倒習浪潮起？ 習近平的領導風險
2016-04-07 Web Only
全國人民代表大會結束後，與中國政府有關的新聞媒體上出現了兩篇文章，一篇利用歷史論文的形式要求更多言論自由，另一篇則是以公開信的形式呼籲習近平下台。
沒有人知道這兩篇文章的作者之誰，但文章出現的時機相當敏感；而由中國政府對後者的反應來看，中國政府可能擔心那只是冰山一角。
習近平於2012年成為領導人之時，各界對他的政治風格了解並不多，但現在情況已經比較明朗；正如澳洲學者白傑明（Geremie Barmé），習近平是個什麼都管、什麼都不輕易放手的老總（COE,
chairman of everything）。
胡錦濤任國家主席之時，其實處於江澤民的陰影之下；江澤民在任時得向鄧小平低頭；就連鄧小平在位之時，也得小心謹慎以免觸怒共產黨大老。但習近平似乎無懼於這類疑慮，也希望全國都知道這件事，「習大大」、「習核心」等用詞，都透露著強人政治的影子。
大部分觀察家原先認為，習近平掌有如此權力，多少可以隨心所欲地推動政策。但從最近幾個月的重要決策來看，情況應該更加複雜。
在政治上，習近平大膽又無情，也願意承受風險；面對社會整體時，他願意推動變革，但也更加謹慎；經濟方面，習近平則缺乏方向，政策混淆且出現不少錯誤。
習近平改革人民解放軍，並大力肅貪，但這些措施的最重要目標，就是強化掌控權。在社會政策方面，習近平想將自己塑造成自由派；然而，他原本可以完全取消家庭計畫政策、處理人口結構問題，卻只是將一胎改成兩胎，原本可以讓鄉村居民更易於取得都市戶口，卻只是讓大城市自行決定核發都市戶口的條件。
經濟方面，他就更顯保守。
他在上任數月後表示市場將扮演決定性角色，也在去年談及供給面改革，但實際做法卻常見到不確定性、大轉彎，偶爾還會讓人有嚴重錯誤之感。
習近平在經濟上沒有明確焦點，也不願意讓較具專業的人處理此事，從設計不良的股市斷熔機制即可看出此事。
簡言之，習近平了解權力、不怕運用權力，也願意承受相關風險。他對變動社會的複雜性卻不是那麼了解、擔心社會動亂，所以走安全路線。他不夠了解經濟，不知該怎麼做，也不願意信任他人。
習近平的治理方式有三大意涵，其一即為獨裁者常會遇到的問題；在獨裁之下，領導者犯錯可能會造成更大的傷害，扭轉錯誤政策的機會也比較小。
其二，習近平加緊掌控政治系統，但經濟自由化亦受阻，表示中國再也不是經濟和政治不必同步開放的威權國家模範。
其三，鄧小平的「以經濟建設為中心」再也不是中國最神聖的指導原則；對習近平來說，政治永遠排在第一位。
部分樂觀者認為，習近平只是認為大膽經濟改革的時機未到，一旦他完成黨內整頓，就能將焦點放在經濟改革。無論此事是否成真，習近平能否成功，並非取決於能否在他選擇加入的戰場中獲勝，而是他是否選對了戰場。
從整個中國的角度觀之，目前他並沒有選對；習近平似乎已下定決心，要強化共產黨和他個人的權力，而不是讓中國變成更富裕、更開放的社會。
（黃維德編譯）
Xi Jinping’s leadership Chairman
of everything
In his exercise of power at
home, Xi Jinping is often ruthless. But there are limits to his daring
Apr 2nd 2016 | BEIJING |
SHORTLY before the annual
session in March of China’s rubber-stamp parliament,
the National People’s Congress, two curious articles
appeared in government-linked news media. The first, published in a newspaper
run by the Central Commission for Discipline Inspection, the Communist Party’s anti-graft body, was called “The
fawning assent of a thousand people cannot match the honest advice of one”. It was written in an allegorical style traditionally
used in China to criticise those in power, in this case in the form of an essay
praising the seventh-century emperor, Taizong, for heeding a plain-talking
courtier. The article called for more debate and freer speech at a time when
China’s president, Xi Jinping, has been
restricting both. “The ability to air opinions freely
often determined the rise and fall of dynasties,” it said. “We should not be afraid of people saying the wrong things;
we should be afraid of people not speaking at all.”
The second article, in the form
of an open letter, ran—fleetingly—on a state-run website. “Hello, Comrade Xi Jinping. We
are loyal Communist Party members,” the letter began. It called
on Mr Xi to step down and eviscerated his record in office. The president, it
said, had abandoned the party’s system of “collective” leadership; arrogated too
much power to himself; sidelined the prime minister, Li Keqiang; caused
instability in equity and property markets; distorted the role of the media;
and condoned a personality cult.
No one knows who wrote either
the pseudonymous essay or the anonymous letter. But their timing was striking,
coming just as China’s political elite was gathering in
Beijing, and just after several other examples of public criticism had
surfaced. The historical essay was reposted on the disciplinary commission’s website (where it remains); it was clearly more than the
work of a single disgruntled editor. The letter may have been planted by a lone
dissident who managed to hack into an official portal, but it raised many
eyebrows in China. The police have reportedly detained around 20 people in
connection with the case, including several employees of the website. Their
response suggested that they feared the letter was more than just a flash in
the pan, and that tough action was needed to prevent discontent with Mr Xi’s leadership from spilling into the open.
When he became the party’s leader in 2012, more was known about Mr Xi’s family and personal qualities than about his politics.
He was a princeling, as many in China describe the offspring of the first
generation of Communist leaders (Mr Xi’s late father served as a
deputy prime minister under Mao). This helped him get the top job: the veterans
who picked him thought that princelings were more committed than anyone else to
Communist rule. Mr Xi himself was regarded by his associates as ambitious and
incorruptible. But little else was known. Mr Xi had spent almost 20 years in
Fujian, a southern province far from political nerve-centres.
Party-chief plenipotentiary
More is now clear. As Geremie
Barmé, an Australian academic, puts it, Mr Xi is China’s “COE”, or
chairman of everything. Like his two predecessors, Hu Jintao and Jiang Zemin,
Mr Xi is head of the party, commander-in-chief of the armed forces and head of
state. But he has also acquired a series of other titles which they did not
have, such as head of a committee that he set up to steer “comprehensive reform”, and of another one he
established to oversee the country’s security agencies. Mr Hu
was a wooden leader whose rule was overshadowed by the retired Mr Jiang; Mr
Jiang, while in power, had to bow to his retired predecessor, Deng Xiaoping;
even Deng trod carefully for fear of upsetting fellow party elders. Mr Xi, like
Mao, appears unfettered by such concerns.
He wants the country to know
it, too. Mr Xi has encouraged the revival of a term that was invented by Deng
to describe strong leaders such as himself and Mao: the “core”, or hexin. Mr Hu had meekly
avoided using the term to describe himself, in order perhaps to convey a sense
that the party was moving beyond strongman politics. Mr Xi has no such
scruples. This year official media have reported on the kowtows of numerous
provincial chiefs who have hailed him as the party’s hexin.
By tolerating, if not
encouraging, such flattery, Mr Xi comes close to violating the party’s charter, which prohibits “any form of personality cult” (a rule introduced in 1982 to prevent a return to the
frenzy and violence once spawned by worship of Mao). Adulation of “Uncle Xi” in the official media looks
like an even more blatant transgression. This year’s
four-hour televised gala for Chinese New Year—one of the country’s most-watched shows—included extravagant praise
of Xi Dada, the sobriquet’s form in Chinese.
Mr Xi is no Mao, a man whose
whims caused the deaths of tens of millions and who revelled in the hysteria of
his cult. But he rules in a way unlike any leader since the Great Helmsman.
After Mao’s death, Deng tried to create a
leadership of equals in order to push China away from Maoist caprices. Mr Xi is
turning from that system back towards a more personal one. Indeed, he is more
of a micromanager than Mao ever was. Mr Xi tries to maintain day-to-day control
over every aspect of government. He might be compared to Philip II of Spain, on
whose desk in a palace near Madrid all the problems of his 16th-century empire
landed in the form of endless letters requiring response. Unlike Mao, who had a
mischievous sense of humour and enjoyed sparring with ideological foes such as
Richard Nixon, Mr Xi is reserved and unsmiling—despite a carefully scripted
publicity campaign that depicts him as a football-supporting, moviegoing,
baby-kissing family man with a glamorous wife, Peng Liyuan (Peng Mama, as fawning official media call her).
Most observers have tended to
assume that, with all his power, Mr Xi can do more or less as he likes.
However, important decisions he has made in recent months suggest something
more complex. Concerning high politics, Mr Xi is ruthless and bold, and takes
calculated risks. Dealing with society as a whole, he is willing to make
changes but is more cautious. And with the economy, he lacks a sense of
direction. Policy is confused and there have been numerous mistakes. Mr Xi is
not an all-conquering strongman. He gets his way only in some areas. Across a
broad spectrum of society, his policies and iron-fisted authoritarianism
generate much resentment.
Start where all politics in
China does, with the party. As a provincial chief in coastal Zhejiang from
2002-07, Mr Xi had been known for the vigour of his fight against official
corruption. Even so, the scale and persistence of the nationwide anti-graft
campaign he unleashed in 2012 on becoming China’s leader has been surprising.
In 2015 alone graft-busters said they had punished 336,000 officials, the highest
number in 20 years. The numbers being jailed continue to climb (see chart,
which shows named offenders), despite howls of anguish from officials high and
low who fear being hauled away. Rather than face the party’s sometimes brutal interrogators, who eschew such niceties
as lawyers, some have preferred to take their own lives.
And though Xi be but little, Xi
is fierce
The anti-corruption campaign
has involved a radical change in the unwritten rules that have held the party
together since the near civil war that Mao inflicted on it. In an attempt to
attract recruits and rebuild the party, Deng and his successors had often
turned a blind eye when officials (most of whom are members) lined their
pockets. Crackdowns tended to be short-lived and rarely affected the most
powerful. Mr Xi, by contrast, has been relentless—even banning party members
from joining golf clubs (how they must pine for the 1980s, when one general
secretary, Zhao Ziyang, was an avid fan of the sport). Lest they whine, Mr Xi
has also reminded them that party members are banned from “irresponsibly discussing the party centre’s major policies”.
The anti-graft campaign is
popular with the public, which suffers hugely from officials’ corruption, negligence and incompetence (a scandal that
came to light in March involved rampant corruption in the state’s oversight of the sale and use of vaccines). But it has
dismayed officials, many of whom have responded with passive resistance and
fear-driven inertia. By the middle of last year, less than half of the
government spending budget for the six months had been used up. Huge efforts
had to be made to spend more in the rest of the year. Yet some officials are
afraid to do anything that might attract graft-busters’
attention.
Mr Xi has also sown alarm throughout
the 2.3m-member People’s Liberation Army (PLA), the
collective name for the armed forces. He has arrested generals for graft who
were once considered untouchable, announced a trimming of the ranks by 300,000,
shaken up the outdated command structure and slimmed down the top-heavy high
command. Any one of these moves would have been impressive, given the PLA’s ability to make life difficult for political leaders
whom the generals do not like. Mr Xi’s willingness to take on
these tasks simultaneously suggests remarkable confidence (inspired, perhaps,
by greater familiarity with the PLA’s ways than his two immediate
predecessors enjoyed: early in his career Mr Xi was an assistant to a defence
minister).
Both in his reforms of the PLA
and in his fight against corruption, Mr Xi’s actions aim first and
foremost at tightening control: both the party’s over the army and his own
over the party. It is similar in other areas of politics. Mr Xi has presided
over the biggest crackdown on dissent since the bloody suppression of the
Tiananmen Square protests in 1989, arresting hundreds of civil-rights lawyers,
academics and activists. He has tightened controls over the media, including by
making it much tougher to use software that allows access to the huge number of
websites that are blocked in China. Mr Xi is determined to reimpose discipline
on a querulous society that in recent years, thanks to the rapid spread of
social media, has become much better equipped to organise itself independently
of the party and to evade official controls.
In the war against dissent,
however, Mr Xi is facing visible resistance. Ren Zhiqiang, a property mogul
turned commentator, said the media should serve readers and viewers, not the
party. This was an unusually direct attack on Mr Xi by a well-known party
member and a fellow princeling (Mr Ren’s father was a deputy
minister of commerce under Mao). Censors reacted by closing Mr Ren’s social-media accounts and by purging the internet of
numerous messages in support of him. Caixin, a Beijing-based
magazine, responded to the censors’ removal of one online story
about the need for freer speech by publishing two more about the article’s disappearance. Those too were deleted. This week Yu
Shaolei, a senior editor of Southern Metropolis Daily,
a widely read newspaper, resigned in protest against censorship.
In social policy, however, Mr
Xi has been trying to cast himself as a liberal, albeit a cautious one. This
has been evident in his loosening of controls on family size (all Chinese
couples are now allowed to have two children instead of just one) and his
limited easing of restrictions on rural migrants’ access to urban public
services. Both policies urgently required reform: the shortage of children
means that China’s population is ageing fast; the
controls aggravated distortions in the sex ratio. The country’s household-registration, orhukou, system, which is used
to define who is given access to subsidised health care and education in
cities, has created a huge social divide. It has also broken up the families of
millions of migrants whose children cannot go to school where their parents
live.
Mr Xi could have removed
family-planning controls altogether, as some Chinese demographers have urged.
He could have made it easier for rural migrants to obtain urbanhukou. Instead,
he has tinkered, creating a nationwide system of residence permits, and
allowing the biggest cities where migrants most want to live (such as Beijing,
Shanghai and Guangzhou) to set their own restrictive conditions for being
granted hukou.
Mr Xi has been even more
hesitant in his handling of the economy. Months after taking power, he
proclaimed that under his leadership markets would play a “decisive” role. Since last year he has
begun to talk of a need for “supply-side” reforms, implying that inefficient, debt-laden and
overstaffed state-owned enterprises (SOEs)—ie, most of them—need shaking up. But his approach has been marked by
uncertainty, U-turns and, occasionally, incompetence.
It is true that some prices
have been liberalised. In the second half of 2015, more market-friendly systems
were introduced for setting exchange and interest rates. But the reform of SOEs
has barely begun, stymied by the vested interests of SOE managers and their
political friends, by fear of increasing unemployment, and perhaps by Mr Xi’s own oft-stated belief that the party should keep its
hold on the main economic levers. There are few signs yet that loss-making SOEs
will be shut down or that any will be subjected to real competition.
Mr Xi’s lack
of clear focus on the economy, and his unwillingness to let people more expert
in such matters (namely, the prime minister, Mr Li) handle it, have caused a
series of errors. Policymakers, including Mr Xi, talked up the stockmarket a
year ago and then engaged in a doomed attempt to prevent its fall in the
summer. They introduced and then hurriedly scrapped ill-designed “circuit-breakers” to calm market jitters. They
caused global anxiety when they failed to explain what they were doing when
they began tinkering with the exchange-rate regime.
Markets are unpredictable and
no Chinese leader (including Mr Xi) has any experience of the way they work in
Western economies. But it is also likely that Mr Xi’s
desire to hog power is partly to blame. This has confused officials. Once they
would have sought guidance from the prime minister, who is supposed to be in
day-to-day charge. But last year Mr Xi’s new task-force on reform
was trying to exert control. The mishandling of the stockmarket and currency
changes was the result, in part, of leadership confusion.
Mr Xi’s
diffidence in such areas may stem from the mandate he had from the elders who
helped him into the jobs he now holds: a broad spectrum of retired and serving
leaders and their powerful families who felt that without a helmsman of his
mettle and commitment to the party’s survival, the party might
collapse. (The Soviet Communist Party ruled for 74 years—a
record for communism that China’s will reach just after Mr Xi
is due to step down in 2022). They wanted someone who would keep the party in
power and strengthen its grip on the army. They were less agreed on how far or
how fast to proceed with reforms involving huge numbers of people and widely
divergent interests. SOE reform could cause millions of job losses. Loosening hukou restrictions could
overwhelm public services. So, bureaucrats fear, could abolishing
family-planning rules.
The solace of smoke-filled
rooms
In short, Mr Xi understands
power, is not afraid to use it and is willing to take risks. He understands
less about the new complexities of a changing society and worries about social
unrest, so plays safe. He does not understand the economy well, is not sure
what to do and does not trust others to act for him.
The way Mr Xi rules has three
broad implications. The first is that problems common to all dictatorships will
grow. In such systems, if the man in charge makes mistakes, they are likely to
be all the more damaging because they are less likely to be reversed. This was
evident in the stockmarket debacle.
Another implication is that it
is no longer reasonable to argue that China is a model of an authoritarian
country opening up economically without doing so politically. Mr Xi has
increased control over the political system, but economic liberalisation has
stalled. At the moment, the two are moving in lockstep in the wrong direction,
to China’s detriment. The third is that Deng’s policy of putting “economic construction at the
centre” is no longer the country’s most hallowed guiding principle. For Mr Xi, politics
comes first every time.
Some optimists still argue that
Mr Xi believes the time is not yet ripe for bold economic change but that, once
he has cleaned up the party, he will be able to turn his attention to economic
reform. In this view, a critical period will come after a party congress due
late next year. At that meeting, Mr Xi will put many more of his loyalists in
positions of authority. But it is just as likely that he will continue to
dawdle on reform, because opposition to it will have become entrenched. It is
rarely possible to change course sharply after several years in power.
Either way, the success of Mr
Xi’s rule will rest not just on whether he wins the battles
he has chosen to fight, but on whether he has picked the right ones. Seen from
the point of view of China as a whole, it does not look as if he has. Mr Xi
seems bent on strengthening his party and keeping himself in power, not on
making China the wealthier and more open society that its people crave.
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