But for a tiny minority of Chinese, a chill wind of repression is blowing. After a perfunctory secret trial, Zhang Shanguang, 42, was sentenced last week to 10 years in prison for ““illegally providing intelligence to hostile foreign organizations.’’ His offense: he told a reporter for the U.S.-sponsored Radio Free Asia about a tax protest by a small group of farmers in Hunan province. ““Everyone knows about the event,’’ complained his wife, ““so how can this be considered a national secret?''

Zhang was one victim of a harsh new crackdown on dissidents. In the past month, the authorities have rounded up nearly 30 activists. Three leaders of a would-be opposition movement, the China Democratic Party, were sent to prison for challenging the Communist Party’s exclusive grip on power. And last week, two New York-based activists who illegally slipped back into China were sentenced to three years in a labor camp.

The crackdown might already have led to a crisis in U.S.-China relations, if Washington weren’t so distracted by impeachment. Certainly, the warmth generated by Bill Clinton’s visit to China last June has disappeared. Secretary of State Madeleine Albright rejected an internal proposal to host a party in Washington this month to celebrate the 20th anniversary of U.S.-Chinese diplomatic ties, and 60 members of Congress urged Clinton to crack down on Beijing. Relations were further strained last week when a congressional committee charged that, for 20 years now, China has been improperly obtaining U.S. military technology.

Was Beijing overreacting to the challenge from political activists? The dissidents wanted pluralism, not revolution. ““Our original hope was to abandon mutual suspicion with the Communist Party, open up to each other and interact positively,’’ Xu Wenli, 55, a founder of the China Democratic Party, wrote after being sentenced to 13 years for subversion. His statement, which was written ““in handcuffs’’ and smuggled out of jail, said multiparty democracy was ““historically inevitable’’ and described his trial as nothing but ““persecution.’’ But President Jiang Zemin made it clear that the regime would not tolerate any organized opposition. In a speech to police officers, he said: ““Any factors that could jeopardize our stability must be annihilated.''

An old Chinese saying–““Killing the chicken to scare the monkey’’–may explain the crackdown. Economic problems have made the regime particularly fearful of unrest. The Asian financial crisis began to lap at China’s shores just as the leadership embarked on a risky campaign to downsize inefficient state enterprises, lay off redundant workers and reduce the military’s involvement in commerce. The result: increasing unemployment and a dramatic rise in social tensions. Beijing’s nightmare is that the political intelligentsia will find among disaffected workers millions of angry allies with nothing to lose–a bonding of chickens and monkeys that could lead to revolution.

Preserving stability isn’t the only reason for Beijing’s refusal to authorize political opposition. In a corrupt society, some Chinese leaders also want to retain their monopoly on power in order to keep their families and cronies supplied with business opportunities and graft.

In 1999, the burden of history poses a special problem for China’s rulers. This year brings some round-number anniversaries that may stir unrest: the Tiananmen massacre (10 years), the Tibetan uprising (40 years) and the establishment of the People’s Republic (50 years). Already, Jiang is feeling pressure from party hardliners, led by Li Peng, the former prime minister who now chairs the National People’s Congress. Li, who played a major role in the Tiananmen crackdown, recently told a German newspaper that the rise of a political opposition would invite ““chaos’’ comparable to that of the Cultural Revolution. The advocates of democracy argue that Li has it backward. Without an above-ground political opposition, they say, China will lack a peaceful escape valve for the social tensions that are likely to build up in 1999.

QIN YONGMIN

A former steelworker first arrested in 1979 for selling pro-democracy magazines. Qin, 45, was sentenced to 12 years in prison last month for attempting to register the China Democratic Party with Xu Wenli and Wang Youcai.

XU WENLI

China’s most prominent dissident, sentenced to 13 years in prison last month. Xu, 54, kept a knapsack filled with clothes by his door in case of arrest, and continued fighting for democracy even after a 12-year jail term ending in 1993.

WANG YOUCAI

Captured and imprisoned for about one year after the Tiananmen crackdown as one of Beijing’s “21 Most Wanted Students.” Now 32, Wang was sentenced to 11 years in prison in December.