Wang Qishan Is Back And Going Places

And that’s great news.

It’s great news for the people of Hunan, whom he will be representing as a deputy in China’s National People’s Congress. There’s even the chance that Wang’s Qishan’s selection is just a prelude to him being named Vice-President when that legislative body meets in a couple of months—a position that could well enable Wang to continue to support President Xi Jinping and his programs.

And it’s great news for all of those analysts who predicted that Wang Qishan [王岐山] wouldn’t retire and would remain on the Politburo to continue being the anticorruption czar that Chinese officials feared and so many China Hands admired.

It’s important here not to mention that the latter prediction was utterly wrong. Nor should anyone note that it came from many of the same folks whose sage advice for some years was that China would be opening up economically and politically; that the new generation of China’s leaders wouldn’t be ideologues but technocrats; and that leadership succession in Beijing was becoming more institutionalized and therefore more predictable. There were many conferences and professional meetings about such themes, and those with such wisdom were well funded for their forecasts. Good for them; they did well, for themselves.

Maybe there’s material out there written by those who prognosticated such matters that explains why and how they missed so much--perhaps an extended essay or two (heck, maybe even a conference) as to what might be learned from those errors of analysis. There could be; but if there are any mea culpas about and ideas about how to avoid such problems in the future, they’re proving terribly difficult to locate.

In any event, let’s just not mention those things.

Here's what we should know: Nothing in the analysis of Chinese politics is easy. And there’s a planetary difference between those who examine Chinese sources and statements and do the hard slogging of actual reporting, and those who seem to rely on China Daily and their assistants for their weekly dollop of charting the country’s direction—and poke fun at those in the former camp.[1] It’s just that a little more humility and a lot less hubris in this project of trying to understand the nature and trajectory of Chinese politics wouldn’t go amiss.

But back to Wang Qishan.

Maybe he’s headed for Vice President, using the back door of China’s legislature to continue to help Xi. 

That's not inconceivable. Wang has been brilliant at many things, and he is purported to have a warm relationship with Xi.

At the same time, getting Wang elevated may not be (or have been) a political deal easily done. Indeed, forgotten in all the gushing about Wang by foreign diplomats and bankers and others who’ve shaken hands for photo ops with him is that Wang has made a whole lot of enemies in the party ranks with his anticorruption campaign; more than a few local officials haven’t been shy about privately condemning the crusade and Wang’s tactics. Actually, at this time last year, there were clear and strong signs that the antigraft crusade was being put aside for a time, probably in part because Beijing wanted to try other strategies and maybe also because local resistance and outright opposition to Wang and the campaign had taken a firmer hold. 

So, did Xi have to burn some political capital to get Wang back—that maybe Xi isn’t quite the dominant leader so many assure us Xi is, and that he now needs Wang to step back in, in some formal way?

Is it also possible that Wang isn’t exactly the fabulous mentor and political ally that many have made him out to be—or that he had been, but that Wang is worried that Xi is listening to advisers who have been urging the Party leader to double-down on the increasingly radical hardline and is desperate to be heard once more?

Is it at all conceivable that more than a few observers are projecting their own hopes on Wang—that he’s the latest version of, say, deposed Party leader Zhao Ziyang [赵紫阳] and former Premier Wen Jiaobao [温家宝] —where many Western analysts saw qualities that they wanted because the existing alternative was unpleasing? That is, could Wang's reappearance be bad news for those who hoped that liberal reform might at least be hiding out, holed up in the NPC?

Yes, and yes and yes.

It’s all possible.[2] Just as hardly anyone predicted that Wang would return to an official position of some power,[3] there’s not a lot of reason right now to think that Wang’s return is a major event--at least not yet. No one can know—which is fine, so long as those of us who try to decipher Chinese politics come out and say so.

Still, it’s strange stuff to be reading about Wang, especially the confidence among some quoted as if they know what this is all about. Up to now, Xi was in total command, and the National People’s Congress was a do-nothing, rubber-stamping legislative body. Suddenly, Wang being named as a NPC representative from Hunan is presented as a portent of a new political situation here in China. Nothing is said about what any of this means in terms of policy; just that Wang helps Xi with securing power that everyone was being told Xi had plenty of already.

Ok, maybe that’s fine. But really it's not.

Amidst all of this speculation, apparently there’s no possibility that Wang Qishan is a patriot and a loyal comrade; that he believes that the National People’s Congress does good and important work; and that still wants to serve the Party and the nation, even in a far more subdued role.[4]

Nah. Nuance isn’t nearly as much fun when nefarious explanations will do just as well.

Well, here’s another possibility.

If there’s one thing we do know about Wang Qishan is that he’s a warrior.

So, as the NBA trade deadline approaches and with growing concerns at Golden State if one of their stars were suddenly injured, expect Wang to be signed to a 10-day contract, coming off the bench to relieve Draymond Green at power forward.

Look for Wang Qishan to do a lot of posting-up, setting picks for the real scorers, and playing excellent defence on behalf of the team. 

After all, that's been Wang's role up to now and he clearly has a few moves left.

Long live Wang Qishan.

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[1] If you have to ask yourself which camp you reside in, you’re in the latter one.

[2] That there is clear disagreement between the two best newspapers for reporting on China—The Wall Street Journal and The New York Times—about what Wang’s selection portends is telling and should be instructive. It probably won't be. 

[3] The media outlet that did predict that possibility and could well be on the mark with Wang--South China Morning Post-- is clearly receiving instructions from certain parties in Beijing to leak or spin information for an English-reading audience.

[4] After all, there’s precedent for that in Chinese politics: former Premier Zhu Rongji [朱镕基], for one.

A Good War, Or Just Bad Weather Well Handled?

It’s rare for city governments in China to run a thank-you letter on the front page of the Communist Party newspaper.

Monday’s edition of Nanjing Daily featured a 1,360 character-long expression of gratitude to “city residents and friends, as well as troops and government officers stationed in Nanjing” [广大市民朋友、驻宁部队官兵们].[1]

But while heavy snowfall in Nanjing is also rare and effusive gratitude uncommon, the letter’s language is telling of the tendency for even forward-looking cities to fall back on the traditional.

It was Nanjing’s second snowstorm in three days. Though nearly 30 cm of snow fell (the largest snowfall since 2008, according to local news reports—which had been a record amount for some decades), Nanjing citizens “who go out every morning were surprised to find that the snow had ended, the roads are clear and the life is basically normal,” the paper said.

The letter--a mix of celebration and self-congratulation--gives credit to five local players in Nanjing.

First, there’s the municipal government, which Nanjing Daily said, “did research in advance, carefully deployed resources, and organized efficiently [through] precise scheduling and on-site supervision [现场督查] so that…units and departments at all levels and the general public were able to generate widespread participation [广泛参与] and respond quickly.” In a very short time, Nanjing was able to muster “an organized snow force of about 100 thousand people, including nearly 10000 soldiers, and about 4500 vehicles capable of clearing snow.”

Thanks go as well, the newspaper noted, to “the 8.3 million city residents for their selfless devotion [无私奉献].” They recognize, according to the letter, that as the city slogan these days goes, “Nanjing is my home, civilization depends on everyone.” [南京是我家，文明靠大家].

The third saviors of the city from the snows were soldiers based in Nanjing—a city that, even after Beijing’s restructuring, remains a major military base. Their contribution, according to the newspaper, “provided ample evidence of the people’s army’s ability to endure hardship [充分体现了人民子弟兵特别能吃苦].”

Then there are “the districts, the towns and the communities that comprise the whole city…who organized cadres and the masses into action… displaying the managerial ability of the all levels of government and party organizations.”

Finally, the letter noted, thanks are due to “the various administrative departments of the city-- sanitation, public security, traffic police and management, construction, civil affairs, agriculture, electricity, commerce, education, health, public transportation, subway, airport, railway, news and other media and enterprises of all types -- for their unity, for fighting with all their might.”

Indeed, it’s this characterization—one of intensive struggle against a foe—that’s particularly striking.

This was a public policy issue—one really of urban administration. But Nanjing is instead portrayed in this letter as having confronted a “sudden attack from a violent snowstorm [暴雪袭击].” Local officials are described as “defending local territory” [守土], and having to “storm the heavily fortified position [攻坚战]” that was the snowfall. Officials and others here “fought bravely over a number of days” [经过多日连续奋战], and “with all of their might [顽强拼搏] plowed snow and prevented frostbite by holding the line and winning a decisive victory [扫雪防冻取得了决定性胜利].”

Casting social challenges as struggles is common here in China--part of the country's political culture of revolution and renewal through mass, often violent action and when reform takes a holiday. It may well be that using militarist language is the most effective way to mobilize the political apparatus and the public, as well as placate Beijing[2]---which tends to use this sort of language far more often. Certainly an extraordinary job was done by all concerned in Nanjing in the past few days; great credit should be spread far and wide. And as the letter notes, coping with this challenge should help officials to “weed through the old to bring forth the new [迈出新的更大步伐]”--that is, come up with novel ways to make better public policy.

Yet this was a blizzard, not a battle. It might behoove some officials to make sure that they themselves know the difference, especially given Nanjing’s own particular history where invaders are concerned. Distinguishing between a snowstorm and a siege is surely a step on the right road.

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[1] Yangtse Evening Post [扬子晚报] had the same thank-you card today as well, though readers had to scan the QR code to read the entire text, and the rest of the article was a forecast of frigid temperatures into next week. Nanjing Daily did run the complete text of the city government’s 2018 Work Report in the Monday edition and that took up far more space. But that was at the bottom of the front page, denoting somewhat less importance than the news carried above it.

[2] At the end of Nanjing’s thank-you letter, there’s a nod to President Xi Jinping, urging readers to “unite more closely around the Party Central Committee with Comrade Xi Jinping as the core” [让我们更加紧密地团结在以习近平同志为核心的党中央周围].

MeToo# In China? Not Quite

The MeToo# movement that has done such fabulous work in mobilizing people to resist sexual harassment in the United States has come to China, and cyber-protests have broken out across the country. Alas, government authorities have censored social media and cut off public discussion, preventing wider dissemination of these ideas. But this is nonetheless a social movement, a feminist resistance crusade--another demonstration of dissatisfaction with Beijing, one that’s mimicking protests occurring elsewhere in more open societies, especially the United States.

That’s the story and it’s a moving one.

It’s also rather misleading.

Some facts as reported aren’t in dispute.

There is sexual harassment of women in China that is regular, persistent, and horrifying. The objectification of women and the commodification of the female body are deeply ingrained in current Chinese culture. The overwhelmingly majority of men discriminate against female colleagues (especially assistants and staff) in the workplace as well as in other venues, using position and power to extract sex and obedience. Anyone working here in China—in an office, a university, a factory—is well-acquainted with the ways in which favors are so often sought and dispensed based upon appearance, on the expectation that women will succumb to the charms of the boss--or else suffer the consequences. Just as China is a political and social hierarchy with little pretense about or regard for gender equality, so do many Chinese men expect to be able to dominate and domineer Chinese women. Observers who haven’t seen such behavior are simply not paying attention, or believe such conduct to be acceptable.

More often recently, some women here have begun to fight back—and bully for them. A few have sued; a handful or more have written about their experiences; and some have expressed their outrage online—and paid for publicizing their pain.

But that’s a long way from saying that there’s a feminist resistance movement in China.

Of course, there’s anger here—and certainly on this issue, there should be. But not every outrage constitutes an opposition movement or social crusade in China. If that were the case, one would see local protests becoming major demonstrations that would spread and sustain themselves.[1] One can't, because they don't.

Just about any reader can find angry people in China online, just as one can see them outside government offices, property management companies, investment firms, and the like. But those gatherings in China are almost always efforts to get justice for one’s individual case. Regret and an urge to retaliate against those who’ve wronged aren’t rebellion or even revolts; only rarely are these rallies ever collective, or with a larger purpose in mind. People in China tend to come together locally and for limited purposes—the sum of the aggregate, not to organize but to object[2], often to receive compensation, restitution of some kind. Often those protesting get a hearing, some form of reparations, and then return home.

There’s also the argument that if the Chinese government hadn’t censored the online discussion of the American MeToo# movement that there would have been a groundswell of organized protest on the streets here.

That’s supposition at best—a logical fallacy that cannot be tested unless Chinese censors start taking longer naps.

Equally unproven is the oft-heard assumption that Chinese officials are terrified of threats to the regime and therefore act out of fear to forestall social protests.

But how would anyone really know that, especially as there’s not a lot of evidence to support such a claim? Indeed, when one actually talks to officials here and takes the time and trouble to examine their statements, the prevailing conclusion is that the authorities feel a sense of power and confidence in their abilities—which may be why they’re called “authorities” in a government that is all about that authority, as opposed to participation or civil society.

And why is it that the Chinese government is a monolith again (or still)? Isn’t it possible—even likely—that there are officials here (even men) who sympathize with those expressing anger at the rampant sexism in Chinese society? Do officials suddenly not have sisters, daughters, or mothers? And do they need to know of someone affected in that way to understand the problem? There’s no one in China in a position of power with a sense of morality? Really?

Perhaps worst of all is the inference that Chinese women somehow needed the example of the US MeToo# Movement to start speaking out. Surely Chinese women already knew of sexual harassment and daily discrimination in Chinese society because they live here; they didn’t need anyone abroad to tell them.[3] Presuming that Chinese women required some form of instruction to give voice to their outrage smacks of colonialism, and is its own small form of discrimination.

That a greater number of Chinese women seem to be speaking out about abhorrent experiences is a good—no, a great thing. There’s conviction and courage in those efforts alone—and alone and lonely it must be, because they’re not doing so en masse in the streets or cyberspace. Chinese women who suffer such outrages deserve attention and moral support. They may or may not need foreign conferences and foundations and grants to various scholars and activists to tell Chinese women what they already know themselves, because they're out to protect themselves, not to project themselves.*

Indeed, it's quite likely that Chinese women are entirely capable of handling matters their way in their own time. In any event, one suspects that they’d appreciate if their efforts were presented as what they are, instead of being projected by all too many into something that they’re not.

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[1] Observers trying to claim otherwise like to point to the oft-cited but very seldom read study done by the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences on social protests. What’s less often noted is that the study was published in 2006 and largely relied on data reported in previous years. For a rare exception to this tendency, there’s this carefully reported piece.

[2] That’s also why one can easily find women still writing about their own specific cases of sexual harassment on social media to this day. The authorities are often letting those expressions stay up; it’s the connection to organizing along the lines of the American MeToo# movement that are being quickly scrubbed.

[3] The vast majority of the cases of women here seeking justice of some sort for being harassed predate the MeToo# Movement. In this specific context at least, many Chinese women were there first.

*Though some of the scholarly efforts are laudable, more than a few tend to reflect the self-reinforcing nature of such attempts. Someone identifies a shortcoming in China and gets funding to study it, while activists receive attention and support trying to remedy that shortcoming. When matters stay the same in China (as they almost always do)—well, more money and support are clearly required, recipients say, and is nearly always forthcoming. How any of these efforts actually engineer social change in China--as opposed to say, career development--is unclear.

Nanjing Makes A List--And Wonders If Beijing Will Check It Twice

Nanjing’s new mayor wasn’t in office very long before he gave a report outlining “practical things” [件实事] for the city government to undertake in 2018.

35 practical things, to be precise.

Holy urban doctrine, Lan Shaomin [蓝绍敏]. This seems like a job for some Communist Party superhero.

Maybe Lan is that guy.

Lan was delivering the work report [工作报告] at the city’s annual “Two Meetings”, summarizing a canvassing of public opinion in Nanjing in the past year about “the real circumstances of people’s lives” [民生实事]. The report is based upon work that was done prior to Lan assuming office, although 35 items seem a rather lengthy list, a throwback—somewhat like the sorts of bad habits of officials that President Xi Jinping has been railing against for years—the lack of brevity in speeches, being one of them.

There may be a message in that persistence.

Lan presents the “35” as a mix of aims and accomplishments, and organizes then into 7 objectives for Nanjing’s government:

1. Provide high quality public service ［提供优质公共服务］

2. Improve quality of talent available in the city [提升城市功能品质]

3. Enhance the level of social security [提高社会保障水平]

4. Promote the growth of residents' income [促进居民收入增长]  

5. Make mass transit more convenient [方便群众交通出行]

6. Push forward sports culture benefitting the people [推动文化体育惠民]

7. Strengthen public safety in society [强化社会公共安全]

As with most government reports, locally and otherwise, the list reads more like a consensus than an overarching, interconnected campaign. Still, officials study these sorts of documents closely because they know that’s how power and authority works here: by directives and direction. And just as the three goals that Nanjing’s Party Secretary voiced at the start of the year—guarding against financial risk, fighting pollution, and alleviating poverty--are the city’s strategic aims, Lan’s list presents the operational objectives for officials here to attain them.

The goals are as clear as they are practical, befitting a local government that is in touch with residents in a way that some other cities and regions clearly are not. There’s nothing stale or insubstantial in the aims Lan has advanced here—which isn’t surprising if only because Lan himself hasn’t been afraid to direct matters.

That list is crucial because that’s what local officials will be evaluated on. Cadres and bureaucrats look to reports such as these to see what policies and purposes are to be pursued to make political promotion possible.

And it’s also an interesting set of goals because they have so little to do with what Beijing has been promoting as priorities—matters such as “cultural confidence” [文化自信], the “red gene” [红色基因], and other spiritual and ideological constructs that are supposed to be framing China’s future. There’s scarcely a reference to any of that—and there often is more than just a nod, especially now because Xi and his allies on-high have made their own expectations quite clear recently in Nanjing’s own backyard.

The differences between Nanjing’s plans and Beijing’s desires aren’t a reflection of a division of labor between the Party and the State. Instead, this is a larger contest of ideas and approaches about how China should seek to advance as a nation. If that turns out to be an experiment--that is, to allow certain cities to focus on what works for them, for the sake of stability and growth--that's a positive development. Whether Nanjing will be allowed to do what it wants to do or be forced by Beijing to realign its priorities hasn't been decided. How it all turns out should be worth a report in itself.