Now Executive Director of the China Media Project, leading the project’s research and partnerships, David originally joined the project in Hong Kong in 2004. He is the author of Dragons in Diamond Village (Penguin), a book of reportage about urbanization and social activism in China, and co-editor of Investigative Journalism in China (HKU Press).
A report earlier this month by Southern Weekly (南方周末) has generated intense debate in China about emotional abuse and sexism — and has also sparked lively discussion of journalism standards.
The original report in what is now being referred to in shorthand as the “Bao Li suicide incident” (包丽自杀事件) was called “The Death of a Female Peking University Student” (北大女生之死). Published through Southern Weekly’s WeChat public account on December 12, the article, written by journalist Chai Huiqun (柴会群), chronicled the alleged emotional abuse of a third-year female student at the Peking University Law School, identified as Bao Li (包丽) — this being a pseudonym used to protect the victim’s name — by her boyfriend, a fourth-year student in the School of Government at Peking University surnamed Mou (牟).
According to Chai’s story, Bao was driven to suicide in October by allegedly demeaning treatment from Mou, much of it through chats on the social media platform WeChat. Bao’s parents discovered her exchanges with Mou after recovering her mobile phone from police on November 7.
The messages between Bao and Mou appear to trace a pattern of emotional abuse, with Mou voicing anger and disappointment over the fact that Bao was no longer a virgin. The original Southern Weekly report included screenshots of some of the exchanges, and excerpts of others.
Chai Huiqun reports in his story that when he reached out to Mou to ask whether he and his girlfriend had a conflict over the question of her virginity, he responded that, “It is inconvenient to say.”
Chai’s report, which has since been removed from the internet (but is archived here by China Digital Times), was full of terms like “virgin complex” (处女情结) and “moral harassment” (精神暴力) that have sparked discussion online about abuse, sexism, gaslighting, consent and other issues. But on the evening of December 12, shortly after Chai’s post was published, Lifeweekly (三联生活周刊), a news and lifestyle magazine launched in 1994, waded into the “Bao Li suicide incident” by accusing Southern Weekly of poor professional journalism standards.
In a response post on its WeChat public account (有罪推定？ — — 为什么我们不这么报道“不寒而栗”的新闻), the magazine accused Southern Weekly of “presuming guilt,” and said it had been too cavalier in its reporting. According to Lifeweekly’s view, the Southern Weekly report contained a number of serious problems. It had not been sufficiently “fair and objective” (公正客观); it had not taken care in the protection of personal privacy; it had not been balanced in its reporting (没有做到报道的平衡), seeking other sides of the story; and it had been reckless in reporting in detail the nature of the Bao Li’s suicide.
Some journalists countered, however, that if Lifeweekly took issue with the accuracy of the Southern Weekly story, the proper response was to do a comprehensive report of their own to set the record straight. Many saw the Southern Weekly report as courageously tackling a difficult and sensitive issue, particularly in a press environment much less conducive in recent years to substantive reporting at all.
The Southern Weekly report certainly brought the death of Bao Li (包丽) into the public light, resulting in follow-up reports from (红星新闻), a news outlet in Chengdu, and other media, including reporting that the male student had not, as previously reported, entered Peking University with exchange student status despite graduating from a Beijing high school. Matters, the Hong Kong-based news outlet by Initium founder and former editor-in-chief Zhang Jieping (张洁平), has also run an in-depth commentary on the case, a piece clearly critical of Mou.
Censorship of discussion of the “Bao Li suicide incident” seems to be patchy and inconsistent. As previously stated, the original report has been removed. A chat thread on the incident at the popular question-and-answer site Zhihu first comes up with a notice saying the link has been disabled, before resolving into a chain of posts dated up to December 16.
Visiting a link through Google for the “Bao Li suicide incident” as discussed on Zhihu, visitors first get a “this response has been deleted” message before the page settles into comments up to December 16.
A December 16 report from The Beijing News is also still available today. That report says that the original report, based largely on the chat history, generated “massive ripples” (巨大震动).
OTHER SOURCES:
“Presuming Guilt? Why We Don’t Report ‘Chilling’ News in This Way” (有罪推定？ — — 为什么我们不这么报道“不寒而栗”的新闻)“ / WeChat public account for Lifeweekly
“Was ‘Chilling’ Love” a Piece of Problem Reporting?” (“不寒而栗”的爱情》是一篇有问题的报道吗?) / WeChat public account “NewsLab” (新闻实验室)
“The Lifeweekly-SW Controversy: Report First, Or Balance?” (三联与南周之争：先报道，还是先平衡?) / WeChat public account “Journalist’s Home” (记者站)
On December 3, Chinese foreign ministry spokesperson Hua Chunying (华春莹) held a press conference at which a journalist asked about a recent op-ed by U.S. Secretary of State Mike Pompeo published through the US news site POLITICO, in which he said that in light of security concerns over 5G technology “it’s critical that European countries not give control of their critical infrastructure to Chinese tech giants like Huawei, or ZTE.”
Pompeo’s remarks included a range of accusations against Huawei in particular, noting its links to the Chinese military, charges that it engaged in espionage in the Netherlands, the Czech Republic and Poland, and allegations that it stole intellectual property from countries such as Germany and Israel. Pompeo also pointed to Chinese state subsidies for Huawei as evidence of unfair practices that “undercut prices offered by market-based rivals.”
Phoenix Online reports on Hua Chunying’s remarks about Pompeo resembling Lu Xun’s character Auntie Xianglin.
In her response to the question, Hua Chunying once again employed the sort of colorful (and often mistaken) language that has been her signature, and has often in the past sparked lively discussion in the Chinese social media space. Invoking the novel Blessing (祝福) by the writer Lu Xun (鲁迅), a leading figure of modern Chinese literature at the start of the 20th century, the spokeswoman said Pompeo resembled the character Auntie Xianglin (祥林嫂), who in the book always chatters on and on about the same topic.
Hua’s implication was the Pompeo’s utterances on Huawei and the 5G issue were tiresome. “As I see it, Mr. Pompeo’s behavior now really resembles that of Auntie Xianglin,” Hua Chunying said. “But of course, Auntie Xianglin prattles on with nonsense about certain harmless topics, while Pompeo prattles on with poisonous lies.”
Once again, Hua Chunying’s colorful references were quickly picked up by Chinese internet users, who followed with a torrent of commentary. But Hua’s Lu Xun reference did not exactly work in the foreign ministry’s favor. This is because Auntie Xianglin is a literary character who generally invites a great deal of sympathy from Chinese readers, and to employ her as a tool in an official state calumny to insult and belittle an American official was regarded by many as inappropriate.
What should we know about Auntie Xianglin?
Auntie Xianglin appeared in Blessing in 1924, at a time of great internal upheaval in China.
In the book, we learn that Auntie Xianglin was widowed at a young age, after which she ran away from the household to seek work, and was subsequently caught and carted back by her mother-in-law, who arranged another forced betrothal. She then gave birth to a son – at that time, of course, a huge honor – but the son was killed and eaten by a wolf. In light of her experiences, Auntie Xianglin is broken spiritually, something Chinese readers have felt they can understand and relate to.
When Hua Chunying referenced Auntie Xianglin’s “prattling,” she presumably meant passages like this one, in which the character relates her personal trials:
I was foolish, truly. I only knew that during the snows when the wild animals in the mountains have nothing to eat, they’ll come into the village; I didn’t know that it might happen in the spring too. In the morning I opened the front door, and took a basket of beans, and I told Ah Mao to sit there on the threshold and peel them. He was such an obedient child, so he did what I said. I went out. I was chopping firewood and washing rice behind the house, and we were going to steam the beans. “Ah Mao!” I called. There was no answer. When I went over, the beans were scattered all over the ground, and our Ah Mao was nowhere to be seen. We looked everywhere. I was beside myself. They sent out a search party. People searched the mountains into the afternoon, and they found one of his shoes in the brambles. Everyone said, that’s it, we’re afraid the wolves have gotten him. They went further in and there he was lying in the grass, his insides already eaten out. The poor child still had a bean held tightly in his hand . . . . “
This poor woman often relates the story. She repeats it as soon as she finds a willing ear. The above is a very classic passage from Lu Xun’s novel, which was made into a film in China in 1956.
The film was even distributed outside China. Here is a poster form the film as it was promoted in the former Yugoslavia.
How can this poor woman who was victimized and suffered under a feudal ethical system be used in reference, with critical overtones, to an American government official?
Here is the response from one Chinese internet user, in which they employ the Chinese Communist Party’s own unique political discourse to criticize Hua Chunying’s tactic:
Auntie Xianglin is a classic image in the arts, a laborer from the bottom of society who in the old society was persecuted by feudal forces, and she has long been a figure with whom readers sympathize. Her constant prattling is a condition of her spiritual collapse as a result of her persecution. And now, a spokesperson for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs makes a comparison to Auntie Xianglin when mocking a foreign politician, and it seems that in her eyes Auntie Xianglin is a comical and ridiculous figure, someone clownish and undeserving of sympathy; and we are told that Auntie Xianglin’s constant prattling of the story of her son being eaten by a wolf is “harmless nonsense.” This shows a shocking ignorance of history, a low cultural character, and a lack of empathy and compassion. Hua Chunying, I ask you: How are you preserving your sense of advancement as a CCP member? How many sessions on not forgetting the original inspiration and holding to the mission have you actually attended?
The front page of the Chinese Communist Party’s official People’s Daily newspaper featured an official commentary yet again today that sent a stern warning over violent standoffs between protesters and police in Hong Kong.
The commentary, like yesterday’s attributed to “a commentator from this paper,” or benbao pinglunyuan (本报评论员), marking it as a staff-written piece representing views in the senior leadership, was a stern warning to so-called “external forces” accused of fomenting discord in order to “impede the great rejuvenation of the Chinese people.”
The commentary says that Xi Jinping’s speech at the 11th BRICS summit of leaders in Brazil — also referenced in yesterday’s commentary — had “sent a severe warning to the radical Hong Kong rioters and their behind-the-scenes supporters.” [Featured image above by Studio Incendo under CC license.]
“Certain radical Hong Kong forces and violent rioters have deliberately destroyed public order and destroyed public facilities, have violently attacked police, have smashed and burned everywhere, have trampled the moral bottom line, broken through the bottom line of rule of law, and have challenged the bottom-line principles of ‘one country, two systems,'” the commentary raged, in the breathless sentence composition so typical of official Party discourse.
“Certain Western politicians and media have been deceptive with the facts,” it continued, “turning black and white on their heads, not distinguishing between truth and falsehood, neglecting the will of Hong Kong society, neglecting the basic principles of international relations, openly cheering for radical and violent separatist forces.”
Concerning the public will, the latest independent polling in Hong Kong, where such polling is actually possible, showed in October that support for the protests remains strong. 52.5 percent in the poll said the SAR government bore the chief responsibility for tensions, while 18.1 percent put the blame on the police. Only 9.6 percent said the protesters were responsible.
The commentary concluded with cresting indignation, fomenting about “those external forces” that must “withdraw their black hands.” But the opening of the final paragraph might easily have been read by protesters in Hong Kong as bearing words of encouragement, though the opposite was certainly intended.
“Injustice is doomed to destruction,” it read.
In a front page commentary today, the Chinese Communist Party’s official People’s Daily newspaper sent one of its strongest signals yet that the leadership is not prepared to acknowledge the demands of Hong Kong protesters, or to reach any sort of compromise. [Featured image by Studio Incendo under CC license.]
“On this question concerning national sovereignty, concerning the fate of Hong Kong,” says the editorial, “there is no middle ground, there is not the least bit of margin for compromise.”
The piece, attributed to “a commentator from this paper,” or benbao pinglunyuan (本报评论员), marking it as executed by top staff representing views at senior levels of the Party, referred to a “struggle” between the protection and destruction of “one country, two systems.” The word “struggle,” a legacy of China’s pre-reform era, has become a prominent feature of Xi Jinping’s more hardline political language.
The commentary mentions the “constant enriching” of “one country, two systems” as an “integral part of the Chinese dream” — a reference to Xi Jinping’s vision of national rejuvenation. It also suggests that the development of the “one country, two systems” formula is “a necessary condition of the refinement and development of the system of socialism with Chinese characteristics and the promotion of the modernization of the national governance system and governing capacity.”
What can this thick crust of discourse possibly mean? What is intended by this talk of “constant enriching” of the arrangement for relative political autonomy and rule of law under which Hong Kong has abided for more than 20 years? If enrichment, that is, does not mean direct election of the SAR’s chief executive?
The crux may lie in this phrase about the “promotion of the modernization of the national governance system and governing capacity.” Proposed changes to national governance were the key focus of the recent Fourth Plenum of the 19th Central Committee of the CCP. As our brief analysis of the bulletin stressed, this is essentially about reform as anti-liberalization — the need for the Party to re-double and consolidate its control over society.
In light of the Fourth Plenum bulletin and the clear hardline turn in Chinese politics under Xi Jinping, we must seriously consider what the improvement of “one country, two systems” means in practical terms in the context of “the promotion of the modernization of the national governance system and governing capacity.”
The most ominous signal comes in the fourth paragraph of the commentary: This storm over the amendment has exposed deep contradictions and problems in Hong Kong’s politics, economy, society and other areas, and has further magnified the necessity and urgency of improving Hong Kong’s governance system.
The current trajectory of Chinese politics suggests that Party leaders understand the improvement of governance only as the consolidation of Party power, which would suggest a difficult road ahead for Hong Kong. We should remember, however, that the signs we see in the Fourth Plenum also point to internal weakness in the Party, and the likelihood that Xi Jinping faces substantial headwinds. As we have previously written, the Party is “struggling,” and this volatility is another variable for Hong Kong.
A partial translation of the People’s Daily commentary follows:
The realization of the constant enriching and development of “one country, two systems” in the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region, and the preservation of Hong Kong’s long-term prosperity and stability, is an integral part of the Chinese dream, and also a necessary condition of the refinement and development of the system of socialism with Chinese characteristics and the promotion of the modernization of the national governance system and governing capacity.
At the 11th BRICS summit of leaders in Brazil, Chairman Xi Jinping gave a speech on recent developments in Hong Kong, pointing out that extreme violent criminal activities seriously challenge the bottom-line principles of “one country, two systems.” We will absolutely not tolerate any behavior that challenges the bottom-line principles of “one country, two systems,” and all criminal activities that openly challenge the bottom-line principles of “one country, two systems” must be resolutely punished according to the law.
For more than five months, under the misguided instigation of interference by the opposition faction (反对派) and interference from external forces, continued violent street activities have occurred in Hong Kong [Note: The “opposition faction” is how the CCP refers to Hong Kong’s pro-democracy camp, the word pro-democracy being unsayable]. Certain [people] who even openly advocate “Hong Kong independence,” and shout “Liberate Hong Kong, the Revolution of Our Times,” wantonly dishonor the national flag, the national emblem and the regional [Hong Kong] emblem, surround and attacked the office of the Central Government in Hong Kong and the Legislative Council, the government headquarters, the goal being to sow chaos in Hong Kong and paralyze the SAR government, and in this way to capture the authority to govern in the SAR, turning Hong Kong into an independent or half-independent political entity — with the ultimate result that “one country, two systems” exists only in name.
Today, right before us, is a struggle (斗争) between the protection of “one country, two systems” and the destruction of “one country, two systems.” On this question concerning national sovereignty, concerning the fate of Hong Kong, there is no middle ground (中间地带), there is not the least bit of margin for compromise.
“One country, two systems” is an innovative undertaking, and for the Central Committee it is a major issue for the governance of the country. For Hong Kong and our brethren in Hong Kong, [“one country, two systems”] is an important historical turning point. The facts have shown that “one country, two systems” is the best plan for resolving the historical legacy of the Hong Kong question, and also the best system for preserving prosperity and stability following Hong Kong’s return . . . . At the same time, “one country, two systems” as a system innovation, must, like all new things, be constantly improved in light of practice and experience. This storm over the amendment has exposed deep contradictions and problems in Hong Kong’s politics, economy, society and other areas, and has further magnified the necessity and urgency of improving Hong Kong’s governance system.
The propaganda stunt pulled today by soldiers from the Kowloon barracks of the Chinese army could be read in many ways, and speculation is now running free across Hong Kong. But in very clear ways, the action underscores the deep divide that separates political cultures and consciousness in China and Hong Kong.
For some, the brief publicity campaign, in which People’s Liberation Army soldiers clad in olive green t-shirts and orange basketball jerseys jogged out from the barracks in triple-file to clear away barricades and bricks left by protesters in the vicinity of Hong Kong Baptist University, is an ominous sign that China wants to normalize the public image of the PLA taking a more active role in public order in the city.
A Twitter post from Demosistō, the political party founded by activist Joshua Wong, called the action a “salami tactic” used by China to “intervene in [Hong Kong] affairs more directly.” Others interpreted it as a warning message — a reminder that if the unrest continues, the gates of the Chinese garrison can swing right open.
Although the PLA must not, according to Hong Kong’s Basic Law and the Garrison Law, interfere in local affairs, its troops may be called upon to assist with disaster relief or maintain public order upon request by the SAR government. No request for assistance with public order has ever been made since Hong Kong’s return to Chinese rule in 1997. Democratic Party lawmaker James To Kun-sun told the SCMP, however, that today’s action did not appear to be voluntary service, as when the PLA took part last year in the planting of trees felled during Typhoon Mangkhut. “It’s more like assisting the maintenance of public order,” he said.
But aside from the question of what this propaganda stunt means in the context of events in Hong Kong, the action is a clear illustration of the political culture that prevails across the border — and its sharply different conception of the role of the media.
Camera Shy
One video of today’s stunt includes several scenes with the garrison’s own soldier-cameraman. Watch the opening frame and you’ll see him, the only one wearing camouflage fatigues, hustling alongside the column of soldiers.
As the soldiers turn the corner onto the street, they are greeted by a small group of onlookers who shout and applaud, but the scene seems awkward and contrived, and the applause immediately subsides.
In a subsequent frame, the soldier with the camera again moves across the lens as the soldiers are standing at attention.
When the column returns to the garrison, and as the gates are closing, the cameraman in fatigues is the last to enter. He has captured the scenes, we can assume, that will now spread across the Chinese internet — telling a story of duty, obedience and restoration of order.
But in Hong Kong, where freedom of the press and publication are enshrined in Article 27 of the Basic Law, constructing and maintaining such a narrative is not such a simple matter as it might be inside China.
In a separate video shared by RTHK, a member of the PLA group who appears to be an officer from the garrison is confronted by journalists and ordinary Hong Kong residents about the reason for the action and the poor message it might send to the city.
“We are spreading positive energy!” he shouts at the outset of the video, parroting a phrase straight from Xi Jinping’s information control lexicon, meaning to emphasize positive messages over critical ones.
To this an off-camera voice responds, deepening the sense of divide and dissonance: “What does that mean, positive energy?”
“I’m not doing interviews!” he says sternly as he turns, clearly growing upset. He walks around as the cameras and microphones trail him closely. Can he sense, perhaps, the narrative unwinding? He is out of his element entirely, a relic transported into the future. His strapping soldiers are busy clearing away the street, presenting the kind of ready image one might expect to find on the front page of the Liberation Army Daily. And yet the cameras have turned on him. He has become the story.
Next, a reporter asks the question that will soon be on the minds of many people in Hong Kong: “Aren’t you concerned that this will give the Hong Kong people a bad impression?” Another voice shouts: “Won’t this just cause further disputes?”
He turns, first with a look of incomprehension, then quickly spinning back into irritation. He points toward the garrison gate, to where his soldiers were greeted with the spattering of unconvincing applause: “The applause of the Hong Kong people, that is the best impression!” he growls. “What else is there to ask? Bad impressions? No more questions!”
Now completely surrounded as he walks about, he searches desperately for an escape. “Who are you?” someone then asks.
“I am the Hong Kong Garrison of the People’s Liberation Army!”
“But who are you?” “Are you the commander?” “What is your surname?”
“No more questions!”
The scene reveals all. Though he has already claimed that the actions of the soldiers are “spontaneous,” a matter of individual will — zifa (自发) is the word his uses — he is unwilling, and almost certainly unable, to name himself.
He is the Hong Kong Garrison of the PLA, and the PLA is commanded by the Chinese Communist Party, and individual wills and identities do not enter into the world so structured. By the same token, the only “impression” to be made is that of the goodness and positivity of the PLA and of the Party, a story that all are duty-bound to accept.
The failure of the journalists to simply accept the officer’s de-personalized language of power is something he doesn’t seem to have foreseen. In this context, he cannot deal with even the most basic question of humanity and personal responsibility: “Who are you?”
His de-personalization and subjugation mirrors that of China’s news media, and the role of the journalist as a purveyor of “positive energy.” Consider, in light of the officer’s inability to offer even his surname, how Xi Jinping doubled-down on press controls in 2016 by stressing to all media that they are “surnamed Party.”
This clean-up drive was not just the perfect allegory for the relationship between the individual, power and the media in China — it was its exemplification, right on the streets of Hong Kong.
Finally, the scene grows desperate, and two unidentified women appear to try to extract the officer from his predicament. Meanwhile, the cameraman in fatigues appears once again, raising a hand to block one of the now unwelcome cameras with his hand. The documenter turns to physical obstruction. But this does not mean that the nature of his work has changed — not at all. He must obstruct this complicating narrative on the street as much as he seeks to advance the Party’s narrative.
Just as positivity demands the suppression of gloom, so does propaganda, the expression of power, entail the obstruction of truth. It cannot live with questions.
It was a quiet day yesterday in the pages of the People’s Daily. So quiet, in fact, that the space to the right of the masthead — generally reserved for the Chinese Communist Party’s most stolid commentaries and policy announcements — featured a piece of relative trivia: the release in Brazil of the Portuguese edition of Xi Jinping’s Governance of China.
Why so quiet on the closing day of the long-awaited (because so long delayed) Fourth Plenum of the 19th Central Committee of the CCP? Precisely because a vacuum needed to be left open for the rush of heady discourse that would come with the evening release of the plenum’s official bulletin.
The bulletin is now out, and so we see the flood hitting today’s front page, with a great big photo of Xi Jinping, and a great big red headline: “Fourth Plenum of the 19th Central Committee Held in Beijing.” The entire text of the front page is the bulletin released yesterday by Xinhua News Agency.
So what should we make of the bulletin? What new information does it convey?
Much of the discourse is boilerplate stuff, of course, as when we are told that the Central Committee “is led by raising high the banner of socialism with Chinese characteristics, adhering to Marxism-Leninism, Mao Zedong Thought, Deng Xiaoping Theory, the important thought of the ‘Three Represents’, the scientific view of development and Xi Jinping thought on socialism with Chinese characteristics for the new era.” This is nothing more than an obligatory nod to the stratigraphy of core leadership theories and programs through the history of the CCP, always a ponderous list. It is conceivable that with time these might be consolidated and subsumed under so-called “Xi Jinping Thought,” the final item on the list, but that has clearly not yet happened.
In this opening section of the bulletin, we should also note the clear sense of urgency about how China “faces a complex situation with risks and challenges domestically and overseas clearly on the increase.”
But the crux of the bulletin is the question of governance, which comes across clearly today in the section under the main headline, which notes the introduction of a resolution called (bear with me) “Resolution from the Central Committee of the CCP on Important Questions on Adhering to and Improving the System of Socialism with Chinese Characteristics, Promoting Modernization of the National Governance System and Governing Capacity” (中共中央关于坚持和完善中国特色社会主义制度、推进国家治理体系和治理能力现代化若干重大问题的决定).
That’s right, the Fourth Plenum is about reform. But now, this is not about political reform as liberalization. This is about political reform as the continued and renewed consolidation of Party control of all aspects of Chinese society around the central authority of Xi Jinping.
Notice how the bulletin talks about the “Party leadership system,” or dang de lingdao zhidu (党的领导制度). This phrase was used by Deng Xiaoping in his August 18 speech in 1980 (八一八讲话), in which he referred to “the leadership system of the Party and the country” (党和国家的领导制度). The speech was a review of the Party’s governing history since 1949, and he especially addressed the lessons of the Cultural Revolution.
It was from this speech and its discussion of “the leadership system of the Party and the country” that the debate emerged in the 1980s about so-called “political system reform,” or zhengzhi tizhi gaige (政治体制改革). The chief direction of reform was to deal with the painful excesses of the Cultural Revolution and the early decades of CCP rule, and Deng harshly criticized the problem of “over-concentration of power” (权力过分集中).
Those interested in learning more about Deng’s speech and about “political system reform” in the early reform era context should read historian Wu Wei’s 2014 article at the Chinese website of the New York Times.
In the most direct sense, we can say that the Fourth Plenum is reform in the opposite direction, as a re-consolidation of the power of the CCP, and about finding new means to consolidate and exercise CCP power at all levels of Chinese society — given the challenges of the “new era.” While Deng Xiaoping’s objective was the deal with “over-concentration of power,” Xi’s objective is to address the problem of insufficient concentration of power.
In the section of the bulletin that discusses “improvement of the Party’s leadership system,” we have the familiar phrase laying claim to CCP dominance of everything: “We must adhere to the [principle that] the CCP leads everything — the Party, the government, the military, society, education, east, west, north and south.”
We could talk until the cows come home about the specific discourse in other sections of the bulletin — dealing with “one country, two systems,” dealing with foreign policy (and the “common destiny for mankind”). But the crux of the bulletin is absolutely clear, and this conditions the attitude to all other aspects dealt with at the Fourth Plenum.
For generations in China, the status of self-effacing soldier Lei Feng as the pre-eminent model of the ideal citizen has seemed unassailable. The myth of Lei Feng has been dusted off and recycled periodically over the decades, the last peak coming in 2013 to mark fifty years since Mao Zedong’s formal launch of the “Learn from Comrade Lei Feng” campaign — which came in 1963 with the widespread publication of the hero’s greatly embellished diary.
The tales and imagery surrounding this hero of the people, with overwrought messages of self-sacrifice, seem absurdly theatrical today. Lei Feng weeps as he resolves to donate his mooncakes during Autumn Festival to a hospital where those injured in the struggle to build a socialist society are recuperating. We are told how, with devoted hands-on study, he teaches himself how best to throw a hand grenade — without any apparent recognition on the part of myth-makers or military commanders of the total folly this involves. He takes smiling joy in basic acts like shoveling manure and darning his own socks.
The entire Lei Feng story is understandably beset with controversy. Some question the authenticity of his freak death in 1962 (he was reportedly crushed by a falling telephone pole). Others wonder whether he ever actually died at all, or indeed whether he actually lived. The Chinese Communist Party has remained coy about the obvious inconsistencies. Who can explain the odd fact that Lei Feng’s “anonymous good deeds” were scrupulously photographed at a time in China when photography was rare and expensive.
Facts aside, Lei Feng’s star will probably continue to sparkle in the cosmos of Chinese political mythology. But another star has lately been rising.
Earlier this month, Xi Jinping issued “important comments,” or zhongyao zhishi (重要指示), declaring that Huang Wenxiu (黄文秀), a young village leader in rural Guangxi who died in a flash flood on June 16, had been designated a “national outstanding CCP member” (全国优秀共产党员) by the Central Committee of the Chinese Communist Party — a figure to be celebrated as an exemplar for China’s younger generation.
Like Lei Feng before her, Huang Wenxiu represents the loftiest goal of life: sacrifice for the Chinese Communist Party. After earning her graduate degree in Beijing, said Xi, Huang had “given up work opportunities in the big city and resolved to return to her hometown, joining the front lines of the attack against poverty, sacrificing herself, dedicating her beautiful youth to the original mission of the Chinese Communist Party, composing a spring song of youth for the New Era.”
Xi portrayed Huang as a model and martyr whose actions point the way for a new generation of Chinese faithfully serving the Party:
The masses of Party members and cadres, and young comrades, must take comrade Huang Wenxiu as a model, never forgetting our original aspiration and holding to our mission (不忘初心、牢记使命). [They must] dare to take responsibility and to dedicate themselves, making even greater achievements on the Long March of the New Era (新时代的长征路上).
The story was carried on page one of the People’s Daily, in a bold headline right below the masthead, a sign of the great importance being afforded to Huang Wenxiu as a political role model for China’s youth.
This month’s announcement marked the high point of Huang Wenxiu’s official veneration as a communist hero, and the complete obliteration of her real humanity through the mega-narrative of Xi Jinping’s supremacy. We are told that “comrade Huang Wenxiu is an excellent youth representative who matured under the educational instruction of Xi Jinping Thought on Socialism with Chinese Characteristics for the New Era.” We are told that “after she began serving as first secretary in a poor village she conscientiously used Xi Jinping Thought on Socialism with Chinese Characteristics for the New Era to guide her practice.”
China News Service, Baise / June 19 / reporter Lin Hao (林浩) — The reporter confirmed from the Propaganda Department of Lingyun County Committee of Baise City, Guangxi, that fingerprint comparison shows that the body of Huang Wenxiu, the first secretary of poverty alleviation in Leye County, who was missing in the county’s major natural disaster, has been located, and is confirmed to have been killed.
Huang Wenxiu, who was born in Baise in 1989, had a master’s degree from Beijing Normal University . . . . and after graduating in 2016 was directed to Guangxi for work, being employed at the Propaganda Department of Baise, and serving as first secretary of Baini Village in Leye County’s Xinhua Township. On the night of June 16, she was lost when a flash flood swept away the vehicle in which she was returning to Leye from Baise.
According to Huang Wenxiu’s classmates, she was generally looking after her father who has late-stage cancer. Facing the pressures of work, family and life, she always bore a smile, remaining optimistic, cheerful and positive.
The final paragraph of the news story dealt in a factual manner with the flood that had struck on June 16 and 17, and reported that “the authorities are continuing to search for the missing.”
A subsequent account from China News Service offered further details, including an account from a local transport officer, Xi Daohuai (席道怀), who said he and his fellow officers out in the storm had come across Huang Wenxiu near a section of road that had become flooded. She approached the men for help and they invited her into their vehicle to avoid the rain. Xi offered to drive Huang’s vehicle ahead through the area of deep water as the other vehicle followed. “Who could’ve guessed the water would come so fast,” he said. “The other vehicle was right behind me, but there was no way for them to escape.”
On June 21, the Beijing Youth Daily (北京青年报), reported in greater detail about events on June 16, noting that Huang Wenxiu had shared video of the storm on social media prior to the tragedy, and that she had been chatting with friends through WeChat. “One vehicle has already been swept away,” she reportedly posted. “I don’t understand what I should do.”
The narrative of sacrifice was just beginning to take shape at this time. The page 10 story included a photograph of a smiling Huang Wenxiu bearing a basket filled with fruit up a hillside with other villagers. In a shamelessly sexist headline meant to endear readers, she was referred to as a “female doll of poverty alleviation” (扶贫女娃娃).
Read this story and you can feel the sense of loss and grief distilling into the official discourse of duty and sacrifice. “As first secretary, Huang Wenxiu’s work received the approval of her comrades on the front lines of poverty alleviation, ” the report read. “Following the grievous news, everyone sank into grief, but they were also boosted by Huang Wenxiu’s work spirit, not forgetting the mission of the village in the battle against poverty, and to continue to move forward.”
Not forgetting. 不忘. The mission. 使命.
By this point, one can almost imagine the light bulb flickering to life over the heads of propaganda officials from Guangxi to Beijing. Xi Jinping’s phrase about “not forgetting our original aspiration and keeping firmly to our mission” (不忘初心, 牢记使命) had already become a centerpiece in propaganda ahead of the 70th anniversary of the People’s Republic of China. Xi spoke repeatedly about the need for sacrifice and “struggle.”
Also on June 21, Xinhua News Agency reported that the All-China Women’s Federation, an official women’s organization founded in 1957, had decided to honor Huang Wenxiu with a national “Bearer of the Red Flag” medal (全国三八红旗手), a distinction awarded to women deemed to have made outstanding contributions to the socialist cause.
The interest in Huang Wenxiu intensified. The Beijing News ran a special report on Huang’s “last four days” prior to her untimely death.
Xinhua News Agency wrote a commentary called “Composing a Song of Youth for the New Era” (谱写新时代的青春之歌), foreshadowing Xi’s language this month. Huang Wenxiu’s youthful dream, it said in syrupy sing-song language, was “written in the mud, and each time she visited the home of a poor villager, she wrote a record in her diary of poverty alleviation.”
Photos of the diary were already circulating in state media reports, along with others of Huang Wenxiu visiting villagers, shoveling leaves, visiting school classrooms.
The last line of Xinhua’s “Song of Youth,” directly invoking Xi Jinping’s propaganda phrase about “original aspirations,” presaged the flood to come, and the full apotheosis of Huang Wenxiu: “Youth is used to struggle, and Huang Wenxiu used her short life to act on the ‘original aspiration’ and ‘mission” of the Chinese Communist Party, writing a Song of Youth for the New Era.”
Finally, on July 1, the Central Propaganda Department officially designated Huang Wenxiu as a “Model of the Era” (时代楷模) in a ceremony on national television, bringing her father and sister out on stage. The die was cast. The final elevation would come in the midst of October celebrations of the PRC’s anniversary, as the Central Committee formalized Huang’s status as a “national outstanding CCP member.”
Huang Wenxiu’s father, Huang Zhongjie (黄忠杰) and sister, Huang Aijuan (middle) are brought on stage to accept Huang Wenxiu’s “Model of the Era” award.
The emergence of the myth of Huang Wenxiu offers a fascinating modern-day glimpse into the process of manufacturing political mythology in China — a process not greatly changed from the days of Lei Feng.
We may bemoan how little China seems to have changed in spite of four decades of reform and opening, how “authoritarian adaptation” has hit a wall. But the fact is that much of China’s recalcitrance is a more recent product of Xi Jinping’s so-called “New Era” — a deepening of authoritarian trends that were already nascent in the second half of the Hu Jintao era, at a time when there was a great deal more questioning of political idols and ideals than we can find in Chinese media and intellectual life today.
Few may recall that just eight years ago, in March 2011, China Daily, a newspaper published by the State Council Information Office, ran a special called “Lei Feng: Changing Role Models in China,” which addressed Lei Feng as a model largely for the past. The special introduced a short list of “Role Models of Today” that included Alibaba founder Jack Ma, former Google China chief Kai-fu Lee, celebrity blogger Han Han, pianist Lang Lang and others. The China Daily article came in the midst of commemorations of Lei Feng, but noted that the special “intends to outline the subtle changes in people’s perception of role models or heroes as well as the leading arguments for social values in China.”
Today, public intellectuals like Han Han and Kai-fu Lee, and a universe of celebrity “Big Vs” who could once turn the attention of mass audiences to more substantive social and political issues, have largely been silenced on China’s social media. The voices of China’s would-be role models are more subdued now than they have been at any point in the past two decades.
Only one voice matters, and the idol that the very human Huang Wenxiu has become is little more than a conduit for that voice. We can almost certainly anticipate the publication in full of her diary — “Every day is arduous, and yet joyous!” — suitably embellished to lend flesh-and-blood power to the immortal role of the Party.
On the front page of the September 25 edition of the Chinese Communist Party’s official People’s Daily newspaper, a “double lead headline” (双头条) was used to emphasize two high-level events held in Beijing the previous day. The first was a meeting of the Politburo, the inner circle of 25 Party leaders; the second was a “collective study session” of the same inner circle. Both reports were bursting with rhetorical gibberish, but the headlines nevertheless held important clues.
The bold headline on the right-hand side of page one, seen above, announces the 17th Collective Study Session of the Politburo with a phrase we have observed closely at the China Media Project over the past six years: “[The] modernization of the national governance system and governing capacity” (国家治理体系和治理能力现代化).
Any time we observe phrases within the Party’s political discourse appearing in headline positions in the People’s Daily and other core Party media, these should invite special attention, and this is particularly true when these phrases have to do with questions of governance. So what is this drawn-out phrase, “modernization of the national governance system and governing capacity”?
When we search the People’s Daily database, we find that since 2013, there have been 10 headlines in the newspaper including the phrase “modernization of the national governance system and governing capacity.” Of these, five have appeared on page one of the People’s Daily, three of these coming since July this year. Below, for example, is the July 6 edition of the People’s Daily, with a headline about “promoting modernization of the national governance system and governing capacity.”
The phrase, unique to the Xi Jinping era, first appeared in November 2013 at the Third Plenary Session of the 18th Central Committee of the CCP. The Third Plenum was a political event, as some may recall, at which the key question was the “deepening of reform,” or shenhua gaige (深化改革), which may at first sound like a push for meaningful reform. But the broader context of that plenum was a severe ideological tightening in China, following the release earlier in the year of an internal Party communique known as “Document No. 9” that essentially banned discussion of such concepts as constitutional democracy, civil society and universal values.
The 2013 plenum tabled a document called “Decision Concerning Major Questions in the Comprehensive Deepening of Reform” (关于全面深化改革若干重大问题的决定) that defined the twin objectives of “developing socialism with Chinese characteristics” and “promoting modernization of the national governance system and governing capacity” as the “overarching goals” of so-called reform in China. What do these mean? Yes, more confusion by way of definition. But there were five points mentioned specifically in this context that help clarify how leaders conceptualized this process of “deepening reform,” and these included: 1. economic system reform (经济体制改革) 2. political system reform (政治体制改革) 3. cultural system reform (文化体制改革) 4. social system reform (社会体制改革) 5. reform to the system of ecological civilization (生态文明体制改革)
This fifth and last term is a fancy way of signaling environmental goals and policies. The biggest sticking point, the point of greatest sensitivity, is the second phrase, “political system reform,” or zhengzhi tizhi gaige (政治体制改革), which can also be translated simply “political reform.” Within the Party’s political discourse, this phrase has moved in recent years from a position of grudging acceptance, associated with such ideas as “intra-party democracy” (党内民主), to sensitivity and unease.
The following graph, which plots occurrence of the phrase “political system reform” within the CCP’s political reports every five years during the reform era, shows us how this hot potato has been tossed since 1982.
The phrase, which has long served as a key indicator within the political discourse of political reform readiness or resistance within the Party, reached its peak in the reform era with the 13th National Congress of the CCP in 1987, during a period when political reform was an active item on the agenda. Following a rather dramatic drop in the 1992 political report, which followed the crackdown on pro-democracy demonstrations in 1989, the phrase held more or less steady through to 2012 and the 18th National Congress of the CCP, at which Xi Jinping became general secretary. The 19th National Congress of the CCP in 2017 marked a rather dramatic decline for this important reform phrase.
Returning to the headlines above from July 6 and September 25, dealing with “deepening reform” and the “modernization of the national governance system and governing capacity,” we should note that both are related to the phrase “political system reform.” As the notion of “political system reform” has become more sensitive (post-2013), a number of alternates have appeared in its place, notably including “political civilization” (政治文明) and “democratic politics” (民主政治), which differ in form but are similar in meaning.
In leadership speeches and in official Party media, these concepts have been subsumed under the phrase “the organic unity of the leadership of the Party, governing of the nation according to law and the [principle of] the people as the masters” (党的领导、依法治国和人民当家作主有机统一). In the headline article from September 25, we see this trinity of “organic unity” emphasized yet again in the context of “modernization of the national governance system and governing capacity,” but this time a fourth point is added, the principle of “democratic centralism” (民主集中制), which again emphasizes the supremacy of the Party in the decision-making process.
The page one article in the People’s Daily on September 25 emphasizes four aspects of the CCP-led political system.
As all of these concepts congeal under the umbrella concept of “modernization of the national governance system and governing capacity,” it seems likely that the time will come — if it has not already — to retire “political system reform.” The old phrase, which once pointed the way to the future, has become a relic of the past. Meanwhile, “modernization,” that word pointing to new horizons, is taking China back politically toward its pre-reform past.
Earlier this month, we wrote about the re-ascendence of the pre-reform language of “struggle,” or douzheng (斗争), within the Chinese Communist Party since the start of the Xi Jinping era. Yes, Xi Jinping’s September 3 address to a training session for young leaders at the Central Party School was extraordinary for the density of its use of the phrase “struggle” to talk about the internal and external challenges facing China, and particularly the Party. But it was not an outlier.
The language of struggle has surged throughout the Xi Jinping era, a likely sign of internal tensions within the Party as well as a broader ideological tightening under a leader who sees himself as cast in the revolutionary mold of Mao Zedong, and has even imitated Mao Zedong’s signature.
Xi’s recent invocations of “struggle” likely have a great deal to do with the clear and present difficulties facing the Chinese Communist Party, including economic weakness and an ongoing trade war with the United States, internal strife over Xi’s drive to consolidate and centralize power around himself, the international backlash against China’s ambitions, and so on.
But struggle is in the Party’s blood, coded in what it likes to call its “red genes” (红色基因), the heritage of revolution and revival it continues to claim as the spiritual base of its legitimacy. In this context, it’s not a surprise that the whole notion of “struggle” has been ritualized as part of the CCP’s commemorations ahead of the 70th anniversary of the People’s Republic of China.
Back in June this year, as protests in Hong Kong shifted into high gear, a notice jointly released by nine ministries and agencies, including the Central Propaganda Department and the CCP’s Organization Department, announced a new “study and propaganda campaign” (学习宣传活动) to spread the spirit of sacrifice for the goals and good of the Party. The competition, for which the leadership wished to have nominations from the public, was for China’s “Most Beautiful Strugglers” (最美奋斗者).
An online announcement for China’s “Most Beautiful Struggler” campaign to commemorate the 70th anniversary of the PRC.
The push to finalize the nominations continues this month with the approach of the October 1 anniversary. On October 15, the official Xinhua News Agency reported that the campaign continues, “leading people to forever remember the important contributions to the Party and the people of strugglers in various professions and work, to forever remember the hardships of the New China, and the process of arduous struggle.” The goal is to inspire “the whole of society to energetically sing the main melody of praise for the new China and the struggle for a new era.”
This, the “struggle for a new era” (奋斗新时代), has become one of the core buzzwords of Xi Jinping triumphalism ahead of the anniversary.
The nominations for “Most Beautiful Struggler” are now in. According to Xinhua, a process of suggestion by Party and government organs and online yielded a list of 300 nominees, including 278 individuals and 22 groups. Now is the time to make your views known on the selection of candidates. This, after all, is one of those rare moments when “the people” are asked for their (apparently) real input, to help paint the Party’s glorious picture:
In order to fully democracy, and broadly solicit opinions, accepting the supervision of society, we now make public notice of the candidate suggestions, the period of notice being from September 15 to September 20. During this notice period, we welcome people from all corners of society to familiarize themselves with the suggested candidates and to conduct a factual, fair and objective appraisal and inspection of them. If there is any objection to the suggested candidates, please respond by phone, e-mail or letter to the “Most Beautiful Struggler” Study and Propaganda Campaign Committee Office. Phone: (010) 63095197. E-mail: [email protected].
In his address to a training session for young leaders at the Central Party School on September 3, Xi Jinping spoke of the immense challenges facing the country and the Chinese Communist Party. The language he chose, however, was not “challenge,” “test” or “obstacle.” He spoke instead of “struggle,” or douzheng (斗争), a word that bears the weight of a painful political history — recalling the internal “struggles against the enemy” that tore Chinese society apart in the 1960s and 1970s.
For many still, douzheng invokes not just the need for unity toward common goals, or a can-do attitude, but warns instead of deep and potentially traumatizing division.
A passage from the Xinhua News Agency release on Xi Jinping’s September 3 speech, with the word “struggle” highlighted.
It is important to take note, therefore, when a senior Chinese leader invokes the language of “struggle” in a contemporary context, understanding that the choice of discourse at the upper levels of the Chinese Communist Party is rarely ever incidental, and never, ever casual.
Certainly, Xi Jinping has never “struggled” so much. The official Xinhua News Agency notice on his speech at the Central Party School made use of the word a staggering 56 times. What on earth does all of this “struggling” mean?
On one level, Xi’s struggles certainly refer to the objective challenges facing China, which would include the ongoing US-China trade war, weak if not faltering economic growth, deeper international resistance to the country’s global ambitions, and persisting tensions over issues of sovereignty, whether in Hong Kong, the South China Sea or Xinjiang. Xi’s speech – or what we can make of it from the official release – is less specific about these challenges, but earlier People’s Daily messaging on “struggles” in the Xi era are more explicit on these points.
On another level, Xi’s constant “struggling” in the September 3 speech means we should entertain more seriously the possibility that Xi is facing his own real struggles within the Party as he grapples with this substantial list of challenges. His choice of language might be intended to send a tough message to those within the Party who resist his leadership, or attempt to work against his objectives. So this talk of “struggle” could point to fierce internal struggles and squabbles within the Chinese Communist Party. Certainly, if we look back on the past half century, we can see that talk of “struggle” at the official level has often served as a warning to those who might act at cross purposes to those in power, or who might mount criticism or opposition.
At the same time, we should recognize that this recent litany of “struggles” is not some Xi era outlier, as though he is suddenly peppering Party discourse with throwback terminology. In fact, Xi Jinping’s entire tenure thus far has been attended by a rather dramatic comeback of the notion of “struggle,” and this has been formalized within the Party discourse. To illustrate this, we looked not at the word “struggle” alone, but at the phrase “great struggle,” or weida douzheng (伟大斗争), which appeared in Xi’s Central Party School speech but has been even rarer in the history of CCP discourse.
As a number of sources have noted in recent days, this recent speech was “Xi Jinping’s first systematic exposition of the notion of ‘great struggle.’” In point of fact, though, Xi Jinping is the ONLY leader in the reform era to ever to have offered a “systematic exposition” of the notion of “great struggle” — and that in itself is significant.
No previous top leader since the arrest and trial against the Gang of Four and the start of the reform and opening policy in 1978-1979 has used the phrase “great struggle” consistently to denote either external challenges or internal divisions, based on our search of the People’s Daily newspaper. But Xi Jinping has done so, and the speech on September 3, though perhaps noteworthy for its dense use of the word “struggle,” was by no means a fresh occurrence.
The following graph shows the number of articles mentioning the phrase “great struggle” in the People’s Daily from 1976, starting from the tail end of the Cultural Revolution, during which the notion of struggle was a constant and painful feature of political life. At that time, the “great struggle” was generally directed against the perceived enemies of Mao Zedong, who were often branded as “rightists,” and against the “imperialism” of the United States.
Most often, the enemies to “struggle” against were those within the Party’s ranks and within society. On October 1, 1976, for example, just weeks after the death of Mao Zedong, and just days before Hua Guofeng ordered the arrest of the Gang of Four, an article on page five of the People’s Daily bore the headline: “A Great Struggle Criticizing Deng [Xiaoping] and Counter-Attacking Rightist Tendencies to Promote Film Development” (批邓、反击右倾翻案风的伟大斗争促进电影事业发展). The article was about the release of new films for National Day, many of which dealt with anti-rightist themes.
By April of the next year, four months before Deng Xiaoping’s rehabilitation at the National Party Congress in 1977, the struggle had turned on the Gang of Four. A headline in the People’s Daily read: “Fully Carrying On the Great Struggle to Expose and Criticize the ‘Gang of Four'” (把揭批“四人帮”的伟大斗争进行到底).
Many more articles referring to a “great struggle” with regard to the Gang of Four made their way into the newspaper through 1979. But after this, as reform and opening got underway, the phrase effectively disappeared for more than three decades. In fact, in the almost 35 years between the last “great struggle” attacks on the Gang of Four and the first appearance of “great struggle” in the Xi Jinping era, just two references to the phrase appear at all in the headlines of articles in the People’s Daily, and on average between 1980 and 2011 the phrase appears in just 7.5 articles in the newspaper each year.
In the graph above, the peak during the Xi Jinping era is unmistakable. In 2011, just 8 articles in the People’s Daily mentioned the term “great struggle,” in keeping with reform period averages. In 2012, we see just a slight increase, with 13 articles including the phrase. But in fact, 12 of these 13 articles date to November and December 2012 and refer directly to the language of Hu Jintao’s political report to the 18th National Congress of the CCP, in which he said that, “Developing socialism with Chinese characteristics is a long-term and arduous historical task, and [we] must prepare to carry out a great struggle with many new historical aspects.”
2012 People’s Daily articles including the phrase “great struggle” almost all appear around the 18th National Congress, referencing the political report by Hu Jintao.
It is no secret that Xi Jinping took the leading role in drafting the political report delivered by Hu Jintao at the 18th National Congress, and this talk of new historical challenges as a “great struggle” is very much in keeping with Xi’s subsequent language about a “new era” and so on. I would argue, then, that we already see the beginning of the Xi Jinping “great struggle” swell in late 2012 during the 18th National Congress.
Through Xi Jinping’s first term, we can see a precipitous rise in use of the phrase “great struggle,” which peaks at 374 articles in the People’s Daily for 2017, thanks in part to the role of the phrase during the 19th National Congress toward the end of that year. During this five-year period, the phrase appears in the context of the anti-corruption drive, as in this article , or this article, both of which talk about the “strict governance of the Party” (从严治党). But the phrase also appears in the midst of warnings about a whole range of perceived risks and threats, both domestic and international — as in this piece written by Meng Jianzhu in February 2017 while he served as head of the Central Political and Legal Affairs Commission. Meng writes, echoing the words of the 2012 political report, that “General Secretary Xi Jinping is focused on carrying out a great struggle with many new historical aspects.”
By the 19th National Congress in November 2017, “great struggle” had already become solidified into a new numerical propaganda phrase pushed by Xi Jinping. The so-called “Four Greats” (四个伟大) were about carrying out a 1) “great struggle” (伟大斗争) in order to build 2) “great projects” (伟大工程), promote 3) “great achievements” (伟大事业) and realize the 4) “great dream” (伟大梦想) — the last a reference to Xi’s so-called “Chinese dream” of the “great rejuvenation of the Chinese people.”
But the “Four Greats,” led by the notion of “struggle,” were also deeply enmeshed with the governance of the Party itself, the idea being that a “great rejuvenation” could only be achieved if the Party could remain united around the firm core of General Secretary Xi. As Wang Qishan, the powerful and feared outgoing anti-corruption chief (and soon to be vice-chairman) wrote in an article in the People’s Daily on November 7, 2017: “Comprehensive and strict governance of the Party provides a staunch guarantee for historic change. If our Party is to carry out a great struggle, build great projects, promote great achievements and realize the great dream, it must unswervingly adhere to comprehensive and strict governance of the Party.”
The peak created by the 19th National Congress makes it seem that “great struggle” is already in denouement in 2019. But so far this year, the phrase has appeared in 105 articles in the People’s Daily, and those numbers are likely to remain strong, or even rally, in the final four months of the year, with the 70th anniversary of the PRC — not to mention the very real challenges, tests and obstacles facing Xi Jinping, including unhappiness in Hong Kong, and economic and trade woes.
Xi’s talk of “struggle” this week was an important sign, and one to continue watching. This is true, however, not because these remarks are unusual or surprising, but because they have been normalized as part of the fabric of politics in the Xi Jinping era. The Chinese Communist Party is once again the party of struggle, turning on itself as much as on the problems the country faces.
