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Political Power Plays Preoccupy Chinese

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TIMES STAFF WRITER

Few of Chinese Premier Zhu Rongji’s speeches have touched off as much speculation as the one he gave last month at his alma mater, Qinghua University.

His address was hardly over before tongues started to wag. Not about his frank remarks on Sino-U.S. relations or his assessment of China’s economic woes, but about his seemingly innocuous announcement that he would resign as nominal dean of Qinghua’s management school.

Interpretations of Zhu’s announcement splayed all over the map. Some declared it a clear signal that Zhu intends to go on serving as China’s prime minister even after his term expires in 2003. Others took exactly the opposite view, reading Zhu’s resignation as his way of emphasizing to other Chinese leaders the need to step down from their posts in a timely, graceful manner.

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In the end, the feverish conjecture confirmed little except one thing: The political open season is underway in China as the country prepares for next year’s all-important 16th Communist Party Congress.

The congress, held every five years, is shaping up this time as a political cocktail shaker expected to result in a change of leadership at the very top and a reshuffling in the government’s inner circle. It could herald a major generational shift in the world’s biggest gerontocracy, with old-timers giving way to a younger crop of leaders.

The gossip and rumor-mongering that are staples before every party congress have already kicked into high gear in Beijing, with whispers of who’s in and who’s out making the rounds of analysts and even some everyday Chinese.

In the opaque world of Chinese politics, that means that every action is scrutinized for hidden meaning, every word dissected for an indication of the maneuvering taking place behind the scenes.

“This is a time of political jockeying, that’s for sure,” said a senior Asian diplomat who monitors changes in the Chinese leadership.

What’s unusual this time, analysts say, is how soon such turbocharged speculation began--at least as early as last fall--when President Jiang Zemin failed to get his most trusted advisor, Zeng Qinghong, elevated to the Politburo.

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To many China watchers, that was a sure sign that Jiang’s power as China’s No. 1 leader was slipping. Unlike his predecessors, Mao Tse-tung and Deng Xiaoping, Jiang, 74, doesn’t have the revolutionary credentials and political backing to wield unquestioned authority and can’t unilaterally decide the new leadership lineup.

With more up for grabs, consultation and horse-trading with other senior officials are thus more important than ever before.

“They’ve got to sit down and pick their successors [together],” said Zhong Dajun, an independent Chinese analyst. “It’s not a situation where what one person says goes--especially not Jiang Zemin.”

“Jiang would like to be in a similar position” to those of Mao and Deng, added a Western observer here who asked not to be identified. “But the truth is, he’s one of a collective.”

And that collective is an often fractious body of competing interests and ideas, ranging from the more reform-minded Zhu, No. 3 in the party hierarchy, to No. 2 Li Peng, the former premier, traditionally seen as a bulwark of hard-line conservatism. Decisions, made by consensus, can seem to take an inordinate amount of time.

Many of the political rumors swirling around the capital these days center on Li and Zhu, two notoriously determined, often stubborn 72-year-olds who, the Western observer noted dryly, “don’t have a warm and fuzzy relationship.”

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The men are known to hold clashing visions of the direction China should take, with Zhu arguing for greater economic, if not political, liberalization and Li hewing more closely to old Marxist-Leninist ideas. The two leaders command different power bases and are eager to put their own stamp on China’s agenda in the 21st century, although neither man by himself can dictate policy.

One story has it that the blunt-spoken Zhu, who sometimes talks almost wistfully of retirement, has pledged not to leave the halls of power unless Li does too, so that neither would have the clear upper hand.

Li is supposed to step down from the Politburo standing committee--the inner circle of seven in Chinese politics--after the party congress, because he is past the cutoff age of 70 set by Jiang several years ago.

But since last summer, Li has reportedly been pressing for a continued role at the top, a rumor that seemed improbable at first but has since picked up steam. Li is said to covet the title of president, now held by Jiang.

Whether he can inherit it is far from assured. Some analysts see an ongoing corruption probe into China’s Electricity Ministry as a veiled attack by Zhu’s allies on Li, whose family has long-standing ties to the electricity industry. Going after a rival through his family is a well-worn tactic in rough-and-tumble Chinese politics.

The front-runner to replace Zhu as premier is Wen Jiabao, say various sources in Beijing, from scholars to diplomats. Vice Premier Wen, 58, has maintained a low but effective profile overseeing affairs in China’s vast countryside, whose peasant farmers helped propel the Communists to victory in 1949 but are increasingly discontented.

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Another low-profile leader, Vice President Hu Jintao, is actually the surest bet for promotion next year. That’s because Hu, at 58 the youngest member of the Politburo standing committee, was singled out by Deng himself before he died as a preferred successor among the “fourth generation” of Chinese leaders.

Hu, now No. 5 in the Communist Party hierarchy, is expected to take over from Jiang as party secretary and, ultimately, president.

Hu remains something of an enigma to most Chinese, let alone outsiders. A product of the Communist Youth League, which grooms young leaders, he headed Guizhou province and Tibet in the 1980s, then moved to Beijing for central posts. Little is known of his policy leanings, but hopes that Hu is any sort of visionary democrat are likely to be dashed.

His most public moment came two years ago, after the North Atlantic Treaty Organization bombed the Chinese Embassy in Belgrade, the Yugoslav capital, sparking anti-American protests throughout China.

In an unusual national address, Hu went on TV to express the government’s support for protests “in accordance with the law.” Although some saw the address as a blatant encouragement of violent demonstrations, the statement struck others as a veiled appeal for calm in the midst of spiraling tension.

There now seems to be an effort to burnish Hu’s reputation in the run-up to the party congress. Supporters are apparently trying to heap credit on him for competently handling April’s crisis over a stranded U.S. spy plane while Jiang was away on a state visit to Latin America.

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As for Jiang himself, it’s an open secret that he wants to remain the power behind the throne, retaining the chairmanship of the powerful Central Military Commission. He has assiduously promoted his own take on Communist theory in writings he clearly hopes will be enshrined as official dogma alongside “Mao Tse-tung thought” and “Deng Xiaoping theory.”

But Zhong, the Chinese analyst, warned against overestimating Jiang’s influence after the party congress, especially because his likely successor, Hu, was handpicked by Deng.

“The new leaders will not necessarily accept Jiang’s prescriptions,” Zhong said. “His influence won’t be cut off immediately, but it’ll gradually wane.”

Rumors have lately been floated--perhaps by his opponents--that Jiang has been ill, although he appeared as scheduled last month at a summit in Shanghai with the leaders of Russia and various Central Asian nations.

For that matter, Zhu too has been rumored to be ill, but such reports seem nothing more than unsubstantiated gossip.

“We have nothing solid, nothing solid at all,” complained the Asian diplomat who tracks leadership changes.

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In the end, the lack of transparency surrounding top-level Chinese politics means that guesswork is often what observers are left with.

“It’s an occupational hazard,” Joseph Fewsmith, a Sinologist at Boston University, said with a sigh.

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