. China Repeatedly for work – in my case 27 times in 10 years.
Like former parliamentary researchers Christopher Cash and academic Christopher Berry, who were accused of being spies, I regarded my activities in China as “consulting”; A side-process to my day job as a journalist in London and New York. I was going to try to make money, but I had been fascinated by China for a long time and had developed a deep love for the country, so much so that I even considered studying Chinese at university.
I had a short stint in China with a British friend who worked in PR. My friend and I were advising Chinese businesses, especially in technology, on how to handle Western media. We also lectured at elite universities and business schools. But it may have escalated to the point where MI6 took an interest. if someone Was Wanting to be weird, what I was doing could easily be construed as aiding and abetting an enemy state. Or perhaps just helping a “rival”, as successive British governments like to believe China is.
The way Chinese companies dealt with Chinese journalists was the time-honored “red envelope” method. When you wanted to promote a product, you would give reporters and columnists a red envelope filled with money and tell them what they should write about. Our mission was to explain that it might not work so well with Western journalists. Our audience was skeptical to the point of laughing out loud at times.
The trips often contained hilarious moments. An official once asked whether it was still customary in Britain when you welcome visitors to your home to immediately ask them, “Please help yourself to some fish.” Another time, a clothing manufacturer took us to his factory on the outskirts of Shanghai to ask for help, making him the largest supplier of bowler hats in the UK. I explained to him that I remembered well the last time I saw a man wearing it, and that was in 1964, but he was not impressed. He saw a potential market from “English gentlemen” for 100 million bowler hats. We promised to get back to him.
However, things took a turn for the worse when we were invited to lunch at the Chinese Embassy in Portland Place, London. We walked guiltily through the standing crowd of brave Falun Gong protesters outside to a sumptuous and delightful meal with a group of mid-level executives who praised our venture and said they would make more connections to us. I still have my lunch place card, bearing the national emblem of the People’s Republic of China, on my desk.
About a week later, on our next visit, we were invited by some sophisticated business people we didn’t know to a fancy dinner in Beijing. He agreed to our views on various world issues, asked relevant questions about British politics and the media and then, right at the end, as is the case in China, got to the main point of the meeting.
“How would you feel about providing media training to the Chinese Communist Party?” one of the group asked. My instincts as a journalist immediately kicked in – I thought, imagine spending time and hanging out with elite party people.
What I actually said, possibly out of nervousness, possibly over copious amounts of rice wine, was, “Oh, I love a party, me,” which earned me a strong kick under the table from my friend. “Let’s give it some thought and get back to you,” she said.
We later asked a contact at the British Embassy what we should do and were told it would not be appropriate. Instead of saying no, we decided it would be better to just quote the exorbitant price. We emailed them saying we would be very interested, but the cost would be around $50,000. We did not receive any response.
By this time, it could be argued, we were already virtually in bed with the party, ranging from advisers to supporters. Or as Kemi Badenoch said to Keir Starmer this week, “suck up to Beijing”.
I wasn’t going to China as a journalist, but the newspapers I worked for knew I was going, and I would be writing on topics as diverse as Baidu, the Chinese Google, China’s richest city, China’s Christian churches, the vibrant Jewish community in Shanghai, the emergence of Chinese tech companies making actually desirable products, and the first English takeaway in China.
One story I wanted to cover was Chongqing in the southwest, an extraordinary city of more than 30 million people. I was attracted to Bo Xilai, the charismatic party secretary – effectively the mayor of Chongqing. The son of one of Chairman Mao’s close associates, Bo was touted as the country’s next leader and was known for his methods of enforcing law and order. Over two years, approximately 5,000 corrupt officials, businessmen, police and judges were arrested. There were stories of criminals being hanged without trial. Crime declined sharply and the city prospered economically, but it came at a cost.
Returning from China to London on a Virgin flight, I coincidentally found myself – at least I think – sitting next to an American who lived in Chongqing and claimed to know Bo well. “Come and meet them on the next trip,” he said, “I can fix it. You’ll be impressed.”
I didn’t know that Bo Xilai was known for befriending foreigners, charming them, getting them to do small things, and then doing big favors. One such British businessman was Neil Haywood, who became close to Bo and his wife and helped them with overseas financial and property arrangements, possibly including offshore accounts or property transfers. In 2011 – a few days after the mysterious American on the plane promised to introduce me to Bo – Haywood was found dead in his hotel room.
Authorities said he died of alcohol poisoning, but he had hardly drank alcohol and was immediately cremated without an autopsy. Bo’s police chief then sought asylum at the American Consulate, saying that Haywood had been murdered by Bo’s wife with cyanide after a business dispute. Bo was eventually expelled from the Communist Party and sentenced to life in prison in 2013 for corruption, abuse of power and taking bribes.
The thing is to be careful who you get close to in China, if I had met Bo, I would have easily fallen into his spider web as someone trying to set up business in the country and as a curious journalist.
I could be in deadly, triple danger – from the dangerous Bo family, from the Chinese government because of its association with Bo, and from our own government because of being too close to the Chinese Communist Party.
None of these look good at all.