Banyan

The leader vanishes

Xi Jinping’s disappearance from view reminds China-watchers of the limitations of their craft

Sep 15th 2012 | from the print edition

IN 1971 Roderick MacFarquhar, doyen of Western scholars of modern China, wrote an essay suggesting that understanding the country’s politics required an examination of photographs of its leaders, to see who was pictured and where leaders were positioned relative to each other and to Chairman Mao. Mr MacFarquhar was onto something, but this analytical technique is of little help when a leader disappears from the frame altogether as the vice-president, Xi Jinping, did from September 1st—until a brief official mention just before The Economistwent to press.

Mr Xi, who is 59, is on the verge of succeeding Hu Jintao as the general secretary of the Communist Party. Yet meetings with foreign dignitaries on September 5th were abruptly cancelled. On September 8th he did not attend a meeting of the Central Military Commission, of which he is a vice-chairman. On September 10th Study Times, an official newspaper, reported on a speech by Mr Xi, but the speech had been delivered nine days earlier. Pressed on the question of Mr Xi’s health on September 11th, China’s Foreign Ministry offered no information. On September 12th an official report mentioned Mr Xi offering condolences on the death of a retired official.

With no hard facts, rumours flourish, even more so today with the rise of social media and a huge global China-watching profession. In the case of Mr Xi’s disappearance, explanations have ranged widely and wildly from a back injury to a heart attack to, most implausibly, an assassination attempt by means of a traffic accident, though the source of this last tale, Boxun, a Chinese-language website hosted in America, quickly deleted it.

All of this reminds China-watchers how little has changed in the four decades since Mr MacFarquhar admitted the tools of his trade were blunt and unreliable. They might recall one of their early manuals, “The Art of China-Watching”, an in-house article produced by the CIA in 1975, containing the best wisdom that American spymasters could offer. The author summed up years of exasperation in one subheading: “Does Logic Help?”

Since that forlorn cry, China has undergone a dramatic social and economic transformation. But its elite politics remains an intricate and frustrating puzzle to be tackled with crude techniques and unreliable sources. Genuine knowledge of the handful of men who rule the country, including whom they will choose to rule after them and what policies they will favour, is as rare as the Chinese unicorn. Even their health is a state secret.

Such basic ignorance, however, has not stopped China-watching, once the arcane pursuit of a few experts, from becoming a vast industry. With China so engaged in the global economy, there is a never-ending stream of data, often unreliable, to feed the appetites of economic-research firms, investment banks, hedge funds, short-sellers, political-risk advisers, think-tanks, consultancies and financial and military newsletters—not to mention legions of academics, journalists, diplomats and spies. Their analyses of which direction China is going can command a small fortune—and even change fortunes. China-watching is not only essential for diplomacy, it is also big business.

But it is not science. As with Soviet-era Kremlinology, the study of the goings-on in Zhongnanhai, the imperial complex in Beijing where China’s leaders ply their intrigues, is primitive. Unofficial sources are important but can be famously unreliable. In 2011, a Hong Kong television station reported that Jiang Zemin, a former Chinese president, had died; he is in fact still alive (we think), and believed still to wield influence. In contrast to its silence on Mr Xi, Xinhua denied that report within a day.

This year, with a once-a-decade leadership transition approaching, social-media sites have been swamped with rumours, which are heavily but not totally censored within China, and are fed by dubious reports from Boxun and other overseas Chinese websites. A few shocking tales have turned out to be true—even the outlandish one about a Politburo member’s wife murdering a British businessman (if the official court verdict is to be trusted). Most have not, or at least not yet—such as a supposed coup attempt in March by allies of that Politburo member, Bo Xilai. Rumours persist of a split in the leadership over the future direction of the country. The Financial Times(which belongs to Pearson, part-owner of this newspaper) reported an impossible-to-refute account that Zhou Yongkang, a member of the elite Politburo standing committee, had been privately stripped of his powers for lobbying too forcefully on behalf of Mr Bo. For the sake of appearances, it wrote, Mr Zhou would continue making public speeches and taking official meetings—in other words, even the study of photographs would not reveal his real fate.

The limitations of Pekingology are humbling to any China-watcher, but some historic failures are at least partly self-induced. A number of the finest academic and journalistic minds of the 1960s and 1970s failed to grasp the horrors of Mao’s totalitarian rule. Some even fooled themselves into believing that Mao really was the Great Helmsman, as he styled himself. One prominent academic, Michel Oksenberg, compared Mao favourably upon his death to Thomas Jefferson, Abraham Lincoln and Winston Churchill. In 1989 many China-watchers misread Deng Xiaoping and refused to believe he would send soldiers to kill protesting students in Tiananmen Square.

Spies like us

But some failures are the inevitable consequence of a political system that treats all curiosity about the people who lead it as ill-intentioned espionage. Perhaps the whole episode of Xi Jinping’s disappearance has been of no consequence to the leaders themselves, who view secrecy, not transparency, as a paramount virtue. But as they stake China’s claim as a superpower, and inevitably draw intense scrutiny, they might find they can no longer hide from the camera.

Economist.com/blogs/banyan

from the print edition | China

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The leader vanishes

Sep 20th 2012, 09:44

Yeah, some rumor indeed get China to be noisy. Being a person close to Beijing’s centre, I of course know where Xi Jin-ping is. I feel somewhat strange of outside thoughts or reports. Xi’s health is pretty well and there is nothing wrong. As I knew recent days before, Xi and his wife, Peng Li-yuan, even considered Hong Kong’s Maxim or Keewah as Mid-autumn Festival choice of mooncake with no question. Meanwhile, the fifth-generation leaders, in addition to Xi and Li Ke-qiang who recently denounced Japan in public, Wang Yang is busy studying party’s structural work in Yan-an. Already, Xi continues his work, talking with US defense minister, Leon Panetta, yesterday. There is no abnormal situation in Beijing, but you can’t say “recovery”.

Well, it isn’t said to be the “answer” but I can tell some reason to ease audience’s tension. After the latest Beidaihe Meeting, Xi spends several days deciding the candidates of Politburo (about 24-25) and the top leadership members should be cut from 9 to 7 owing to Bo Xi-lai case (because Bo and his guy were scheduled to get two, finally very sorry), as NHK World reported. Basically, besides Xi and Li, Wang Yang, Li Yuan-tsaou, Wang Qi-shan and Yu Sheng-sheng (Shanghai’s party chief) and Liu Ya-zhou may comprise the next group. I just feel little sad of Li who can’t get the highest.

Meanwhile, Zhou Yong-kang, who helped Hu ensure Hu’s seat in 2004, indeed does very much after Bo was expelled from politburo. Owning the resource of CCTV, Zhou sometimes manipulated CCTV showing funny nonsense, having me become close to Japan’s NHK and Taiwan’s SETTV while actively assisting in 18th Plenary’s upcoming group.

Last Saturday, Xi attended the activity of National Popular Science enjoying the prominently innovative creation. With high interest, Xi paid attention to the issue of physiology about tongue, some unique aspect of biotechnology, agriculture, and food safety, experiencing the experiment as interaction with children.

“Hope that these successful consequence insistently continues while expanding these “Three Agri-” approach and successful experience of popular science with exploration.”, Xi said. “For the constant dream of China’s 100-year - walking into the group of innovative nation - from party’s debut - and for the constant dream of another - reaching the target of a grandiose technology power - from the beginning of New China [in 1949], do fixing more substantial base of people and society.”, Xi concluded.

Really, this activity let me think of my involvement in pathological issue of Anthrax Bacillus as the similar age of these children in Taipei a decade ago and moreover Mao Ze-dong’s important declaration of “Chinese farmer is strong base of long-river 5000-year history.” in Jinggangshan.

I wonder why you Economist wrote these to comprehend the fifth-generation. It’s very good to say you must be affected by Hong Kong and Taiwan’s media who I hate very much. There is fewer introduction of these rising red suns at this time than the nearest past one. Hu Jing-tao was reported and analyzed obviously as column and prediction of China’s booming society and economy. At that time, Hu wearing sunglasses showed an ambition to hold high progress in every fields in his tenure. Numerous media dressed Hu as a divine Holy Father, of democratic politics and party’s progress; meanwhile, his “political grade” was “examined” by reporter for persuading Chinese as Taiwan’s media introducing Taiwan’s political figure.

It’s unfair if you say the fifth-generation hides themselves from public. CCTV and Xinhua few reported the fifth past political work than Hu and Wen Jia-bao’s and, compared to past emergency, both reported Wukan and anti-Japanese protest for lack of clear outline or critical point. I have no trust in both media - especially about party’s affair - that are strongly affected by Taiwan’s Lu Show-feng and Wu Yu-shu. In addition to the unhappy affairs with Lu and Wu owing to Lu’s past position in Beijing’s National Congress, both state-run media, led by Dong Qing and Zhou Tau, have yet listened to our Xi and Li’s public affairs. CCTV cannot reflect CCP’s interior situation.

Instead, local news media, that get higher support rate of audience, owns better (proper) and more information about Xi and Li, who have professional technique of political order and economics adjustment. Moreover, they have an affinity for Chinese public as they respectively visit Hong Kong (and Taiwan) several years ago while shaking hands with ordinaries.

As my yin-yang’s logic, Xi is the phoenix, reincarnation of Kublai Khan, pictured as alan’s latest song as I do “dreaming again” with Leehom Wang’s voice. Cornering New York and China’s 51 cities’ anti-Japanese protest, I take “palace memories” of S.E.N.S, with Kana Nishino’s “my place”, depicting Gifu’s beautiful Yoshida River and forest. China must improve national unity, transformed into spiritual images, so that China leads to real wealth.

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Politburo politics

Doesn’t matter if the Ferrari is black or red

Sep 4th 2012, 15:38 by G.E. | BEIJING

SALACIOUS rumours had started swirling on the internet within hours of the spectacular crash in March: another Ferrari in Beijing, another Chinese leader’s son. But which leader? Months later the answer appears to be emerging into view, just as the leadership negotiates a crucial transition of power.

In the pre-dawn hours of March 18th, less than 72 hours after the sacking of Chongqing’s party boss, Bo Xilai, a black Ferrari smashed into a wall at high speed on the capital’s Fourth Ring Road. Almost immediately Chinese microbloggers suggested that a senior leader’s son had been killed in the crash, with two young women seriously injured (and, rumour had it, found at the grisly scene naked, or in partial undress). The gossip had embarrassing resonance for the leadership because Mr Bo’s own son had been reported riding around Beijing in a Ferrari (a red one)—reports Mr Bo had felt compelled to deny publicly, just days before his ouster.

Censors moved quickly in a way that suggested there was indeed something to cover up. They deleted microblogged photographs of the crash site and blocked search terms like “Ferrari” and, later, “car sex”. The English-language edition of the Global Times, a state-owned newspaper, reported immediately and candidly on the crash, the censorship and the police’s refusal to disclose the name of the driver. The official Chinese-language media, by contrast, were quite obviously under orders not to publish anything. An air of mystery lingered.

Overseas Chinese websites, including Boxun, a fount of elite political gossip that occasionally proves true, eventually spun out a story that the man in the Ferrari was the son of Ling Jihua. Mr Ling was, until recently, the head of the party centre’s General Office and the closest thing that Hu Jintao, the general secretary, had to a chief of staff. When The Economistnosed around in the spring, a source said that Mr Ling’s son had not been seen attending one of his university classes since the time of the crash. But if true, there had been no evident political fallout for the father.

Until now, it appears. On September 1st Chinese official media reported Mr Ling’s new assignment as chief of the party’s United Front Work Department, a job with power—but not a promotion, as he had hoped. Mr Ling, not long ago considered a candidate for elevation this year to the Politburo (though not for its elite standing committee, as some reports have suggested), has been sidelined at the relatively young age of 55. On Monday the South China Morning Post, a Hong Kong newspaper, reported that Mr Ling’s son had indeed died in the Ferrari crash, and went on to draw a connection between that accident and the job shuffle.

This episode has been interpreted as a blow to Mr Hu amid the leadership’s negotiations over the make-up of the standing committee that will be named at a party congress this autumn. Mr Ling was a close ally of his who, the thinking goes, could have helped carry on Mr Hus interests after he hands over power at the congress to Xi Jinping, who is slated to become the partys next general secretary. Some have even speculated that what hurts Mr Hu may help Mr Bo, who awaits a final verdict—and possibly a criminal sentence—now that his wife, Gu Kailai, has been convicted and imprisoned for the murder of Neil Heywood, a British businessman.

But it is far from clear how much Mr Hu has given up in this game. Mr Hu does not have a reputation for “taking care of his own people”, as some Chinese observers put it, but that does not mean he has surrendered all leverage. By agreeing to abandon Mr Ling, Mr Hu may be prioritising other battles. The appointment of Mr Ling’s successor, Li Zhanshu, does not signal any obvious weakness on the part of Mr Hu. It is true that Mr Li has known Mr Xi since the 1980s, but he made his ascent through the ranks of the Communist Youth League, Mr Hu’s base of power, and was most recently party secretary of Guizhou, where Mr Hu served as well.

Nor is it yet clear how seriously Mr Ling’s career has been damaged. Accident or not, he would have faced formidable competition for the best jobs on offer, such as Beijing party secretary or head of the party’s powerful Organisation Department. As it is, he has an opportunity to emerge from the shadows of party machinery at the United Front; the task of managing relations with ethnic minorities gives him a potentially high-profile role in China’s most sensitive border regions of Inner Mongolia, Xinjiang and Tibet. In theory he is young enough to be promoted to the Politburo in future—like all seven of the men who have preceded him as director of the General Office since 1978. Five of them went on to serve on the standing committee (including the current premier, Wen Jiabao).

Nor, finally, is there any indication that the fallout of the Ferrari crash will benefit Mr Bo, whose own son’s affinity for luxury sports cars did his father no favours. Communist leaders’ families can afford Ferraris somehow, but it seems they can ill afford to let them roar.

(Picture credit: NTD Television)