BEIJING -- Beijingers are really going to enjoy this weekend. Autumn winds have finally rescued the city from the heat and dust of summer, and Jiang Zemin's resignation as the head of China's military last Sunday has cooled the political uncertainties simmering here for weeks.
Though Jiang, 78, had handed China's presidency and leadership of its Communist party to Hu Jintao, 61, two years ago, there were concerns that he seemed reluctant to let go of his last position of consequence. His continuing presence in the power structure created "a dual-headed leadership with each head making different calculations," said Sin-Ming Shaw, a Hong Kong-based political analyst. Rumors of a power struggle between the two spread rapidly in recent weeks. With the transfer, Hu and his ally, Premier Wen Jiaobao, who head what is often called the fourth generation of China's Communist leaders, now have a free hand to run the world's most populous country.
The true facts of Jiang's exit, which was abruptly announced on state television, are unlikely to be known for years. On the streets, the departure of this relatively colorful but little-loved figure -- who liked to recite the entire Gettysburg address in his Russian-accented English for visiting diplomats -- was greeted with a sense of relief.
"It's over and it's all happened as it should have," said Wu Guisen, a retired school teacher in Xi'an. "What we've seen is that our system is stable and improving."
Hu's ascension to full power fills many people with hope. "It's exciting," said Chen Xin, professor of sociology at the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences in Beijing. "I think we will see a different China emerging."
But this different China isn't likely to be a more democratic one. Activists here say Hu is no more inclined toward democracy than his predecessor, and that under him China is likely to enter a phase during which its people may be given more rights while experiencing even less democracy.
. . .
Hu, said to be a thoughtful man who loves to do the fox trot and spend quiet evenings at home with his ailing wife, promised a kinder, gentler China when he took power in 2002. He assured the country's sidelined poor that they would not be forgotten in the relentless push for economic growth. Both he and Premier Wen pledged to fix China's health care and education systems (which had been severely undercut during Jiang's tenure), boost development in rural western China (where incomes are one-tenth of those in the coastal east), and repair the extensive environmental damage caused by two decades of explosive growth.
Today, Hu is seen to be reversing Jiang's awkwardly named governing theory of "the Three Represents." A version of trickle-down economics focused on empowering the "advanced forces of society," the policy has brought China massive GDP growth but also created widespread inequalities. Hu has lent a sympathetic ear to China's "new left," an informal group of academics and politicians who think China's economic reforms have strayed too far toward the unfettered free market. But that hasn't stopped him from making several economic decisions that have set China farther along the path of market reform, including opening up China's oil and energy industries to foreign investors and restructuring its vulnerable national banks and pension plans.
Since coming to power, Hu has also raised the temperature of China's rhetoric against Taiwan, promising to attack the island, which Beijing considers a renegade province, if it declared independence from the mainland. When Washington protested, an unfazed Hu warmed ties with Germany and France and joined them in opposing the war in Iraq. With a chauvinistic patriotism being the predominant, and perhaps only, widely shared sentiment here, and anti-US feeling running high, this cemented Hu's popularity and helped him convince hardliners in the military that he was ready to replace Jiang, who was seen by many here as not standing up to the United States on Taiwan and other issues.
Hu has also taken a hard line on internal political reform, even as the government appears on paper to grant citizens more "rights." Government surveillance, intimidation, and indiscriminate arrests all seem to be on the rise, says Wenzhou Hou, a human rights activist, who herself was recently detained by authorities. Increasing numbers of Internet users have also been jailed over the last two years for posting relatively innocent criticisms of the party in chat groups and on blogs, and several newspapers and magazines have been shut down for similar infringements. On Sept. 17, Zhao Yan, a local employee of The New York Times, was detained for "illegally providing state secrets to foreigners" after the newspaper broke the story of Jiang's imminent resignation earlier this month.
In the meantime, an estimated 6 to 8 million prisoners remain in China's secretive Laogai (literally, forced labor) prison system, including Tibetan and Uighur independence activists. And Hu has turned back many of the minor political reforms initiated by his predecessors.
Yawei Liu, associate director of the China Village Elections Project at the Carter Center in Atlanta, says even the limited village-level elections initiated by Deng, which allowed people from outside the Communist Party to be elected to local political posts, are being slowly and surely undermined. Party officials insist on vetting all candidates, and have been known to overturn results when someone they disapprove of wins. Farmers protesting this and other issues are often arrested en masse throughout the country.
Publicly, many Chinese say they understand, even support, their government's hard-nosed actions. "Our society is unique and it may take many decades before we can have democracy. . .," said Chen Mingfeng, a businessman in Xi'an. "Right now we need to focus on stability and development."
Last March, under a project begun by Jiang and continued by Hu, the Party's 18th National People's Congress passed landmark legislation granting citizens private property rights and formally enshrining the words "human rights" in China's Constitution. This widely celebrated move rejuvenated many people's faith in a government that has increasingly been seen as corrupt and self-serving.
But according to activists here, such as Gao Zhi Sheng, a public interest lawyer in Beijing, the new rights are window dressing that give people the feeling of freedom -- within a framework controlled by the government.
In China there is no separation between the state and judiciary. And since the government has not spelled out any mechanisms for enforcing these rights, "it can ignore them anytime," said Gao. "The only real freedom in China is the government's freedom from accountability."
Jehangir Pocha is a
Globe correspondent in Beijing. 