The downfall of Miao Hua, director of the PLA's Political Work Department, has been the most talked-about topic in recent weeks. Rumors also circulated that Defense Minister Dong Jun was under investigation, though the government publicly denied it—only for such denials to be confirmed the very next day, which has by now become standard practice in CCP officialdom. Miao Hua is said to be one of Xi Jinping's own men, having thrown in his lot with Xi back in the days of the 31st Army in Fujian and rising steadily thereafter to key positions within the military. Because he was in charge of personnel, he planted his own network throughout the armed forces, so his sudden arrest is bound to implicate a wide circle of people and send shockwaves through the military establishment. Since Xi Jinping's third term began, centrally managed officials have been falling like dumplings dropped into boiling water: the Rocket Force leadership was wiped out almost entirely, two consecutive defense ministers were purged, and Foreign Minister Qin Gang became a prisoner before he had even warmed his seat—not to mention however many other fallen officials we can no longer even recall. The entire officialdom now wears a look of bleak, chilled silence; if even outsiders like us find it abnormal, those inside the system live in constant fear, unable to eat or sleep in peace. The scene in CCP officialdom today resembles Mao's Cultural Revolution. At the outset of that upheaval, Chen Boda held great power as head of the Cultural Revolution Leading Group, only to be cast aside by Mao in the blink of an eye. Mao then brought in Tao Zhu from Guangdong, who briefly ranked fourth on the Politburo Standing Committee, just behind Mao, Lin Biao, and Zhou Enlai—yet within less than a year, Tao too was purged, meeting a tragic end. Wang Li, Guan Feng, and Qi Benyu, who later rose meteorically to prominence, likewise had their moment in the sun before Mao swiftly toppled them as well. Later still, the all-powerful Lin Biao was cast down for having grown too powerful for his master's comfort, dragging down a whole cohort of generals from the Fourth Field Army along with him. As for the countless party and government officials at every level, from the center down to the localities, who were purged or persecuted to death—their numbers are beyond counting. Xi Jinping imitates Mao in everything, and has inherited his true mastery of political scheming as well. Mao rarely appeared in public and kept his inner court forbiddingly strict, so that any subordinate summoned into his presence felt overwhelmed with imperial favor; he would quietly destroy people, subject them to prolonged cold treatment to torment them psychologically, and then, having tormented someone half to death, suddenly "liberate" him, moving him to tears of gratitude. All these dark tactics were drawn from the Zizhi Tongjian [Comprehensive Mirror for Aid in Government], and Mao would periodically borrow a subordinate's head to intimidate the assembled officials. Xi Jinping reportedly groomed Miao Hua for a full decade, and every other official he has promoted in the capital likewise went through repeated political vetting—yet the fact that most of those recently purged were his own longtime confidants proves that Xi himself lacks any real judge of character. Because Xi himself has no real substance, he is naturally suspicious of people with genuine talent and ability, while flatterers and sycophants easily win his favor. As a result, most of those he has promoted are petty, dishonest men.
Such petty men play the meek servant before they gain power, but turn arrogant the moment they get it; once authority is in hand, they issue orders as they please. So once entrusted with important posts, they inevitably recruit turncoats, build cliques, and pursue private gain—having spent so much money to buy their positions in the first place, they are bound to recoup it through bribery once in power. Being favored only inflates their private ambitions, which soon exceed their actual ability, while political scheming crowds out any sense of responsibility, and corruption within their departments becomes inevitable. Once such a personal fiefdom grows to a certain size, making enemies everywhere until people dare not even speak openly, it becomes, for Xi Jinping, a hidden danger that simply must be uprooted. Xi Jinping himself is a stubborn and self-opinionated man, lacking both virtue and talent. Before he held power he played the fool to lull his rivals; after taking power, he ran his court like the legendary short-statured Wu Dalang's shop, staffing it only with mediocrities shorter than himself—people with little real ability but great skill at scheming for power, senior officials who expose each other's faults, jockey for favor, and shift blame onto one another, with no one in officialdom actually willing to do real work. As the overall situation deteriorates, Xi grows anxious, surrounded by no one he can trust, and amid mounting crises on every front, his mood inevitably sours. With no way to escape responsibility except by finding a scapegoat, it becomes only natural for him to sacrifice someone as an offering whenever a problem arises. For Xi Jinping, sacking people at will may be convenient, but it leaves the whole bureaucracy in a state of constant alarm, with everyone uncertain of their fate from one day to the next and no one willing to focus on real work—corroding the entire officialdom to its core. Senior officials, lacking any sense of security, ignore the Party and state's major affairs and think only of their own futures; this occupational malaise is enough to paralyze the will and cohesion of the entire bureaucracy. Senior officials shift their troubles onto one another, scheme against each other, and make mutual sabotage the norm, causing internal disintegration—and in the end, the biggest victim of all is Xi Jinping himself. In theory, purging one senior official should be enough to intimidate all his subordinates, making each of them so fearful that they obey their superiors without question. But because the political arena is so treacherous—a matter of life and death—officials in office care about only three things: chasing promotion, grabbing money without restraint, and worrying daily about their own survival. Who has any energy left to share Xi Jinping's burdens? Xi has made himself a lonely, isolated ruler. Purging people may be gratifying, but purge too many and it becomes numbing—it turns into routine, and routine becomes a habit he cannot break. Mao once said that once the political line is set, cadres are the decisive factor—meaning that once the Party's political line has been determined, whether it is properly carried out depends entirely on the people executing it. Under Xi Jinping, the cadre line has not been one of drawing talent from all quarters, but of rule by his own personal clique. The hallmark of clique rule is that loyalty comes first, obedience second, competence third, and benefit to the people a distant fourth—so instead of solving problems for Xi, his own people more often create problems for him. As problems pile up and mishaps occur everywhere, when Xi looks for someone to take the blame, he finds, again and again, only his own people to blame. To divide and rule over his cadres, Xi Jinping has had no choice but to play favorites based on personal closeness, which has only deepened factional cliquishness within the Party as everyone jockeys to grab advantage and dodge blame—leaving "Party unity" nothing but an empty phrase. Struggles for power are fights to the death, in which using any means necessary is standard practice; when the interests of one's own small faction are at stake, the overall interest of the Party is simply set aside. That is why the most common sight in CCP officialdom today is different departments each going their own way, tripping each other up, talking a good game while making a mess of things in practice—the result being that the foundations of the regime are shaken and the whole structure is collapsing, with no one able to escape unscathed. His most trusted lieutenants have all turned traitor, while those who remain unswervingly loyal are useless. At a moment of shifting international currents and mounting domestic troubles, Xi Jinping has made purging senior officials the key to his statecraft, seemingly delighting in throwing his own ranks into disarray—destruction without any construction. Can such a state of affairs possibly last?