A Sudden Death in China Spotlights What Might Have Been

T he sudden premature death of China’s former premier Li Keqiang late last month has given the Chinese people — especially the elite, the country’s growing upper-middle class — an opportunity to vent their dissatisfaction with China’s paramount leader, Xi Jinping. It’s a situation reminiscent of the death of enlightened leader Hu Yaobang in 1989, which triggered the largest democratic movement in China since the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) came to power. Li’s death has made the Chinese authorities very nervous.

Li Keqiang was the weakest premier since the founding of the People’s Republic of China, reflecting the sharp deterioration of China’s political environment and political culture over the past decade. Since Xi Jinping came to power in 2012, disruptive constitutional changes have paved the way for his permanent rule, and he has solidified power to a degree unseen after Mao Zedong. Yet he always feels insecure, given various unavoidable political struggles on the authoritarian stage. Added to that are his vigilance about the post–World War II and post–Cold War world order and his concerns that the United States and other Western countries could launch “color revolutions” and overthrow governments.

While Xi also recognizes the importance of economic growth to the legitimacy of CCP rule (it remains the most important pillar of CCP legitimacy) and hopes to continue promoting economic development, the demands on his governance are more complex, including political security and assurances that China is a rising a great power. These demands conflict with economic development, leading to a disconnect between policies and goals. For example, Xi has promoted the growth and strengthening of state-owned enterprises (SOEs), but they perform poorly in terms of efficiency and innovation, leading to overcapacity and waste of resources. Protecting those enterprises will inevitably stifle the development of private enterprises and disrupt the market economy. In addition, policies such as party committees entering enterprises, cracking down on education and training, and regulating internet platforms have led to reductions in market confidence and in investment and have hindered economic growth. The contradictions in these policies have left the bureaucratic system in a state of confusion at the implementation level, greatly weakening expectations for China’s economic prospects.

As for the late Li Keqiang himself, under the looming shadow of Xi, he achieved neither notable economic success nor significant political progress. He didn’t dare openly express his dissatisfaction with the current system and essentially worked to maintain Party rule. However, due to the extreme opacity of high-level Chinese politics, Li’s sudden death has inevitably led to speculation and conspiracy theories. People believe that Li died an aggrieved man. He was highly educated, honest and upright, and sympathetic to the people. If China had been under his leadership, or if Xi had given him the space to use his talents to manage the economy, there’s a strong possibility that China wouldn’t be in its current dire state.

Li, who held a Ph.D. in economics from Peking University, also dared not openly express any specific frustration at having to follow the orders of the elementary-school-educated Xi. But his constant subjection to suppression and his constant need to avoid stepping on political minefields were evident. This is the public’s intuitive understanding of the relationship between Li and Xi, reflecting widespread love for the former and disdain for the latter. Many have expressed their grief for Li with flowers, which is also an expression of contempt for Xi’s marginalization and suppression of Li (and hence the government’s suppression of public grief for Li). If it weren’t for Xi’s intolerance of dissent, his thirst for power, his stubborn rejection of reform, and his adherence to an extreme totalitarian ideology, the Chinese people would live much more comfortably than they do now.

In the eyes of the public, especially among the elite, Li Keqiang represents an era they nostalgically remember: the glorious era of China’s rapid economic development. In the face of the political terror and cynicism created by the Tiananmen Square Massacre, the Chinese people, especially elite, made a tacit agreement with the CCP regime: to trade freedom for prosperity (freedom for bread). Before China’s economy began to decline and before the economic damage wrought by policies that Xi implemented became glaring, this unwritten bargain, although challenged on a daily basis, was largely fulfilled. Today this bargain is being figuratively torn to shreds, and the most important source of political legitimacy for the CCP is beginning to dry up.

For those mourning Li Keqiang, he may have been their best hope to improve China’s ailing society and economy. They understand that, to promote reform within the CCP and even overthrow Xi’s rule, they must look within the CCP and rely on reform forces within the party. Li was not perfect. But his market-oriented views, acceptance of universal values, and embrace of modern civilization made him the elites’ candidate to replace Xi. With the death of this ideal successor under mysterious circumstances, some in society at large have claimed that he was murdered on Xi’s orders. Others, while not necessarily subscribing to the conspiracy theories surrounding Li’s death, have seen their hopes of finding a vital force within the CCP to change the status quo dashed. More importantly, the Chinese people, especially the elite, increasingly no longer believe in the “freedom for bread” bargain. Chinese elites are also increasingly unwilling to cooperate with Xi.

As the grieving for Li continues, outsiders should take note that many mourners are lamenting more than just the death of a man. Which is why the CCP, ever paranoid under Xi, is watching their grief nervously.