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Uighur Press on Eastern Turkestan

   The World Uighur Network News 2002

China's change of leadership, now under way in Beijing, marks the beginning, not the end, of a secretive succession struggle

AFTER more than half a century in power, and for the first time in China's history, the Chinese Communist Party is on the verge of a leadership change that involves neither the death nor the overthrow of an incumbent. At the party's 16th congress, which begins on Friday, Jiang Zemin, a man once widely dismissed as a lightweight, is likely to give up his 13-year tenure as party chief and move into semi-retirement. China will trumpet this as evidence that, in spite of all the economic and social problems the country faces, its politics are stable and its leaders are full of confidence. It will be wrong.

The five-yearly congress, held in Beijing's Great Hall of the People, will appoint a new Central Committee (currently about 330 members, of whom about 40% are “alternates” with no voting rights). This will meet immediately afterwards to give its rubber-stamp approval to a new line-up of the ruling Politburo (currently 21 members, of whom seven will serve on its all-important Standing Committee) that for months has been the subject of bitter feuding between party leaders.

A couple of months ago there was widespread speculation that Mr Jiang might keep his job as general secretary. Though he is 76, he is not formally obliged to stand down. But now it seems likely that, for the first time in 15 years, Mr Jiang will not be in the Politburo. This would be in line with a new though unwritten rule that nobody over 70 should be appointed.

The biggest question is whether Mr Jiang will continue serving as chairman of the party's Central Military Commission, a position that makes him supreme commander of the armed forces. Some observers believe that Mr Jiang will give up the post next week. He would then complete his formal retirement at the annual session of the legislature, the National People's Congress, which is due to be held next March. This would involve stepping down as state president (which he is constitutionally obliged to do, having served two terms) and as chairman of the state's Central Military Commission (a body confusingly identical to the party's body of the same name).

But on the eve of what could be the biggest change of leadership in China since the death of Mao Zedong in 1976, little is really known for sure. It is all but certain that Hu Jintao, a so far colourless 59-year-old former engineer, will be touted by the party as China's new leader after the new Central Committee meets, probably at the end of next week (in keeping with the party's traditional secrecy, only the opening date of the congress has been made public). But the extent to which that will really be true will be hotly debated. Mr Jiang will continue to exert influence, possibly as head of the Central Military Commission, but, if not, then through his allies in the Politburo. It is a safe bet that his retirement will be incomplete, at best.

The new Politburo—and particularly its Standing Committee—is likely to be stacked with Mr Jiang's supporters. Mr Hu, after all, was not Mr Jiang's choice. It was at Deng Xiaoping's request that he was promoted to the Standing Committee ten years ago with a view to succeeding Mr Jiang. None of the new Standing Committee members are likely to be protégés of Mr Hu. He has no power base of his own to call upon for support. Even though Mr Jiang's succession arrangements have been unusually smooth compared with those of Mao and Deng, there are still good reasons why the party should worry about the future stability of its leadership and indeed about the future of the 66m-member party itself.

It is true that Mr Jiang himself came to power in the wake of the Tiananmen Square protests in 1989 with many of the disadvantages now faced by Mr Hu. In some ways, Mr Jiang was in an even worse position. He was a provincial leader—Shanghai's party chief—with no experience in the armed forces (Mr Hu was appointed vice-chairman of the Central Military Commission in 1999) and was only an ordinary member of the Politburo.

But Mr Jiang had the backing of powerful elders, including a still living Deng. He also used a loyal aide with superior knowledge of Beijing's political intrigues to plead his case with the elders. That aide, Zeng Qinghong, looks likely to be rewarded by Mr Jiang with membership of the Politburo Standing Committee after this congress. Mr Hu will have enormous difficulty outmanoeuvring such a skilled political operator.

Even if Mr Hu were able to appeal to retired or semi-retired elders for support, it is unlikely that they would be able to exert power in the way Deng and his octogenarian colleagues (the eight Immortals, as ordinary citizens liked to call them, all but one of them now dead) did in the late 1980s and early 1990s. Apart from Mr Jiang, the most influential elders will be the chairman of the National People's Congress (or parliament), Li Peng and the prime minister, Zhu Rongji, both 74, who are expected to retire next year.

Another may be the 68-year-old Li Ruihuan, who is head of the parliament's advisory body, the Chinese People's Political Consultative Conference. Beijing has been awash with rumours that Mr Li, a rival of Jiang's, will also retire from the Politburo—a last-minute compromise that could help edge Mr Jiang out of the military commission.

None of these men has anything like the revolutionary credentials or standing within the party enjoyed by the Long Marchers of Deng's generation. Mr Jiang is the butt of jokes among party officials, who resent his vanity and the dominance of the “Shanghai faction” he has built up around him. Li Peng is widely disliked for his prominent role in the crushing of the Tiananmen Square protests. Rumours of corruption have also long swirled around members of his family.

Mr Zhu—though lionised by foreign businessmen—is considered by many in the party to be arrogant and abrasive. Li Ruihuan, a plain-spoken reformist, is more popular among ordinary Chinese and party members. But he does not have enough clout in key institutions such as the armed forces to help Mr Hu much.

Hu Jintao's strongest supporter in the Politburo is likely to be Wen Jiabao, who is all but certain to replace Mr Zhu as prime minister next March. Mr Wen is a quietly spoken consensus-seeker rather than an aggressive politician (much like Mr Hu himself). But while being courteous to colleagues has helped Mr Hu and Mr Wen make it to the top, staying there and using their power effectively will require other political skills that both have yet to demonstrate. Some observers believe Zeng Qinghong and not Mr Hu will emerge as China's most powerful figure as Mr Jiang's authority fades.

Mr Zeng and fellow protégés of Mr Jiang are likely to be the dominant faction in the Politburo Standing Committee. Members of this group are likely to include Wu Bangguo (tipped to become first deputy prime minister), Huang Ju (until a few days ago the party chief of Shanghai) and Jia Qinglin (until recently the party chief of Beijing). Luo Gan, the party's head of internal security and a protégé of Li Peng, is also a strong candidate. If Li Ruihuan leaves the Politburo, Huang Ju would be a likely, if uninspiring, choice to become head of the National People's Congress and Jia Qinglin could succeed Mr Li as chairman of the legislature's advisory body.

Adapt or die?
Mr Hu may find that allegiances shift once Mr Jiang is no longer in office, perhaps even in his favour. But more probably the Politburo will consist of contending groups with no clear voice of authority.

That does not bode well for a country which will face enormous social and economic stresses in the coming years as its state-owned industries crumble, its markets open wider to foreign competition, the gap between rich and poor grows, corruption spreads and a fast-growing middle class begins to demand greater political involvement. “There is a danger when so many new leaders come into position, and they are not used to working with each other very well, that cases of social unrest may sharpen differences and create instability,” says Jean-Pierre Cabestan of the French Centre for Research on Contemporary China in Hong Kong.

Mr Jiang appears belatedly in his career to have recognised that the party is failing to adapt to the wrenching changes around it. The congress is expected to revise the party charter to include his idea of the “Three Represents”. This concept, first unveiled two years ago, suggests that the party represents not only its traditional clientele of workers, peasants, intellectuals, soldiers and officials but also new social forces such as private enterprise. For the first time, a sprinkling of private businessmen has been included among the 2,100-odd delegates to the congress. It is even possible that one or two will make it on to the new Central Committee.

The revised party charter is likely to mention Mr Jiang by name as the author of the “Three Represents”, much to the annoyance of many in the party who regard this as an attempt by Mr Jiang to prolong his influence and create a personality cult. But, by raising the idea, Mr Jiang has made it easier for the party to co-opt the middle class rather than be marginalised by it. From the party's perspective, such a step is essential—even though more orthodox Maoists, of whom there are still a surprising number around, find Mr Jiang's admission of “exploiters” into the party ranks difficult to swallow.

China's new leaders, of whatever faction, are likely to pursue Mr Jiang's efforts to woo private business. Party literature is suffused with a sense of crisis about the way the growth of private enterprise and the decay of the state sector are eroding the party's grip. In moribund state-owned enterprises, party members are often as demoralised as ordinary workers and sometimes even lead protests (though party regulations explicitly ban members from joining such activities).

In 2000, 82% of private businesses had no party members (all state-owned enterprises have not only members but also party cells). In rural China, party control at the grassroots is similarly under assault as power shifts to village chiefs (many of them not party members) directly elected by villagers. This has resulted in fierce power struggles between party cadres and elected officials in many rural areas.

The congress will try to shore up the party's legitimacy by stressing the need for greater “inner-party” democracy. But in this area Mr Jiang has come up with no new ideas. At best it will involve extending the practice of giving low-level party organisations a choice of more than one candidate to fill a party post. The Tiananmen protests and the collapse of communism elsewhere still haunt the party so much that nobody in the leadership is willing to grasp the issue of political reform.

Bao Tong, a former member of the Central Committee who helped to organise the party's 13th congress in 1987 (and was sentenced to seven years in jail for being on the wrong side in the power struggle that erupted during the Tiananmen demonstrations), says that, if inner-party reforms under way in the late 1980s had been pursued, the party by now would have multiple candidates for the post of general secretary. “Very unfortunately, [the unrest in] 1989 marked an end to any progress with inner-party democracy, if not a retreat from it,” Mr Bao says.

Despite its proclaimed stability, the party is still fearful of a Soviet-style collapse. Outspoken critics, like Mr Bao, are kept under close police surveillance. The general secretary at the time of Tiananmen, Zhao Ziyang (for whom Mr Bao worked), remains under house arrest. Mr Hu has given no indication that he is a closet liberal impatient to revive political reforms. Indeed, the indications are otherwise. As party chief in Tibet he imposed martial law in 1989 and organised the brutal suppression of anti-Chinese unrest.

His speeches give warning of the dangers of ideological deviation and the threat posed by western ideology. A state-controlled publication, News Weekly, says that Beijing's police have been on high alert since September to prevent attempts by organisations such as the Falun Gong cult and “hostile elements inside and outside China” to sabotage the congress. The congress will mark the start of Mr Jiang's protracted withdrawal from politics, but that alone is no reason to expect any big changes in China.

Nov 7th 2002 | BEIJING
From The Economist print edition

 


© Uygur.Org  10/11/2002 17:35  A.Karakas