The loyal family
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Apr 8th 2017 | BEIJING
ALL politicians demand loyalty, but some politicians demand more loyalty than others. Xi Jinping, China’s president, is in the Napoleon class—Napoleon the pig, that is, who taught the creatures of George Orwell’s “Animal Farm” the slogan: “Comrade Napoleon is always right.”
Over the past few months a parade of dignitaries has professed undying allegiance to Mr Xi and the Communist Party he leads. The trigger was a party decision in October to anoint Mr Xi as the “core” of the leadership. Soon afterwards, his six colleagues in the Politburo’s Standing Committee began laying on the flattery with a trowel. In March one of the committee’s members, Yu Zhengsheng, said Mr Xi’s status as core reflected “the fundamental interests of the party and people”. Such statements remind many observers of the adulation once accorded to Mao Zedong. Given that Mr Xi and many other leaders are “princelings” (sons of the first generation of Communist leaders), they also seem like the swearing of fealty to the king by medieval courtiers.
The list of vociferously loyal subjects is long. Since the start of the year the country’s chief corruption investigators, the bosses of the state-security and cyber-security agencies and representatives of state-run media have all pledged “absolute loyalty” to Mr Xi. The president’s numerous promotions of high-ranking army officers have usually involved expressions of allegiance by those newly elevated.
The displays of obsequiousness are different from those during a mini-cult of Xi early last year, when songs in praise of the president circulated widely online and state-controlled media began gushing about “Papa Xi” and his glamorous wife, Peng Liyuan (“Mama Peng”). On that occasion it was unclear whether Mr Xi himself approved. Within a few weeks, the media began toning down their Xi-loving language (though signs of public devotion still surface, such as during an international football match in January in the southern province of Guangxi—see picture).
Now that the subservience is being directed by the party’s highest institutions, it is evident Mr Xi is directly involved. The loyalty-swearing campaign is also different from past practice. In the late 1970s Deng Xiaoping, after taking over as China’s leader, forbade personality cults and sought to build up China’s institutions, emphasising “collective” decision-making. So did his successors, Jiang Zemin and Hu Jintao. Mr Xi’s less diffident approach was evident soon after he came to power in November 2012. His name appeared in the party’s flagship newspaper, People’s Daily, more than twice as often during his first 18 months as the party’s general secretary as did the names of his predecessors during the equivalent periods of their rule.
Mr Xi may see some benefit in demanding loyalty at this juncture. He is widely seen as the most powerful Chinese leader since Mao. But he wants to make sure that his allies get the most important jobs in a reshuffle late this year after a five-yearly party congress. Demanding that party officials swear loyalty to him is a way of being doubly sure that he gets his way.
But that is not all there is to it. There has been an increase in demands for obedience not only to Mr Xi himself but also to the party. In 2014 the president said loyalty to the organisation was the first requirement for national leaders. As Qiushi, the party’s main theoretical journal, put it: “There is no 99.9%. It is 100% pure and absolute loyalty and nothing less.” Such rhetoric reflects Mr Xi’s worries about the party’s authority and cohesion at a time of wrenching social and economic change.
Even more than his predecessors, Mr Xi believes that a strong party is vital. When he took over, party discipline was slack: corruption was rife and officials routinely flouted orders. As recently as November Mr Xi said that, even among senior officials, “there are those whose conviction is not strong enough and who are not loyal to the party.” He argues that the Soviet Union collapsed because its rulers lost faith in themselves. Mr Xi is determined not to let that happen in China.
Cracking down on disloyalty is partly aimed at turning the party into a more disciplined and effective instrument of control. This has involved suppressing intraparty debate. Last year the party reminded members that they must not criticise the central leadership’s decisions. Mr Xi has revived the practice of holding what are called “democratic life meetings”. At these,officials are supposed to reflect on how they can work more closely with national leaders. “Intensified central power will doubtless help the enforcement of reforms,” said Deng Maosheng, who runs the party’s central policy-research office.
There is even a new drive to ensure that the party’s 88m members pay their dues, which range from 0.5% to 2% of post-tax salary (evasion is widespread). Mr Xi is insisting that such fees be handed over on time every month, and in person. This is, in effect, another loyalty test. Paying your dues “is a process of alerting yourself to the party’s spirit,” said an article in February in a newspaper published by the Central Commission for Discipline Inspection, the agency in charge of enforcing party rules. The party boss of Yunnan province berated his fellow Communists for failing to hand over the money as required. “Some people ask their secretaries to do it for them,” he said disgustedly. “It’s all wrong.”
After years of rule-bending, some find it difficult to snap to attention. Officials in Beijing still bemoan a widespread tendency among party members to ignore its regulations. But there has been no open sign of resistance to the loyalty campaign—onerous though it sometimes is. In February the foreign minister, Wang Yi, indicated he would skip a meeting of the Group of 20 largest economies in order to attend a party session on loyalty. He decided to go to the G20 at the last minute, but only after receiving dispensation not to attend the party event. At around the same time, officials postponed a meeting of Japan’s and China’s ruling parties, apparently to avoid a clash with the loyalty gathering.
Ever since the Communists took over in 1949, they have debated what kind of party they want. Mao distinguished between “reds” (good Communists) and “experts” (people who knew what they were talking about). Mao said he wanted reds. Deng put more faith in experts. Mr Xi seems to be shifting back. In January the party’s Central Organisation Department, which is in charge of personnel, told five government ministries to put “good political quality” at the top of the list of requirements for senior officials. It was much the same when Napoleon’s propagandist, Squealer, rebuked farmyard animals for praising the courage of Boxer, a cart horse. “Bravery is not enough,” said Squealer. “Loyalty and obedience are more important.”
