CLM Insights Interview with Joseph Torigian

Joseph Torigian. The Party's Interests Come First: The Life of Xi Zhongxun, Father of Xi Jinping. Stanford University Press. June 3, 2025. 718 pp.

ISBN-10: ‎150363475.2; ISBN-13: 978-1503634756

Joseph Torigian CLM Issue 84 June 2025.pdf

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Insights Interview

What differentiates Xi Zhongxun from most first-generation revolutionary leaders?

Xi Zhongxun’s age places him between the first-generation leaders like Mao Zedong and Deng Xiaoping and the second-generation figures like Hu Yaobang and Zhao Ziyang. He stands out for how young he was when he held weighty positions. He was by far the youngest major regional figure brought to the capital in 1952 (one of the so-called “five horses”), and he was also the youngest vice premier in 1959. Unlike other first-generation leaders, Xi is somewhat unique because he had not participated in the Long March. Instead, he was one of the Shaanxi cadres who built up the base area where the Long March concluded in 1935.

Mao Zedong and Deng Xiaoping were known as military leaders, and Chen Yun was famous for his knowledge of the economy. Xi Zhongxun’s main contributions tended to be in other areas, like the United Front and ethnic affairs. Twice, he was the “top deputy to the top deputy,” first as Zhou Enlai’s right-hand man at the State Council and then as Hu Yaobang’s top associate at the Secretariat.

Xi also suffered at the hands of the party more than most. He was persecuted five times, whereas Deng was only purged three times. Xi also spent more time in the political wilderness than most – after he was purged in 1962, he did not return to work until 1978. Significantly, despite his stature and prestige, Xi never reached the apex of power, although he was often rumored to be a candidate for general secretary, president, or head of the National People’s Congress.

How would you describe the relationship between Xi Zhongxun and Xi Jinping, his son? What role did Xi Zhongxun play in the rise of Xi Jinping?

Xi Jinping was born in 1953 when his father was minister of Propaganda. By all accounts, at home Zhongxun was a disciplinarian. That may have been a reflection of Zhongxun’s own peasant upbringing, but there was also a real fear among the elite that lack of discipline would lead to a weak, corrupt second generation. The Xi household was shaped by an electric atmosphere, as Zhongxun often regaled his children with dramatic tales of the revolution. The young Jinping would have witnessed his father flattering and cajoling famous United Front targets, as United Front work demanded a combination of the personal and the political.

After Xi Zhongxun was purged from the leadership in 1962, father and son did not see one another for many years. When they were reunited in 1972, Zhongxun could no longer distinguish among his two sons. Zhongxun felt guilty about how his downfall implicated his family. Nevertheless, he was still a demanding father, and he wanted Jinping to memorize Mao’s speeches despite the tragedies the Xi family experienced under Mao.

Jinping was exiled to the countryside during the Cultural Revolution, and Zhongxun was impressed by his son’s toughness. According to one account, Zhongxun thought Jinping had the makings of a premier.

It is clear that Jinping’s gradual rise up the ranks had something to do with his father’s prominence, but it was not always useful to be a princeling. They were deeply unpopular in much of the party and society, and, on at least one occasion, an attempt by Zhongxun to help his son’s career ended in a disaster. Jinping’s most dramatic promotion came a few months after Zhongxun’s death in 2002.

You have a fascinating chapter on princelings. What should we know about the “princelings” and their role in elite politics in China?

Princelings, also known as the “red second generation” or “high-ranking cadre offspring,” have always been controversial. In the early months of the Cultural Revolution, as Red Guards they were the ones who engaged in much of the worst violence and destruction. When it became clear that the Cultural Revolution was targeting their own parents, they became skeptical. Many of them were then incarcerated (including Jinping) or exiled to the countryside.

Some of the princelings were profoundly disillusioned by the experience. After Mao’s death, many of them wanted to make up for lost time by having fun, making money, and studying overseas. Others wanted to stay in China and climb the ranks. They felt a real sense of ownership of the country, but they also felt insecure because they knew about their terrible reputation.

After Xi Jinping came to power, it was clear there were serious divisions among the princelings. Some hoped that he would be a reformer, while others, perhaps most, wanted him to be someone who would adopt more from the old struggle mindset of the Mao era. They each pressured him to follow a particular direction. But it is very clear that Xi Jinping had decided instead to take his own counsel.

How important were Xi Zhongxun’s contributions to the reforms in the 1980s?

Xi Zhongxun played a central role in many of the changes that look place in the years after Mao’s death. His first position after he was rehabilitated was in Guangdong, where the failures of the Cultural Revolution were especially obvious. He was instrumental in the establishment of the special economic zones.

When he returned to Beijing, he worked under Hu Yaobang at the Secretariat. During the 1980s, the Secretariat was extraordinarily powerful, and Xi’s own bailiwick included extremely sensitive areas: the United Front, ethnic and religious affairs, relations with foreign leftist, revolutionary, and Communist parties, and party rectification. As a vice chairman of the National People’s Congress, Xi also helped empower the Chinese legislature and build the rule of law. Hu Yaobang was general secretary, but Xi had greater seniority and experience, and it was often Xi who was tasked with taking general guidelines and turning them into concrete policy.

At the party life meeting in 1987 that criticized Hu Yaobang, Yang Shangkun said that Xi had gone “even further” than Hu. Nevertheless, a close examination of Xi’s life during this period shows that even he could continue to betray very conservative tendencies. While in Guangdong, Xi opposed the household responsibility system in the countryside. He wanted party critics to be quiet and not create trouble for Hu Yaobang. Xi’s vision of a new equilibrium with Tibetans, Uyghurs, and Mongols only went so far. And despite his own reservations and distaste for Deng’s autocratic ways, Xi went along with Deng’s crackdown on the protesters in 1989.

Xi Zhongxun’s devotion to the Chinese Communist Party seems inexplicable in light of the unspeakable personal sufferings the party inflicted on him and his family. Many liberal and moderate revolutionary veterans, like Xi, opposed the party’s radical policies but remained loyal Communists to the end of their lives. How should we understand this apparent contradiction?

As I said in my last answer, Xi’s “liberal” and “moderate” characteristics can only be understood in a relative sense. It is remarkable that someone seen as such an inveterate “reformer” still betrayed so many limitations. Often his differences with others were about means, not ends. On many occasions, he was a true believer in radical policies. And “opposition” is a fraught word too. He certainly disagreed with some radical policies, but he never stuck out his neck to achieve a course correction.

Nevertheless, you are absolutely right to say that many of the decisions made by Mao and Deng left Xi profoundly distraught, and he himself was persecuted on several occasions. Still, he never openly opposed the party, let alone consider leaving it. Some of that behavior can be sourced in cool-headed rationalism. Given the dominance of Mao and Deng, resisting them would only make the situation worse for both Xi and anyone else whom he tried to enlist in “factional” activities. Fear was endemic among the party elite.

Yet there was something else going on here too. In the political culture of professional revolutionaries, suffering at the hands of your own party was certainly an emotionally devastating experience, but it was more than that. It was a forge that revealed your mettle and made you even stronger. These were men and women who saw motivation in their shame. The party was the deepest well of meaning in their lives. When the party betrayed them, it inspired them more to win back its esteem. For Jinping, I think, the question was perhaps never “why should I stay loyal to an organization that hurt my father?” but “why would I ever leave an organization for which my father sacrificed so much?”