In the wake of former Chinese Premier Zhu Rongji's passing, the country's state-controlled media has been quick to praise his legacy as a 'loyal' party member and a key economic reformer. However, the censorship of public mourning and the removal of posts on social media paint a different picture. This raises a deeper question: what does it mean for a leader's legacy to be so tightly controlled, and what does it say about the current Chinese government's relationship with its past?
Zhu's era, from 1998 to 2003, was marked by rapid economic growth and significant reforms. He is remembered for his candour and common touch, a stark contrast to the carefully choreographed leadership style of his successor, Xi Jinping. The state media's portrayal of Zhu as a 'loyal Communist fighter' is a strategic move, designed to prevent public mourning from turning into veiled criticisms of the current government.
What makes this particularly fascinating is the tension between the state's desire to control the narrative and the public's nostalgia for a time when China seemed to be moving in a different direction. The death of Zhu and Jiang Zemin, his predecessor, has prompted a wave of nostalgia for a time when the country appeared to be opening up and allowing more freedom for its people. This raises a deeper question: what does it mean for a leader's legacy to be so tightly controlled, and what does it say about the current Chinese government's relationship with its past?
In my opinion, the censorship of public mourning and the removal of posts on social media are a clear indication of the Chinese government's fear of public reaction. The party has long been fearful of public reaction to the deaths of senior officials and public figures, and this fear is evident in the low-key funeral and the lack of footage from the ceremony. The removal of posts on social media, such as the economist Zhao Jian's essay, is a further indication of the government's desire to control the narrative and prevent public criticism.
One thing that immediately stands out is the contrast between Zhu's era and the current leadership style. The state media's documentary about Jiang Zemin's life, which features his candour and common touch, stands in stark contrast to the carefully choreographed leadership style of Xi Jinping. This raises a deeper question: what does it mean for a leader's legacy to be so tightly controlled, and what does it say about the current Chinese government's relationship with its past?
From my perspective, the censorship of public mourning and the removal of posts on social media are a clear indication of the Chinese government's desire to control the narrative and prevent public criticism. The party's fear of public reaction to the deaths of senior officials and public figures is evident in the low-key funeral and the lack of footage from the ceremony. This raises a deeper question: what does it mean for a leader's legacy to be so tightly controlled, and what does it say about the current Chinese government's relationship with its past?
A detail that I find especially interesting is the contrast between Zhu's era and the current leadership style. The state media's portrayal of Zhu as a 'loyal Communist fighter' is a strategic move, designed to prevent public mourning from turning into veiled criticisms of the current government. This raises a deeper question: what does it mean for a leader's legacy to be so tightly controlled, and what does it say about the current Chinese government's relationship with its past?
What this really suggests is that the Chinese government is deeply concerned about public perception and is willing to go to great lengths to control the narrative. The censorship of public mourning and the removal of posts on social media are a clear indication of this concern, and they raise a deeper question: what does it mean for a leader's legacy to be so tightly controlled, and what does it say about the current Chinese government's relationship with its past?
If you take a step back and think about it, the censorship of public mourning and the removal of posts on social media are a clear indication of the Chinese government's desire to control the narrative and prevent public criticism. The party's fear of public reaction to the deaths of senior officials and public figures is evident in the low-key funeral and the lack of footage from the ceremony. This raises a deeper question: what does it mean for a leader's legacy to be so tightly controlled, and what does it say about the current Chinese government's relationship with its past?
