There's something happening here/What it is ain't exactly clear

Something may be happening in Beijing. The question is what that might be.

The Australian Financial Review reported today that:

Australian Treasurer Scott Morrison has cancelled a trip to Beijing this week after China made a last-minute decision to postpone a meeting between the two countries' top economic officials. The Strategic Economic Dialogue, which was to have been attended by Mr Morrison and Trade Minister Steve Ciobo, was postponed by Chinese officials late on Friday. A spokesman for Mr Ciobo said the delay was "because of unanticipated leadership meetings within China".

It’s rare to have a high-level meeting with China cancelled, unless the reason is related to the state of ties between particular countries, and then the usual statement from Beijing is that it’s “currently not convenient” [合适 is usually one component of any such statement in diplomatic parlance here]. But it’s almost always the case that a meeting that was scheduled to be announced to take place goes awry because someone did something that the Chinese leadership took offense to. There’s no direct indication of that having happened here, because Chinese spokespersons usually say something about precisely what their superiors are annoyed about. They didn’t, apparently.

What may have occurred is that Chinese diplomats told their Australian counterparts in confidence why such a high-level meeting had been cancelled, and that officials in Canberra, eager to not set off alarm bells concerning the state of relations between China and Australia, chose to pass on what they were told. What they were told is that something’s come up that wasn’t scheduled, and changes have to be made.

Which is strange, because all leadership meetings in China are "anticipated". 

So is there something happening that's worth paying close attention to?

Perhaps there is. It’s almost impossible to know, beyond taking Chinese officials at their word--which isn’t a bad thing to do, though there are some observers of politics here who seem to believe that while China Daily represents leadership thinking, parsing the Party media is somehow a silly exercise. Assuming then that there are “unanticipated leadership meetings”, something important and at least somewhat unexpected has either happened in very recent days or is about to occur.

The scenarios are almost endless. 

There could be a change coming among China’s financial leadership, perhaps in the Ministry of Finance. The recently appointed head, Xiao Jie [肖捷] has taken a very low-profile in his job, so much so that it’s been relatively rare to see his name mentioned, leading to rumors about his health and political status. It would be enormously difficult to make progress on China-Australia ties on investment matters, for example, if there was a question about who held authority to conclude an agreement.

It may be that there is a major shakeup in the leadership to be announced, and that it involves members of the Politburo. Perhaps someone has decided to step down, or is being forced to do so (possibly because of corruption).

It could be that either of China’s retired leaders—Jiang Zemin or Hu Jintao—has suddenly taken gravely ill. That development would require the attention of the Chinese leadership on very short notice.

And there’s also the outside possibility that there’s been a direct challenge to the present political leadership that needs to be confronted—that an emergency conclave is called for, and that’s what the “unanticipated leadership meetings” refers to.

Beyond the explanation from Beijing, this is all speculation, of course—not prediction, or even an assessment of probability across the scenarios mentioned above. The fact is, no one outside China’s inner circles can possibly be certain that the reason for a postponement is political, be it because of health or something potentially more sinister. Unfortunately, there are plenty of people, especially in Beijing, who have zero access to and even less understanding of politics here who will be eager, as before, to run with rumors about Chinese leaders, and it behooves all to be wary. In Chinese politics, the mundane matters, and often it's the mundane that matters more.

At the same time, the explanation that’s been given for a postponement of what were to be important talks is noteworthy, assuming it's accurate. Something may be happening here, even when something else isn’t going to be.

Pulling Back From Punishing, Pushing Politics Instead

The Chinese leadership appears to be taking a pause in its anticorruption crusade.

That’s the message of the speech delivered by President and Party chairman Xi Jinping in Beijing on February 13—an address at a seminar at the Central Party School, which “the Central Committee decided to hold [for] the purpose [of getting] provincial and ministerial-level leading cadres to more deeply understand the spirit of the decisions reached [at last October’s] plenary session.”

That's actually strong language, indicating that not every party cadre has been paying attention to what was decided sometime last year, most probably during the annual summer meetings in Beidaihe and secured during the plenary meeting in the autumn: That the anticorruption campaign, while essential, is to be gradually given lower priority. Reprisals for transgressions will become secondary to the rank-and-file recommitting themselves to the Party and its mission. The campaign won't be shut down, but perhaps left to lose momentum.

There are already clearer signs in recent months that the anticorruption campaign has been stumbling, instead of just making some people here unhappy. (There have always been complaints from local officials privately about being told by Beijing to stop doing X, without being assured that Y or Z would be acceptable.) Inspectors have had to return to some provinces to reiterate to local officials that they have a responsibility to keep on combatting graft at the grassroots. (Some places might be beyond repair, and because their economic prospects are so lousy, inspectors have simply given up.) Just last week, a ministry head and member of China’s State Council was demoted for “poor political performance” [履责不力], specifically because of “grave dereliction of duty, the failure to root out systemic corruption” [严重失职失责，所辖单位发生系统性腐败问题]—terms that are meant to convey to cadres that the crusade isn’t a cure-all, that high-level officials have to lend a hand to keep their jobs. And in recent days, State media has called attention to problems of corruption within the inspection teams themselves, asking, “How can one supervise the supervisors?” There’s been a decline in court prosecutions of party cadres accused of malfeasance (instead of cases being pursued within the party ranks) —a sign that using existing laws to combat official corruption hasn’t worked all that well. And some high-profiles cases have simply (and suddenly) been dropped in recent weeks.

So instead of doubling down on the crackdown, Beijing seems to think that it should stand pat in the anticorruption crusade, at least for the time being. 

Xi and his allies have an alternative—a new strategy that’s taking firmer shape, one that we’re likely to see in more detail in the coming days following the announcement of a pilot program for Beijing, Shanxi and Zhejiang (the latter two are Xi’s old stomping grounds). The purpose of this new experiment is “to uphold and strengthen the party's unified leadership of anticorruption work, improve the party and the state's self-supervision, [and] promote the national governance system and governance capacity modernization.”

In other words, “the work of anticorruption” will be reorganized and pursued differently in these three regions, to see if there are better ways to do that work. Retribution is being revisited; reform within reform--modifying the anti-graft effort--is to be the focus.

(Further evidence that the campaign is in at least partial recess can be found in the renewed attention to the anticorruption campaign given recently by media outlets meant to be read by foreigners, in an attempt to convince that audience that there's been no shift, no admission of problems.)

Xi and his allies are reminding cadres that they really need to watch themselves in a different way, instead of waiting for the next time a central inspection team swings through town, or hoping it will all be soon over. “Self-discipline” [自律]—as in Xi’s admonition in the speech above that “leading cadres, especially senior cadres, must strengthen self-discipline” [領導幹部特別是高級幹部必須加強自律]--is being emphasized. That warning has popped up at various times, but it has taken center-stage recently, especially in the commentaries published to supplement Xi’s statements. It’s a sharp signal to the Party rank-and-file (and to government officials generally) that there’s going to be more emphasis on ideological instruction, rather than prosecution.

And it’s part of Xi’s push to make sure that the Party, as he notes, is a political organization with a historical mission, not a place to pursue personal connections and profit. Talk about politics, Xi urges, for it’s “the fundamental guarantee for our party to build calcium and strengthen the body and keep fit and healthy.” [讲政治，是我们党补钙壮骨、强身健体的根本保证].

At the same time, party commentators have been at pains to assure officials that all this discussion of politics being the foundation of the Communist party isn’t the start of purges, that there’s no resemblance between campaigning to make the Communist party a more political party and the Cultural Revolution [讲政治不是老调重弹，更不是“文革”中搞的极左政治，而是有很强的现实针对性]. Clearly, some in the ranks have expressed anxiety about that prospect.

Still, if you’re Wang Qishan and his disciples and you’ve been running the Central Commission for Discipline Inspection under Xi, and the mission of your position has been brought into question, you have to wonder just what sort of future you’re facing. Perhaps this pause is just an interregnum, simply an intermission before this year’s Party Congress, and the campaign will move into the next act. Or maybe it’s also the sign that the show is coming to an end for some.

Maybe Trump Worries Xi, But Another Matter Is Of More Immediate Concern

People’s Daily has been very consistent in recent Sundays, gleefully excoriating various aspects of Western politics, especially the United States. From social divisions to how and the capitalist system at large is facing a grave crisis, commentators on page 5 of the Sunday edition have been blasting away at what they see as the failings of American and European polities.

Except this past Sunday, when the entire page was devoted to the problems in managing the Chinese Communist party.

The essays that appear aren’t especially path-breaking, focusing on the ways in which the Party needs to govern itself better than it has been. While that’s not a new concern, for a Sunday edition of the Party’s flagship newspaper, it’s a notable shift away from its recent assault on institutions outside China’s borders.

It’s possible that the word went out to go easy on Washington’s troubles, because the phone call that transpired between Presidents Xi and Trump went well. It’s common for People’s Daily to have two or more sets of essays ready to run on the weekend (particularly on a Sunday, per at least one source) in the event that something or another happens (or doesn’t). Maybe that’s what occurred this time around. And if that’s the case, it indicates that Xi’s effort to get People’s Daily to be more pliable to his particular political line, instead of reflecting the consensus of the leadership as a whole, may be finally taking firm hold.

But there’s at least one other explanation: That this shift appeared because Xi and his allies are increasingly anxious that their efforts to get cadres to conduct themselves properly are still falling far short.

One of the essays notes that “some Party organizations do not grasp…the relationship [between trusting in one’s self and the Party’s need for supervision]; that cadres trust themselves too much and there’s a lack of supervision, while some Party members also misunderstand…and don’t trust themselves at all, leaving the Party to wholly supervise.”

The result is, the author notes, “a reality which is not uncommon”, when either cadres are too cautious or they “risk derailing the train, or act like wild mustangs, as they behave in a self-destructive manner, and trample discipline” [一些党员干部就有可能成为脱轨的火车、脱缰的野马，做出践踏法纪、自毁前程的举动].

None of that sounds very good.

If Party officials aren’t paying attention to rules and regulations, they’ll create their own local fiefdoms and corruption will continue.

If cadres are too timid to engage in needed reforms, governance and public policy will suffer—and so will Xi and those associated with him and his agenda.

That continues to be the major test for Xi—not a citizenry eager to exercise rights that don’t actually exist, but cadres whose attitudes and actions still aren’t quite aligning with Beijing’s. Putting that problem on the pages of People’s Daily in a place that had been devoted to other matters is another signal that it’s the challenge that trumps everything else.

Xiao Jianhua Didn't Read Between The Lines. Maybe Others Should Stop Too.

Chinese billionaire Xiao Jinhua [肖健华] is missing.

Despite numerous news reports to the contrary, that’s pretty much all anyone outside the State authorities here really knows.

Xiao Jinhua is a high-profile executive, reclusive in one sense (at least where he lives and how he’s protected) and, like so many people of means here in China, the holder of multiple passports. Some early accounts in Hong Kong even indicated that he was simply overseas, possibly undergoing a medical procedure of some sort.

Today the New York Times presents an account of how they think Xiao left his residence: in a wheelchair, under a blanket or covering of some sort, escorted by individuals who may well have been security agents from the mainland. That story reinforces the growing sense that Xiao was rendered back to the Chinese mainland for investigation (including interrogation), much like a number of Hong Kong booksellers whose publications apparently riled political authorities in Beijing.

All of that is both fascinating and disturbing. But what it means in terms of political import isn’t at all evident. Some have speculated that Xiao’s abduction is a sign of a deepening power struggle in the run-up to this year’s 19^th Party Congress; that Chinese president Xi Jinping is attempting to cement total authority, possibly extend his tenure past the usual and legally-proscribed two terms; and that Xiao is “a pawn” in what it either an effort to discredit Xi’s rivals, or possibly an attempt to embarrass Xi himself, given alleged financial ties between his family and Xiao. Maybe, but then again perhaps nothing of the sort.

There’s a lot of fine investigative reporting that’s already been done on Xiao and his disappearance. No one really knows why Xiao was taken back to the mainland; the fact that it mirrors the snatching of Hong Kong booksellers might indicate—might indicate—that Xiao managed to anger some powerful people in Beijing about what he knew and with whom he might share it with. There may well be more to follow in the coming days about the kidnapping or disappearance (whichever it is, and there’s a difference), which could be helpful in determining just what’s going on with Xiao and what it all might mean. At this point—nothing about any political motive is clear, and everything connected to that is conjecture, guesswork, and gossip.

What’s also less than helpful—indeed, debilitating--is the assumption that there’s enough information available now to label the incident a move by Xi and his allies to work some sort of political magic for themselves. The Establishment Narrative when it comes to elite politics is that Chinese leaders struggle for power; that apparently they don't have enough of it already (even though conceptions of “power” slip-slide between status, authority, influence, domination, and everything in-between); and that pretty much everything that happens in China’s upper echelons is about one faction trying to subvert another to preserve positions.

Yet at the same time, the same Narrative intones that the process of political succession in China is more institutionalized, more predictable, less violent than before—that really what goes on beyond closed doors in Beijing isn’t all that unlike which happens in the great wide and often white open of Washington.

But Chinese politics cannot possibly be both—on the one hand, a vicious political cage-match; and on the other, negotiated by consensus in a conference room.

Indeed, it’s unfortunate, unfair and unhelpful to describe Chinese elites are motivated by just more of what they really have, and that every move they make is done to protect their political flanks and their families. That’s an inane caricature, one that’s very nearly colonial in character: It renders Chinese politics as so different, so Other to be less serious than politics elsewhere--to use “renders” in pretty much the same way as it’s traditionally presented, as “abducted”. What’s often missing is an attempt to cast Chinese politics, when it is a struggle, as a struggle for power over policy, over the direction of the political system, China’s economy, military doctrine, and the like, replete with debates and arguments about the same that demand attention, not dismissal every time a high-profile event intrudes. Anyone conversant with the Party media here should know that and be cautious about concluding what’s going on with Xiao, but perhaps it’s easier for some to just plug in the microphone jack and pontificate, rather than pause and ponder for a bit.

There’s almost certainly a larger story here, but at this moment, it’s opaque at best, and should be labeled as such. The only thing that's truly clear is that no one saw Xiao Jianhua’s disappearance coming, which says as much about the way Chinese politics is presented by far too many observers as the purported abduction itself. Each is disturbing in its own unhappy way.