One Billion Customers - James McGregor [100]
On they trudged, past ornate meeting halls, some bigger than football fields. Up some stairs, then down a long dark corridor leading to the cavernous Chinese parliament meeting hall. Down more stairs, then past the five-thousand-seat banquet hall. When he finally entered the meeting room Murdoch found Ding, with China’s senior media mavens, sitting in overstuffed chairs. Murdoch settled into the chair next to Ding while his lieutenants filled the other seats.
“I understand you are an Australian company,” Ding said to Murdoch. “Tell me what you do.”
The polite putdown didn’t bother Murdoch. Speaking unnaturally slowly for the translator’s benefit, he said he had been fascinated with China since childhood. He said that he understood that China has strict rules and regulations for the media, and that he would follow them completely. Murdoch suggested that he and Chinese government media outlets should work together on non-controversial projects to build mutual trust. When Murdoch began reeling off the many and varied holdings of his conglomerate, News Corp., Ding interrupted when he heard the word “Fox.”
“Fox, Fox movie studios,” Ding said. “I used to love watching Tyrone Power movies when I was a university student.”
The incongruity changed the course of the conversation and Ding turned to Murdoch’s absolution. Ding signaled that bygones were bygones by pointing to the officials assembled on his left: the director of the Press and Publications Administration; the minister for Radio, Film, and Television; the director of the People’s Daily; the head of the State Council Information Office; and the president of CCTV, the national broadcaster.
“I understand that you have been talking to my people, and it would be a good idea for us to make a fresh start,” Ding said. “For the future, here are the people who manage the media businesses in China. All your future dealings should be through them.”
Murdoch was off the blacklist. It seemed a much shorter walk on the way out.
Overview
Murdoch wasn’t the first foreign executive to make that long march through the Great Hall of the People. It is a routine part of the political pageantry intended to give senior Communist leaders an aura of omnipotence and to remind visitors of China’s dynastic tradition going back two thousand years. The clear message to executives is that they should be grateful to be able to do business in China. The humbling process begins when a foreign business executive gets the last-minute summons to the audience that his minions have been trying to arrange for months. As the otherwise powerful foreign executives step over the raised doorstep, their shoulders slump and they seem to shrink. When they finally greet whichever Chinese leader awaits them, what I call the “slobbering CEO syndrome” begins.
“China is such a magnificent country.”
“I’m so impressed with China’s progress.”
“Your leadership is so inspiring.”
And on and on. The Chinese have them precisely where they want them as the real negotiations begin.
To his credit, Murdoch was far from slobbering. Sure, he had stumbled on his way into China, but he eventually figured out the place. With Liu Changle’s help, Murdoch had transformed himself from perceived menace to generous mentor for the Chinese television industry.
This chapter is about the Chinese media gold rush, the breakneck commercialization of the Chinese print and broadcast media. It’s also about the Communist Party’s struggle to control information while informing its people sufficiently to compete in a global economy, and to use the press as a tightly leashed watchdog to police its roiling market