Civil-Military Relations in Today's China: Swimming in a New Sea : Swimming in a New Sea 9780765622211, 9780765616593

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Civil-Military Relations in Today’s China

Civil-Military Relations in Today’s China Swimming in a New Sea David M. Finkelstein and Kristen Gunness EDITORS

An East Gate Book

M.E.Sharpe Armonk, New York London, England

This volume is dedicated to Mr. Robert J. Murray, president and chief executive officer of The CNA Corporation, in grateful recognition of his encouragement and support of China Studies at The CNA Corporation.

} An East Gate Book Copyright 2007 by The CNA Corporation

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher, M.E. Sharpe, Inc., 80 Business Park Drive, Armonk, New York 10504. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Civil-military relations in today’s China : swimming in a new sea / edited by David M. Finkelstein and Kristen Gunness. p. cm. Includes index. ISBN-10 0-7656-1659-9 (cloth : alk. paper); ISBN-13 978-0-7656-1659-3 (cloth : alk. paper) 1. Civil-military relations—China. 2. China. Zhongguo ren min jie fang jun. 3. Social change— China. I. Finkelstein, David Michael. II. Gunness, Kristen, 1976– JQ1506.C58C58 2006 322'.50951—dc22

2006000015

Printed in the United States of America The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of American National Standard for Information Sciences Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z 39.48-1984.

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Contents

List of Tables and Figures Introduction by David Finkelstein 1. Social Trends in China: Implications for the People’s Liberation Army Tony Saich 2. The Impact of Social Changes on the PLA: A Chinese Military Perspective Xiaobing Li 3. The New Military Elite: Generational Profile and Contradictory Trends Cheng Li 4. The Fourth-Generation Leaders and the New Military Elite Yu Bin 5. The PLA and the Provinces: Military District and Local Issues Zhiyue Bo 6. The Political Implications of PLA Professionalism Lyman Miller 7. Unravelling the Myths About Political Commissars You Ji 8. Searching for a Twenty-First-Century Officer Corps Thomas J. Bickford 9. Educating the Officer Corps: The Chinese People’s Liberation Army and Its Interactions with Civilian Academic Institutions Kristen A. Gunness 10. China’s Defense Budget: Is There Impending Friction Between Defense and Civilian Needs? Joseph Fewsmith 11. The PLA in the New Economy: Plus Ça Change, Plus C’est la Même Chose James Mulvenon

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12. The Challenge of Conscription in an Era of Social Change Sijin Cheng 13. Demobilization and Resettlement: The Challenge of Downsizing the People’s Liberation Army Maryanne Kivlehan-Wise 14. People’s War in the Twenty-First Century: The Militia and the Reserves Dennis J. Blasko

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The Editors and Contributors Index

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List of Tables and Figures

Tables 3.1 Top Military Officers, 2004 3.2 Year of Appointment of Current Top Officers 3.3 Comparison of Age Distribution of Top Officers (in 1988 and 2004) 3.4 Year of Joining the Army: A Comparison of Officers on the 14th and 16th CCs 3.5 Distribution of Service Type in the PLA Top Leadership (1988, 1992, 2002, and 2004) 3.6 Comparison of Career Experience of Top Officers in 1988 and 2004 3.7 Senior Officers with Princeling Backgrounds 5.1 Provincial Military District Leaders (November 2003) 5.2 China’s Provincial Leaders (February 2004) 5.3 Provincial Leaders with Military Experience 5.4 Experience of Provincial Leaders (February 2004) 5.5 The Tenure of Military Leaders in the Military Regions (February 2004) 5.6 Provincial Party Committees and Their Leaders (1970–1971) 5.7 Provincial National Defense Mobilization Commissions (November 2003) 10.1 Defense Expenditures, 1978–1988 10.2 Defense Expenditures Compared with Other Expenditures, 1978–1988 10.3 Defense Expenditures, 1989–2004 10.4 Defense Expenditures Compared with Other Expenditures, 1989–2004 10.5 Defense Expenditures Compared with Central Revenue, 1990–2004 10.6 Ratio of GDP to Budgetary Revenues, 1978–2004 11.1 PLA Production and Business Statistics, 1987 13.1 Possible Paths for Release from PLA Active Duty

51 57 58 59 62 63 65 98 99 102 103 104 109 115 204 205 207 208 209 210 220 259 vii

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LIST OF TABLES AND FIGURES

14.1 China’s Security Apparatus 14.2 Evolution of People’s War Appendix 14.1 Changes in Reserve Force Structure Appendix 14.2 Selected High-Technology and Logistics Militia Units

274 276 293 296

Figures 1.1 2.1 2.2 2.3 2.4 2.5 2.6 2.7 5.1 5.2 5.3 11.1

Birthrate, Mortality Rate, and Natural Growth Rate Total Fertility Rate Soldiers Who Are Only Children Increasing Divorce Rate Mean Age at First Marriage Composition of China’s Workforce in 1978 Composition of China’s Workforce in 1999 Decreasing Percentage of Agricultural Workers in China’s Workforce Map of China (Military Regions) Local Military and Party Organizations (2004) Local Defense Mobilization Commissions Nominal and Inflation-Adjusted Defense Budget, 1978–1997

6 27 28 30 30 39 39 41 97 107 117 218

Introduction David M. Finkelstein

Since the mid-1990s the Chinese People’s Liberation Army (PLA) has been undergoing an ambitious reform and modernization program. Acting upon its own assessments of the rapidly changing nature of modern warfare in the wake of the first Gulf War—and changing perceptions about China’s security situation—Beijing’s military leadership concluded that the armed forces of China were ill-suited to cope with its future defense-related challenges. In response, the leadership of the PLA embarked on a path of reform aimed at building a more professional force in a corporate and institutional sense, and a more capable force in an operational sense. In recognition of the transformative changes under way in the PLA, the small but prolific cohort of international scholars who comprise the subfield of “PLA studies” have produced an impressive array of articles, monographs, studies, and volumes aimed at capturing the totality of change in the world’s largest defense establishment. The field is now firmly in a data-rich age relative to the past, as a result of the accessibility of Chinese-language materials, many of them published by the PLA itself. The exploration of issues is increasingly expansive—the development of new operational concepts and war-fighting doctrines; the modernization of weapons; and a host of organizational, institutional, and procedural changes, to name just a few—and it is now possible to bore into narrowly focused professional issues with a good deal of supporting data.1 Where the field has yet to go in a sustained and focused manner, however, is to place PLA modernization and reform within the broader domestic context of a changing China. The PLA does not exist in a vacuum. The ability of the Chinese military establishment to achieve many of its near- and long-term objectives will be as much a function of what a rapidly changing Chinese society can or cannot support, as a function of the plans and aspirations of the PLA. This volume identifies some of the major trends emerging in Chinese society that have implications for the PLA—topics that require further study by both specialists of the PLA and scholars immersed in the larger issues of social, economic, and political change in China. It seeks to highlight the emerging dynamic between civil society in China and the PLA as an institution. As such, this book speaks to civil-military relations writ large. Traditional approaches to civilix

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military relations in China, such as “Party–army relations” and relations among the national-level civil and military elite are addressed. However, the chapters in this volume cast a wider net. The civil-military nexus is explored from various vantage points: at “the center” and in the provinces; between civilian leaders and military leaders; from a strictly military perspective and from a civilian perspective; and from the angle of emerging domestic issues and trends that cut across all sectors of the polity. Additionally, this volume looks inside the Chinese military establishment itself. It explores how social, economic, and political change— forces operating beyond the institutional boundaries of the PLA—are affecting norms and structures within the military and are serving as catalyzing forces for adaptive change within the PLA.2 The chapters herein were originally presented at a conference sponsored by The CNA Corporation in Alexandria, Virginia, in May 2004. For two days, an impressive group of scholars from the United States and beyond held forth before an exceptionally well-informed audience to challenge past assumptions, provide new insights, seek out continuity, and highlight change in civil-military relations in today’s China. The questions around which the conference was originally organized, and the questions addressed in this volume, represent large-order issues. They include: • What are the most significant domestic issues emerging within greater Chinese society that might serve to propel or impede the modernization and reform agenda of the PLA? • How will the new generation of civilian and military elite interact at the national level as they ply their respective institutional agendas? • What is the nature of the relationship between the local civil governments and local military authorities? Where do they cooperate? Where are the tensions? • Will the PLA be able to attract, train, educate, and retain the “high-tech soldiers” it needs to man and maintain its much-hoped-for high-tech force? • What impact will China’s changing economic environment have upon the ability of the PLA to equip itself, sustain itself, or mobilize national assets in support of military contingencies? Individually, the chapters that follow provide a remarkable amount of granular insight into the particular topics they address, and identify many specific issues worthy of future research. Collectively, the chapters in this volume present a complex mosaic of emerging interrelationships and dynamics between civil society and the Chinese military establishment. If nothing else, the scholarship in this book underscores the fact that there is much we do not fully understand, and there is more research to be done. The remainder of this introduction will highlight some of the larger-order issues the editors believe provide the reader with a glimpse of the complexities of the emerging civil-military dynamic in today’s China.

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*** A double-edged sword for the PLA: The changing dynamics in Chinese society attendant to over two decades of “reform and opening up.” In some cases, the advances of the so-called “rising China” augur well for the aspirations of China’s leaders to modernize the military. For example, China’s booming economy adds to the increasing levels of funding that the PLA needs to modernize the force (new equipment and technologies) and pay for operations, maintenance, and especially personnel. Moreover, growing pockets of capacity in key sectors of China’s “new economy” are assisting the PLA in the research and development of the high-end technologies its new war-fighting paradigms demand. In Chapter 11, James Mulvenon identifies the information technology (IT) sector as an example of this. One could also point to the emergence of a private sector economy as creating opportunities, heretofore unimaginable, to rationalize the inefficiencies in the massive logistics system of the PLA by providing the option to “outsource” for common use goods and services it previously had to provide for itself—the “socialization [shehuihua] of logistics,” in the parlance of the PLA. In other cases, socioeconomic change engenders challenges to the institutional agenda of the PLA. The same economy that is supporting PLA modernization— especially the private sector—now provides stiff competition to the PLA in attracting the best and brightest of China’s youth to the officer corps and offers challenges to the retention of the military’s most talented officers. On the enlisted side of the house, the highly educated urban high school youth the PLA needs to man the force as conscripts are oft-times loath to heed the bugle’s call and find ways to evade locally mandated conscription quotas, whereas the rural poor still see PLA service as a means of personal advancement. While the ranks are being filled, they are not necessarily being manned with those the PLA desires. Emerging demographic trends affect the PLA as much as they do the rest of Chinese society. Rising life expectancies, the growing gender imbalance, and the “one-child policy” have each affected the PLA. Increased life expectancy is one of the many benefits of a modernizing China. Yet the “graying of China” comes with its own set of pressures on the government. For the PLA in particular, this means increasing burdens on the military benefits and retirement system as the ranks of retirees grow. It also means problems for retention as those officers who have the requisite skill sets to successfully move into the private sector do so in order to financially support the emerging “4-2-1” family structure (4 grandparents, 2 parents, 1 child). In some cases, “PLA couples” (e.g., husbands and wives who are both commissioned officers), have had to make a conscious decision that one spouse should leave the PLA and find employment in the more lucrative private sector economy in order to more adequately

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support the new Chinese nuclear family, and to hedge against the declining financial advantages of serving in the military relative to opportunities elsewhere. The growing male–female gender gap and population growth in China ensure that the PLA will continue to have an ample pool of males available for conscription. However, the gender gap also hurts retention in that conscripts fear becoming one of the legions of China’s “unmarriageable males” if they stay in the PLA past their required term of service before returning to their home of record. Moreover, China’s “one-child policy” brings its own set of challenges to the PLA. As Xiaobing Li writes in Chapter 2, as of 2006, “only-child soldiers” will account for 52.4 percent of the force. This trend comes with dual implications. A survey conducted by the political officers in one particular group army (cited by Li) is instructive: on the one hand, the survey found that “only sons” tend to outperform soldiers with siblings in verbal tests, communication skills, and aptitude for computer use. On the other hand, “only-child soldiers” tend to exhibit normative behaviors that are worrisome from the perspective of unit cohesion and effectiveness. These behaviors include reluctance to engage in high-risk training, problems in cooperating with peers, and a sick call rate twice that of soldiers with siblings. While the data sample on this issue is admittedly small, it is highly suggestive that, if nothing else, the PLA itself is concerned with understanding the implications of the new demographics of Chinese youth. Working in conjunction with the realities of market forces, the greatest impact China’s one-child policy has had on the PLA is the revision in 1998 of the national conscription policies. Prior to 1998, conscripts sent to the ground forces (the army) served for three years, while conscripts sent to the navy and air force served for four years. In 1998 new laws reduced service to two years for all services and branches in the PLA. A key driving force for the reduction in service time was rising pressures from below over the hardships and opportunity costs associated with the absence of only sons for so long a period. In the countryside, the issue revolved around the economic hardships rural families faced with their only sons’ labor unavailable for working the family farm in the absence of a rural social safety net. In the cities, parents of well-educated “only sons” were becoming deft in finding ways for their only-child males to evade military service so as not to miss opportunities for college or higher-paying private sector employment. Needless to say, the new policy has had an immediate impact on the PLA. The amount of time conscripts on active duty now have to train to standard is seriously curtailed, with uncertain, but potentially serious, implications for unit readiness. The most complex adjustments in civil-military relations in today’s China are those occurring at the local level. It is in the provinces, counties, and municipalities where the national defense responsibilities of civilian authorities, the institutional requirements of the PLA, and

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changing socioeconomic circumstances on the ground are intersecting to create new tensions and challenges. Since the founding of the People’s Republic of China (PRC), civil-military relations at the local level have exhibited a duality of cooperation and competition. In times of great duress, cooperation and mutual support between civil and military authorities, and soldiers and civilians at the local levels, have usually been the rule, not the exception. Whether combating floods or fires, providing disaster relief in the wake of earthquakes, or even during the recent “campaign” against severe acute respiratory syndrome (SARS), local governments and local PLA garrisons have worked in concert for the greater good. This is the story the Party-state would prefer to tell. At the same time, throughout the history of the PRC, frictions in civil-military relations have always been manifest at the local level, albeit for different reasons. Of course, in the founding days of the PRC, local government was military government, and the intervention of the PLA in local governance during the Cultural Revolution (1966–1976) is well known. These represent civil-military relations in extremis. More recently, in the 1980s, a prominent cause of tension in civil-military relations was the increase in incidents of theft from PLA facilities, a situation that grew so bad that the National People’s Congress had to pass stringent laws criminalizing such acts. A major source of civil-military friction and acrimony at the local level that began to peak during the decade of the 1990s was the unfair business advantages the PLA enjoyed relative to local entrepreneurs (not to mention the corruption that went hand in hand with “PLA Inc.”). As a result, in 1998 the civilian leadership ordered the PLA to divest its commercial operations. Various chapters in this volume underscore the fact that civil-military tensions at the local level in today’s China are increasingly a function of the pressures under which civilian and military officials labor to meet their respective national defense responsibilities in the face of new socioeconomic challenges at the “grassroots level.” These pressures stand in bold relief when considering the challenges posed by conscription, demobilization, and the mustering of civilian assets for national defense mobilization. As mentioned earlier, the widening gender gap and continued population growth in China ensures, in theory, that there is no dearth of males available for conscription —and it is the responsibility of local civilian officials to produce them every year for the PLA. But meeting the quotas for qualified candidates is often problematic. For example, in rural China, the breakdown of the traditional household registration system (the hukou system), the dissolution of the large agricultural communes of yore, and especially the exodus of country youth to the cities and coastal regions in search of work and higher wages is making it increasingly difficult for local officials to produce their quota of males who possess the requisite educational levels, clean criminal records, and medical qualifications for military service. The pressures on local officials are compounded by the compressed conscription cycle in the wake of the new military service policies. As a result, as

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Sijin Cheng points out in Chapter 12, the PLA is not always getting the raw material it needs. The unqualified, with the connivance of pressured civilian officials, can buy their way into the PLA (RMB 10,000 for males and RMB 20,000 for females, according to Cheng’s anecdotal evidence). At the same time, the qualified, especially in the cities, can buy their way out of military service by purchasing false statements of medical disqualification. Another phenomenon associated with the challenges to conscription is that wealthier villages and townships are now known to collect gifts of monetary remuneration to compensate families who help local officials meet their quotas by sending their qualified sons off to military service. The rural poor do not have that option. As a result of these practices, local PLA officers, especially those from the People’s Armed Forces Departments, are being forced to carefully screen the records of conscripts, make physical visits to families to inspect circumstances, and keep local officials “honest” in meeting their obligations—and laws have now been passed to hold local officials accountable if they are found to be complicit in conscription fraud. A potentially larger-order challenge at the local level—and one that has national-level implications for social stability—is the issue of demobilization. Unknown numbers of two-year conscripts, possibly numbering in the six figures, are released from mandatory military service each year and sent back to their homes of record. “Unknown numbers” is the operative phrase because there are no official or publicly available figures from the PRC on the number of persons annually conscripted or released back to civilian life. These former soldiers must be reabsorbed into their communities. In theory, these returning “draftees” are supposed to be guaranteed job placement, given preferential treatment for various social services, and in some cases provided a living allowance (shenghuo buzhufei) until they begin civilian employment. It is the responsibility of local civil governments to provide these service-connected benefits for demobilized conscripts. Depending upon the economic conditions of the locality, and the numbers of conscripts returning home, these requirements can pose tremendous burdens that not all localities can meet. These obligations were being so unevenly fulfilled at the local level that in 2002 Beijing had to step in and issue the Circular on Conscientiously Implementing the “Conscription Order” and the “Demobilization Order” of the State Council and the Central Military Commission and Further Strengthening and Standardizing the Work of Preferential Resettlement under the authority of the State Council’s Ministry of Civil Affairs. In effect, the circular was meant to force local officials to meet their obligations to demobilized conscripts. And the “center” has a large stake in ensuring that they do. In May 2003, Professor Yu Jinrong of the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences published research which found that a good number of the peasant uprisings in one county in Hunan Province that he studied were led by males with prior service experience in the PLA. Equal, if not greater, than the socioeconomic burdens posed by returning conscripts is the challenge of absorbing the hundreds of thousands of career officers who have been, and continue to be, released from service in the course of the massive

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reductions in force that have taken place in the last few years.3 The difficulties associated with the reintegration of former officers into larger Chinese society, the complex options and accompanying regulations devised at the national level to accommodate officers released from active duty, and especially the burdens under which local governments are laboring to absorb these numbers, are not well understood. In this regard, the chapter written by Maryanne Kivlehan-Wise is most illuminating. For example, the unknown tens of thousands of officers who have chosen to take lateral transfers to state sector jobs (zhuanye, one of several options) are finding local officials hard-pressed to place them in civil bureaucracies that are under their own pressures to downsize, or in state-owned factories that are already struggling due to an inefficient employment structure. Placing these demobilized officers in jobs is all the more difficult when local officials have to deal with skill sets incongruous with local needs. Moreover, since the civil service and the military personnel systems have evolved along dissimilar paths over the past decade, finding positions in which the demobilized officer receives a comparable level of salary and benefits is a complex endeavor. A final issue in local civil-military relations that presents new challenges to both civilian and military officials is the impact of the rise of a private sector economy on the national defense mobilization system. Of course, local governments are still bearing the costs of raising and training their people’s militia units and providing logistical support to the PLA when large exercises are held in their locales. That has not changed. The new twist for civil and military officials is the uncertain legal basis for enlisting the assets of private enterprises to support civil defense activities and national defense mobilization exercises. For private entrepreneurs, “time is money” and resources sent to support mobilization activities are resources not applied to achieving the “bottom line.” Who, if anyone, will compensate local private entrepreneurs for the use of their resources? On what legal basis do local civil-military authorities request the support of private assets? What happens if local entrepreneurs do not provide the materiel or people they are asked for, as was the case, according to Xiaobing Li, in Hainan Province in 2002 when only 50 percent of the civilian vehicles requested for a mobilization exercise actually showed up? For years now, PLA mobilization officials, from the General Staff Department down to the countylevel offices of the People’s Armed Forces Departments, have been voicing a dire need for the National People’s Congress to pass a National Defense Mobilization Law to grapple with these and other unresolved questions. The fact that as of this writing such a law has yet to be passed is an indication that the complex interactions of politics and economics on this issue have yet to be resolved. The PLA is exhibiting adaptive capacity both in adjusting to China’s new realities as well as taking advantages of new socioeconomic conditions to achieve its own ends. China’s new socioeconomic environment clearly presents many challenges to some of the PLA’s modernization and reform requirements. The PLA, however, is re-

xvi INTRODUCTION

sponding in kind. Where socioeconomic realities beyond its institutional boundaries present impediments, the PLA is adjusting the intra-institutional policies and practices that it can control. Where the new socioeconomic realities provide opportunities, the PLA is demonstrating initiative in taking advantage of them. Both of these institutional behaviors are manifest in considering the issues of changed conscription laws and in reforms of the PLA educational system. Nearly simultaneously with the promulgation of the new national conscription policies that reduced mandatory service for conscripts to only two years (1998), the PLA in 1999 issued a revision to its Regulations on Military Service of ActiveDuty Soldiers. The new Regulations laid the foundation for the creation, for the first time, of a professional corps of noncommissioned officers (NCOs). By January 2001, the four general departments of the PLA issued the PLA Regulations for Managing Noncommissioned Officers. These first-ever regulations provided detailed policies and procedures for the recruitment, professional development, and career management of a cadre of professional senior enlisted personnel. The new NCO Corps program, still in its infancy, will replace the previous haphazard and nonstandardized practice of granting voluntary extensions to conscripts who previously served as surrogates for a professional NCO Corps, compensate for the turmoil resulting from shorter two-year conscription periods, and nurture a professional and full-career enlisted force to meet the demands of modern warfare. The new conscription policies did not necessarily serve as the sole driving force behind the creation of the new NCO Corps program; the PLA had identified this shortfall quite a few years earlier and had been studying foreign models since the mid-1990s. It is quite likely, however, that the new conscription policies served as the forcing function for the PLA to move forward with the program and for the timing of the decision to implement the program. A clear example of the PLA taking advantage of new economic realities and putting them to work for its own agenda was the creation in 1998 of the National Defense Scholarship program, discussed in Chapter 8 by Thomas Bickford. The economic reality the PLA was able to take advantage of was the rising costs of a civilian college education in China—costs increasingly out of reach for talented but financially challenged high school students. The agenda item for the PLA was the need to matriculate officers with undergraduate educations—especially in science and technology—that its own military academies were not capable of producing. The solution: providing partial scholarships to worthy high school students to attend civilian universities in return for a commitment to be commissioned in the PLA upon graduation. Another example of the PLA exhibiting adaptive behavior also comes from the realm of educational reform. In Chapter 9, Kristen Gunness discusses how the PLA is taking advantage of advances in China’s civilian higher education system beyond providing scholarships to undergraduates bound for commissioning in the military. The PLA is now “partnering” with top-notch civilian universities in a variety of ways for various purposes: enrolling officers already serving on active

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duty in advanced degree programs at the nation’s best civilian institutions; pulling its own military academies up to a higher level of academic standards through curriculum reforms based on civilian university models; and enhancing the quality of instruction at PLA academies by accepting renowned civilian professors as visiting faculty. In addition, the PLA is looking to China’s civilian academic institutions to raise the level of the work done in its own academic and technical research institutes by partnering with civilian universities in joint research projects. Where once leaders of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) enjoined the people of China to “learn from the PLA,” it is now clear that the PLA is quite prepared to learn from other sectors of society. *** Other chapters in this volume present a host of emerging issues in China’s civilmilitary relations. In his scene-setting chapter on social trends in China, Tony Saich addresses many of the major challenges Chinese society is facing today and speculates about their implications for the PLA. Of interest, he raises the prospect that the internal stability mission of the PLA—still important today—could become more important in the future given the potential challenges to social stability on the horizon. Both Cheng Li and Yu Bin underscore that in today’s China, the top civilian and military leaders at the national level are men and woman who have risen to national prominence within the relatively narrow confines of their respective institutions as Party-state bureaucrats or military technocrats. The absence of crossover leaders— meaning leaders with experience and networks in both the Party-state and military sectors—raises questions about how civilian and military leaders will wield their respective agendas. This issue engenders potentially serious implications, especially if the civilian and military leadership competes in the future for finite resources—an issue raised by Joseph Fewsmith in his chapter on the defense budget. Looking at civil-military relations at the local level, Zhiyue Bo also identifies a lack of crossover leaders “beyond the ring roads” as a challenge to managing civilmilitary relations. Bo points to a relatively high rate of turnover by local-level civilian and military leaders as an additional challenge—a trend, he argues, that is driving increasing institutionalization of civil-military interaction in the absence of long-lasting personal networks. To a certain degree, the increasing rates of rotation of military officers, especially at the local level, is a function of the phenomenon of rising professionalism in the PLA, a topic Lyman Miller discusses with an eye toward exploring its implications for the PLA as a “party army” and the critical role the PLA plays in regime maintenance. This is a theme You Ji also picks up on in his chapter on the changing role of PLA political commissars. You Ji highlights the important role of the political commissar in supporting the operational activities of the force, not serving merely as the representatives of the CCP in the military—a widely held misconception in the West, he asserts.

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Finally, while the traditional concepts associated with “People’s War” are no longer germane to the PLA’s new war-fighting doctrines, Dennis Blasko argues that the idea of “People’s War” is by no means dead. To the contrary, Blasko says, “People’s War” is undergoing its own paradigm shift. Where this development intersects with the larger topic of civil-military relations is in regard to the new roles and missions being assigned to the people’s militia and the reserve forces as the PLA thinks through how it will prosecute what it calls “Local Wars Under Modern Informationalized Conditions.” Zhiyue Bo brings this back to the issue of civil-military relations at the local level by reminding us that the militia (min bing) is under the dual leadership of the local civilian government and the local military commands. *** In his 1937 treatise “On Guerrilla Warfare,” Mao Zedong likened the Red Army to fish that must swim among the sea of the people in order to survive. The “sea” that is China and its people is undergoing dramatic change. Likewise, as the chapters herein suggest, the relationship between the PLA and Chinese society is undergoing its own set of changes. It is our hope that this volume will serve as an encouragement to others to continue research on these issues and deepen our understanding of the changing civil-military dynamic in today’s China. Notes The editors gratefully acknowledge the contributions of Larry Ferguson of The CNA Corporation in helping to prepare this volume for publication. So too do we recognize, with appreciation, Patty Loo of M.E. Sharpe for her continued enthusiasm for our projects. 1. For an example of how the data can now take the field of PLA studies deeply into a particular aspect of defense modernization and reform, see China’s Revolution in Doctrinal Affairs: Emerging Trends in the Operational Art of the Chinese People’s Liberation Army, ed. David M. Finkelstein and James Mulvenon (Washington, DC: Beaver Press, 2005). Available online at www.cna.org. 2. For a discussion of adaptive change in response to extra-institutional stimuli, see Guy L. Siebold, “Core Issues and Theory in Military Sociology,” Journal of Political and Military Sociology (Summer 2001). 3. Most students of Chinese military affairs are well aware that in its search for a leaner and more capable military, the PLA has undergone two major reductions in force since the million-man demobilization of 1985: a reduction by 500,000 that began in 1997, and another 200,000-person cut that commenced in 2003.

Civil-Military Relations in Today’s China

1 Social Trends in China Implications for the People’s Liberation Army Tony Saich

In the past we spent rather a long time mechanically copying the experience during the years of war. . . . Things are different now. . . . Even the army is different today. In the past the army was a matter of millet plus rifles and you could go into battle if you knew how to fire your gun, use the bayonet and throw a grenade. . . . The area of knowledge [now] is much broader. Today’s army cannot get by using its past experiences, which is precisely the problem we must strive to resolve. —Deng Xiaoping, People’s Daily, March 5, 1980

Under the reforms of the last twenty-five years, the Chinese People’s Liberation Army (PLA) has undergone significant changes to try to meet Deng Xiaoping’s objective of building a new approach to warfare and modernizing the role of the army in society. Modernization and professionalization have accompanied the reduction in manpower. As James Mulvenon has noted in his report, Professionalization of the Senior Chinese Officer Corps: Trends and Implications, there has been a shift from the revolutionary generation to a new post-1949 cohort that is more experienced in modern warfare and consequently more inclined to modernization and doctrinal evolution. It is certainly better educated than before and enjoys increasing functional specialization.1 The success of furthering this transition and enhancing the advanced capabilities of the PLA will depend not only on the internal training and strategic decisions of the PLA, but also on the outcome of debates and resultant policy priorities that will emerge from dealing with certain key social trends in China. Over the next fifteen to twenty years, China’s leaders will have to grapple with a number of social trends that will have profound consequences for government policy and will have an impact on the social environment within which the PLA operates. Some, 3

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such as rising inequality and the problems of employment generation, if not handled well, may lead to social instability and thus indirectly affect the PLA. Others, such as the potential spread of HIV/AIDS, will have a more direct impact on the functioning of the PLA. This chapter looks at four main social trends. First, it examines salient demographic trends, including the aging of Chinese society, the changing gender balance, and rising urbanization. Second, it looks at employment trends, data that derive from these shifting demographics, and whether sufficient employment can be generated to prevent large numbers of unemployed males from inhabiting new and old urban areas. Third, it looks at the rising inequalities that have been part and parcel of the reforms, a trend that will be amplified over the short term by the policy to increase urbanization. Last but not least, it examines the spread of HIV/AIDS, a potential threat that, if not confronted effectively, could lead to 10 million or more infections over the next decade. These are the major social trends that will challenge China’s stability for the foreseeable future. At first glance, some of these issues might seem remote from the development of the PLA, but we shall try to draw out implications, some indirect and some more direct. For example, will increasing unemployment and inequality cause social instability such that the PLA will be required to intervene to support the regime as it did in 1989? In terms of employment, will there be increased competition for highly skilled personnel and will the PLA be able to find the necessary skilled recruits to meet its modernization demands? Will the PLA have the budget to compete for pay and benefits with private and other sector employment? Will the military offer an interesting employment opportunity for China’s educated elite, or will it attract primarily less qualified personnel? If the latter is the case, how will these personnel interact with government and new business elites? HIV/AIDS has ravaged a number of militaries in Africa, and China now stands at the edge of a potential HIV/AIDS epidemic. HIV/AIDS and the care of an aging population will increase the social costs of China’s next phase of development. As these costs become clearer, China’s leaders will have to make hard decisions about the allocation of scarce revenues. China will have the familiar “guns versus butter” budget debates as leaders decide how much money to allocate to fund pension obligations and defray other social costs in order to ensure social stability. Will this compete with current and new military spending?2 Demographic Trends With China’s rate of population growth declining significantly, the population is aging rapidly. This presents severe problems in terms of care for the elderly and rising pension and medical obligations. In some rural areas there are serious imbalances between males and females, in part due to the high rate of abortion of female fetuses and female infanticide, that will lead to a large number of unmarried males in the future. The future population will be increasingly urbanized as surplus labor is moved off the land and the question arises as to whether employ-

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ment can be generated quickly enough to prevent unrest, an issue that is elaborated on in the following section. As is well known, in the early 1970s the Chinese leadership began to question the wisdom of Mao’s policy against birth control, promoted to encourage rapid population growth. Especially as reforms began, there was fear that a population explosion would undermine any gains in economic growth. A number of doomsday scenarios were produced within China to show how different projections would affect China’s progress, with the worst-case scenarios predicting economic collapse under the weight of excess population growth. The more relaxed policy of the 1970s was tightened in 1979 with the introduction of the one-child family policy.3 The objective of this policy is to hold China’s population to 1.6 billion by 2050 from the current 1.28 billion. It is difficult to say how reliable the official population figures are because of evasion and underreporting by some families in the countryside combined with official connivance. There are clearly many more people than official statistics reveal, and in some counties the reported discrepancy between female and male children is alarmingly large. China’s birthrate dropped dramatically from 33.43 per 1,000 population in 1970 to 12.86 in 2002, with a corresponding drop in the natural growth rate from 25.83 per 1,000 to 6.45 per 1,000 in 2002.4 Mortality rates have also been dropping and now stand at 6.41 per 1,000 (see Figure 1.1). Obviously, these fertility rates will affect the population size and overall societal structure in significant ways. First, the population will age considerably, with effects on the economy. Research has shown that, for example, there are links between aging populations and savings rates. Overall, the average age of China’s population will increase by 13.8 years during the first half of this century, as opposed to the average age of the U.S. population increasing by 3.6 years in the same time period.5 Heller and Symansky have shown that the aging populations in the “Asian Tiger” economies will cause an overall decline in the world’s savings rates.6 Cheng has concluded that China’s lower fertility rate will in fact decrease the domestic savings rate. However, a lower fertility rate will also cause a higher return to labor because of its relative scarcity and a lower return to capital.7 Second, China’s population will grow old while the country continues to industrialize and urbanize. Consequently, there will be an even greater need to maintain rapid and sustainable economic growth in the future. The aging population will create serious issues for the state in terms of meeting dependency ratios and pension obligations. Estimates of the percentage of the population over sixty-five years of age suggest a rise from 6.3 percent of the population in 2000, to 10.9 percent in 2020,8 to as much as 17.4 percent in 2024,9 and 22.7 percent in 2050.10 The number of the oldest old (those over eighty years of age) will also increase, according to the United Nations, from 11.5 million in the year 2000, to 27 million in 2020, and 99 million by 2050.11 This group, which comprised 13 percent of the elderly population (age sixty-five and older) in 2000, will comprise 30 percent of the elderly population in 2050, and will grow faster than any other cohort.12 This will

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Figure 1.1

Birthrate, Mortality Rate, and Natural Growth Rate (Number per 1,000 population)

40 35 30 Birthrate

25

Mortality rate

20

Natural growth rate

15 10 5 0 1940

1950

1960

1970

1980

1990

2000

2010

Source: Data prior to 1978 come from China Statistical Yearbook, 1985. Data after 1978 come from China Statistical Yearbook, 2003.

also lead to a significant increase in medical costs: in reviewing the situation in the United States, Torrey estimates the cost of long-term care for those over 80 years of age at 14.4 times higher than the cost for those aged 65 to 74.13 Medicare costs are 77 percent higher for people over 80 than for those aged between 65 and 69, for example. As Jackson and Howe note, China may well become the first major country to grow old before it gets rich.14 The situation is particularly severe in the city of Shanghai. Shanghai was one of the youngest cities in the world at the time of Chinese Communist Party (CCP) victory in 1949, and is now one of the oldest in the twenty-first century. The proportion of people living in Shanghai over age sixty was 18 percent in 1999; this is up from 3.6 percent in the early 1950s, from 9 percent when reforms began in the 1970s, and is set to peak at 32 percent in 2030.15 Those over age eighty totaled 11.3 percent of the elderly population in 1999 and will peak at 16.3 percent of the total population of Shanghai.16 By 2030, in Shanghai Municipality, the elderly will be 1.67 times more numerous than those under age sixteen. Shanghai has thus achieved, in thirty years of reform, a demographic transition that took France 140 years and Sweden 80 years. The impact on the city is clear: many inner-city schools have closed down or become boarding schools for non-Shanghai residents, and many elderly residents are worried about who will look after them in their old age.

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In Shanghai, some policy advisors have somewhat facetiously raised the suggestion that there should be a financial incentive to increase family size!17 These demographics will have major consequences for dependency ratios and pension obligations. As previously noted, the demographics are not good. In 1990, there were 13.74 elderly for each 100 people at work. In 2000, this number increased to 15.60, and is predicted to rise to 29.46 in 2025 and 48.49 in 2050.18 The ratio of the working to nonworking population is also dropping fast: in 1991 it was 6:1; it is anticipated to be 2:1 by 2020.19 Thus, whereas contribution rates for workers were only 3 percent of the payroll when China began to use this system in 1951, they had risen to 20 percent by the mid-1990s.20 Unless something is done, by 2033 Chinese estimates suggest payroll rates will be around 40 percent. Hussein has perceptively pointed out that an exclusive focus on the dependency ratio of the elderly is misleading. It ignores the large economic plus that comes from the declining dependency ratio of children (30.7 percent) that will bring benefits before the aging costs begin to heavily impact Chinese society. By 2020, it is calculated that children (0 to 14 years of age) will have dropped to 19.3 percent of the population. This is a significant decrease from 40.4 percent in 1964 and 23.9 percent in 1998.21 The 2002 total dependency ratio varies from a low of 28.56 percent in Beijing to a high of 51.29 in Guizhou. The highest child dependency ratio is in Guizhou at 40.9 percent, while the lowest is in Shanghai at 14.13 percent. Conversely, Shanghai has the highest elderly dependency ratio at 17.72 percent, and Heilongjiang has the lowest at 8.3 percent.22 It is important to note that the nature of support for these two groups differs. For children, much of the financial cost and care falls on the household, with the state picking up a large part of the external education costs, for example. Despite this, family costs for education are rising. A Horizon 2003 national survey showed that educational expenditures accounted for 24.6 percent of family income in major municipalities, and 17.4 percent in rural areas. For the elderly, especially in rural areas, the household carries the main financial burden. In urban areas, the picture is somewhat different, with the workplace and the local government carrying the pension burden for many. About 71 percent of retirees are from the state-owned enterprise (SOE) sector.23 From 1997 onward, the Chinese government tried to implement a new pension scheme to address the problems associated with an aging population.24 The most important question regarding this pension scheme is the following: How and when will the government deal with the funding of individual accounts as part of the new pension plan, and how will it manage the associated implicit pension debt? We know that pension nonpayment has been a key cause of urban protest; the image that Hu Jintao and Wen Jiabao have sought to project of the new leadership as a “caring” government will be severely damaged if it does not look after the nation’s pensioners.25 In addition to potential unrest, another consequence for the PLA is what priority the government will give to making up the shortfall in the pension system. This money will have to come from somewhere. New funds are unlikely as the central government

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has a relatively weak capacity to raise revenues. There are varying estimates of how much the implicit debt is. The World Bank has calculated a range between 46 and 69 percent of the gross domestic product (GDP), while Wang et al. have estimated it to be 71 percent in 2000, and Dorfman and Sin have suggested a figure of 94 percent.26 This is actually low in comparative terms since the pension coverage is limited to a relatively small percentage of China’s total labor force. For example, in the United States, the implicit debt stands at 113 percent of GDP. In fact, if the Chinese government acts soon and adopts adequate measures, the fiscal costs should be manageable.27 Currently in China, budget expenditures have been increased as a short-term measure to cover the shortfall in the pension system. At the March 2003 meeting of the National People’s Congress, the finance minister announced a 38.6 percent increase in the social security budget to help those in difficult circumstances and to head off social unrest. However, strong competing budgetary demands make such increases difficult to maintain over the long term. Current thinking is to introduce a specific social security tax (now operating in sixteen provinces), but a better long-term strategy would be to open the pension funds to a market-driven approach, and to move away from centralizing pension pool administration while trying to reduce evasion and noncompliance by administrative means.28 This may be the best route to avoid major budgetary clashes over resource allocations that will have consequences for the PLA. In addition to an aging population, another adverse consequence of the onechild policy has been a distortion of male–female ratios. Essentially, there are three ways to meet the strong demand for male offspring: have more births, engage in female infanticide and generally discriminate against female children, or carry out forced abortion following prenatal sex identification. In some counties, the reported discrepancy between female and male children is alarmingly large. However, it is not at all clear how accurate these figures are. For example, one study shows that underreporting of births accounts for between 50 and 70 percent of the differential sex ratio.29 The same study also claims that female infanticide accounts for 5 percent of this differential.30 This discrepancy may be partly, but not completely, accounted for by underreporting. The current census shows the sex ratio of males to females at 106.74:100, resulting in 41.27 million more men than women. However, at birth, the ratio is 119.92:100 and by age four it is 120.17:100. The Jiangxi and Guangdong provinces have ratios of 138:01:100 and 137.76:100 respectively, with rural Guangdong at a rate of 143.7:100.31 This clearly indicates a strong trend of further imbalance in the ratio over the next ten to fifteen years and beyond. The implications of these ratios are that at least 1 million men per year will not be able to find a marriage partner, while more recent figures suggest even higher numbers.32 One assessment calculates that there could be as many as 100 million Chinese bachelors by the year 2020.33 This will certainly drive up the bride price in rural areas, and will result in increased illegal trade of women and increased prostitution. One report suggests that the average price for a wife in Yunnan Province has risen in recent years from 3,000 yuan

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(about US$365) to around 15,000 yuan (about US$1,829); a considerable jump when average rural incomes per capita were only RMB 2,622 (about US$320) at the end of 2003.34 Large numbers of males who cannot find a bride and are drifting into cities looking for work represent a potential source of unrest. The increase in clientele for commercial sex workers will also increase the potential for the spread of HIV/AIDS. Over the next two decades, China will become increasingly urbanized. The hope is to move between 300 and 500 million people from the rural areas to towns and cities by 2020, creating an urban population of around 800 million.35 In fact, urbanization is seen as the best way to provide a long-term solution to the problems of inequality that stem primarily from urban-rural differences. The main debate has been over how to manage this process, with proponents divided over whether to focus on developing major megalopolises along the coast, with these cities as the destination of migrants, or to focus on a more controlled development based on small-town expansion in the countryside. The latter would be more in line with the traditional ideas of sociologist Fei Xiaotong. The 2000 census calculated an urban population for China of 455.94 million (36.09 percent of the total population).36 This was calculated as a 9.86 percent increase over 1990, the year of the previous census. In world terms, China is “underurbanized” as a result of the controlled urbanization and the household registration system that was associated with it. Transitional societies have higher rates of urbanization, such as Hungary (64 percent) and Russia (73 percent), as do the remaining socialist countries (Cuba’s rate of urbanization is 75 percent and North Korea’s is 59 percent).37 Zhou and Ma, using a constant basis for calculating the urbanization rate rather than the varying basis of the Chinese census, come to a figure of 36.25 percent urban population for year-end 2000, which is roughly the same as in the 2000 census.38 Over the next ten years, this figure should increase to 40 percent at the current rates of growth. However, with current policy favoring urbanization, this figure is liable to be higher, perhaps reaching the 55 to 60 percent range.39 Meeting this goal will present major challenges for the government in terms of investment in urban infrastructure and planning. It will also present significant challenges for job creation. In part, the programs for infrastructure will provide employment opportunities, but whether the service industry can be expanded sufficiently to deal with increased urbanization and accommodate the estimated 150 to 200 million surplus laborers in rural China remains to be seen. Employment The future employment trends for China will be to boost the underdeveloped service sector of the economy as a part of the urbanization process. Whether China can create jobs quickly enough to carry out this process smoothly remains an open question. In one sense, high levels of unemployment combined with underemployment and relative poverty in the countryside bodes well for a continued pool of recruits for

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the military. However, these “lumpen elements” will not provide the better-educated recruits that the PLA increasingly wants to attract. During the reform period, the PLA reduced its personnel from around 4 million to a little under 2.5 million. A further reduction of 200,000 men is under way. This reduction in personnel, it is hoped, will enable the PLA to provide better salaries, housing, and other benefits for its troops, who will form a better-educated force and officer corps. Despite the drop in numbers, however, personnel costs have still absorbed a proportionately large percentage of Chinese defense expenditures (approximately 33 percent in 2000).40 Better pay and working conditions will be necessary, as the PLA will face considerable competition for college graduates from the expanding non-state business sector. As the impact of the World Trade Organization (WTO) agreement progresses, there will be more opportunities for graduates in senior management of both domestic and foreign companies. There may be tensions between a PLA leadership that is not as well educated as the civilian and business elites, and this could affect the army’s response to social crises. The official figure for registered unemployment at the end of 1996 was 3 percent (6 million people); this had only risen to 4.3 percent by late 2003, despite employment in the SOE sector dropping from 113 million in 1995 to 65 million in 2002.41 The unemployment figures exclude those who have not registered as unemployed, including the large number of workers laid off (xiagang) by stillfunctioning SOEs. Thus, Zhang Guo and his colleagues estimated China’s real unemployment rate at 9.36 percent for 1997, Cook and Jolly estimated a rate of over 8 percent for 1998, and Athar Hussein and his colleagues calculated the rate at 12.3 percent during the late 1990s.42 Economist Feng Lanrui suggested that as many as 20 to 25 percent of the total workforce (urban and rural) may be unemployed by the turn of the century. This latter figure is in line with the latest calculation from scholars at the Rand Corporation, who estimate a disguised unemployment rate of around 23 percent, or 170 million people.43 Not surprisingly, unemployment is worse in the Northeast and in Chongqing, which are home to a great deal of heavy and manufacturing industry. It is clear that the state sector will never again be the main engine for urban employment, neither for those laid off nor for the estimated 10 to 11 million Chinese who enter the job market annually. Recently, employment generation has not been keeping pace with the rate of economic growth of the working-age population, and growth has varied with increases in GDP. Hu Angang noted that, with GDP falling in 1998, only 3.57 million new jobs had been created—the smallest percentage increase in employment (0.5 percent) since 1949.44 With the economy picking up again, job creation is improving, but official statistics calculated that with a 7 percent growth rate, China would have a job creation potential of only10 million new jobs. This barely keeps pace with the job creation necessary, and is totally inadequate if one takes into account China’s surplus of rural laborers and migrants.45 Wolf and his colleagues show a general lowering of employment generation growth.46 Over the next decade, they calculate employment growth at 1.4 percent per annum: a slight increase from the

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1.1 percent in the decade prior to 2000, but well below the annual employment growth of 4.2 percent in the previous decade. This is producing a clear need to develop other avenues for employment growth. Hu Angang calculates that 55 million workers were laid off from 1995 to mid2002.47 Official statistics show that employment in SOEs and collectively owned enterprises had fallen by 31 million and 19 million jobs respectively from 1996 to the end of 2002.48 This drop in urban employment has been paralleled by a slowing of employment growth in rural industry, which had provided a great boost to employment in the 1980s and the early 1990s. Employment fell from 135 million in 1996 to a low of 125 million in 1998, before rising again to almost 133 million in 2002.49 Hu Angang has calculated layoffs from rural firms at 80.5 percent in Liaoning, 70 percent in Jilin, and 59 percent in Heilongjiang; areas already badly hit by SOE dismissals.50 For example, Hu calculates that in 1999, while urban layoffs were 18.3 percent nationally, they were 37.3 percent in Liaoning, 31.9 percent in Jilin, and 31.3 percent in Heilongjiang.51 It is likely that employment generation will remain a major headache for the leadership over the next decade. Official accounts claim that until 2006, the SOEs will continue to shed 3 million jobs a year, while Lu Zhongyuan from the Development Research Center of the State Council calculates that in 2004 China will need to create 24 million jobs to absorb the new labor force, including migrants and college graduates. He does not believe that the pressure to generate employment will be alleviated for the next twenty to thirty years.52 Yet, while the former major sectors of the economy have been shedding jobs, the more vibrant sectors of the economy are prevented from sufficiently rapid expansion because of the lingering state bias against the non-state sector of the economy. How destabilizing these trends will be depends in part on the continued growth of the economy, the ability of the non-state sector to generate sufficient employment, and the capacity of the authorities to keep unrest in check. Certainly the workers themselves are not optimistic. A 1997 official trade union survey showed that onethird of the respondents thought it “likely” or “extremely likely” that they would be unemployed soon.53 Given the situation, local authorities have been very successful at restraining unrest, and the inability of workers to ensure independent representation has also moderated strikes.54 Wary of potential unrest, subsidies and “policy loans” are often reinstated to try to reverse the losses in key industries, such as textiles. It is difficult to say whether the situation will lead over time to increased social unrest. Some may estimate that the worst is already behind China’s leaders. However, employment generation still ranks high in the minds of China’s citizens. In a national survey conducted in September 2003, employment generation and unemployment insurance ranked among the top five areas of dissatisfaction for urban and rural dwellers alike.55 One route for job creation is the service sector, which in China employs a low percentage of personnel in comparison with other countries at a similar level of

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development. Hu Angang has estimated that allowing foreign investment into this sector could generate a boom of 40 to 50 million jobs. The other main option for job creation is enhanced development of the private sector. At the end of 2001, the number of private enterprises was 2.03 million, up 34 percent from two years earlier, and the number of employees in the private sector was 27.14 million (up from 20.21 million in 1999).56 Rural and urban private sector employment was estimated at 34 million at the end of 2002.57 Geographically, however, these enterprises are heavily concentrated in the coastal areas, with Jiangsu, Guangdong, Zhejiang, Shanghai, and Beijing home to 54 percent of private industry, while the western provinces only have 14 percent.58 It is clear that those provinces with a higher growth rate and standard of living are also those with a higher percentage of private enterprises. For example, in Wenzhou and Taizhou, where the private economy is dominant, there is little unemployment. In contrast are towns like Mudanjiang in the Northeast, which are dominated by old SOEs. Inequality Such employment trends have inevitably fed into the increasing inequality in China and to the creation of new pockets of poverty. China’s development strategy postMao has consciously eschewed social equality and sought to use inequality as a stimulant for economic activity and growth. This is perhaps understandable given the attempts at enforced egalitarianism that were a hallmark of the Cultural Revolution. However, the strategy raises questions about the meaning of citizenship in China and who is entitled to expect what from the state. There is a clear urban bias to development as well as a coastal bias, and a conscious exclusion of rural migrants from integration into many urban services. The provision of public goods and services to some of the population while they are denied to others raises fundamental questions about what citizenship means in contemporary China. The key question is whether those left behind initially will be afforded the opportunity to catch up, or to at least not fall further behind. The main factor explaining inequality in China is the growing urban-rural gap.59 The urban-rural income gap was 2.6:1 at the start of reforms, and with the initial benefits to the rural population, this declined to 1.82:1 by the end of 1983. However, by the end of the 1990s, the gap had risen again to 2.8:1 because of increased opportunities in the urban areas and depressed rural incomes. According to the International Labor Organization, this gap is the highest in the world: few countries exceed 1.6:1. In a 2004 study, researchers at the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences confirmed these figures and suggested that if one factored in education, health, and unemployment benefits, the gap could be four to six times as great.60 Perhaps of most concern is not the inequality itself, but the fact that it has been rising despite the reforms. At the start of the reforms, China’s Gini coefficient was 0.33. A study on income distribution by the Economics Institute of Nankai University estimates that the Gini coefficient rose from 0.35 to 0.4 in the years from 1988 to

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1997. If unpaid taxes and other illegal income were included, the coefficient would be between 0.42 and 0.49. This puts China on par with Latin America, places it far worse than high-income countries (with a coefficient of 0.338), and worse than the AsianPacific region as a whole (with a coefficient of 0.381).61 Even China’s official newspaper, the People’s Daily, reported a figure of 0.457 for 1999 and 0.458 for 2000.62 Not surprisingly, while the wealthiest 20 percent of the population had 36 percent of total income at the start of reforms, they had 51.4 percent by the late 1990s. By contrast, the poorest 20 percent had 8 percent at the start of the reforms and 4.06 percent by the late 1990s.63 The latest Chinese Academy of Social Sciences survey shows the wealthiest 1 percent enjoying 6 percent of total income and the wealthiest 5 percent with 20 percent.64 For a country that still describes itself as socialist, these trends are difficult to justify and could provide an easy rallying point for any opposition. Combined with rising income inequality, the unequal distribution of resources across local authorities and the incentives for spending priorities account for the huge variation in the provision of public goods and services during the transition. Access to health and education services was still widely available in the 1980s, but became more dependent on incomes in the 1990s. For example, in 1998, 22.2 percent of those in high-income areas were covered by cooperative medical facilities, but only 1 to 3 percent of those in poorer areas were covered.65 In particular, as the World Bank concluded in its 1996 report on China, “the downturn in China’s health performance relative to its income level coincided with agricultural reform that reduced the ability of the village to tax the peasants.”66 The urban bias of central policy has clearly exacerbated the differential access to public goods and social welfare, and individuals are increasingly left to find the best support available with their own resources. This has been particularly noticeable with healthcare provision. Government health spending is inadequate and heavily biased toward the urban areas. In fact, the state’s financial commitment to rural health services has been declining as a percentage of total medical and health expenditures from 21.5 percent in 1978 to around 10 percent in the 1990s. With health costs rising, it is not surprising that illness is one of the most cited reasons for poverty among the poor, something exacerbated by the collapse of the pre-paid collective medical system, resulting from the disbanding of communes in the early 1980s. Thus, some 90 percent of rural households have to pay directly for almost all of the health services they use. It is not surprisingly that illness has a close correlation with poverty. A recent national survey revealed that in 2003, medical expenses were equal to 10.3 percent of household income for those in major municipalities and 9.6 percent for those from rural China.67 This might not sound like a large amount, but many families are going without the medical help they need. The national survey also showed that in 2003, of the 3,967 interviewed, 25.1 percent of those who should have sought medical help did not because of cost, and 17.2 percent who should have stayed in the hospital after surgery or an illness did not do so. Other surveys have revealed an even more problematic situation. The Ministry of Public

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Health has calculated that 37 percent of farmers who should have seen a doctor did not do so, while 65 percent of patients who should have been hospitalized were not treated because of their inability to pay.68 Given such problems, it is not surprising that the real levels of poverty in China are well above the official figure of 28 million at the end of 2002. Indeed, the Asian Development Bank, using the norm of $1 per day in purchasing power parity and using the preferred consumption norm, suggests that China should have about 230 million poor residents, some 18.5 percent of the total Chinese population.69 If one applies a norm of $2 per day, 53.7 percent of the total population is poor. This puts China roughly on par with Indonesia (15.2 percent and 66.1 percent, respectively) and considerably better off than India (44.2 percent and 86.2 percent respectively).70 These figures might be high, but other evidence also suggests higher poverty levels. Official Chinese statistics do not cover urban China, and until very recently no systematic study had been carried out. The Asian Development Bank calculated a total for the urban poor of around 14.8 million in 2001, about half the official total for rural poverty. This had risen to 19.63 million by September 2002. The number of urban residents who received minimum subsistence support was 21.4 million in March 2003.71 Such figures clearly underestimate urban poverty and do not include the migrant population. A 1999 survey by the National Statistics Bureau revealed a 15.2 percent poverty rate for migrants, some 50 percent higher than the poverty rate in the local communities they came from. What such figures reveal is that despite tremendous progress, China still confronts a number of policy challenges. First, there is a significant group of rural poor who have not responded to policy measures, market openings, and the benefits of “trickle down.” Second, there is a very large group that is vulnerable to economic downturn and tends toward recidivism. Third, there is a smaller but rising number of urban poor who are the product, rather than beneficiary, of reform. This argues for a better public policy to deal with resolving poverty based on a better understanding of who the poor are and why they are poor. However, a shift to a pro-poor growth strategy would have budgetary consequences for the wealthier coastal areas and potentially for the PLA. China’s investment patterns and preferential fiscal policies have favored the coastal regions at the expense of the interior; formal credit access is highly biased to capital-intensive SOEs, and rural net taxes are highly regressive. To change this situation would require a major reallocation of resources that, in turn, would require a significant shift in political sentiment. Despite the Chinese leadership’s goal of building a comfortable (xiaokang) society since the Sixteenth Party Congress (November 2002) and Hu Jintao’s and Wen Jiabao’s populist disposition, a major reorientation of resources is unlikely given the structure of political power. The new Politburo, like its predecessor, has a strong provincial representation but essentially represents the richer, coastal areas of China. On election, it looked as if there was a limited attempt to appoint some leaders from the inland areas, but subsequent personnel shifts have taken away that illusion. Sichuan, the most im-

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portant province in western China, still enjoys no representation at the highest levels—despite the campaign to develop the West. The party secretary of Xinjiang does have a seat on the Politburo, but this has more to do with the center’s intent on maintaining its territorial integrity and resisting any moves for autonomy rather than concerns about poverty and inequality. This means that, for all intents and purposes, the new Politburo resembles the old, with major municipalities (Beijing, Tianjin, and Shanghai) and the wealthy coastal province of Guangdong enjoying representation, while the inland and poorer areas of China are excluded. Given this, one can presume that policy will continue to be biased in favor of the “haves” while lip service will continue to be paid to the needs of the “have-nots.” The Potential of the HIV/AIDS Epidemic The outbreak of severe acute respiratory syndrome (SARS) in the winter/spring of 2002–03 alerted the Chinese government not only to the relative weakness of its rural medical system but also to the dangers of infectious diseases that could undermine economic growth.72 Subsequently, it is clear that more serious policy attention is being paid to the threat posed by HIV/AIDS.73 At first glance the figures for HIV/AIDS infections in China do not look alarming, certainly not in comparison to sub-Saharan Africa. Estimates of HIV-infected people from the Chinese government and international organizations range from 800,000 to 1.5 million, a low prevalence of 0.2 percent of the population. The number of AIDS-related deaths is officially calculated at only 800. Thus the infection, while widespread, has a low prevalence in the general population, and is concentrated in certain provinces.74 Given the many pressing policy challenges that China’s leaders face, this has caused HIV/AIDS policy to be placed on a back burner. However, cases have now been reported in all provinces and the trends are beginning to show that China stands on the edge of a spread from specific regions and communities to the population at large.75 HIV/AIDS is a long-wave disease with deaths only occurring some ten or more years after the initial infection. This means that the impact of the disease, such as AIDS orphans, loss of breadwinners in the household, and the enormous strain on the health system, will not be felt on a significant scale for another decade or so. In South Africa, the prevalence rate has risen from around 1 percent in 1990 to over 20 percent in 2003. Other southern African countries wrestle with rates up to Botswana’s staggering 38.8 percent.76 These figures argue for an early, aggressive public policy response. The Chinese leadership seems to have recognized this, and an institutional framework for dealing with HIV/AIDS is being established as well as a number of policy initiatives being promoted. However, as with many other areas, it remains to be seen whether there are sufficient incentives for local governments to act responsibly. Problematically, China has a number of features that are conducive to the spread of HIV/AIDS. As we have seen, it has a surplus of males, a population that is increasingly mobile and one that will become more urbanized over the next de-

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cade. Also, China has low levels of awareness about the disease and how it is spread, plus a growing commercial sex worker community that will contribute to the spread of sexually transmitted diseases (STDs).77 China’s official figures for HIV/AIDS are generally viewed as underestimating the scope of the disease, in part because of poor surveillance mechanisms and also because of low levels of knowledge about the disease within the healthcare community. U.S. intelligence estimates put the total for 2002 at between 1 and 2 million, while one UN official told the New York Times that China might have a total of 6 million. Some have claimed that Henan Province alone might have over 1 million carriers.78 Whatever the truth of the figures, the infection rate is increasing sharply and the profile of the disease is beginning to look similar to other parts of the world. The Chinese Ministry of Health calculated that from January to June 2003, the reported HIV-positive increase was 20.3 percent over the previous period, while AIDS cases increased by 140.1 percent.79 Currently in China, the largest group of infections is among intravenous drug users (IDUs), who account for over 60 percent of infections. Transmissions from heterosexual or homosexual activity account for 8.4 percent, and tainted blood transfusions account for 9.4 percent.80 This still leaves 18 percent of cases in which the cause of infection is not known. Zhang Konglai, analyzing the figures from March 1985 to 2000, has a similarly large number of unknowns (20 percent), but finds that 72.6 percent were IDUs, with 6.8 percent from heterosexual or homosexual contact and only 0.5 percent from blood and blood products.81 This reveals the shift of the disease into the sexually active population. Importantly, in China, more males are infected than females—the reverse of the situation in other countries; but this is also beginning to change. While Zhang found a ratio of 5:1, Han reports a ratio of 3.99:1, which is dropping rapidly.82 In all at-risk groups, the infection rates are rapidly increasing, with a strong potential for spreading into the general population. In February 2004, Shen Jie, deputy director of the China Disease Prevention and Control Center, noted that over the next few years, heterosexual contact would become the major transmission channel for HIV/AIDS.83 In fact, the proportion of sexually transmitted HIV infections increased from 5.5 percent in 1997 to 10.9 percent by the end of 2002.84 Evidence from China suggests that it is the more educated and more affluent who are more likely to visit a commercial sex worker. According to Pan Suiming, the wealthiest 5 percent of men are thirty-three times more likely to visit commercial sex workers than the poorest 40 percent.85 Also, managers, factory owners, and businessmen are ten times more likely to visit commercial sex workers than are urban manual workers, and twenty-two times more likely than male laborers in rural areas. HIV infections in IDUs increased five hundred fold from 1995 to 2000, rising from a prevalence rate of 0.02 to a peak of 12.1 in 1999 before dropping to 10.0 in 2000. Not surprisingly, the exact number of IDUs is unknown. Public security figures mention a population of 1 million, but others suggest a population of 5 to 6 million. Injection of drugs will remain the dominant mode of transmission in

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Northwest and Southwest China.86 A 2003 UNAIDS report estimated that in certain areas of Sichuan and Guangxi, HIV prevalence is 50 and 43 percent respectively, while in parts of Yunnan and Xinjiang it is reported to be 80 percent.87 With the expansion of the sex trade in China, there are between 1 and 6 million commercial sex workers, and condom use is low, with 40 percent of such workers not using one on a regular basis.88 The HIV infection rate among this community has increased sixty-six fold from 0.02 in 1995 to 1.32 in 2000. The rates in Shenzhen are said to be between 1 and 3 percent. STDs are rapidly increasing, with an officially acknowledged count of 859,000 in 2000. Among this category, the infection rate rose fifty-five fold from 0.02 in 1995 to 1.1 in 2000. A 2001 survey alarmingly found that of 800 prostitutes interviewed in Sichuan and Yunnan, two in five had never had a health check, while over half did not consult doctors when they contracted sexually transmitted diseases.89 In the homosexual community, the HIV infection rate is thought to be between 1 and 5 percent.90 The HIV infection rate should be slowing among former plasma donors since the government ended the blood donation practice, a problem that has affected some ten provinces. One county survey showed an infection rate of 9.1 percent. The problem in these areas is particularly acute as the program began almost ten years ago and was only drawn to a halt recently. Thus, these communities are now facing the problem of taking care of those who are becoming very sick. Official accounts mention 2,026 AIDS orphans in Henan, while unofficial guesstimates suggest as many as 200,000.91 In the past, China has been very successful in dealing with communicable and epidemic diseases. Such outbreaks accounted for only 5 percent of fatalities in 1998 compared with 23 percent in India.92 While tuberculosis still claims around one-quarter of a million lives per year, China has dealt well with such health problems given its level of economic development. However, the health sector has not fared well under reforms as incentives have changed and the rural health system has begun to focus more on expensive, curative care rather than inexpensive preventive medical care. The 2000 World Health Report ranked China 188 out of 191 countries in terms of fairness in financial contributions, 144th for the overall performance of the health system, and 139th in terms of healthcare expenditure per capita in international dollars. While ranked above most African countries, it is ranked below other large developing countries such as India, Bangladesh, and Indonesia. In terms of health quality achieved, it ranks better (61), but this may be because of the residual impact of the old collective medical system.93 As noted above, China’s behavioral patterns are conducive to further spread of the disease. With the decline in both government capacity and control over individual behavior, HIV/AIDS might be more difficult for the Chinese government to come to terms with. Chinese officials want to keep the number of infections to fewer than 1.5 million by the year 2010. Unless a major program is implemented, such as the one that Thailand has undertaken, the achievement of this goal seems unlikely. If China were to keep the rate of new infections down to the levels of

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Thailand, in the 2 to 3 percent range, by 2020 China might have an infected population of around 27.5 million.94 If it were to slip over the next fifteen years, in the way that South Africa did to a rate of over 20 percent, we would be looking at an infected population in excess of 275 million. The South African scenario might be implausibly high, but even at half that rate (10 percent), we are looking at an infected population of 130 million by the year 2020. Wolf and his colleagues calculate an optimistic total of 14 million by 2015 and a pessimistic assessment of 60 million.95 These figures will have a significant effect on mortality in China and will change the demographics of death. Under their most pessimistic scenario, by 2020–2025, China would be experiencing almost 6 million AIDS deaths per year; it would be 800,000 under the most optimistic scenario.96 According to the U.S. Census Bureau, China’s total mortality in the year 2000 was around 9 million. Calculations based on the current Chinese official figures of numbers of deaths of those who have fully contracted AIDS (around 33 percent) render a cumulative total for those infected of 9 million at the 2 percent rate and 43 million at the 10 percent rate.97 Even the lowest of these calculations would make HIV/AIDS a much more significant killer than tuberculosis, viral hepatitis, and malaria have been. To put this into perspective, viral hepatitis has the highest incidence rate with 0.6 per 1,000 followed by pulmonary tuberculosis at 0.44 per 1,000, with mortality rates of 0.11 and 0.17 percent respectively.98 The consequences of these trends for the PLA could be quite profound. If the higher rates for HIV/AIDS come to pass, then the impact on Chinese society will be severe. Even the lower rates will result in the loss of breadwinners in many families and a rise in AIDS orphans. The impact on individual households will be significant, but the disease will also affect the youngest in the workforce. Prior to 2000, 56.9 percent of those infected were between the ages of twenty and twenty-nine, with a further 24.1 percent between the ages of thirty and thirtynine.99 Given the overall aging of Chinese society that was outlined above, this could have a dramatic impact on the future workforce, making the costs of caring for an increasingly aging society even more difficult with further reduced dependency ratios. This not only will weaken the microeconomy, but also will undermine institutions of government. It could threaten social stability in China, which might cause the PLA to take on a stronger governing role or require it to intervene to prevent social unrest. However, the PLA itself will not be immune from the impact of HIV/AIDS. The PLA recognizes this and started testing new recruits for HIV/AIDS in 2001.100 The PLA has been especially concerned about its troops stationed in Yunnan Province.101 Cases from sub-Saharan Africa show that the army is highly susceptible to infections and that, if anything, rates are higher in militaries than among the civilian population. The infection rates among the militaries in Zimbabwe, Swaziland, Malawi, and Zambia are roughly 20, 15, 35, and 40 percent higher, respectively, than for civilian populations in those countries. Not all military HIV rates are higher, however. The figures for South Africa are roughly the

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same for both military and civilians, while those for the military in Botswana are about 5 percent lower than for the civilian population.102 For the PLA, an overall infection rate of 2 percent would give a total of 50,000 infections, while a 10 percent rate would give a total number of 250,000 infections, based on 2.5 million PLA personnel. If, however, the rates in the PLA are significantly higher than in the general population, we could be dealing with a total number of infections ranging from 500,000 (20 percent) to 1 million (40 percent).103 Given the availability of cheap labor in China, such high infection rates might not be so devastating for the PLA, as there would still be a large pool of potential recruits to draw from. However, this ignores the costs of training new recruits and the knowledge lost by death or dismissal, not to mention the effect on morale. Finally, there is strong evidence to suggest that the officer corps is even more susceptible to HIV/AIDS than regular soldiers. In some sub-Saharan militaries, infection rates among the officer corps may even be as high as 80 percent.104 Even much lower rates would be devastating for the officer corps in the PLA. Should HIV/AIDS expand in society at large, the PLA would have to institute a strong monitoring system to prevent the spread of the disease into the military. Concluding Comments It is difficult to quantify how the social trends outlined in this chapter will affect the PLA. The direct and indirect impacts discussed above fall into three categories that will operate with different intensity at different times. First, domestic instability arising from increasing levels of unemployment and inequality as well as the massive social shift of urbanizing some 300 to 500 million Chinese is a consequence that will most likely play out in the short to medium term. Whether or not the trends outlined in this chapter will lead to significant instability will depend on other factors, such as the general growth rate of the economy and whether China’s elite remains unified. These factors cannot be taken for granted, and it is worth remembering how rapidly China’s urban population deserted the traditional party apparatus in 1989 once the students had begun their demonstrations.105 In 1989, the military command structure held up well once there was a clear decision by the civilian leadership to act decisively to end the demonstrations, but that is no guarantee for the future.106 Since 1989, good propaganda and rapid economic growth have enabled many social problems to be smoothed over and have eased leadership tensions. Absent strong economic growth, it is unclear whether leadership divisions over the path forward would again come to the fore, with factions mobilizing different sectors of society to their support. Should instability occur, it would cause the PLA to focus on internal rather than international security concerns such as North Korea. Loss of active support from China to resolve the North Korea problem would complicate the attempts of the United States and others to bring about a peaceful resolution. With respect to Taiwan, increasing domestic unrest might cause a more strident nationalism to rise to the fore to underpin leadership legitimacy and to try

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to force domestic cohesion. Finally, the rising inequality in China, resulting in a relatively small percentage of “haves” with a much larger group of “have-nots” could lead to the PLA becoming an army in defense of a Communist Party that represents the nation’s new coastal, urban, bureaucratic, and business elites. Evolution in the direction of earlier Latin American dictatorships would then be more likely than the emergence of an East Asian form of democracy. A second set of challenges is essentially budgetary, and will be caused by the aging of the Chinese population and the need to pour more money into pension schemes and healthcare for the elderly. The impact here will not be seen fully for some ten or fifteen years, and if China has managed to get through these years of transition without significant social instability, the costs of an aging population could be easier to absorb. The lack of instability should mean that high economic growth has been maintained, and this would ease the financial burden somewhat. However, decisions will clearly have to be made about financial allocations. Although the PLA may reduce personnel, one should presume that the costs of the remaining personnel would increase, as will those of the necessary military hardware that China will wish to purchase. One advantage for the outside world may be that an aging Chinese population could be a more tranquil population, and perhaps one less willing to support an aggressive and adventurous military policy. The impact of a potential HIV/AIDS epidemic that might cause social dislocation and create havoc with the PLA could coincide with the need to fund the rising costs of an aging population. If the scale of the epidemic were significant, this could produce a worst-case scenario in which the diversion of funds to deal with impact mitigation and treatment at a time when increasing numbers of people are retiring would place an intolerable strain on the budget, resulting in reduced military spending at a time when one can expect military hardware to become increasingly expensive. Notes I would like to thank Melanie Strauss for her research assistance in preparing this draft and also for her valuable suggestions for improvement. 1. James Mulvenon, Professionalization of the Senior Chinese Officer Corps: Trends and Implications (Santa Monica, CA: Rand, 1997). 2. We shall not go into the detail of the budgets here, as this is the subject of a separate chapter by Joseph Fewsmith. 3. The policy was not applied uniformly and was not applied to minority households. In most of the countryside, de facto policy was for two children or even three. 4. State Statistical Bureau, Zhongguo tongji nianjian (China statistical yearbook) (Beijing: China Statistics Press, 2003), p. 96. 5. India will age even more quickly at 14.3 years. See P.S. Hewitt, “The Geopolitics of Global Aging,” Harvard Generations Policy Journal, The Age Explosion: Baby Boomers and Beyond 1 (Winter 2004): 103. 6. P. Heller and S. Symansky, “Implications for Savings of Aging in the Asian ‘Tigers,’” International Monetary Fund Working Paper, WP/97/136 (1997).

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7. K.C. Cheng, “Economic Implications of China’s Demographics in the 21st Century,” International Monetary Fund Working Paper, WP/03/29 (2003). 8. Lin Fude and Zhai Zhenwu, eds., Zhaoxiang ershiyi shiji de Zhongguo renkou huanjing yu fazhan (China’s population, environment and development toward the twentyfirst century) (Beijing: Higher Education Press, 1996). 9. Zhu Chuzhu, Li Shuzhuo, Qiu Changrong, Hu Ping, and Jin Anrong, The Dual Effects of the Family Planning Programme on Chinese Women (Xi’an: Xi’an Jiaotong University Press, 1997), p. 139. 10. Zeng Yi, James Vaupel, Xiao Zhenyu, Zhang Chunyuan, and Liu Yuzhi, “Sociodemographic and Health Profiles of the Oldest Old in China,” Population and Development Review 28, no. 2 (June 2002): 251. 11. Richard Jackson and Neil Howe, The Graying of the Middle Kingdom: The Demographics and Economics of Retirement Policy in China (Washington, DC: Center for Strategic and International Studies, 2004), pp. 2–3. 12. Zeng et al., “Sociodemographic and Health Profiles,” 251. 13. B.B. Torrey, “Sharing Increasing Costs on Declining Income: The Visible Dilemma of the Invisible Aged,” in The Oldest Old, ed. R.M. Suzman, David P. Willis, and Kenneth Manton (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992), p. 382. 14. Jackson and Howe, The Graying of the Middle Kingdom, pp. 2–3. 15. Zhang Kaimin, “Shanghai renkou laonianhua de fazhan” (The development of Shanghai’s aging population”), unpublished paper, 2001. The general definition used by the United Nations for an aged society is 10 percent. Wuhan has a similar trend with 11.23 percent of its population over sixty at the end of 1998. See Wuhan Municipal People’s Congress Education, Science and Culture Committee, “Wuhan shi renkou laonianhua wenti ji duice” (Problems and countermeasures of the aging of Wuhan municipality’s population) (Wuhan: n.p., 1999). 16. Zhang “Shanghai renkou laonianhua de fazhan.” 17. More seriously, there are now concerted policy suggestions that China should abandon the one-child policy. It has already been seriously moderated for children of one-child families who are now marrying. It appears that the senior leadership is not willing to halt the program at the moment but will sanction experiments in a number of jurisdictions to lift the restrictions and to monitor the outcome. Source: Interviews with those in the Family Planning System involved with the reforms, January and May 2004. 18. Anonymous, “21 shiji de Zhongguo laonianhua wenti: women gai ruhe yingdui?” (The problem of aging in China in the twenty-first century: How should we respond?), n.p. 19. Lin and Zhai, China’s Population, Environment and Development, p. 349. 20. In Shanghai, the rate was already 19.8 percent in 1991 and had risen to over 25 percent by 1993 (Zhang, “Shanghai renkou”). In many of the old industrial areas of the Northeast and Sichuan the rate was above 20 percent. For example, in Jiamusi (Heilongjiang Province) the contribution rate was often above 33 percent of the total wage bill. See “Pension Reform in China: Weighing the Alternatives” (Harvard University Kennedy School of Government, 1999), Case Program 1547.0. 21. Athar Hussein, “Demographic Transition in China and Its Implications,” World Development 30, no. 10 (2002): 1828. 22. China Statistical Yearbook (2003), p. 104. 23. Hussein, “Demographic Transition in China and Its Implications,” 1830. 24. See World Bank, Old Age Security: Pension Reform in China (Washington, DC: World Bank, 1997); and ZhaoYaohui and Xu Jianguo, “Alternative Transition Paths in the Chinese Urban Pension System,” China Center for Economic Research, Working Paper, 1999. 25. William Hurst and Kevin J. O’Brien, “China’s Contentious Pensioners,” China Quarterly, no. 170 (June 2002). 26. World Bank, Old Age Security; Wang Yan, Xu Dingqing, Wang Zhi, and Fan Zhai,

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“Implicit Pension Debt, Transitional Cost, Options and Impact of China’s Pension Reform,” Working Paper 2555 (Washington, DC: World Bank, 2001); M.C. Dorfman and Y. Sin, “China’s Social Security Reform, Technical Analysis of Strategic Options,” Human Development Network (Washington, DC: World Bank, December 2000). 27. Ma Jun and Zhai Fan, “Financing China’s Pension Reform,” paper delivered at the conference “Financial Sector Reform in China,” Harvard University, Kennedy School of Government, 2001. 28. Zhao and Xu, “Alternative Transition Paths.” 29. Zeng Yi, Tu Ping, Gu Boachang, Xu Li, Li Bohua, and Li Yongping, “Causes and Implications of the Recent Increase in the Reported Sex Ratio at Birth in China,” Population and Development Review 19, no. 2 (1993). 30. Li Yongping, “Sex Ratios of Infants and Relations with Socioeconomic Variables: The Results of China’s 1990 Census and Implications,” unpublished paper, 1992. 31. Zhang Y., “Jingzhong: woguo nuer chusheng xingbie zai chixu shangsheng” (Warning: An imbalance of the sex ratio in China), in 2003 nian: Zhongguo shehui xingshi fenxi yuce (2003: Circumstances and analysis of Chinese society), ed. Ru Xin et al. (Beijing: Social Sciences Documentation Publishing House, 2003). 32. Zhu et al., The Dual Effects of Family Planning, p. 88. 33. South China Morning Post, Internet edition, August 25, 2003. 34. China Daily, January 26, 2004. 35. Financial Times, November 27, 2003. 36. These figures do not include the 2.5 million personnel in the military services who are not classified as either urban or rural. This compares to the urbanization rate of the United Kingdom in the 1880s, the United States in 1911, and Japan in 1950. 37. Zhou Yixing and Laurence J.C. Ma, “China’s Urbanization Levels: Reconstructing a Baseline from the Fifth Population Census,” China Quarterly, no. 173 (March 2003): 177. 38. Zhou and Ma, “China’s Urbanization Levels,” 196. 39. Wang Mengkui, quoted in Financial Times, November 27, 2003. 40. David Shambaugh, Modernizing China’s Military: Progress, Problems, and Prospects (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2002), p. 191. 41. Some of this steep decline might be accounted for by early retirements and some SOEs being reclassified as collective or private enterprises. Yet, during the same period, employment in the urban collective sector fell by 18.6 million (nearly 60 percent). 42. Zhang Guo and Lin Shanlang, Zhongguo fazhan wenti baogao (Report on problems in China’s development) (Beijing: China Social Sciences Press, 2001), p. 326; Sarah Cook and Susan Jolly, Unemployment, Poverty and Gender in Urban China: Perceptions and Experiences of Laid Off Workers in Three Chinese Cities, Institute of Development Studies, Research Report no. 50, 2001; Athar Hussein, Urban Poverty in the PRC, Asian Development Bank, Project no. TAR PRC 33448, 2002. 43. The 20–25 percent figure came from an interview with Feng Lanrui, July 1998. See also Charles Wolf Jr., K.C. Yeh, Benjamin Zychev, Nicholas Eberstadt, and Sung-ho Lee, Fault Lines in China’s Economic Terrain (Santa Monica, CA: Rand, 2003), p. 13. For an excellent review of why it is so difficult to calculate real unemployment figures in China, see Dorothy J. Solinger, “Why We Cannot Count the ‘Unemployed,’” China Quarterly, no. 167 (September 2001). 44. Hu Angang, quoted in China Quarterly (“Chronicle and Documentation” section), no. 162 (June 2000): 611. 45. People’s Daily, July 26, 2003. 46. Wolf et al., Fault Lines, pp. 13–14. 47. Quoted in Dorothy Solinger, “Chinese Urban Jobs and the WTO,” China Journal, no. 49 (January 2003): 67.

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48. State Statistical Bureau, China Statistical Yearbook (2003), pp. 126–127. 49. Ibid., p. 127. 50. Hu Angang, “Kuaru xin shiji de zuida tiaozhan: woguo jinru gao shiye jieduan” (The greatest challenge entering the new century: Our nation will enter a phase of high unemployment), Chinese Academy of Sciences and Tsinghua University, Center for National Conditions Report, no. 48 (July 1999), p. 2. 51. Hu Angang, “China’s Present Economic Situation and Its Macroeconomic Policies,” prepared for the Rand Corporation’s “China Reform” Conference (November 2001), p. 10. 52. China Daily, January 9, 2002. 53. All China Federation, 1999, as quoted in M.J. Blecher, “Hegemony and Workers’ Politics in China,” China Quarterly, no. 170 (June 2002): 284. 54. Blecher, “Hegemony and Workers’ Politics.” 55. The other three for urban China were: controlling corruption, helping families in distress, and medical insurance. In smaller towns and rural areas they were: controlling corruption, tax revenue management, and helping families in distress. See Zhongguo jumin pingjia zhengfu ji zhengfu gonggong fuwu yanjiu baogao (Research report on citizens’ attitudes to government and government provision of public goods) (Beijing: Horizon, 2003). This was a national survey completed with Asia Programs, Harvard University, Kennedy School of Government. 56. Beijing Review, March 20, 2003, p. 14. 57. State Statistical Bureau, China Statistical Yearbook (2003), pp. 126–127. 58. South China Morning Post, July 17, 2002. 59. G.H Chang, “The Cause and Cure of China’s Widening Income Disparity,” China Economic Review 13, no. 4 (2002): 336. 60. As quoted in the South China Morning Post, Internet edition, February 26, 2004, and at http://english.peopledaily.com.cn, February 25, 2004. 61. The Gini coefficient is a number between zero and one that is a measure of inequality. For example, well-known unequal societies such as Brazil and Mexico remain higher (0.61 and 0.52 respectively), but the figure is above India (0.38), Thailand (0.44), and Indonesia (0.32). See Heng Quan, “China’s Income Distribution Change During the Transition,” presented at Harvard University, Kennedy School of Government (2002), p. 4. 62. People’s Daily, August 31, 2002. 63. Lu Xueyi, ed., Dangdai Zhongguo shehui jieceng yanjiu baogao (Research report on China’s social strata) (Beijing: Social Sciences Documentation Press, 2001), pp. 93–94. A study looking at city and townships shows a similar picture with the 20 percent of households with the highest income accounting for 38.1 percent of total income in 1990 and rising to 52.3 percent in 1998. See Li Peilin and Zhang Yi, “Xiaofei fenceng: qidong jingji de zhongyao shidian” (Consumption stratification: An important perspective for stimulating economic development), Zhongguo shehui kexue (China social science), no. 1 (2000). 64. See South China Morning Post, February 26, 2004. 65. Zhu Ling, “Who Can Provide the Farmers with Medical Services?” Liaowang (Outlook), no. 16 (April 2000): 41–43. 66. World Bank, Country Report: China (Washington, DC: World Bank, 1996), p. 127. 67. This is actually less than expenditures on education. For major municipalities, educational spending accounted for 24.6 percent. For those in rural China, it was 17.4 percent. See “Research Report on Citizens’ Attitudes.” 68. “An Integrated Approach to Reducing Poverty in China,” United Nations Development Program in collaboration with the ILO, 2002, pp. 21–22. 69. China uses a norm of $0.66 per day. See Asian Development Bank, Country Economic Review: People’s Republic of China (2001). 70. World Bank, World Development Report 2000–2001: Attacking Poverty (Washington, DC: World Bank, 2001), p. 280.

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71. Hong Dayong, “Gaige yilai Zhongguo chengshi fupin gongzuo de fazhan licheng” (The development process of the alleviation of poverty in urban China since reforms), Shehuixue Yanjiu (Sociology research), no. 1 (2003). Li Peilin suggests that there are 30 million in urban China with a monthly income of 150 to 300 yuan (0.83 cents to $1.20 per day). See Li Peilin, “Quanmian jianshe xiaokang shehui de sige guanjian wenti” (Four key issues in completely establishing a comfortable society), Lingdao Canyue (Leadership consultations), no. 10 (April 2003). I am grateful to Dorothy Solinger for pointing out this source. 72. Tony Saich, “SARS: China’s Chernobyl or Much Ado About Nothing?” in SARS in China, ed. A. Kleinman and J. Watson (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2005). 73. This is best exemplified by Premier Wen Jiabao’s visit to HIV/AIDS patients at Ditan Hospital in Beijing on National AIDS Day 2003. 74. Most prevalently in Yunnan, because of intravenous drug use, and Henan, because of those who have sold blood in villages. 75. Yunnan and Henan have reported in excess of 5,000 cases while Xinjiang, Guangxi, and Sichuan have reported in the range of 1,000 to 5,000. 76. Lindy Heinecken, “Facing a Merciless Enemy: HIV/AIDS and the South African Armed Forces,” Armed Forces and Society 29, no. 2 (Winter 2003). 77. Yuan Yue, Dixia xing gongzuozhe (Underground commercial sex workers) (Beijing: China Braille Press, 2003). 78. Wolf et al., Fault Lines, p. 56. 79. China Ministry of Health, The Control of HIV/AIDS Epidemic in China (Beijing: Ministry of Health, 2003), p. 1. 80. Han Mengjie, presentation to HIV/AIDS Public Policy Training Workshop, Beijing, January 2004. 81. Zhang Konglai, “HIV/AIDS in China,” in Health Care, East and West, Moving into the 21st Century, ed. Zong Shujie and Nelson Y.S. Kiang (Beijing: China Science and Technology Press, 2002), p. 306. 82. Zhang, “HIV/AIDS in China,” p. 307; Han, presentation to HIV/AIDS Workshop. 83. Xinhua, February 1, 2004. 84. Chinese Ministry of Health and UN Theme Group on HIV/AIDS, A Joint Assessment of HIV/AIDS Prevention, Treatment, and Care in China, Ministry of Health and UNAIDS (2003), p. 12. 85. Pan Suiming, “AIDS in China: The Possibility of Sexual Transmission of AIDS,” presented to the First China Congress on AIDS/STDs, p. 5. 86. All statistics in this section are based on Han, presentation to HIV/AIDS Workshop, unless otherwise noted. 87. Ministry of Health and UN Theme Group on HIV/AIDS, A Joint Assessment of HIV/ AIDS Prevention, p. 10. 88. The higher estimate is from the World Health Organization. 89. The Shenzhen figures came from an interview with a scholar, January 2004. See also Yuan, Underground Commercial Sex Workers. 90. Ministry of Health and UN Theme Group on HIV/AIDS, A Joint Assessment of HIV/ AIDS Prevention. 91. China Daily, February 14–15, 2004; Alice Park, “China’s Secret Plague,” Time Magazine, December 15, 2003. 92. Wolf et al., Fault Lines, p. 45. 93. World Health Organization, World Health Report: Report of the Director-General 2000 (Geneva: World Health Organization, 2001), p. 152. 94. For year-end 1999 adult prevalence rates see UNAIDS, Report on the Global HIV/ AIDS Epidemic: June 2000. Available at www.unaids.org/epidemic_update/report/ Epi_report.pdf. 95. Wolf et al., Fault Lines, pp. 64–65.

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96. Ibid., pp. 65–66. 97. State Statistical Bureau, China Statistical Yearbook (2003), p. 812. 98. Traffic accidents killed 109,381 people in 2002. See ibid., p. 830. 99. Zhang, “HIV/AIDS in China,” p. 307. For example, official figures for drug users for 2003 cite 72.2 percent of the 1.05 million users as being under thirty-five years of age. See China Daily, February 13, 2004. 100. Shanghai Morning Post, April 15, 2001. 101. Chengdu xinan guofang yiyao (Chengdu southwest national defense medical journal) 10, no. 6. 102. Heinecken, “Facing a Merciless Enemy,” p. 284. 103. This is based on the 2 percent scenario with the higher rates based on the infection rates in the African military. Admittedly, it is unlikely that there would be such a large discrepancy as can be seen with rates of civilian infection of 2 percent and military infection rates 20 to 40 percent higher. It would seem likely that there would have to be a much higher base within the civilian sector for the military rates to take off so dramatically. However, with a civilian rate nearing 10 percent, these projections are not so unrealistic. 104. Heinecken, “Facing a Merciless Enemy,” p. 284. 105. Tony Saich, ed., The Chinese People’s Movement: Perspectives on Spring 1989 (Armonk, NY: M.E. Sharpe, 1990). 106. For a range of views on the military’s role see T. Brook, Quelling the People: The Military Suppression of the Beijing Democracy Movement (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992); A. Scobell, “Why the People’s Army Fired on the People: The Chinese Military and Tiananmen,” Armed Forces and Society 18, no. 2 (Winter 1992); and M. Byrnes, “The Death of a People’s Army,” in The Broken Mirror: China After Tiananmen, ed. George Hicks (Harrow, U.K.: Longman, 1990).

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2 The Impact of Social Changes on the PLA A Chinese Military Perspective Xiaobing Li

Compared with other areas of Chinese military reform, civil-military relations have changed little in the past twenty-five years (1978–2003).1 However, the tremendous social changes under way in China today have led to the realization on the part of the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) that military modernization is taking place within the greater context of an ever-changing China, and within the constraints of what Chinese society at large can support. Defense analysts and military experts in China agree that incorporating demographic, economic, urbanization, and health factors is as important as heeding technological change where military reform is concerned. The change in China’s social environment and the PLA’s recognition of these factors as influencing civil-military relations raises several questions. First, what are the new issues in civil-military relations? Second, how does the PLA view these ongoing changes in Chinese society? Does the PLA realize that a new milieu in China has strong implications for PLA institutions and their own reform aspirations? This chapter explores these questions by examining the PLA’s perspective on some of the major changes taking place in Chinese society today, including demographic trends, a mixed economy, social stratification, and health issues. It presents the military’s view on the tension between an agriculture-oriented society and the challenges and pressure from industrial and urban transitions. It also points to the tension between building the economy and reforming the military, arising from the Chinese thinking of building both a “strong military and a rich country.” New Swimmers and “Only-Child” Symptoms In recent years, military experts have emphasized that China’s social changes require them to reform the army and modernize national defense accordingly. Major General Li Bingyan describes China as a developing society with “a relatively poor economic 26

THE IMPACT OF SOCIAL CHANGES ON THE PLA

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foundation,” huge population, and “underdeveloped productive forces.” Despite these issues, China is experiencing an unprecedented social transition.2 Though military views on China’s social transition vary, there is a general consensus that the country has completed its demographic transition, and has moved from high birth and death rates to low birth and death rates with an interstitial spurt in population growth.3 Fertility Transition and the “Only-Child” Army Since the implementation of the “one-child” family planning policy, the average fertility rate has dropped from six children per family in the 1970s, to two per family in 2000, to about 1.44 per family in 2002 (see Figure 2.1).4 This is largely attributable to the prevalence of contraception, the compulsory use of sterilization in some communities, and the practice of induced abortion, which has been made widely available. In addition, violators of the “one-child” policy pay a heavy fine of about RMB 3,000 (about US$375, equivalent to an average one-year income in rural areas), plus loss of all benefits.5 As a result, by 2002, China had successfully shifted from a high-fertility to a low-fertility society. The symptoms of an “only-child” society appeared by the 1990s, and the PLA began to demonstrate similar symptoms in the late 1990s. Defense analyst Zhang Zhaozhong states that the PLA has many “only-child” soldiers.6 These soldiers began to serve in the PLA in the early 1990s, and their numbers have steadily increased ever since. They consisted of 20.6 percent of the Chinese forces in 1996,

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Figure 2.2

Soldiers Who Are Only Children

60

52.4 Percentage of the PLA made up of only children

50 46

48

50

42.5 40

31.2

30

20

20.6

10

0 1994

1996

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2008

31.2 percent by 1997, and 42.5 percent by 1998.7 By the year 2006, they will make up 52.4 percent of the PLA (see Figure 2.2). A frequently asked question is whether these soldiers’ combat training and fighting ability is in any way affected by their only-child status. A study by the political department of a group army in the Shenyang Military Region yielded mixed results. The group army became one of the six key strategic heavy units in the spring of 1999 when the Central Military Commission (CMC) of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) decided to concentrate resources on developing “pockets of excellence.”8 Its political department studied the newly reformed group army’s physical, psychological, and discipline conditions after the completion of its reorganization in 2001. Upon the political department’s request, each division collected the information and conducted primary research on several subjects.9 Regarding the only-child soldiers, the study shows that, on one hand, there is little significant difference in the personality, training records, and service achievement of only-child and non-only-child soldiers, especially those from rural areas. In technological training, only-child soldiers seem to outperform non-only-child sol-

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diers in verbal tests, communication skills, and computer skills. The study attributes its findings to two factors. First, social attitudes toward only children have likely changed as they became the norm in the late 1990s and early 2000s. The result is that these young men may be less spoiled than the only children who joined the PLA in the beginning stage of the implementation of the “one-child” policy in the 1980s. Second, in the “furnace of revolution” or a “team-work atmosphere,” the army has likely reduced parental influences and self-importance of the only children through political work and education provided by division, regiment, and battalion officers, and through group-oriented experience in their company, platoon, and squad.10 On the other hand, the study identified several “only-child” issues that are present in the PLA. For example, some of the only-child soldiers were less cooperative with peers and more egocentric than non-only-child soldiers. In some units, their personal drill and detachment training are good, but their performance in tactics coordination training is poor. Some became reluctant to participate during highrisk training because they were afraid of a possible injury. One division had seven soldiers who feigned illness to avoid service when their companies fought the wildfires in the Daxinganling Mountains in Heilongjiang Province. Six of the seven soldiers were only children. The only-child soldiers’ clinic and hospital visits are twice those of non-only-child soldiers. The study appealed to the PLA command to prevent the army of only children from becoming spoiled.11 Household Structure Change and Gender Imbalance The demographic transition in China brought about by the one-child policy is not happening in a vacuum. It is intertwined with a group of demographic transitions, including fertility, family-household, and age transitions. The family-household transition takes place as a result of combined changes that accompany lower mortality and fertility rates. The salient characteristics of the family-household transition are marked by increasing age of first marriage, fewer children, high divorce rate, cohabitation, birth out of wedlock, and a transition from “family building by fate” to “family building by design.”12 Despite a divorce rate lower than that in Western countries, the pace of divorce in China seems to be increasing. In 1985, the divorce rate was 0.9 per thousand. Ten years later in 1995, it had doubled, rising to 1.8 per thousand.13 This graph of the divorce rate in Figure 2.3 shows an almost perfect linear regression line. In view of this, it is reasonable to assume that if conditions such as gender imbalance and other symptoms of an only-child society remain unchanged, a “higher divorce rate could be speculated” in the years to come.14 Another indication of family-household structure change is the rise in age at first marriage. The mean age at first marriage for men has been increasing steadily (see Figure 2.4). For rural areas, it went up three years, from 18 in the 1950s to 21 in the 1980s, and to 22 years of age in the 1990s. For urban areas it went up four years, from 19 in the 1950s, to 22 in the 1980s, and to 25 in the 1990s.15

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Figure 2.3 Increasing Divorce Rate 2 1.9 1.8 1.8 1.6 1.5

Divorce rate per 1,000

1.4 1.3 1.2 1.1 1 0.9 0.8 0.6 0.4 0.2 0 1984

Figure 2.4

1986

1988

1990

1992

1994

1996

1998

2000

Mean Age at First Marriage

30

25

Mean age

20

Urban

15

Rural

10

5

0 1950

1955

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1965

1970

1975

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1981

1982

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In the PLA, the increase in age at first marriage and the female–male gender imbalance means that most of the military’s 1 million conscripts are neither married nor engaged. Lt. General Qin Chaoying said that many conscripts did not have a girlfriend back home during their service and, afraid of becoming “unmarriageable males,” many of them want to leave the service after their second conscript year.16 His concern is confirmed by a Hebei Military District survey. The district command sent out a survey form to the conscripts in three of its regiments looking for potential volunteers and noncommissioned officers. According to the returned surveys, about 32 percent of the conscripts would take an early retirement before the completion of their service if such an offer was available.17 Only 19 percent of soldiers thought about continuing service after their second year and changing their status from a conscript to a volunteer. Qin believed that the volunteer rates were even lower among the troops in the cities and developed coastal areas than those of the Hebei troops stationed in the rural areas between Cang Zhou and Lang Fang. Shifting Age Structure and Care of the Elderly The demographic impact of the one-child policy also affects the PLA officer corps. It is estimated that only-child officers will make up half of the officer corps between 2010 and 2020. The Hebei Military District survey provides a mixed report on the only-child officers. In general, it holds the positive view that the only-child officers are better educated, with at least a high school diploma and broad knowledge. Believing in competition and self-improvement, they are eager to learn and open to new ideas. Many of them are interested in technological improvement and military reforms.18 The survey also reports that some of the only-child officers, being liberal and democratic, emphasize individual competition and equal opportunity. Some dislike political control and describe political conservatism and personal autocracy as “controlling,” “demanding,” “oversimplified and crude.” They project a new and contrasting spirit. Nevertheless, in recent years their retention level has been lower than that of non-only-child officers. The low retention level of the only-child officer corps may be partially due to the aging of the Chinese population and a new “4–2–1” family-household structure (four grandparents, two parents, and one child). According to an elderly sampling survey in Henan Province, the task of supporting the parents and even grandparents falls on the shoulders of the only children.19 In today’s China, family members such as children and spouses are still seen as primary sources of economic support to the elderly. The urban elderly are less financially dependent on their adult children than those in rural areas.20 Another study of the elderly in Henan divides elderly income into three categories: the low/no-income group that survives on a monthly amount of RMB 45 (about US$6) and below, a middle-income group with RMB 100 (about US$12), and a high-income group with RMB 100 and above.21 There are large disparities

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between the urban and rural elderly. About 81 percent of rural elderly reported having low or no income, compared to 36 percent for urban elderly. Only 18 percent of rural elderly had middle-group income, compared to 37 percent for urbanites. And only 1 percent of the rural elderly reported high income, compared to 27 percent of their urban counterparts. Another study of a rural village further indicated that the shrinking families in the rural areas make it more difficult for family members to provide either financial or physical elderly care.22 Due to absence of an economic protection system, the existing elderly support system will be increasingly insufficient in satisfying the financial and physical needs of the elderly, especially the vast number of rural elderly. Although the Hebei Military District survey does not explain why the onlychild officers have a low retention rate, it is reasonable to assume that the lack of a social welfare and retirement system pressures officers to retire early and accept a better-paying job outside the military in order to support their parents now and themselves later. China introduced social welfare in the 1950s. Yet this welfare is only for state sectors, namely, only for workers who are employed by the state and entitled to this pension after retirement. In rural areas, only a very small portion (about 8 million) of retired workers and staff members collect their pensions.23 The Chinese wage system for workers is built upon seniority. Therefore, by the time a worker is ready to retire, he/she will have reached one of the higher wages on the pay scale. About 80 percent of the Chinese living in rural areas are not covered by the retirement system that provides services for the urban elderly—in fact, only 6 percent of the rural elderly are included in the “Five Guarantees Program.”24 With the implementation in 1978 of the “Responsibility System,” elderly in rural areas began receiving some kind of pension through a variety of sources such as village or township businesses. Since this kind of pension is unstable and difficult to predict, the elderly still depend on their children and relatives. At the turn of the century, some changes took place in China’s approach toward care for the elderly. The traditional intergenerational support approach, for example, is gradually being replaced by an investment approach. The nature of the new program for the elderly is shifting from welfare to self-protection, where the aged are entitled to receive benefits based on their own contributions. Some private pension arrangements are being developed. Other annuity-like old-age insurance policies have also appeared in recent years, though most peasants have no confidence in them. These changes, however, may be too little and too late for the only-child officers. An aging population is becoming a real pressure for China in the new century, and, largely because of this pressure, the Chinese government is starting to relax the one-child policy. In large cities such as Shanghai, for example, the more relaxed policy allows one-child couples to have a second child.25 Some cities allow couples to have two children as long as the births are five years apart. In rural areas, some villages have abolished birth permits (a quota system), allowing couples

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to decide on their own when to have a baby. The government also encourages local officials to initiate and fund their own pilot projects on family planning, with the expectation of achieving both population reduction and stability. The first Family Planning Law, adopted in September 2002, allows provinces and municipalities to set up local regulations. Couples meeting special provisions may be allowed a second child.26 Some local governments already had laws to that effect. For example, the Anhui provincial government recently passed regulations allowing thirteen categories of couples to apply to have a second child, while some can have a third or more. A planning officer at the PLA General Political Department believes that a “two-child program” will be safely and quickly implemented in the entire country.27 That means another sharp turn in demographic trends after 2020. In Uncertain Waters: The Mixed Economy Generally speaking, the PLA views China’s economic reforms as favorable and necessary for military reform. In theory, it follows the principle that defense building must be subordinate to and serve national economic development, and the two causes should be promoted in a coordinated manner. Based on this, the country works to ensure the mutual progress and coordinated development of both economic and military modernization. General Xiong Guangkai said at a conference that a growing national economy needs a strong national defense, and a strong economy can support and contribute to a strong military. He stated, “We will, on the premise of making economic development our central task, appropriately increase the input in national defense and army building along with the incremental growth of the aggregate national strength, thus providing a solid material basis for modernizing national defense and the armed forces.” Xiong also used the popular Chinese saying, “he who has wealth speaks louder than others” (Caida qicu).28 Other defense experts agree and consider economic development to be the first and foremost task of the CCP in its efforts to govern and rebuild the country. They believe that only by firmly concentrating on economic development can they solve all of the challenges of national defense building. Without the growth of overall national strength, modernizing the Chinese armed forces is impossible.29 Moreover, Major General Han Yonglu pointed out that a strong national economy could delay a war by deterring a foreign invasion, and that a weak economy could encourage a foreign invasion. China needs more time for its economic construction in a peaceful environment.30 Some Western strategists have made the similar point from a different angle: a poor China with a failing regime would be more dangerous than a strong and stable China.31 Swimming Against the Tide: Economic Problems Chinese analysts worry about potential macroeconomic instability that could lead to larger economic problems. At a recent conference, strategic researchers pointed

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out that macroeconomic instability in the past has successfully been contained through the CCP’s control over economic policy at all levels of the government. Economic and social liberalization, however, has drastically undermined the government’s role and its old-style administrative edicts.32 Because of China’s changing social and economic environment, problems with the Chinese economy might not be sufficiently solved through this failing system. Some major economic threats include inadequate consumer demand, power shortages, renewed commodity price inflation, and overinvestment bubbles. These threats may occur as early as 2005, at the end of the Tenth Five-Year Plan, and the beginning of the Eleventh Five-Year Plan (2005–2010). According to Zhang Haoruo, even though China’s economy enjoyed an annual growth rate of 8.6 percent from 1978 to 2003, twelve conditions may tend to depress economic growth in 2004–2010: unemployment, poverty, social and ethnic unrest, corruption, AIDS and epidemic diseases, limited water resources, pollution, energy cost and price hikes, a weak financial system, state-owned enterprises, a decline in foreign investment, and the conflict in the Taiwan Strait. Even though these serious challenges will not occur simultaneously, Zhang believes that the prevalence of some of the problems is certain, and that each will cause serious trouble in China’s economy and reduce the annual GDP growth rate.33 The conference participants also examined China’s financial system and concluded that bad government loans have created serious financial problems. Financial services, and banking in particular, have not caught up with economic reform. Banks in China are still government institutions that are generally unresponsive to the changes in the economy—a situation that is unlikely to change in the near future. To illustrate this point, four of China’s major national banks are saddled with bad loans that comprise 39 to 60 percent of their total loans.34 The People’s Bank of China, for example, issued a total of 700 billion yuan (about US$88 billion) in supplementary credit loans between 1997 and 2003. Because many of its debtors are bankrupt, the construction projects the bank invested in have failed, and corruption is rampant, The People’s Bank of China has very little hope of collecting on its loans. These bad loans will backfire and have a huge negative impact on the financial market—costing China 1.5 to 1.9 percent of its annual economic growth.35 Gunboat vs. Rice Bowl: Globalization and Privatization Xiong describes “economic globalization” as a “double-edged sword.” The general warns, “It [globalization] plays a positive role in promoting world economic development. However, one must not underestimate its negative impact as it may pose more challenges to underdeveloped countries.” He criticizes those who put undue emphasis on the positive role of economic globalization, assuming that countries that participate in globalization can take a free ride and automatically reap benefits from the free flow of essential factors of production. Xiong uses the Asian

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financial crisis to prove that “hidden perils harmful to economic security may arise from the blind opening-up to foreign countries, the blind pursuit of globalization, and unguarded absorption of foreign capital.”36 Other strategists worry about ongoing privatization as a result of economic reform and globalization. From 1982 to 1999, the Chinese Constitution was revised four times to legalize the status of the private sector in China’s socialist state economy. In 1982, the Constitution recognized “self-employment” merely as a “supplement” to the state economy. In 1988, revisions were made to allow the “existence and growth of private economy” and to recognize “private economy” as a “supplement to the socialist state economy.”37 Further revisions in 1993 included: (1) allowing the household responsibility system to replace people’s communes, and (2) allowing private management of state enterprises.38 The legal status of the private economy was established and clearly noted in the 1999 Constitution: “Nonstate economy, self-employment, private economy, etc. are an important component in the socialist market economy.”39 For the first time, the socialist state economy was redefined as a socialist market economy. The decline of the centralized state economy has led to the state’s losing its center of gravity in terms of manpower and resources. The PLA now faces a competition over resources between “market zone” (shichang) and “war zone” (zhanchang), and between peacetime construction and wartime readiness. The competition the PLA faces from the private sector is illustrated by a mobilization problem encountered by the Hainan Military District during one of its winter exercises. The district command had scheduled a transportation and joint logistics supply drill for five weeks.40 The drill was in fact largely symbolic, however, it was also an important link in forging a stronger civil-military relationship on the island. The exercise should have included 42 vehicles, including 12 military and 30 civilian trucks, 500 troops, 300 PLA soldiers and 200 local militias. During their 1,800-mile journey, the troops and militias would conduct joint frontline supply, anti-aircraft drills, live fire practice, and combat rescue. On the assembly day, however, less than half of the civilian vehicles reported to the assembly point in Sanya City.41 In the past, the command never had problems mobilizing civilian vehicles since 98 percent of the vehicles belonged to the government or to state-owned enterprises. The command simply sent its request to the province and used the government network for such a mobilization exercise. Today, however, private companies, stockholder corporations, joint ventures, foreign-owned companies, collective enterprises, and private citizens own more than 90 percent of the vehicles in Hainan Province. Since the district command did not have any arrangements for truck owners’ expenses, such as gas reimbursement, per diem, and insurance during the drill, many truck owners and drivers avoided the joint exercise by leaving work or home after they received the order. The command had to turn to the provincial and city governments for help. The local governments involved their law enforcement to look for these truck owners and drivers.42 The highway patrols set up roadblocks at major intersections in Haikou

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and Sanya to check on the runaway vehicles. The city police imposed fines on those who did not report to the district command, and the provincial transportation department suspended the driver’s licenses for three months or took away the license plates of those who refused to participate in the joint exercise. In the conclusion of its report, the district command requested the passage of a national defense law, defense transportation regulations, defense education laws, and local mobilization laws to guarantee that local human and economic resources will be available for wartime needs in the future.43 Tech and the City: A New Game Hu Jintao stated that the PLA should resort to different warfighting means in future conflicts, including taking a high-tech approach to circumvent enemy strengths and confront the enemy in ways it would not be able to match in kind. Thus, for at least the next ten years, China will “not be intimidated by a military superpower,” and China’s foreign policy will “not be constrained by its military weakness.”44 General Zhang Zhen emphasized “local wars under high-tech conditions” when he spoke at a joint warfare seminar. Zhang said he believed that China’s next war would take place on short notice and be centered on an urban area where China’s technology is based.45 The war planners, however, are still struggling with how to utilize civilian high technology in military reform and mobilize it in the event of a war. There are about 11 million people in China’s civilian high-tech sector, including scientists, researchers, computer experts, college professors, engineers, technicians, and other specialists. These “career persons” typically have above-average income, high social prestige, and engage in more stable and respectable professions. Their composition in China’s urban workforce has increased from 5.2 percent in 1978 to 18.1 percent in 2003. In some major cities, the technology group accounts for roughly one-quarter of the workforce.46 Although both specialists and technology are available in the urban areas, mobilization and application of these assets is another story. For example, the Shandong Military District contracted civilian computer experts in Jinan, the provincial capital, to develop management software. Yet Li Haoquan, the chief of staff, found that the university and corporate computer experts had very little knowledge about the military, and their programs were not suitable to the military command’s administrative needs. Meanwhile, the civilian experts complained that it was hard to work with military district personnel because the command staff was not familiar with up-to-date computer technology. Li had to cancel his outsourcing software development program and instead spent the rest of the budget on three computer tech workshops, in which the civilian experts trained 139 district staff members in the command headquarters. “There is a gap between the availability and application of the computer technology,” Li emphasizes.47 Tianjin Garrison Headquarters worked out a major city mobilization plan with two considerations. First, the plan explains that the next “local war” will not be

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fought on a small scale. Second, it will involve a large area, a city-centered theater including the surrounding areas, or will be a regionalized local war. Third, Tianjin should be prepared for an asymmetric defense against a superior military power if a war takes place within the next twenty years. The command used “three highs and three lows”48 to describe a technology gap between the PLA and the invading force. Its mobilization plan is to use the “three lows” to defend the city against the “three highs” in the greater Tianjin metropolitan region. The Second Artillery Corps has similar problems in terms of high-tech application and urban reserve training. While missile technology has changed rapidly, China’s strategic missile force is struggling to close the gap between China and other nuclear powers. The corps has established substantial reserves of trained missile troops in the past ten years in order to keep up with new missile technology. Its efforts, however, did not reach the goal of high-tech training because the reserves lack a high-tech background. Since the corps does not have tech-ready reserves, most of its training is at a low-tech level.49 The reserves are not ready for combat, and the missile equipment is waiting for those who can master the technology. The corps felt pressure when Jiang Zemin, former chairman of the CMC, stated, “We would rather let our men wait for new equipment than let the equipment wait for the men.”50 While addressing the PLA delegation to the Tenth National People’s Congress in 2003, Jiang stated clearly that “we should energetically push forward a Revolution of Military Affairs [RMA] with Chinese characteristics, so as to ensure that our armed forces keep up with the current rapid development of science, technology, and RMA.” The chairman also said that promoting RMA with Chinese characteristics would bring about profound changes to every aspect of Chinese army building.51 To put into effect Jiang’s thesis of adapting the PLA to the world of RMA and pressing forward with RMA with Chinese characteristics, the General Staff Headquarters requires that PLA officers have “four understandings”: a clear understanding of the period of important strategic opportunity in which the PLA is able to develop itself to the fullest, an understanding of the trends in RMA, a clear understanding of the contradiction the PLA faces in army building between the level of modernization of the armed forces and the requirements of modern warfare, and an understanding of the dual historical tasks of realizing mechanization and informationization of the PLA.52 General Xiong explains that the PLA is still in a state of “semi-mechanization.” In other words, the task of PLA mechanization has not yet been completed. In the coming years, he believes that the mechanization efforts will try to keep pace with the building of an information-age force, which in turn will be boosted by mechanization. “We shall promote both processes to eventually succeed in fulfilling the dual tasks of mechanization and informationization,” Xiong said. “No distinct line should be drawn between the two and we should never depart from our country’s actual situation and the realities of our armed forces.”53

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Fixing the Dragon’s Tail: Social and Healthcare Problems While promoting RMA with Chinese characteristics, General Xiong also emphasized the “human factor.” He concluded, “Everything on earth is about or for the people. In the military field, too, everything will eventually depend on people. In short, the human factor is decisive.”54 Today’s Chinese people, however, are different from those in the age of the “People’s War.” The Chinese people have become more stratified, urbanized, upwardly mobile, and diversified. Middle Class, Upper Class, and Social Mobility Social stratification in China manifests itself as a new challenge to the military. From 1949 to 1985, Chinese society was fragmented into three major groups: farmers, workers, and cadres. Disparities in political prestige, income, and education were obvious, and the ability of farmers and workers to “narrow the gap” in these areas was severely limited. Military service had been one of only a few channels that allowed farmers to take up other professions, move into cities, and make their way into the elite cadre group.55 In the late 1980s, social change somewhat diminished the boundaries between different social statuses that had been clearly and rigidly marked in the past. The loosening of government control over people’s mobility further allowed farmers to take up occupations originally only available to urban residents. All of this helped to diversify the homogeneous group of farmers into different social groups and quickly boosted a considerable number of them into a higher income stratum.56 Since the turn of the century, the rapid change of China’s traditional social strata has been largely perceived as beneficial to the healthy growth of its society. It increases opportunities for the general public, and helps to bring the social mechanisms of choice and award to the general populace; a norm that did not exist in the past. Among the new social groups is a booming and yet not fully developed middle class that includes managers, specialists, professional technicians, private enterprise owners, and administrators.57 Their composition in China’s workforce has increased from 8.2 percent in 1978, to 20 percent in 1988, and to 30.3 percent in 1999 (see Figures 2.5 and 2.6).58 Of this middle class, private enterprise owners are gaining wealth faster than others in this process of redistribution of wealth and power. Relatively small in number, the “social middles” are not yet forceful enough to stabilize the new social-economic structure. Another striking feature of China’s social strata in the twenty-first century is the rapid polarization of wealth. In 2000, the combined estimated wealth of the top fifty richest entrepreneurs in China was US$10 billion. The entrepreneur in the number fifty slot was worth $42 million. Based on per capita income differentials, $42 million in China would be the equivalent of roughly $500 million in the United States. Mr. Number One, in comparison, had an estimated net worth of $2 billion. For China’s industrial and agricultural workers, who account for

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Figure 2.5

39

Composition of China's Workforce in 1978 Unemployed/ underemployed 5%

Administrators/ managers 1%

Owners of private enterprises 0%

Technicians/specialists 3% Office workers 1%

Business/service workers 2% Manufacturing workers 20%

workers 68%

Figure 2.6

Composition of China's Workforce in 1999 Unemployed/ underemployed 3%

Owners of private enterprises 5% Technicians/ specialists 5% Office workers 5%

Agricultural workers 46%

Business/ service workers 12%

Manufacturing workers 23%

two-thirds of the total population, the average annual wage was well below $500 the same year. With ongoing economic reforms and a market economy, the concepts of commercialism and capitalist values are changing the Chinese mindset. More pragmatic, realistic, and materialistic, many Chinese admire the rich and famous and desire to lead a luxury lifestyle exclusively concerned with money. They believe that their standard of living and social status depend on the money they have.

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These changing values certainly affect the PLA. A PLA survey warned of seven important changes in the mindset of the troops. First, individualism has become more popular. Second, self-control is declining. Third, fewer troops are willing to obey commands blindly. Fourth, some troops are more interested in their benefits and compensation, and less interested in volunteerism. Fifth, some troops are more inclined to pursue a comfortable lifestyle and demonstrate less willingness to engage in struggle and hard work. Sixth, troops have become more confident in themselves and less dependent on their officers. Seventh, the new concept of obtaining wealth has become popular among the troops.59 At a recent annual symposium of the China Institute for Strategic Studies (CISS), the speakers accepted the fact that China’s economic reform has brought about new political and social problems. In spite of the government’s efforts to maintain control, issues such as official corruption and the use of illegal means for wealth acquisition are rampant throughout the country.60 These issues also help widen the gap between the rich and poor. At the symposium, Major General Xu Changyou noted a concern about the official Gini coefficient analyses and reports, which indicate the rich-poor gap and poverty levels.61 In 2003, the National Bureau of Statistics issued an official number of 0.375 as its Gini analysis. At the symposium, some researchers believed that China’s Gini coefficient was as high as 0.456.62 Xu hoped that the country could maintain a Gini coefficient average between 0.35 and 0.4 for the next twenty years. Urban Unemployment, Rural Poor, and the “Floating” Population In the past decade, as many as 24 million workers are estimated to have been laid off by cash-starved and unprofitable state-owned enterprises. Many of these workers receive only a fraction of their salaries, and some have held protests to demand better conditions and new jobs. Continued reform of the state sector will result in many more workers losing their jobs in the coming years, which will inevitably lead to growing labor unrest. It is estimated that there are at least 30 million surplus workers in state-run firms, in addition to the 100–150 million surplus workers in China’s overmanned agricultural sector. Industrial cities in northeast and central China are already seriously affected by frequent worker demonstrations.63 The current unemployment rate in China is between 18 and 23 percent, and this number is expected to rise as more workers and employees lose their jobs in stateowned enterprises in next five years.64 Meanwhile, office workers and managers in the provincial and county-level governments are also facing downsizing, or jingjian. As iron rice bowl holders, it is not easy for them to find another job after being laid off. Moreover, China’s defense industry entered the market economy by transforming its enterprises from military to civilian production. So far, China has more than 500 enterprises and over 200 research institutes for national defense. All these units, to varying degrees, have converted from military to civilian production.

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Figure 2.7 Decreasing Percentage of Agricultural Workers in China's Workforce 90 84.2% 80

Percentage of agricultural workers

70 67.4% 60 55.8% 50 44% 40

30

20

10

0 1940

1950

1960

1970

1980

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2010

Currently, over half of the personnel in these industries engage in the development and production of civilian goods in scores of categories. Their output value accounts for about 80 percent of the total output value of national defense industries, as opposed to less than 10 percent in the 1980s.65 The farming population has also been declining since 1978. In the 1960s, farmers composed 84.2 percent of China’s total workforce. In 1978 they composed 67.4 percent, and this number decreased further to 55.8 percent in 1988, 44 percent in 1999, and an estimated 40.3 percent in 2004 (see Figure 2.7). Rural areas typically are less well off than urban areas.66 The per capita annual net income of rural households was 2,366 yuan (less than US$300) in 2001, compared to a per capita annual disposable income of 6,659 yuan (about US$812) for urban households. The distribution of agricultural labor is even more uneven for ethnic minorities. The five autonomous regions where most minority ethnic groups live accommodate a large proportion of agricultural workers and other lower-income social groups. Within each autonomous region, counties with concentrations of ethnic minorities are at a greater disadvantage. For instance, out of 104 poverty-stricken villages in the Yili prefecture in the Xinjiang Autonomous Region, 102 are national minority villages.67 In Guizhou, another relatively low-income province, 21 out of 31 poverty-stricken counties (pinkun xian) are in minority regions, accounting for half of

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the total minority population in the province. It is partly because of this inequality that agricultural laborers are also the most mobile part of the population and make constant efforts to squeeze into other social strata. As many as 70 million rural laborers are estimated to be on the move seeking work in cities and coastal areas. In cities such as Beijing, Shanghai, Guangzhou, and Tianjin, between 1 and 2 million transients are camped in railway stations and other public places. Some official estimates suggest that more than 100 million peasants may have left the countryside as of 2000, still leaving behind at least an equal number of peasants underemployed in their home rural communities.68 Since many peasants who moved into urban areas cannot find a job, they become part of the mobile or “floating” population. The Tianjin Garrison Headquarters’ plan points out the staggering number of the “floating” population: they equal about 1 million around Tianjin and an estimated 27 million across the country.69 They mainly come from China’s rural areas, which provide neither job opportunities nor a stable income for many peasants. Moving into the urban areas, these mobile populations follow economic opportunities and travel from place to place. Neither city nor rural governments have any control over them. Health Insurance and Healthcare The overall picture with regard to healthcare is that the Chinese have no medical insurance. Before economic reforms took hold, government employees enjoyed free medical care and treatment in urban areas. Peasants in collective units might visit barefoot doctors—a kind of free medical care program aiming to provide medical services during the Cultural Revolution. However, many changes to this system have taken place since the late 1970s, when economic reforms began. Health insurance reforms are under way as a method of redistributing health resources. Eligibility and coverage are being narrowed for urban residents who previously enjoyed free care as government employees. Meanwhile, the rural residents lost their barefoot doctors and rarely receive free medical services. These reforms are not expected to be popular, but are seen as critical for cost containment and closing the urban-rural gap. As a result of economic reforms in the 1980s, the Chinese rural-urban system is undergoing rapid transformation. Ironically, modernization has inadvertently caused a once viable model healthcare system to crumble.70 The cooperative medical system, with barefoot doctors as its mainstay in rural areas, is being washed away on the tides of economic change. The rapid decline in the cooperative medical system has affected several elements of overall healthcare. It has increased the financial burdens of peasants. Patients with serious illness now have to pay for medical services, without any reimbursement from cooperative insurance. According to a suburban area research firm, the most crucial problems reported from the researcher’s respondents is inconvenient transportation to the hospital, overcrowding and difficulty in registering at a hospital, and difficulty in transferring from local hospitals to county or city hospitals.

THE IMPACT OF SOCIAL CHANGES ON THE PLA

43

Other new problems in healthcare include the aging of the population, ever increasing demands on all sectors of the economy including health services, urban-rural inequality, low productivity in the health services, the lack of a legal framework for healthcare, a continued burden of infectious and endemic diseases, weak infrastructure for prevention and primary healthcare, an increasing burden of chronic diseases associated with tobacco smoking and atherosclerotic circulatory diseases, and trauma due to traffic accidents and occupational hazards. In conclusion, social problems and domestic difficulties will slow China’s ascendancy in military reform and global politics to some extent. Chinese military reform is an outcome of both social and political changes that are not only interrelated, but also interdependent. China’s foremost task in its drive toward economic and military modernization should be the successful completion of domestic reform programs. To build a modern army, China must construct a confident, democratic, and industrial society. This will not be possible without drastically improving its political system and will be both costly and complex to execute. Few countries in history have successfully achieved such tumultuous transformation under as uncertain circumstances as China is currently facing. Unlike Japan’s Meiji Restoration in the mid-nineteenth century, China is being forced to undergo wholesale reforms that are to a great extent led by the elite and citizens who have become much more knowledgeable about the world community and vocal about their wishes and desires. The Beijing leadership can hardly afford any illusion that the Chinese public will allow them a leisurely reform drive. Chinese people, like most global villagers today, demand instant satisfaction. Meeting the public’s growing, impatient expectations while maintaining the basic political structure acceptable to the old ideological leadership will require very creative politics. Yet the new leadership will not abandon the deliberate approach toward global recognition that the previous generation of leaders employed. The Chinese leadership will seek a growing role on the global political stage while assuring the international community that China does not pursue a policy of military and political hegemony in a conventional sense. It is possible that the world community may be willing to accept China as a counterbalance to the United States or Japan. The world community has known bipolar politics ever since the end of World War II, though obviously, some major powers might not share the desire to maintain this type of world order. Perhaps chief in this approach is the significant improvement in China’s economy and international standing related primarily, but not solely, to a reduction in global and regional conflicts. Chinese strategic analysts and military experts have an optimistic view of the current national security situation: while factors of insecurity and instability remain, China enjoys a comparatively favorable security environment, something seldom seen since the founding of the PRC. It seems possible for the PLA to avoid a major war for a fairly long period of time. In general, given this favorable security situation, the PLA has greater opportunities to address the challenges and difficulties it faces in a rapidly changing Chinese society.

44

XIAOBING LI

Notes All interviews, unless otherwise noted, were conducted by the author. 1. Most scholars likely agree with this argument. For example, David Shambaugh, Modernizing China’s Military; Progress, Problems, and Prospects (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2002), pp. 11–12. 2. Li Bingyan, “Dongfang bingxue wenhua de zhanxian” (An aspect of Eastern military culture), Zhongguo junshi kexue (China’s military science) 5 (2002): 46–47. General Li is a senior editor of the Jiefangjun bao (PLA daily). 3. Jiang Zemin, chairman of the CCP Central Military Commission (CMC), “Hold High the Great Banner of Deng Xiaoping Theory for an All-round Advancement of the Cause of Building Socialism with Chinese Characteristics into the 21st Century,” speech at the 15th CCP National Congress, September 12, 1997, in Selected Documents of the 15th CCP National Congress (Beijing: New Star Publishers, 1997), pp. 8–9; Song Ruilai, “Characteristics and Causes of the Fertility Transition in China,” Chinese Journal of Population Science 5, no. 20 (1993): 149–158; Zhong Fenggan, “China’s Demographic Transition Viewed from the Angle of Developing Countries,” Population Research 1 (January 1990): 1–6; Lin Fuda, “Characteristics of Fertility Transition in China,” Population Research 2 (February 1987): 1–9. 4. Information Office of the State Council, Zhongguo renkou (China’s population) (Beijing: China Finance and Economy Publishing House, 2002), Tables 31, 32, and 41; Information Office of the State Council, Zhongguo de jihua shengyu (Family planning in China) (Beijing: PRC State Council, 1995), pp. 3–4 and 14. 5. Ji Jianjun, Henan renkou yanjiu (Henan population analysis) (Zhengzhou, Henan: Henan People’s Press, 1999), pp. 46–48; Fan Jian, “The Fertility Decline and the Demographic Transition in the PRC” (master’s thesis, University of Wisconsin–Milwaukee, n.d.), pp. 5–7. 6. Zhang Zhaozhong, Shei neng daying xiayichang zhanzheng? (Who will win the next war?) (Beijing: China Youth Press, 1999), p. 395. Zhang served for thirty years in the PLA Navy and is currently professor and director of the Center for Science and Technology Research, National Defense University, Beijing. 7. Li Changzhu, “Jiedu dusheng zinubing” (Understanding the only-child soldiers), Zhongguo wujing (China’s armed police), no. 31 (February 2001): 28–29. 8. Jane’s Information Group, “Chinese Army: Professionalism, 1.10.6,” in “China and Northeast Asia,” Jane’s Sentinel Security Assessment (http://sentinel.janes.com). 9. As a combined group army, it has three infantry divisions, one armored division, one artillery division, and two reserve divisions. The army study is based on its infantry, armored, and artillery divisions. 10. Interviews with two of the commanding officers of the group army in Shenyang, Liaoning, July 2002, and in Beijing, August 2002. 11. Ibid. 12. David Popenoe, “Family Decline in America,” in Morals, Marriage, and Parenthood: An Introduction to Family Ethics, ed. Laurence D. Houlgate (Belmont, CA: Wadsworth, 1999), pp. 141, 161. 13. Zhongguo renkou shouce (China population information handbook) (Beijing: Economics Institute Press, 2003), pp. 121–124. 14. Ji Jianjun, “The Unfinished Demographic Transition in China,” American Review of China Studies 4, no. 1 (Spring 2003): 72, 80. 15. Zhongguo renkou shouce, Table 29. 16. Interview with Lt. General Qin Chaoying (PLAA, ret.) at China Society of Strategy

THE IMPACT OF SOCIAL CHANGES ON THE PLA

45

and Management Research (CSSM) in Beijing, December 2003. Qin is the secretary general of CSSM. 17. Interview with an officer of Hebei Military District in Langfang, Hebei, July 28, 2002. 18. Ibid., July 29, 2002. 19. Ji, Henan renkou yanjiu (Henan population analysis), p. 122; Fan, “The Fertility Decline and the Demographic Transition in the PRC,” p. 13. 20. Deborah Davis-Freedmann, “Old Age Security and the One-Child Campaign,” in China’s One-Child Policy, ed. Elizabeth Croll, Deborah Davis, and Penny Kane (London: Macmillan, 1985), pp. 149–161. 21. Dong Shigui, Henan laonian renkou diaocha (Aged population in Henan) (Zhengzhou: Henan People’s Press, 1989), pp. 29, 101–105, and 223. 22. Chen Weixing, “Economic Reform and Social Instability in Rural China,” in Social Transition in China, ed. Zhang Jie and Xiaobing Li (New York: University Press of America, 1998), pp. 88–93. 23. Wen-Hui Tsai, “Life After Retirement: Elderly Welfare in China,” Asian Survey 27 (1987): 566–567. 24. The “Five Guarantees Program” was launched in 1957. It guarantees the elderly food (including fuel, cooking utensils, and pocket money), clothing (including bedding), housing (including furniture and home repairs), medical treatment, and burial. 25. Jie Long, “Dangdai zhongguo funu wenti” (Women’s issues in contemporary China), www.chinesenewsweek.com/12/Commentary/821.html. 26. Family Planning Commission, “Zhongguo renkou yu jihua shengyu fa” (Population and family planning law) (Beijing: PRC State Council, 2002), pp. 2–4. 27. Interview with a planning officer of the PLA General Political Department in Beijing, December 2003. 28. General Xiong Guangkai, “Lun xin Junshi biange” (On revolution in military affairs), a presentation at the “Chinese Scientists’ Forum on Humanities” on April 16, 2003; originally carried in Xuexi shibao (Study times) (May 19, 2003), and reprinted in Guoji zhanlue yanjiu (International strategic studies) 3 (July 2003). Xiong is deputy chief of the PLA general staff. 29. See Li Bingyan, Da moulue yu xinjunshi biange (Military stratagem and the new revolution in military affairs) (Beijing: PLA Press, 2004), p. 11; Li Naiguo, Junshi qingbao yanjiu (On military intelligence) (Beijing: Military Science Press, 2001), pp. 58–59; and Yang Yi, Gaojishu tiaojian xia zuozhan fangshi fangfa yanjiu yu sikao (Military calculation and combat operations under high-tech conditions) (Beijing: Military Science Press, 1997), p. 144. 30. Major General Han Yonglu, “Gaokeji jubu zhanzheng dui guofang dongyuan jianshe de yaoqiu yu duice” (A local war under high-tech conditions needs a strong economy), speech at a command meeting, Jinan, Shandong, June 10–13, 1999. Han is chief of staff of the Jinan Military Region. 31. Merle Goldman and Roderick MacFarquhar, “Dynamic Economy, Declining PartyState,” in The Paradox of China’s Post-Mao Reforms, ed. Merle Goldman and Roderick MacFarquhar (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1999), pp. 3–29; Orville Schell and David Shambaugh, “Reforming China,” in China Reader: The Reform Era (New York: Vintage Books, 1999), xvii–xx; and Nancy Bernkopf Tucker, Taiwan, Hong Kong, and the United States, 1945–1992 (New York: Twayne Publishers, 1999), pp. 234–240. 32. Conference on “China’s Economic Growth and Sustainability Development,” sponsored by China Society for Strategy and Management Research (CSSM), held December 2003 in Guangzhou. 33. Zhang Haoruo’s keynote speech at CSSM conference, December 2003. Zhang was

46

XIAOBING LI

the deputy secretary general of CSSM and member of the Standing Committee, PRC National People’s Congress. 34. Hu Angang, “Yinhang wuxiaoyi daikuan he jinrong shichang yuce” (Inefficient investment and financial market), paper presented at the CSSM conference, Guangzhou, December 2003. 35. Ibid. 36. General Xiong Guangkai, interviewed by the staff writer of Xuexi shibao (Study times). The interview article was published by the journal on pages 10–13 on December 30, 2000. 37. In the 1988 Constitution, Article 11 states, “the private economy is a supplement to the socialist state economy.” 38. In the 1993 Constitution, Article 8 states that the “Household Responsibility System” can replace people’s communes; and Article 16 states that state-owned enterprises can be managed and administrated by private enterprises or management. 39. In the 1999 Constitution, Article 11 states that the non-state economy, including self-employment, private enterprises, and so forth, is “an important component in the socialist market economy.” 40. Interview with a senior officer at Hainan Military District Headquarters in Haikou, Hainan Province, on July 18 and 21, 2002. 41. Hainan Province Government, file no. 99–01, “Qiche yunli dongyuan ji yanlian de baogao” (Report on the local transportation and mobilization exercise), submitted by Hainan Military District Command in June 1999. The report was drafted by Fu Jiangning, chief of the mobilization department, Wang Weirong, deputy chief of the department, and Huang Peiyue, headquarters staff. 42. Ibid., pp. 11–14. 43. Interview with a senior officer at Hainan Military District Headquarters in Haikou, Hainan Province, July 18 and 21, 2002. 44. Hu Jintao’s speech at the “Four Headquarters” (Sizongbu) meeting in August 2000 was quoted by Taiyangbao (Sun daily) on September 5, 2000. 45. General Zhang Zhen spoke to the participants of the “Joint Warfare Seminar” at the National Defense University in 1997. His speech was published in Yu Shusheng, ed., Lun lianhe zhanyi (On joint warfare) (Beijing: National Defense University Press, 1998), p. 2. Zhang was the vice chairman of the CMC. 46. The statistics are from the “Composition of China’s Workforce,” in “Report on a Study of Contemporary China’s Social Strata,” in China Statistical Yearbook, 2002 (Beijing: China Statistics Press, 2002), pp. 1047–1048. 47. Li Haoquan, “Dui houbei bingyuan shixing zidonghua guanli de shijian yu tihui” (Experience in computerizing reserve administration and management), in Weile daying mingtian de zhanzheng (To win the future war) (Beijing: National Defense University Press, 1999), pp. 149–150. 48. Headquarters of the Tianjin Garrison Command, “Xinxi dongyuan shi guofang jianshe de zhongxin renwu” (Information system: key for national defense), in Weile daying mingtian de zhanzheng, pp. 21 and 25–26. The plan was drafted by Song Liwei, chief of the mobilization department, and Wang Jisheng, staff of the headquarters. The “three highs and three lows” are: the enemy has high tech, the PLA has low tech; the enemy is high in firepower, the PLA is low in firepower; and the enemy controls the air, the PLA may control the ground. 49. Operation Department, Headquarters of Second Artillery Corps, “Zuoyan gaojishu jubu zhanzheng dedian, jiaqiang erpao yubeiyi budui zhiliang jianshe” (Focus on characteristics of local, high-tech war; strengthen quality building of Second Artillery Corps reserves), in Weile daying mingtian de zhanzheng, p. 196.

THE IMPACT OF SOCIAL CHANGES ON THE PLA

47

50. Jiang Zemin’s words are quoted in Major General Wang Baocun’s article, “Xinxizhan yu xinjunshi geming” (Information Warfare and Revolution of Military Affairs), unpublished manuscript (sponsored by National Defense University), p. 2. 51. Jiang Zemin, “Speech to the PLA Delegation to the 10th National People’s Congress, Beijing, March 9, 2003,” PLA Daily, March 10, 2003. 52. Xiong Guangkai, “Lun xinjunshi biange” (On revolution in military affairs), in Guoji zhanlue yu xinjunshi biange (International strategy and revolution in military affairs) (Beijing: Tsinghua University Press, 2003), p. 181. 53. Ibid., pp. 182–183. 54. Ibid., p. 185. 55. Hong Zhaohui, “The Role of Villager Committees in Rural China’s Stability,” in Social Transition in China, ed. Zhang and Li, pp. 63–86. 56. Xiaobing Li, “Peasant Soldiers; Chinese Military in the Changing World,” unpublished manuscript, pp. 113–115. 57. “Social Strata,” in China Statistical Yearbook, 2002, p. 1044. 58. The statistics are from the “Composition of China’s Workforce,” in “Report on a Study of Contemporary China’s Social Strata,” in China Statistical Yearbook, 2002, pp. 1047–1048. 59. Gao Zhehan, Qiu Bohao, Cai Heng, and Su Yuping, eds. Zhouguo renmin wuzhuang jingcha da jiegou (Inside stories of the Chinese People’s Armed Police) (Taipei, Taiwan: Yang-Chih Book, 2003), p. 226. 60. Annual symposium of the China Institute for Strategic Studies (CISS), Beijing, December 2003. 61. The Gini coefficient is a number between zero and one that is a measure of inequality. Interview with Major General Xu Changyou in Beijing, December 2003. He was deputy secretary general of the CMC. 62. Li Jingwen’s presentation at the China Foundation for International Strategic Studies (CFISS) conference in December 2003. Professor Li is a senior research fellow at the Institute of Economics, Chinese Academy of Social Sciences (CASS), Beijing. 63. Li, “Peasant Soldiers,” p. 154. 64. Interview with Yang Jieshi, China’s ambassador to the United States, in Oklahoma City, OK, January 26, 2004. 65. Xiong, “International Security Situation at the Beginning of the 21st Century and China’s National Defense Policy,” in Guoji zhanlue yu xinjunshi biange (International strategy and revolution in military affairs), p. 191. 66. “Report on a Study of Contemporary China’s Social Strata,” in China Statistical Yearbook, 2000 (Beijing: China Statistics Press, 2001), p. 718. 67. Li Xiaoxiao and Zhou Mei, “A Comparative Study on Minority Women in Taiwan and Xinjiang,” in Taiwan in the Twenty-First Century, ed. Xiaobing Li and Zuohong Pan (New York: University Press of America, 2003), pp. 83–96. 68. Li, “Peasant Soldiers,” p. 162. 69. Headquarters of the Tianjin Garrison Command, “Xinxi dongyuan shi guofang jianshe de zhongxin renwu” (Information system: Key for national defense), in Weile daying mingtian de zhanzheng, p. 47. 70. William C. Hsian, “Transformation of Healthcare in China,” New England Journal of Medicine 310 (1984): 932–936.

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3 The New Military Elite Generational Profile and Contradictory Trends Cheng Li

A central issue surrounding the Chinese military has been the tension between its pronounced objectives and the prevailing obstacles it must surmount. For a long time, China’s quest for military modernization was undermined by economic deficiency, ideological stagnation, and political interference. However, the unprecedented growth of the Chinese economy during the past two decades has ensured that military modernization is no longer merely an empty slogan used to “scare others,” but instead constitutes a concrete and comprehensive program. Communist ideology has become irrelevant. The strategic thinking and military doctrines of the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) have been progressively influenced by its counterparts in the West. The PLA’s mission is more focused and its role better defined than ever before. The possibility that China’s military will interfere in domestic politics, especially political succession, has become increasingly unlikely. An extensive generational turnover in the leadership of the PLA took place during the Sixteenth National Party Congress of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP), which was held in November 2002. Approximately 60 percent of the PLA’s representatives on the Sixteenth Central Committee are first-timers. All four directors of the PLA’s departments are new. Six out of the nine generals on the previous Central Military Commission (CMC) have retired. Institutional rules and norms, such as age-based retirement and term limits, have been reinforced in the succession of the military leadership.1 What are the demographic characteristics, career patterns, and educational backgrounds of the new generation of officers? Does the reinforcement of institutional rules and regulations in officer circulation indicate that the new leaders of the PLA are becoming more professional and less political? To what extent does the new military elite agree upon civilian control over the military? In what ways does the military elite act and think differently from its 48

THE NEW MILITARY ELITE

49

predecessors? Are the PLA’s new leaders up to the challenge of reforming and modernizing the Chinese military in a changing economic and sociopolitical environment? Complete answers to these intriguing questions will take time to emerge. This study primarily consists of a quantitative biographical data analysis of current top military officers at the national and subnational (military region, or MR) levels.2 The selection of the 195 current top military officers at these two levels is almost identical to the categorization of top military leaders in the Chinese official biographical publication Who’s Who in China.3 These leaders are the most prominent of the military elite in present-day China. This study also compares the quantitative biographical data of the current top military officers with that of the previous generation of top military leaders in an effort to identify generational differences in the PLA leadership.4 An examination of the data reveals a trend toward military professionalism in the PLA leadership. The high turnover rate of the PLA elite reflects an effective institutional mechanism by which the top civilian leaders prevent the emergence of military strongmen and possible stagnation of the military establishment. More importantly, Deng Xiaoping’s plan, formulated about a quarter of a century ago to foster a cohort of well-educated military technocrats, is now coming to fruition, since almost all current high-ranking military leaders have received training at the National Defense University (NDU). Many high-ranking leaders also graduated from the Harbin Institute of Military Engineering, which was later renamed the National Defense Science and Technology University. The future generation of the PLA elite is more likely to be interested in advancing their careers in military academies, especially in technical research, than were their predecessors. There are political pressures in the PLA to establish a more institutionalized and merit-based system of officer promotion. For example, a few military representatives with strong ties to Jiang Zemin received the lowest number of votes in the election of the members of the Sixteenth Central Committee.5 The firing of four top naval officers in the wake of the Submarine No. 361 accident in 2003 is another example. A closer and more systematic look at the generational profile of the new military elite, however, reveals some logistical and political obstacles that the PLA must overcome in order to achieve its goal of military modernization. With a few exceptions in the top military leadership, most high-ranking officers advanced their careers entirely within the same field, sector, and service, and thus lack experience in commanding modern joint force operations. Officers from the ground force have continued to dominate the military leadership. Nepotism and favoritism in various forms (blood ties and other patron–client relations) are still prevalent. These paradoxical trends have often led students of Chinese political and military affairs to make contrasting assessments about China’s military power, particularly in an attempt to predict the future direction of China’s military

50

CHENG LI

modernization.6 As reflected by the composition of the new PLA leadership, professionalism and favoritism, formal procedures and informal networks, and new concepts of modern warfare and traditional methods of military operation all appear to coexist. Trends Toward Military Professionalism and Institutionalization Chinese civilian leaders in both the third and fourth generations (Jiang Zemin and Hu Jintao), and current top military officers, have explicitly outlined the technocratic mission and objectives of the PLA. The technocratic mission of the PLA, as stated by Jiang on many occasions, is to “win limited wars under high-technology conditions.”7 Hu recently reaffirmed this mission by emphasizing the need for the PLA, given its large gap in terms of military power in comparison to advanced countries, to make a “leap-over” transition from an army with mechanical and semi-mechanical equipment to an army equipped with digital facilities—an information-age force.8 In the wake of what many Chinese military strategists, such as Deputy Chief of the General Staff Xiong Guangkai, call an “ongoing global military reform,” the PLA aims to reform virtually all aspects of its gigantic institution in order to prepare for the “new era of information warfare.”9 Under this broad mission, military officers at all levels are expected to become more professionally competent, better educated, younger, and more frequently circulated in light of institutional regulations than were their predecessors. Table 3.1 shows the backgrounds of the most important military leaders in the PLA at present. In some respects, these biographical backgrounds correspond to the stated objectives of the PLA leadership. Rapid Increase of Officers Who Possess Educational Credentials Almost all of these top military leaders studied at NDU at a certain point during their careers. Since its founding in 1985, NDU has trained 7,000 high-ranking officers,10 and according to official Chinese sources, all current army-level officers and above have been trained at the NDU.11 In addition, several top leaders attended the Harbin Institute of Military Engineering (HIME) in the late 1950s and 1960s. During the past fifty years, HIME has produced about 130,000 and trained over 6,000 high- and mid-level officers and technical specialists,12 including about 300 provincial, ministerial, and army-level leaders.13 The high percentage of attendance at military academies among the current PLA officers is more striking when it is viewed in a historical context. The CCP rose to power as a military organization; its leaders were mainly soldiers, peasants, and members of the urban lower middle class.14 During the late 1920s and early 1930s, a large number of poor peasants, many of them illiterate, flocked to join the Red Army.15 Two decades later, some of these peasants rose to become a major part of the ruling elite of the PRC, dominating the military leadership at national,

Born 1942 1935 1943 1940 1940 1942 1942 1946 1943

Name

Guo Boxiong

Cao Gangchuan

Xu Caihou

Liang Guanglie

Liao Xilong

Li Jinai

Zhang Wentai

Chi Wanchun

Zhang Dingfa

Commander, Navy

Commissar, General Armament Dept.

Commissar, General Logistics Dept.

Director, General Armament Dept.

Director, General Logistics Dept.

Chief of the General Staff

Director, General Political Dept.

Vice Chair, CMC

Vice Chair, CMC

Position

Top Military Officers, 2004

Table 3.1

2003

2002

2002

2002

2002

2002

2002

2002

2002

Since

Navy School (80–82), NDU (AT, 88–90)

HIME (65–70), NDU (AT, 88–89)

Mil. Acad. (80–82), NDU (?)

HIME (61–66)

Mil. Acad. (80–81), NDU (AT, 86), Beida (01)

Mil. Acad. (82–83), NDU (AT, 91–93)

HIME (63–68), Mil. Acad. (80–82)

Russian Artillery Acad. (57–63), NDU (AT, 90)

Mil. Acad. (81–83), NDU (AT, 91–92)

Educational Background

Vice Admiral

Lt. General

Lt. General

General

General

General

General

General

General

Military Rank

1998

2000

1995

2000

2000

2002

1999

1998

1999

Year

(continued)

CC Alternate

CC Mem.

CC Mem.

CMC Mem.

CMC Mem.

CMC Mem.

CMC Mem.

Politburo Mem.

Politburo Mem.

CCP Membership

THE NEW MILITARY ELITE 51

Born 1943 1939 1947 1943 ? 1945 1945 1942 1944 1940 1941

Name

Hu Yanlin

Qiao Qingchen

Deng Changyou

Jing Zhiyuan

Peng Xiaofeng

Wu Shuangzhan

Sui Mingtai

Ge Zhenfeng

Wen Zongren

Pei Huailiang

Table 3.1 (continued)

Commandant, NDU

Commissar, Acad. of Mil. Sciences

Commandant, Acad. of Mil. Sciences

Commissar, Armed Police Force

Commander, Armed Police Force

Commissar, 2nd Artillery

Commander, 2nd Artillery Corps

Commissar, Air Force

Commander, Air Force

Commissar, Navy S & T Uni

Position

2003

2000

2003

2003

1999

2003

2003

2002

2002

2003

Since

Mil. Acad. (80–82), NDU (AT 90)

Mil. Acad. (79–80, 83–85), NDU (AT?)

Mil. Acad. (81–83), NDU (AT?)

Mil. Acad. (76–78), NDU (AT, 86–88)

NDU (AT, 87–88)

HIME (63–68), NDU (administrator, 02–03)

NDU (AT?)

NDU (AT?)

Air Force No. 6 School, NDU (AT?)

NDU (AT, 88–89), CPS (AT, 91–92)

Educational Background

Lt. General

General

Lt. General

Lt. General

Lt. General

Lt. General

Lt. General

Lt. General

General

Vice Admiral

Military Rank

1995

2002

1998

1996

1997

2002

2000

1999

2002

2000

Year

CC Alternate

CC Mem.

CC Mem.

CC Mem.

CC Mem.

CC Dis. Mem.

CC Mem.

CC Mem.

CC Mem.

None

CCP Membership

52 CHENG LI

1942 1945 1946 ? 1940 1941 1942 1944 1942 1944 1941

Zhao Keming

Wen Xisen

Huang Xianzhong

Qian Guoliang

Jiang Futang

Zhu Qi

Fu Tinggui

Li Qianyuan

Liu Yongzhi

Chen Bingde

2002

1995

1999

2003

1999

2001

Commander, Jinan MR

Commissar, Lanzhou MR

Commander, Lanzhou MR

1999

2002

1999

Commissar, Beijing MR 2003

Commander, Beijing MR

Commissar, Shenyang MR

Commander, Shenyang MR

Commissar, Defense S & T Univ.

Commandant, Defense S & T Univ.

Commissar, NDU

Mil. Acad. (83–85), NDU (AT?)

Mil. Acad. (82–84), NDU (AT?)

Mil. Acad. (80–82), NDU (AT?)

NDU (85–88)

Mil. Acad. (82–84), NDU (AT?)

Mil. Acad. (78–80), NDU (AT 92–93)

Mil. Acad. (78–79), NDU (AT 92–93)

HIME (64–69)

NDU (AT?, administrator, 96–04) Xi’an Jiaotong Univ. (?), NDU (AT?)

General

Lt. General

Lt. General

Lt. General

Lt. General

General

General

Lt. General

Lt. General

Lt. General

2002

2000

1996

2002

1996

2002

2002

2003

2000

1998

(continued)

CC Mem.

CC Mem.

CC Mem.

CC Mem.

CC Mem.

CC Mem.

CC Mem.

CC Dis. Mem

CC Alternate

CC Mem.

THE NEW MILITARY ELITE 53

1945 1943 1942 1944 1942 1942 1940

Liu Dongdong

Zhu Wenquan

Lei Mingqiu

Liu Zhenwu

Yang Deqing

Wang Jianmin

Liu Shutian

Commissar, Chengdu MR

Commander, Chengdu MR

Commissar, Guangzhou MR

Commander, Guangzhou MR

Commissar, Nanjing MR

Commander, Nanjing MR

Commissar, Jinan MR

Position

2003

2002

2003

2002

2000

2002

2002

Since

PLA Nanjing Political Acad. (90–92)

NDU (89–91)

Mil. Acad. (80–82), CPS (AT?)

NDU (AT 87–90)

Mil. Acad. (80–82), NDU (AT 92–93)

Mil. Acad. (80–82), NDU (AT?)

Mil. Acad. (81–83), NDU (AT?)

Educational Background

General

Lt. General

Lt. General

Lt. General

Lt. General

Lt. General

Lt. General

Military Rank

2002

2000

1996

1999

1994

2000

2000

Year

CC Mem.

CC Mem.

CC Mem.

CC Mem.

CC Mem.

CC Alternate

CC Mem.

CCP Membership

Notes: Acad. = Academy, AT = advanced training, CC = Central Committee, CMC = Central Military Commission, CPS = Central Party School, Dept. = department, Dis. = Disciplinary Committee, HIME = Harbin Institute of Military Engineering, Mem. = member, Mil. = military, MR = Military Region, NDU = National Defense University, Pol = political, S & T = Science and Technology, Univ. = University.

Born

Name

Table 3.1 (continued)

54 CHENG LI

THE NEW MILITARY ELITE

55

MR, and other high levels.16 For the first three decades, the percentage of the military elite who had received a college education was very low. Those who attended a college or academy (including two-year or three-year junior colleges) constituted only 4 percent of officers at the MR level or above in 1982.17 From the early 1980s to the mid-1990s, the percentage of PLA officers at all levels with a junior college education or a full four-year degree increased from 10 percent to 70 percent.18 In 2000, among the field troops, the percentages of those officers at the army, division, and regiment levels who had completed a college education (junior college or above) were 88 percent, 90 percent, and 75 percent, respectively.19 The PLA plans to have 85 percent of its officer corps obtain a college education (junior college or above) by 2005.20 At present, 100 percent of the pilots in the air force and naval commanders of warships have college educations. Almost all officers in the technical sector of the missile corps have attained BA or MA degrees.21 Table 3.1 also shows that most of these top military leaders usually attend NDU for advanced mid-career training rather than for a degree program. This is largely due to the fact that China’s current high-ranking officers typically joined the PLA in their late teens; approximately 74 percent of top military leaders joined the PLA when they were between fifteen and nineteen years old. In the early years of their military careers, most of them studied at two-year-long infantry schools, flight schools, or junior technical schools without receiving a formal college education, military or civilian. Some have completed only a junior high school education. These leaders attended NDU for mid-career advanced training when they were in their forties or even fifties. The NDU organized a so-called class of generals (jiangjun ban) to provide officers who held the rank of major general or above with advanced training in its Department of Defense Research. After a one-year intensive program, graduates were promoted to higher military posts. Most graduates of these “classes of generals” rose to become chiefs of group armies or chiefs at MR headquarters. For example, General Qian Guoliang, commander of the Shenyang MR, Lt. General Lei Mingqiu, political commissar of the Nanjing MR, and General Jiang Futang, political commissar of the Shenyang MR, were “classmates” in the eleventh class of generals at NDU.22 The educational profiles of the upcoming generation of military leaders are likely to differ from those of the current top military leaders. The younger officers are more likely to have attended civilian colleges before joining the PLA, since many have received postgraduate degrees. Between 1993 and 2003, the institutions under the PLA General Logistics Department recruited a total of 10,000 graduates from civilian universities.23 Between 1997 and 2002, the PLA recruited a total of about 30,000 college graduates from civilian universities.24 In 2000, the CMC issued regulations and policies in collaboration with civilian colleges to train officers for the military, known as national defense students (guofangsheng). The PLA has already signed contracts with fifty leading civilian

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universities to help train future military officers.25 The headquarters of the General Staff Department and its affiliated units recruited 1,100 graduates from civilian universities that year. Among them, 27 percent had masters or Ph.D. degrees.26 In 2003, approximately 20 percent of the officers of the Second Artillery Corps were graduates from civilian universities.27 The Air Force now recruits graduates from elite civilian universities to become pilots.28 Holding a college degree appears to be a prerequisite for a PLA officer who is interested in a military career. Many young and ambitious officers often pursue graduate-level studies at either military or civilian universities. For example, entering graduate students at the Beijing University of Science and Technology in 2000 included several dozen high-ranking military officers, including Major General Fan Changlong, who was commander of the Sixteenth Group Army at the time.29 He was later promoted to chief of staff of the Shenyang MR. As a rising star in the PLA leadership, the fifty-six-year-old lieutenant general today serves as assistant chief of the PLA General Staff. Enforcement of Term Limits In 2000, the Standing Committee of the National People’s Congress passed the PLA Active Duty Officers Law (Zhongguo renmin jiefangjun xianyi junguan fuyi tiaoli), which stipulates age limits for various levels of military leadership. The law specifies that an individual officer at the level of division, army, or military region cannot hold a leadership post at the same level for more than ten years. Table 3.1 also shows that all of these top officers were appointed to their current posts within the past ten years. In fact, all these officers except one were appointed to their current positions within the last five years, indicating the fluidity of elite circulation in the PLA leadership. Table 3.2 shows the year of appointment of 195 current top military leaders.30 More than half of them were appointed within the past two years. Approximately 82 percent were appointed within the past five years. The officer with the longest tenure was appointed to his position in 1994. Thus, all the current top military leaders follow the term-limit rules. The high percentage of officers who were appointed to their current posts in 2003 suggests that the rapid and regular turnover of the Chinese military elite has continued after the Sixteenth Party Congress, convened in November 2002. In 2003, major personnel changes occurred in the People’s Armed Police Force, the Navy (due to the accident of Submarine No. 361), and the Beijing MR. The political commissar, the deputy commander, and the director of the political department of the People’s Armed Police Force were all replaced by new faces. Similarly, newcomers also filled several top posts in the Beijing MR, including the posts of political commissar, deputy commander, and chief of staff. Based on a recent order from the CMC, in each of the seven military regions, two of the deputy leaders (deputy commanders or deputy political commissars)

THE NEW MILITARY ELITE

57

Table 3.2 Year of Appointment of Current Top Officers Appointment Year 2003 2002 2001 2000 1999 1998 1997 1996 1995 1994 Total

Number

Percentage

61 46 17 24 11 8 12 11 4 1 195

31.30 23.60 8.70 12.30 5.60 4.10 6.20 5.60 2.10 0.50 100.00

should retire and one of the vacancies will be filled by a younger leader while the other position will be eliminated. The purpose of this “two-down and one-up” (tui’er jinyi) formula is to reduce the total number of high-ranking officers in the military regions.31 These regulations not only engender a sense of fairness and the regular rotation of the elite, but also prevent the emergence of a “military strongman” at both the national and MR levels of leadership in the PLA. Lower Average Age and the Same Generational Cohorts The average age of the PLA top officers decreased significantly after the largescale military leadership turnover in 2002–2003. The average age of the members of the state Central Military Commission, for example, decreased from 68 in 1998 to 63 in 2003.32 The average age of the military leaders on the Central Committee (CC) of the CCP decreased from 62.3 on the Fourteenth CC in 1992 to 58.6 on the Sixteenth CC in 2002.33 Meanwhile, the age span of officers at the same level has become smaller. With the exception of Minister of Defense Cao Gangchun, who was born in 1935, all of the other twenty-two full generals in active service are of a similar age (born between 1938 and 1943). The age span between the oldest and the youngest full general is five years. Table 3.1 also shows that thirty-four of thirty-six top military leaders (94 percent) are of a similar age (born between 1940 and 1947). This narrow age span in the current PLA leadership sharply contrasts with the age distribution of high-ranking officers in the past decade. On the Fourteenth CC, formed in 1992, the youngest military member was Lei Mingqiu (then political commissar of the 42nd Group Army at age forty-six) and the oldest was seventyeight-year-old Zhang Zhen (then vice chair of the CMC). The age difference between them was thirty-two years. On the Sixteenth CC, in contrast, the youngest military member was Liu Yuejun (Commander of the 42nd Group Army), age

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Table 3.3 Comparison of Age Distribution of Top Officers (in 1988 and 2004) Top officers (1988) Age group

Number

Percentage

75–79 70–74 65–69 60–64 55–59 50–54 45–49 Unknown Total

1 11 32 77 82 15 6

0.40 4.90 14.30 34.40 36.60 6.70 2.70

224

100.00

Top officers (2004) Number

Percentage

8 91 60 19 1 16 195

4.10 46.70 30.80 9.70 0.50 8.20 100.00

Source: The data on top officers in 1988 are derived from Li Cheng and Lynn White, “The Army in the Succession to Deng Xiaoping: Familiar Fealties and Technocratic Trends,” Asian Survey 33, no. 8 (August 1993), p. 764.

forty-nine, and the oldest was Minister of Defense Cao Gangchun, age sixty-eight, a difference of nineteen years. Age-based retirement for senior military officers has been reinforced in recent years. An officer’s age and current position are important indicators of his prospects for future career advancement. A similar pattern of narrowing age span is also evident at other levels of leadership, such as the top officers of the military regions. Table 3.3 compares the age distribution of the top officers in 2004 with that of a similar cohort of the Chinese military elite in 1988. In contrast to the 1988 study pool in which twelve officers (5.3 percent) were in their seventies, no high-ranking military officer on active duty today is over age seventy. The current top military leaders largely belong to the same generational cohort. Approximately 88 percent of the officers at the MR level or above range in age from their late forties to early sixties, therefore belonging to the so-called fourth generation.34 This generation of leaders comprises individuals whose formative years were during the Cultural Revolution (CR). They were born in the 1940s and the early 1950s. While there is a fifteen-year span between the oldest and youngest, all members of this generation acquired their first political experiences during the CR. An extensive study is necessary in order to understand whether and how the CR affected the leaders in the military differently in contrast to those who were in the civilian leadership, since most current high-ranking officers were already in the army during the CR. But it is reasonable to generalize that all members of the fourth generation (whether or not they were in the military during the CR) were raised in a volatile political environment characterized by idealism, collectivism, and moralism. They were ideologically indoctrinated, especially those who were

THE NEW MILITARY ELITE

59

Table 3.4 Year of Joining the Army: A Comparison of Officers on the 14th and 16th CCs Officers on the 14th CC (1992)

Officers on the 16th CC (2002)

Year joining the army

Number of officers

Percentage

Number of officers

Percentage

1929–1937 1938–1944 1945–1949 1950–1954 1955–1965 1966–1976 Unknown Total

3 7 21 4 1 0 10 46

6.50 15.20 45.70 8.70 2.20 0.00 21.70 100.00

3 42 8 14 67

4.50 62.70 11.90 20.90 100.00

Source: The data on officers on the Fourteenth CC are derived from Li Cheng and Lynn White, “The Army in the Succession to Deng Xiaoping: Familiar Fealties and Technocratic Trends,” Asian Survey 33, no. 8 (August 1993), p. 765. The data on officers on the Sixteenth CC are derived from the author’s database on the study of all 356 members of the Sixteenth CC. See Li Cheng and Lynn White, “The Sixteenth Central Committee of the Chinese Communist Party: Hu Gets What?” Asian Survey 43, no. 4 (July/August 2003), pp. 553–597.

already in the military. For example, the famous “To Learn from Lei Feng Campaign” originated in the PLA. As time passed, however, this generation’s faith in the political system eroded. Some fourth generation leaders have attributed their current political advancement specifically to the lessons learned and the wisdom derived from the CR.35 In general, military officers who were raised during the CR are less ideological and more practical than their predecessors. Several studies of writings and speeches by this generation of leaders indicate that these individuals advocate military professionalism and believe that the military should be concerned primarily (and perhaps only) with national defense.36 Table 3.4 compares military representatives in the Sixteenth CC with those in the Fourteenth CC in terms of the years that they joined the PLA. All the current highest-ranking officers in active service joined the army after the founding of the PRC in 1949. Their formative experiences profoundly differed from the previous generation of officers who had participated in the Anti-Japanese War and the Liberation War. A majority of the current military members in the Sixteenth CC joined the army between 1955 and 1965. Thus, these individuals were soldiers or junior officers in the PLA during the CR. With one exception, China’s 195 current top officers have no administrative work experience in the civilian leadership.37 Only a few concurrently hold ceremonial positions in the government.38 This sharply contrasts with earlier periods in PRC history,

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when almost all top military leaders concurrently held leadership positions in the government and the CCP (not as members of a large committee, but often as party chiefs). The current top military leaders are too young to have held any important posts in the civilian sector during the CR. As professional soldiers, almost all officers of the current generation advanced their careers entirely in the PLA. This trend may further contribute to the bifurcation between civilian and military affairs in China.39 Lack of war experience is certainly one of the most salient collective traits of the current generation of PLA elite. Approximately 96 percent of the current top military leaders in the PLA have not had any war experience. In contrast, the percentage of top military leaders who lacked war experience in 1988 was 21 percent.40 As veterans of the Korean War, such as former Minister Chi Haotian and former Chief of the General Staff Fu Quanyou, who retired in 2002, the top PLA officers with war experience participated in the Sino-Vietnamese War (e.g., Chief of General Staff Liang Guanglie and Director of the General Logistics Department Liao Xilong). An overwhelming majority of the military elite, including those in the PLA national leadership, lacks any combat experience. Growing military professionalism, more emphasis on educational credentials, the enforcement of institutionalized circulation of officers, and the departure of war veterans in the PLA all suggest that the upcoming generation of the military elite differs significantly from the current generation of PLA national leaders. The upcoming generation includes many distinguished and prominent young scientists and technical experts who currently serve as mid-level officers in all the armed services in the PLA, especially the Second Artillery Corps, the Air Force, and the Navy. For example, China’s space program is now largely run by a so-called “young officer corps” (shaoshuai juntuan). According to official Chinese sources, approximately 80 percent of technical personnel working on the manned-space project are under forty years old.41 A large number of commanders of the program are young scientists and technical experts. For example, Zhang Qingwei, a deputy chief commander of the manned-space program, is president of the China Aerospace Science and Technology Corporation. Zhang was born in 1961 and is the youngest full member on the Sixteenth Central Committee of the CCP. The chief commander of the Shenzhou manned-space orbit vessel is Yuan Jiajun, who is forty-one years old. Wu Yiansheng, president of China’s Research Institute of Carrier Rocket Technology, is only thirty-nine years old. It remains to be seen whether the generational differences between the current top officers and the rising stars in the upcoming generation will lead to major conflicts in the PLA leadership. Obstacles to Military Modernization Conflicts between these diverging generations of the military elite, however, are not necessarily inevitable. The current and upcoming generations of China’s military leaders appear to agree on the country’s mission to achieve military modernization. Institutional regulations such as term limits and age-based retirements will

THE NEW MILITARY ELITE

61

enable the emerging generation of officers to ascend to influential positions of power in due course. Nevertheless, the Chinese military confronts two interrelated obstacles—one logistical and the other political—in its quest to achieve modernization. The predominance of ground force officers in the PLA leadership who lack experience in joint military operations, as well as nepotism in officer promotion, undermines China’s quest for military professionalism. These obstacles are likely to become more acute as the next generation of officers steps up to take on the national and the military-region levels of leadership. Continuing Dominance of Ground Force Officers The U.S. military operations in Kosovo, Afghanistan, and especially Iraq in recent years were all eye-opening experiences for Chinese military officers and strategists. By observing these U.S. military operations, PLA leaders have come to recognize the backwardness (both in terms of strategic thinking and operational capacity) of the Chinese military in today’s world. Consequently, PLA leaders plan to transform the Chinese military from having manpower-oriented troops to technology-centered troops that are familiar with and capable of applying new military concepts and methods such as asymmetric warfare, intelligence warfare, electronic warfare, ammunition warfare, psychological warfare, and other special operations. Such a successful transformation would entail a shift from a quantitative focus on strengthening manpower to a qualitative focus on developing valuable technical skills. Despite this recognition that the focus on conventional warfare by the current ground force is outdated, the dominance of officers from the ground forces in the top military leadership has not changed. In general, the PLA has not moved out of what the Chinese call the “prominence of the ground force” (da lujun). With the exception of Li Jinan, who also worked in the Second Artillery, the top military leaders in the CMC and four PLA general departments have advanced their careers exclusively in the ground forces.42 No officers from the Air Force or Navy currently serve on the CMC.43 The current dominance of officers from the ground forces may hinder the Chinese military’s ability to develop and broaden its capacity. Table 3.5 compares the distribution of service type among the high-ranking officers in the four study pools. The dominance of ground force officers serving as the military representatives on the Central Committee of the CCP has remained almost the same over the past decade (83 percent in 1992 and 79 percent in 2002). A comparison of the distribution of service type in a 1988 study of 224 national and MRlevel officers and 195 current officers in the same category shows that the percentage of military representatives from the ground force has actually increased from 62 percent in 1988 to 72 percent in 2004 (largely at the expense of representatives from the Navy, which decreased from 23 percent in 1988 to 11 percent in 2003). Furthermore, most current PLA leaders do not have much experience in joint military operations, which require a high degree of logistical and technical coordi-

38 3 3 2 46

Number 82.60 6.50 6.50 4.30 100.00

Percentage 53 6 4 4 67

Number 79.10 9.00 6.00 6.00 100.00

Percentage

16th CC officers (2002)

138 31 51 4 224

Number

61.60 13.80 22.80 1.80 100.00

Percentage

Top officers (1988)

140 23 21 11 195

Number

71.80 11.80 10.80 5.60 100.00

Percentage

Top officers (2004)

Source: The data on officers from the Fourteenth CC is derived from Li Cheng and Lynn White, “The Army in the Succession to Deng Xiaoping: Familiar Fealties and Technocratic Trends,” Asian Survey 33, no. 8 (August 1993), p. 769. The data on officers from the Sixteenth CC is derived from the author’s database on the study of all 356 members of the Sixteenth CC. See Li Cheng and Lynn White, “The Sixteenth Central Committee of the Chinese Communist Party: Hu Gets What?” Asian Survey 43, no. 4 (July/August 2003), pp. 553–597. *Officers in the Second Artillery Corps are included in the Ground Force.

Ground force* Air Force Navy People’s Armed Police Total

Service type

14th CC officers (1992)

Distribution of Service Type in the PLA Top Leadership (1988, 1992, 2002, and 2004)

Table 3.5

62 CHENG LI

THE NEW MILITARY ELITE

63

Table 3.6 Comparison of Career Experience of Top Officers in 1988 and 2004 Top officers (1988) Career experience

Number

Percentage

Top officers (2004) Number

Percentage

Military sector only

74

33.00

99

50.80

Political sector only

60

26.80

60

30.80

Technical/academy sector only Two sectors

13 70

5.80 31.30

5 30

2.60 15.30

7

3.10

1

0.50

224

100.00

195

100.00

All three sectors Total

nation and cooperation across service types and regions. In contrast, conventional warfare requires each service type to make strategic moves only from its individual perspective. As one PLA military strategist argues, the Chinese military should change its focus from a force dominated by the Army to a force capable of joint operations, which would require the military to pay more attention to the development and integration of the Navy and the Air Force.44 Table 3.6 compares the career experiences of the 1988 and 2004 pool of officers. The percentage of those officers with work experience in only one sector increased from 66 percent in 1988 to 82 percent in 2004. The percentage of officers who have worked only in the military sector increased from 33 percent in 1988 to 51 percent in 2004.45 Meanwhile, the percentage of officers with work experience in two sectors decreased from 31 percent in 1988 to 15 percent in 2004, and the percentage of officers with work experience in three sectors decreased from 3 percent to 0.5 percent in the same period.46 The PLA’s emphasis on specialization and functional bifurcation between commanders and political commissars during the past two decades may preclude younger officers from obtaining broad and diverse military training. Since the mid-1990s, the regional reshuffling of military leaders has also become less frequent than before, further reducing opportunities for officers at the MR level to familiarize themselves with different operational environments. Most officers at the division, army, and military region levels have advanced their careers entirely within the same field, sector, and service, and usually lack experience in commanding modern joint force operations. According to the Hong Kong newspaper Wenhui bao, the four general departments of the PLA recently issued a joint memo regarding officer exchanges across the services, professions, academies, and general departments. This exchange plan includes division-level and army-level officers. Some officers will work across the

64

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four departments. A small number of officers at the company and battalion levels will have the ability to move between the political and military sectors.47 Meanwhile, the PLA recently issued a new Joint Campaign Logistics and Support Regulation (lianhe zhanyi houqin baozhang gangyao). This new regulation changed the previous logistics system, which was run by each of the services, to a joint logistics system, which has now been established within each military region.48 This is seen as an important development in the integration of military operations.49 But as many Chinese scholars and military strategists observe, it will take about two decades for the PLA to change its conventional practices and familiarize itself with state-of-the-art joint military operations, which need to be “highly technology-oriented, digital, integrated, comprehensive, and flexible.”50 The Continuing Prevalence of Nepotism and Favoritism in Officer Selection One paradoxical trend in elite selection in China today is the enduring influence of favoritism and nepotism in an environment in which meritocratic criteria, institutional rules, and standardized procedures are also valued. Family ties (for princelings or taizi) and patron–client relations (personal secretaries or mishu) assist those officers from privileged backgrounds to advance on a faster track in their careers than those who lack such backgrounds. Table 3.7 lists the thirty current high-ranking officers who have princeling backgrounds (most of whom are the children of former PLA marshals or generals). All of these officers have the military rank of major general/rear admiral or above. General Li Jinan, one of the six noncivilian members of the CMC, is reportedly the nephew of retired General Li Jin (former deputy chief of the General Staff). Lt. General Peng Xiaofeng (son of a revolutionary veteran) and Lt. General Liu Yazhou (son-in-law of Li Xiannian, former president of the PRC) were recently promoted to commissar of the Second Artillery Corps and deputy commissar of the Air Force, respectively. An important phenomenon is that many of these high-ranking officers with taizi backgrounds are relatively young, considering the high rank of their current positions. For example, the youngest officers who presently hold the rank of lieutenant general (or vice admiral) in the Navy, Air Force, Ground Force, and Armed Police are all princelings. They are Deputy Chief of Staff of the Navy Ding Yiping (born in 1951), Deputy Commissar of the Air Force Liu Yazhou (born in 1952), Deputy Political Commissar of the Beijing MR Zhang Haiyang (born in 1949), and Deputy Political Commissar of the General Logistics Department Liu Yuan (born in 1951), who is also lieutenant general of the People’s Armed Police. Some of these rising stars of the PLA have already served on the Sixteenth Central Committee. Deputy Commander of the Air Force Ma Xiaotian (born in 1949) and Commander of the Shenyang Air Force Xi Qiliang (born in 1950) both serve as full members of the Sixteenth CC. They are the two most likely candi-

1942 1942 ? 1945 1943

Liu Weidong

Liu Zhuoming

Ye Aiqun

Yang Junsheng

1950

Xu Qiliang

Su Rongsheng

1951

Liu Yuan

Director, S & T Development Dept., People’s Armed Police

Deputy Commander, Jinan MR

Director, Center for Equipment Feasibility Studies, Navy

Deputy Commissar, Nanjing MR, and Commissar, East Sea Fleet

Deputy Commander, Beijing MR

Deputy Commander, Shenyang MR, and Commander, Shenyang AF

Deputy Commissar, General Logistics Department

Deputy Commander, Second Artillery Corps

Deputy Commissar, Beijing MR

1943

Zhang Haiyang

Deputy Chief of Staff, Navy, former Commander, North Sea Fleet

Zhang Xiang

1949

Ding Yiping

Commissar, Second Artillery Corps Deputy Commissar, Air Force

Commandant, Luoyang Foreign Language Study Academy

1951

Liu Yazhou

Zhang Xiaoyang ?

1945 1952

Peng Xiaofeng

1942

Li Jinai

Director, General Armament Dept.

Born Current Post

Name

Senior Officers with Princeling Backgrounds

Table 3.7

(continued)

Daughter of Yang Chengwu (former General Chief of Staff, PLA)

Son of Ye Jianmin (former PLA General)

Son of Liu Huaqing (former Vice Chair, CMC)

Son of Liu Zhen (former PLA General)

Son of Su Yu (fomer PLA Senior General)

Son of Xu Letian (former Deputy Commander of Air Force)

Son of Liu Shaoqi (former President of PRC)

Son of Zhang Aiping (former Minister of Defense)

Son of Zhang Zhen (former Vice Chair, Central Mil. Commission)

Son of Zhang Zhen (former Vice Chair, Central Mil. Commission)

Son of Ding Qiusheng (former Commander of North Seas Fleet)

Son-in-law of Li Xiannian (former President of PRC)

Son of Peng Xuefeng (revolutionary veteran)

Nephew of Li Jing (former Deputy Chief of the General Staff)

Princeling Background

THE NEW MILITARY ELITE 65

Table 3.7 (continued)

Name

1945 1947 1945 1949 1953 ? 1945 1949 1956 1944 1943 1939

Zeng Qingyuan

Zeng Qingyang

Zeng Haisheng

Chen Zhijian

Chen Zhiya

Chen Zhishu

Yang Jiping

Li Xiaojun

Ma Xiaotian

Qin Weijiang

Liu Miqun

Liu Taichi

Liu Taihang

Son of former dean of PLA Political Academy

Son of Li Yaowen (former PLA General)

Son of Yang Yong (former Deputy General Chief of Staff, PLA)

Son of Chen Geng (former PLA Senior General)

Son of Chen Geng (former PLA Senior General)

Son of Chen Geng (former PLA Senior General)

Sister of Zeng Zenghong (Vice President of PRC)

Brother of Zeng Qinghong (Vice President of PRC)

Brother of Zeng Qinghong (Vice President of PRC)

Son of Xu Xiangqian (former PLA Marshal)

Son of Yang Chengwu (former General, Chief of Staff, PLA)

Deputy Commandant, Air Force Academy

Deputy Director, Air Force Armament Department

Son of Liu Bocheng (former PLA Marshal)

Son of Liu Bocheng (former PLA Marshal)

Deputy Commandant, Air Force Command Academy Daughter of Liu Bocheng (former PLA Marshal)

Deputy Commander, the 65th Group Army, Beijing MR Son of Qin Jiwei (former Minister of Defense)

Deputy Commander, Air Force

Commissar, Shijiazhuang Army Command College

Deputy Commander, Tianjin Garrison

Deputy Commander, Force Stationed in Hong Kong

Fellow, Foreign Armies Research Dept., Acad. of Mil. Science

Deputy Commander, Chongqing Garrison

Deputy Director, General Office, Chief of Staff

Dep. Director, Mil. History Research Dept., Acad. of Mil. Science

Deputy Director, Logistics Dept., Air Force

Director, Communication Dept. General Staff

Son of Yang Chengwu (former General Chief of Staff, PLA)

Note: ? = Unknown; Dept. = Department, Mil. = Military, MR = Military Region.

1950

Xu Xiaoyan

Director, Oil Supply Dept., Logistics Department

1949 1947

Yang Dongming

Director, Armament Dept. Second Artillery

Yang Dongsheng 1945

Princeling Background

CHENG LI

Born Current Post

66

THE NEW MILITARY ELITE

67

dates to succeed Qiao Qingchen as commander of the Air Force within the next few years. Vice Admiral Ding Yiping is an alternate member of the CC, and is also likely to be promoted to an even higher position despite the fact that his career advancement was delayed due to the Submarine No. 361 incident. A number of princelings come from the same family (see Table 3.7). Three are children of Liu Bocheng, three are children of Chen Geng, three are children of Yang Chengwu, two are sons of Zhang Zhen, and three are siblings of Zeng Qinghong. The late Minister of Defense, Zhang Aiping, also has three children who currently serve in the PLA as high-ranking officers (Lt. General Zhang Xiang, Major General Zhang Sheng, and Major General Zhang Ping). Three siblings of PRC vice president Zeng Qinghong are major generals in active service. Their father died a long time ago, but their elder brother, Zeng Qinghong, is often seen as a heavyweight figure, next in status only to Hu Jintao and Wen Jiabao in the fourth generation of Chinese leaders. Zeng Qinghong is among a handful of current civilian leaders who previously served in the PLA. In fact, Zeng Qinghong served in the military as a technician for sixteen years, from 1963 to 1979.51 Zeng also served for three years in the oil industry as an assistant to General Yu Qiuli, a legendary figure in the PLA. Zeng Qinghong’s siblings in the military are not nearing retirement any time in the near future. They can help this ambitious politician maintain close ties with the PLA for years to come. In particular, Vice President Zeng’s younger sister, Zeng Haisheng, is one of a handful of female major generals in the Chinese military. She currently holds an important position at the headquarters of the General Staff. The ubiquitous role of the mishu (personal secretaries) in elite recruitment is another important phenomenon in Chinese politics today.52 Especially in the civilian leadership, the post of mishu is commonly a stepping-stone to leadership positions. Zeng, who is widely known as Jiang Zemin’s “hatchet man,” now enjoys enormous power. Wen Jiabao is the first mishu-turned-premier in the history of the PRC.53 The mishu phenomenon is not as prevalent in the military elite as it is in the civilian leadership. Compared to the large number of civilian leaders with mishu experience, the percentage of military officers who have advanced their careers through mishu work is marginal. This distinction is partly due to the fact that promotion to a higher military rank requires experience in military operations and leadership at various levels. Nevertheless, the mishu experience has also become one of the many channels for career advancement in the PLA during the past two decades. Since no officer can claim much combat experience during peacetime, political loyalty and political management skills have become more valuable. The best example of the important role that a mishu can play in the military is that of retired General Wang Ruilin, a former member of the CMC and a longtime mishu to Deng Xiaoping.54 Wang started to work as a mishu to Deng, then vice premier, in the early 1950s. In the early 1980s, Wang was deputy director of the General Office of the CMC. Wang later served as secretary of the PLA’s Commis-

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sion for Discipline Inspection, an important position because the commission could send deputies to inspect and report back on the four general departments, services, and military regions. Before Wang became deputy director of the General Political Department in 1993, the Commission was directly involved in the reshuffling of regional military leaders. Wang retained his position for another term after Deng’s death in 1997 and retired in 2002. Lt. General You Xigui, widely known as Jiang Zemin’s bodyguard, is currently director of the Bodyguards Bureau under the General Office of the Central Committee. He started to take charge of Jiang’s security when Jiang moved to Beijing in 1989 as the new secretary general of the CCP. You Xigui’s position is more like that of a bodyguard rather than a mishu to Jiang Zemin. Jiang’s principal mishu is Jia Tingan. Holding the military rank of major general, Jia was recently promoted to director of the General Office of the CMC.55 Born into a peasant family in Yexian, Henan, in 1952, Jia grew up during the Cultural Revolution. In the early 1970s, when he worked at No. 4057 factory, which was affiliated with the Fourth Ministry of the MachineBuilding Industry, he met a senior party leader from the ministry who was sent to the factory to perform manual labor. 56 With the leader’s recommendation, Jia became a “worker-peasant-soldier student” at Xi’an Jiaotong University.57 After graduation, Jia was chosen by the same senior leader to work as a mishu in the general office of the ministry. Jia began to work for Jiang Zemin after the Cultural Revolution when Jiang was a ministry-level leader in Beijing. Since the early 1980s, Jia has always served Jiang as a mishu and a special assistant. Jia followed Jiang to Shanghai when Jiang was appointed mayor of Shanghai in 1985, and then followed his boss’s return to Beijing when Jiang became secretary general of the CCP in 1989. Hu Jintao’s “bodyguard,” Yan Min, is also a major general in the PLA. Yan was born in Jiangsu’s Taizhou, where Hu Jintao was raised. Yan attended No. 2 Taizhou High School, the same high school that Hu attended.58 The information as to when Hu and Yan first met is not available. Yan currently serves as deputy director of the Bodyguards Bureau of the General Office of the Central Committee. Hu Jintao’s principal mishu, Ling Jihua, advanced his political career largely through the Chinese Communist Youth League, not through the military. Ling is currently not enlisted in the PLA. Like You Xigui, Ling currently serves as deputy director of the General Office of the Central Committee. Also like You Xigui, Ling was among the alternate members on the Sixteenth CC who received the lowest number of votes in the election. The experiences of Wang Ruiling, You Xigui, Jia Tingan, and Yan Min confirm that those who serve as a mishu, bodyguard, mishu-turned-bodyguard, or bodyguard-turned-mishu, and later rise to serve as top leaders, are important people to watch. These mishu and bodyguards are often the most reliable confidants of the top leaders. Thus, nepotism and favoritism continue to play a crucial role in the promotion of military officers. These practices often produce harsh

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resentment and criticism from both the public and the PLA. On the official website of the Xinhua News Agency, Jia Tingan’s name is presently listed below only four members of the CMC, but above many full generals. The fact that taizi and mishu often receive the lowest number of votes in the CCP Central Committee elections also indicates that even the political establishment in the party does not like to see current top leaders’ taizi, mishu, or bodyguards hold too much power. The practices of nepotism and favoritism in the PLA not only undermine military professionalism, but also could potentially aggravate tensions within the Chinese political establishment. Conclusion Although the PLA has made truly remarkable progress in institutionalizing the generational change of its leaders, its drive to achieve military modernization has yet to overcome a number of logistical and political obstacles. The current top officers have usually attended NDU and other academies for mid-career advanced training when they were already in their forties and even fifties. An overwhelming majority of current PLA officers do not have any war experience. Almost none of them have had experience as civilian leaders. Most high-ranking officers advanced their careers entirely within the same field, sector, and service, and thus lack experience in commanding modern joint force operations. Officers from the ground forces have continued to dominate the military leadership. Blood ties and patron– client relations have remained prevalent in the selection of military elites. Yet China’s new civilian and military leaders are fully aware of the potential challenges they currently face. They have been working hard to make the PLA more professional and competent. Thus, even though these contradictory trends in the formation of the new military leadership coexist, the recent rapid development of the Chinese military has made the PLA a powerful force. The characteristics of the new PLA leaders—their professional competence, political associations, military doctrines, and world views—will not only shape the civil-military relationship within the country, but will also affect the PLA’s choice of national defense policies and hence China’s relations with the outside world. Notes The author would like to thank Sally Carman and Jennifer Schwartz for their editorial help. 1. At present, the PLA rules and regulations for age-based retirement and term limits (two terms of five years each) apply to all levels of military leadership with the exception of the very top echelon (the members of the CMC and directors and their deputies of the PLA’s general departments). 2. Both quantitative and qualitative materials in this study have been obtained largely from Chinese official websites run by the Xinhua News Agency (www.xinhuanet.com), the People’s Liberation Army Daily (www.pladaily.com.cn), and the People’s Daily (www.peopledaily.com.cn), all of which have a special section on Chinese military affairs. As for biographical data on the PLA new leaders, the author also confirmed the data with

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many other sources for verification, such as Shen Xueming and Zheng Jianying, eds., Zhonggong di shiwujie zhongyang weiyuanhui zhongyang zhongyang jilü jiancha weiyuanhui weiyuan minglu (Who’s who among the members of the Fifteenth Central Committee of the Chinese Communist Party and the Fifteenth Central Commission for Discipline Inspection) (Beijing: Zhonggong Wenxian Chubanshe, 1999); and Ling Haijian, Zhongguo jundui xinjiangxing (The profile of prominent military chiefs in China) (Hong Kong: The Pacific Century Press, 1999). In addition, the author collected biographic information, often through search engines, from other Internet websites such as www.sina.com, www.yahoo.com, www.sohu.com, and www.chinesenewsnet.com. 3. Liao Gailong and Fan Yuan, comps., Zhongguo renming da cidian: xiandai dangzhengjun lingdao renwu juan (Who’s who in China: Current party, government, and military leaders) (Beijing: Foreign Languages Press, 1994). At the national level, these military leaders include: (1) noncivilian vice chairs of the CMC; (2) chiefs (or directors), political commissars, deputy and assistant chiefs (or deputy and assistant directors), deputy political commissars, and their equivalents in the four general departments; (3) commanders, political commissars, deputy commanders, deputy political commissars, chiefs of staff, and directors of political departments in the Navy, Air Force, Second Artillery Corps, and People’s Armed Police Force; (4) commandants, political commissars, deputy commandants, and deputy political commissars in the top three research and teaching academies of the PLA; and (5) director of the Bodyguard Bureau of the Central Committee of the CCP and director of the General Office of the CMC. At the subnational level (the military region level), these military leaders include all commanders; political commissars; deputy commanders; deputy political commissars; chiefs of staff; directors of political, joint logistics, and armament departments; commanders of the regional air force; and commanders of naval fleets in China’s seven military regions. 4. The data on the previous generation of the Chinese military elite is largely based on Li Cheng and Lynn White, “The Army in the Succession to Deng Xiaoping: Familiar Fealties and Technocratic Trends,” Asian Survey 33, no. 8 (August 1993): 757–786. 5. Jiang’s confidants in the military fared poorly in elections at the Sixteenth Party Congress. Jiang’s bodyguard, You Xigui, received the lowest number of votes for election as an alternate on the Central Committee (CC). Jiang’s other two patrons in the military, Xiong Guangkai (deputy chief of the General Staff) and Xu Zhigong (deputy commandant of the National Defense University), received the tenth and seventh lowest votes, respectively (out of all 356 members and alternates who were elected). As a standard practice, alternate members of the CC are listed in the order of the number of votes they received. For the details of the list, see http://test.china.org.cn/english/features/48817.htm. 6. David Shambaugh, for example, argues that the fact that this largest turnover of military elite in PRC history “could occur absent a purge or crisis is testimony to how regularized and professional personnel procedures have become in the PLA.” See “China’s New High Command,” in The PLA and Chinese Society in Transition, ed. Michael Marti (Washington, DC: National Defense University Press, 2003), p. 35. In contrast, James Mulvenon believes that the fact that Jiang “hangs on to the CMC chairmanship” indicates that the succession is incomplete, and brings back “memories of party–army relations in the late 1980s before Tiananmen.” Most importantly, Jiang’s behavior creates “two centers” in the Chinese decision-making process, which is “most ill-equipped to handle” a possible crisis both at home and abroad. See Mulvenon, “The PLA and the 16th Party Congress: Jiang Controls Guns?” China Leadership Monitor, no. 5 (Winter 2003): 20; and “Reduced Budgets, ‘The Centers,’ and Other Mysteries of the 2003 National People’s Congress,” China Leadership Monitor, no. 7 (Summer 2003): 6. For a more general assessment of China’s military modernization and its implications for the United States, see U.S. Department of Defense, “Annual Report on the Military Power of the People’s Republic of China” (Washington DC, 2003).

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7. The CMC under the initiation of Jiang Zemin in 1992 first proposed this mission. See Wang Zhen, “Kuashiji de qiangjun celue—Xuexi Jiang Zemin guanyu kejiqiangjun de lunshu” (The strategy for a strong army: Study of Jiang Zemin’s remarks on strengthening the military with science and technology), Dangdai Zhongguoshi yanjiu (Studies of the history of contemporary China) 9, no. 4 (July 2002): 77. At the PLA chiefs of staff meeting held in November 1999, Jiang stated that whether the PLA is able to win possible regional and limited wars under high-tech conditions would determine the level of China’s national security and the success of socialist modernization. See Junshi kexueyuan zhanlue yanjiubu, 2000–2001 nian zhanlue pinggu (An assessment of strategy, 2000–2001) (Beijing: Junshi kexue chubanshe, 2000), p. 144. 8. People’s Daily, May 25, 2003, p. 1. 9. See http://news.xinhuanet.com/mil/2003-08/04/content_1009538.htm. For the details of Xiong Guangkai’s views about the “ongoing global military reform,” see his new book, Guoji zhanlue yu xin junshi biange (International strategy and revolution in military affairs) (Beijing: Qinghua University Press, 2003). 10. Ling, Zhongguo jundui xinjiangxing (The profile of prominent military chiefs), p. 144. 11. See http://xinhuanet.com, December 4, 2002. 12. For more discussion of the changes in the university, see Lu Fengru, 1953–1966 “Hajungong” zujian jishi (The establishment of the Harbin Institute of Military Engineering, 1953–1966) (Beijing: Haichao chubanshe, 2002); and Luo Laiyong, Hajungong hun Zhongguo guofang keji rencai peiyang jishe (The spirit of the Harbin Institute of Military Engineering) (Beijing: Central Party School Publishing House, 1995). 13. People’s Daily, August 29, 2003, p. 1. 14. Robert A. Scalapino, ed., Elites in the People’s Republic of China (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1972). 15. Tsai Wen-hui, Patterns of Political Elite Mobility in Modern China, 1912–1949 (Ph.D. dissertation, University of California, Berkeley, 1974). 16. Cheng Li, China’s Leaders: The New Generation (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2001), pp. 33–34. 17. People’s Daily (overseas edition), July 6, 1987, p. 1. 18. Xiao Bing and Qing Bo, Zhongguo nengfou daying xia yichang zhanzheng? Zhonggong junfang duitai zhanlue gouxiang shoudu puguang (Can China win the next war?) (Taipei: Tongzhi wenhua shiye gufen youxian gongsi, 1995), p. 49. 19. People’s Daily, October 9, 2000, p. 1, as quoted from Yu Huamin, “Kejiqiangjun tuidong jundui zhiliang jianshe shixian lishixing kuayue” (Historical leapfrog in promoting the military quality with science and technology), Dangdai Zhongguoshi yanjiu (Contemporary China history studies) 9, no. 4 (July 2002): 87. 20. Dalu qingshi (Situation on the mainland), no. 1 (2002): 57. 21. People’s Daily, October 9, 2000, p. 1, as quoted from Yu, “Historical Leapfrog,” p. 87. 22. He Pin, Zhongguo jiefangjun xianyi jianglinglu (PLA generals in active service) (Hong Kong: Mingjing chubanshe, 1996), pp. 154 and 163. 23. See www.xinhuanet.com, December 18, 2003. 24. See http://news.sina.com.cn, May 11, 2003. 25. People’s Daily, September 19, 2002, p. 1, as quoted from www.chinesenewsnet.com, September 19, 2002. 26. See www.chinesenewsnet.com, August 12, 2002. 27. People’s Daily, September 15, 2003, p. 10. 28. There are eighteen top universities on the recruitment list, including Qinghua University, Beijing University, Beijing University of Aviation and Space, Beijing Institute of Engineering, Beijing University of Science and Technology, and Beijing Jiaotong University. Shijie ribao (World journal), September 16, 2003, p. C1. 29. Beijing wanbao (Beijing evening news), November 13, 2000.

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30. The announcement of appointments of PLA high-ranking leaders is usually made to the public a few months after the appointments. This table does not include the possible new appointments made in the first three months of 2004. 31. Shijie ribao (World journal), January 4, 2004, p. A4. 32. Ibid., March 17, 2003, p. A7. 33. See Li and White, “The Army in the Succession to Deng Xiaoping,” 765. 34. The “fourth generation of Chinese leaders” usually refers to those who were born between 1941 and 1956. For a discussion of the definition of the fourth generation, see Li, China’s Leaders, pp. 10–14. 35. Zhonghua yingcai (China’s talents), no. 5 (March 1999): 12. 36. For a detailed discussion of views about military professionalism and the lessons learned from the Cultural Revolution, see Yang Guihua and Chen Chuangang, eds., Gongheguo jundui huimu (Retrospective of the republic army) (Beijing: Junshi kexue chubanshe, 1999); Hu Guangzheng and Xiao Xianshe, eds., Yingxiangdao 21 shiji de zhengming (Intellectual disputes affecting the 21st century) (Beijing: Jiefangjun chubanshe, 1985); and Yao Youzhi, Shiji lunbing (The military at the turn of the new century) (Beijing: Jiefangjun wenyi chubanshe, 2002). 37. The exception is Liu Yuan, deputy political commissar of the General Logistics Department, who served as vice mayor of Zhengzhou and vice governor of Henan from 1985 to 1992, before becoming a high-ranking officer in the People’s Armed Police. He is a son of former PRC president Liu Shaoqi. 38. For example, Cao Gangchun serves as minister of Defense. Hu Yanlin, political commissar of the Navy, is a standing member of the tenth Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference. These posts are largely ceremonial. 39. For a further discussion of the bifurcation between civilian and military affairs in China, see David Shambaugh, “The Leadership Succession in the Chinese Military,” Asia Program Special Report, Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars paper no. 105 (September 2002): 35–38. 40. Li and White, “The Army in the Succession to Deng Xiaoping,” p. 773. 41. See www.xinhuanet.com, October 27, 2003. 42. Officers in the Second Artillery Corps are sometimes also included in the ground force. 43. However, some Hong Kong newspapers recently reported that the commander of Air Force, the commander of Navy, and the commander of the Second Artillery would likely become members of the CMC in the near future. Shijie ribao, May 1, 2004, p. C1. 44. Wu Jianchu, “Lianhe zuozhan–Gaojishu tiaojian xia zuozhan de jiben xingshi” (Joint military operation: The basic method of warfare making use of high technology), Zhongguo junshi kexue (China military science), no. 4 (Winter 1995): 89–93. 45. The proportion of those high-ranking officers who have worked only in the military sector was 41 percent in 1994. See Ding Shufan, ed., “Dang hai zhihui qiang? Jundui gaige yu dangjun guanxi bianhua” (Does the party still command the army?), in Hu Jintao shidai de tiaozhan (Challenges for the Hu Jintao era) (Taipei: Xinwen Publishing House, 2002), p. 104. 46. The number of officers with work experience in both military and political sectors decreased from 21 percent in 1989 to 8 percent in 1994. See ibid., p. 104. 47. Wenhui bao (Hong Kong), September 17, 2003, p. 1. 48. See http://chinesenewsnet.com, December 30, 2003. 49. Yu, “Historical leapfrog in promoting the military quality,” p. 85. 50. Shijie ribao (World journal), January 19, 2004, p. C1; and Zhou Xiaopeng, “Manyi lianhe zuozhan lilun de fazhan” (Discussing the establishment and development of the theories of a new generation of joint operation), Zhongguo junshi kexue (China military science), no. 2 (1996): 90–94; PLA Daily, January 6, 2004, p. 1, and January 13, 2004, p. 1.

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51. Su Ha, Zhonggong danei zongguan—Zeng Qinghong de quanli zhilu (The general manager of the Chinese Communist Party: Zeng Qinghong’s road to power) (Hong Kong: Xiafeier Publishing House, 2003), pp. 87–89. 52. For a further discussion of the distinctions between various types of mishu, see Wei Li and Lucian W. Pye, “The Ubiquitous Role of the Mishu in Chinese Politics,” China Quarterly, no. 132 (December 1992): 916–925. 53. For more discussion about the mishu phenomenon in today’s China, see James C. Mulvenon and Michael S. Chase, “The Role of Mishus in the Chinese Political System: Change and Continuity,” in Chinese Leadership in the Twenty-first Century: The Rise of the Fourth Generation, ed. David M. Finkelstein and Maryanne Kivlehan (Armonk, NY: M.E. Sharpe, 2002); and Cheng Li, “The Mishu Phenomenon: Patron–Client Ties and CoalitionBuilding Tactics,” China Leadership Monitor, no. 4 (Fall 2002). 54. Li and White, “The Army in the Succession to Deng Xiaoping,” pp. 777–778. 55. See www.china.com.cn, March 8, 2004. 56. This discussion is based on an unofficial Chinese website, http://jjlt.liful.com, July 25, 2003. The senior party leader was Wang Zheng, a retired lieutenant general, who served as minister of the Fourth Ministry of Machine-Building Industry. This information has not been verified. 57. Another source reports that Jia attended the Chengdu Institute of Telecommunication Engineering, not Xian Jiaotong University. See http://jjlt.liful.com, August 4, 2003. 58. This information is verified by the Web site of No. 2 Taizhou High School, http:// home.jsinfo.net/xinhua/subject2/taizhou/index6.htm. Also see Ma Ling and Li Ming, Hu Jintao—Ta cong nali lai, Jiang xiang hechu qu? (Hu Jintao: From where did he come and where will he go?) (Taipei: Mingbao chubanshe, 2002), p. 240.

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4 The Fourth-Generation Leaders and the New Military Elite Yu Bin

In recent years, China’s civil-military relations have been under intense scrutiny for several reasons. These include the protracted transition of its military leadership from Jiang Zemin to Hu Jintao, the increasingly younger and more technologyoriented officer corps of the People’s Liberation Army (PLA), the uncertain future of cross-strait relations, the growing centrality of China as a regional military and economic power, and the fluidity of the era of unilateralism and preemption. This chapter examines the emerging interactions and dynamics of China’s civilmilitary relations under the fourth generation of leaders. It argues that stable and normal civil-military relations in China have largely been a function of the broader context of China’s domestic political stability and leadership cohesion. In addition, stability in China’s civil-military relations has also been the result of a learning curve starting from the Cultural Revolution (CR) that took place between 1966 and 1976; a period of time that is frequently looked at as the most politicized, and certainly most traumatic, for both the PLA and China as a whole. Specifically, the relatively stable, though evolving, equilibrium between the PLA and Chinese society has been achieved by the PLA’s depoliticization and hands-off approach to politics on one hand, and the civilian leadership’s support for the PLA’s professionalization and modernization on the other. This equilibrium between the PLA and its civilian counterparts (namely, the Chinese Communist Party, the government, and the paramount leader) started during Deng Xiaoping’s tenure and was institutionalized under the third generation of leaders (Jiang Zemin and Zhu Rongji). It was taken over by Hu Jintao and Wen Jiabao, who are likely to continue to sustain it in the foreseeable future. Theories and the Chinese Case The extensive literature of Western theories of civil-military relations has been torn between at least three competing models: the Huntingtonian “dualist model” 74

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of the soldier and the state; the “praetorian soldier” model of military intervention in politics for the postcolonial, developing nations; and the “revolutionary soldier” model of communist civil-military relations.1 The Huntingtonian “ideal type” of Western civil-military relations, though not problem free by itself, presumes that its juxtaposition of the soldier and the state is inherently stable and therefore “good.”2 According to Huntington, other non-Western, or nonliberal, civil-military relations should be measured by this Western yardstick of professional expertise, a sense of professional responsibility to the state, and self-awareness of the officer corps as a corporate entity.3 Despite its normative “bias,” however, Huntington’s classic theory of civil-military relations gets an unexpected boost from the problems of other theoretical models. The sudden collapse of the former Soviet Union and its satellite states simply renders useless those theories that tout the efficacy of the organic state and the durability of communist civil-military relations.4 Meanwhile, the “praetorian soldier” model—which points to the intervening military as the root cause for general ungovernability and “failed states” in many parts of the developing world— actually provides an external, albeit “evil,” “other model” that the Huntingtonian “empire” (paradigm) directly opposes. China, as a non-Western, communist, and largely developing nation, remains an exception to these models—not only in terms of the Western-centric model, but also in terms of the once insuperable Soviet model and the ubiquitous “praetorian soldier” model. Partially because of this, students of China’s civil-military relations have in the past fifteen years pursued a distinctly different path from other nations. This path can be referred to as one of studying “civil-military relations with Chinese characteristics.” For most scholars and students who look at civil-military relations, the issue is not about rejecting Huntington’s model—its internal validity as a Western theory of civil-military relations is not in question. There are, however, limits as to how much the Western “shoe” fits the Chinese “foot.” Scholars who examine this issue have provided treatises that range from a straightforward description to a clear rejection of the Huntingtonian model.5 More recently, some scholars have detected quasi-bargaining dynamics, or the “conditional compliance” model, between the PLA and its civilian leaders.6 Others have started to bring in elements of Chinese traditional culture in analyzing contemporary civil-military relations.7 With the same open-ended approach, this chapter sets out to examine China’s civil-military relations within a broader socio-politico-economic context. Specifically, it focuses on the unique interactive and dynamic relationship between the civilian “triad” (the party, the state, and the paramount leader) and their collective/ divided leadership over the PLA. It is argued here that the degree of cohesion versus tension in civil-military relations, and the level of the PLA’s politicization and professionalization, is closely correlated with the level of cohesion, normalcy, and stability in China’s politics. In retrospect, the most politicized period of the PLA occurred during the CR, a time when the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) no longer functioned. Conversely, the restoration, continuity, and “normalcy” of Communist

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Party control in China during the reform decades goes hand in hand with the process of professionalization. In this sense, several patterns are discernible with regard to China’s civil-military relations. First, the greater the tension between the paramount leaders of the party and the state, the more volatile Chinese politics is likely to be and the greater the chance that the PLA will involve itself in politics. Second, the more powerful the paramount leader is, the less professional the PLA is, and vice versa. Third, the more stable Chinese politics and society are, the more institutionalized and professionalized the PLA becomes. With these patterns of civil-military relations in mind, the reform decades have seen a process of restoring normalcy in China, of maintaining general political stability, and of decreasing the role of Communist ideology throughout Chinese politics and society. This has also been a period of modernizing and professionalizing the PLA. It is within this broad context that the relationship between Hu Jintao’s fourth generation of government and the PLA is examined. The PLA’s First Fifty Years: From Revolutionary “Multitasking” to “Politics-in-Command” There are three broadly defined historical phases in the PLA’s institutional growth: the revolutionary phase (1927–49), the politicization phase (1949–78), and the professionalization phase (1977–present). Throughout these three phases, the Chinese Communist Party, and/or its paramount leader, remains as the dominant civilian institution over and within the military.8 The dynamics of the CCP’s ties with the PLA, however, vary greatly. Before this chapter examines the third, or current, phase of PLA’s relationship with the party, it is useful to revisit the first fifty years of the PLA’s history (1927–77), during which the PLA was a multifunctional instrument. In the last ten years of this period, the Cultural Revolution (1966–76), the PLA had become perhaps the least professionalized, and the most highly politicized, armed force in the world. The PLA’s Formative Years: Fusion of Roles One of the major issues in understanding China’s civil-military relations is to distinguish the PLA’s political and nonmilitary functions from its participation in politics, or the “politicization” of the PLA (the meaning of politicization will be discussed in the next section). The PLA’s nonmilitary functions can be best exemplified by Mao’s own description of the Long March (1934–35), during which the Red Army moved from its southern bases to northern China. According to Mao, the Long March is by no means a strategic retreat of the Communist military, but a political manifesto, a propaganda force, and a “seeding machine” for national salvation.9 During the Yan’an period (1935–48), the Communist military was also encouraged to educate the masses with Communist ideology and anti-Japanese messages, as well as

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becoming economically and logistically self-sufficient.10 In other words, the Red Army was considered to be more than a mere fighting force. All of these nonmilitary functions were to stay with the PLA for years to come, and they also affected the PLA’s relations with the later generation of the Chinese civilian leadership. The PLA’s ability to multitask and perform nonmilitary functions became a deeply rooted idea that affected the PLA’s relations with the political elite and Chinese society. Both the civilian leadership and Chinese society actually expected the PLA to perform these nonmilitary functions. In this sense, the “symbiotic” relationship can be largely considered as one in which the Communist military performed political functions and the CCP was a militarized revolutionary party committed to armed struggle. Although it happened that some factional politics involved certain units of the Red Army, the PLA in its totality was not “politicized” for power struggle over an extended period of time, as it was during the 1960s and 1970s. The PLA in Politics: Whither the Party? The “politicization” of the PLA was a unique phase of China’s civil-military relations post-1949 when Mao and his colleagues were debating the issue of how to run China’s civilian and military affairs. The debate mainly focused on whether the PLA should follow the professional/expert route, or whether it should be a politically/ideologically “correct” force. With the exception of a few years of professionalization in the 1950s, the PLA gradually shifted toward a political path in the 1960s.11 It was during this second phase of politicization that the “politicization of the Chinese military” became the dominant feature in China’s civil-military relations.12 For almost twenty years (1959–78), the PLA gradually involved itself in China’s politics, an involvement that peaked during the ten-year CR. The PLA deeply and extensively intervened in both policymaking and power struggles at all levels. For many years, the PLA was the only functioning institution in the PRC, as Mao deliberately destroyed China’s administrative and party mechanisms. This unprecedented politicization of the PLA occurred, ironically, at a time when the CCP was no longer functioning as a ruling party.13 For half a century from its founding (1927) to the eve of the reform (1978), the PLA could hardly separate itself from its nonmilitary functions and/or politics. Before things would take a major turn, the longest period of the PLA’s professionalization during the reform decades had to proceed with a brief but failed attempt by Deng Xiaoping to depoliticize the PLA in the last two years of the CR. The PLA’s Failed Professionalization (1975–76) Between 1973 and early 1976, Deng Xiaoping was brought back from his political exile and gradually took over some key administrative tasks, including his ap-

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pointment as the PLA’s chief of staff in early 1975. After a series of briefings by the PLA’s General Staff in the first half of 1975, Deng made two major speeches outlining an ambitious plan to consolidate and modernize the PLA.14 In both speeches, Deng urged the PLA to defactionalize, streamline, restructure, modernize, and professionalize. Deng’s efforts came at a time when the PLA was at its peak of being highly politicized and deeply factionalized.15 With a total force of some 6 million, the PLA was also the largest armed force in peacetime as well one of the least professionalized militaries in the world. Many units and officers were preoccupied by anything but military affairs. During the same period (1966–76), the PLA inserted itself further into economic activities as it literally took over many enterprises around the nation in the name of san zhi liang jun.16 In almost all the cases, the PLA units were loaded with lucrative economic activities to the degree that military training for many units became either sidelined or nonexistent. Despite some limited modernization of the PLA’s strategic missile forces (the Second Artillery)17 and a few selected “elite” field army units, China’s armed forces as a whole were in a state of “total decline” professionally.18 Deng’s 1975 effort to reinstate and defactionalize the military did generate some shock-and-awe effects, particularly at the top echelons of the PLA. This, however, proved short-lived, as was the case for Deng’s effort to restore order and stability in civilian areas. When Premier Zhou Enlai died on January 8, 1976, the moderates led by Deng quickly lost their “restoration” momentum. After the popular demonstrations against the radicals (Gang of Four) in early April 1976, Deng was accused of being behind this “counter-revolutionary” riot and quickly faded away into another round of political exile. As a result, the PLA’s decline, as well as the abnormal state of civil-military relations, continued unchecked. Post-Mao “Gun Control”: The PLA’s Depoliticizaton and Decommercialization The reform decades (1978–present) have witnessed a process of gradually reducing the PLA’s nonmilitary functions while pursuing professionalization and modernization. This was accomplished in two distinctive stages: the depoliticization stage of the 1980s and the decommercialization stage of the 1990s. By the time the fourth generation of leaders transitioned into power in late 2002, the PLA had largely ceased to be a multitasking institution and was focusing instead on a mission of national defense. Deng’s Reign (1980s): The PLA’s Last Real Paramount Leader The process of the PLA’s professionalization is well documented throughout the 1980s.19 Some of the main features of this process include the shared consensus among China’s political and military elite that the type of excessive politicization

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of China’s armed forces witnessed during the CR should not be repeated; that soldiers should go back to the barracks; and that the PLA’s professionalization should concentrate on restructuring, training, and streamlining rather than on a sweeping modernization of its largely outdated weaponry.20 Military modernization was desirable, but only if the economy could afford it. Deng came to be the last truly paramount leader in China. He led the PLA through at least three major changes: he restored the dominant role of the party in the PLA, he appointed his supporters to key positions in the military, and he relied on his own authority. Deng realized that he would be the last leader to exercise personal control of the PLA.21 He was aware that the Chinese military, as well as the entire nation, was undergoing a crucial transition from politics to economics in command, from ideology to pragmatism, and from rule of man to rule of law. A “strongman” with credentials in both military and civilian affairs like himself would be needed before both the PLA and China’s civil-military relations could be institutionalized.22 As a result of Deng’s strong and skillful control, the PLA was essentially depoliticized, defactionalized, and was able to pull itself out of ubiquitous involvement in civilian affairs.23 By the late 1980s, the PLA was again involved in civilian politics, this time quelling the student-led demonstrations in Tiananmen Square. Once normalcy and stability were achieved after this incident, Deng moved quickly to place the PLA under the new Central Military Commission (CMC) chairman, Jiang Zemin (November 1989). In the next few years, before he finally faded away, Deng would make sure that Jiang institutionalized his control of the PLA. Jiang: Not So Paramount But Firmly Embedded Jiang was “parachuted” into Beijing during the height of the 1989 crisis to replace outgoing party chief Zhao Ziyang.24 A technocrat trained in the former Soviet Union, Jiang had no formal military experience whatsoever. Nor did he have any institutional backing from the vast central bureaucracies. In fact, the only political asset with which China’s first “not-so-paramount” leader came into power was Deng’s personal backing.25 From the early days of his assuming the top party and CMC positions, to the dismissal of the Yang brothers in 1992–93, and finally Deng’s death in 1997, Jiang Zemin—the PLA’s first real civilian leader with limited personal authority and charisma—managed to develop an unprecedented institutional base, which enabled him to preside over a vast central bureaucracy encompassing the party, state, and military.26 This included holding all the top offices: the CCP’s general secretary, president of the state, and the CMC chairman. Moreover, Jiang also chaired the party’s Central Foreign Affairs Leading Small Group (zhonggong zhongyang waishi lingdao xiaozu) and the Taiwan Affairs Leading Small Group.27 In the broader historical sense, one can see a difference between Jiang and other leaders. Mao never trusted the bureaucracy and ended up destroying most of it. Deng rebuilt it but did not really need it to get things done. Without comparable personal charisma, Jiang has sought to dominate almost every policymaking area.

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Not only has Jiang positioned himself as the dominant civilian leader of the PLA, he has also taken major steps, almost every five years, to restructure and reshape it. This includes the CMC’s April 1992 decision to continue to streamline and restructure the PLA in order to consolidate its one-million-man cut in the 1980s, as well as the September 1997 decision to cut an additional 500,000 troops over a period of three years. This was followed in April 1998 by a major overhaul of the PLA’s command and control, logistics, and armament mechanisms, during which a unified PLA General Armament Department was created, alongside the General Staff Department, General Political Department, and General Logistics Department. Jiang’s most recent effort to reform the PLA came in 2002–3 when he articulated the “dual-historical mission” for the PLA’s mechanization and information-based military (xinxi hua) in the CCP’s Sixteenth Congress in November 2002 and the concept of “RMA [revolution in military affairs] with Chinese characteristics” (Zhongguo tese de junshi biange) in March 2003, making the PLA’s information-based capability the key for its modernization.28 In addition to reshaping the PLA, Jiang’s concerted effort to befriend the PLA also contributed to its eventual acceptance of his leadership. Throughout his tenure as CMC chairman, military spending rose steadily. Perhaps more than any other top leader, Jiang made an extraordinary effort to reach out and cultivate support from the PLA. He traveled widely and frequently to military units, during holidays, and to remote areas. Even on his way to and from foreign visits, Jiang lost no opportunity to send cables from his Air Force One to the PLA’s border security units below. Beyond those high-latitude gestures, Jiang managed to gain support and loyalty from almost all sectors of the PLA: from younger officers for his broad policy of nurturing a highly educated, well-trained, and professionalized officer core; from the rank-and-file for improving living conditions of the soldiers; and from older generals for being promoted to retirement or semi-retirement. Toward the end of his tenure as the PLA’s civilian boss, Jiang had indeed become a Mr. Nice Guy for many in the increasingly professionalized PLA. Indeed, Jiang felt so confident of his ability to command and control the PLA that he decided in 1998 to sever the PLA completely from any commercial activities, something that Deng had been either unwilling or unable to do. Jiang’s leadership of the PLA reflects two broad policy considerations. First, that the PLA’s capabilities need to keep up with the worldwide trend of RMA, and second, that the party needs to maintain control of the PLA.29 In both areas, Jiang’s trademarks have been unambiguous and are fast becoming legacies that the coming generation of China’s civilian and military leaders will use to interact with one another. New Faces and New Thinking: Policy Convergence and Divergence The rise of China’s fourth generation of leaders was anything but dramatic. Indeed, they simply emerged through protracted service within the party and gov-

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ernmental bureaucracies before coming into the national spotlight. In comparison, almost all of their predecessors were products of crises: Mao during the Long March (1935), Deng in the aftermath of the CR, and Jiang in the midst of the 1989 crackdown and leadership crisis. At least three issues should be examined regarding civil-military relations between this generation of leaders and the PLA: (1) the collective experience of the fourth generation of leaders; (2) their propensity toward more transparency in policy, more institutionalization, and more responsiveness to societal needs; and (3) the lengthy “apprenticeship” of the fourth generation of leaders, which is still under way, in particular with regard to security and military affairs. The Boomer Generation: “Homemade” and Humble As the fourth generation of leaders ascends, the world’s most populous country is finally being brought under the tutelage of the “baby boomers,” just like the other two former political-military powers of the Cold War. Unlike their American (Bush) and Russian (Putin) counterparts, both of whom encountered difficulties and crises in their early days in office and have been eager to secure their place in history with bold domestic and foreign policies, the Chinese “boomers” have demonstrated little charisma or desire to be great.30 Indeed, the era of strongmen ended with Deng’s death in 1997. As the helm passes to a nameless fourth generation, it seems inevitable that the rise of China will go hand in hand with the invisibility of its leaders. Aside from charisma, or the lack of it, a key feature of China’s fourth generation of top leaders is their “indigenous” background. To a large extent, leaders from Mao and Deng’s generations started their careers with some experience in the West. The outgoing generation of leaders is the last one that was “made in Russia” (or the Soviet Union, to be precise), though they were not necessarily proRussia. Their departure from China’s political scene marks the end of a nearly century-old “Russian complex” in China. This new generation of elites has been largely “indigenously” produced. They can neither sing “Moscow Nights” in Russian nor converse fluently in English. Their minds have been shaped by the decades in which China has been reforming itself away from the Soviet model. In a sense, China under Hu’s generation may well become more Chinese. Perhaps the most important common denominator for the new leaders is their shared political background and personal experiences during the CR (1966–76). This traumatic experience produced the “lost,” or uneducated, generation of Chinese youth, as well as perhaps the most open-minded, or least dogmatic, leadership regarding domestic and foreign affairs. Because of this, the fourth generation leaders are less devoted to any “ism” and are more willing to “fix” problems with greater technological and intellectual capabilities. Last, if not least, Hu’s generation may not produce great thinkers or statesman, yet they will not make huge mistakes, as did Mao. Some of this generation may well be the product of the

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factional politics present during the CR, and, because of this experience, they know all too well how detrimental factionalized politics are to civil-military relations.31 A “Kinder and Gentler” Generation Despite decades of steady economic growth, Hu’s China has become one of the most inegalitarian nations in the world. The new leaders are determined to address this issue. Since late 2002, they have made several highly publicized trips to some of the poorest parts of China. In his 2003 New Year’s speech, Hu stressed that the CCP should be modest, pragmatic, honest, hardworking, and truly serve the people. Topping Hu’s agenda is reducing the burden on farmers, promoting self-governance in rural areas, cutting bureaucracy at all levels, striking down corruption, and addressing socioeconomic-legal deficiencies and injustices.32 This unambiguous change of policy substance also reflects a new policy style. In August 2003, Hu canceled the annual Beidaihe seaside retreat, a trip normally taken by top leaders since Mao’s time.33 Hu has also reportedly refused to move into Zhongnanhai, an office–residential complex for top leaders that has been in operation since 1949.34 To justify its different policy style and substance, the fourth generation of leaders has been quick to lay down its own “doctrines.” In mid-February 2003, Hu went so far as to unveil his own “Three People’s Principles” (power for, sympathy with, and benefit for the people). Jiang Zemin’s theory of the “Three Represents” (meaning that the CCP represents the most productive parts of Chinese society) remains part of Hu’s vocabulary, but Hu’s softer and gentler public policy provides an unambiguous contrast with Jiang’s merit-based and market-driven elitist approach. Contrary to the conventional wisdom in the West that Hu remains a “who?” in the shadow of Jiang Zemin, the new party secretary has clearly emerged with both a new style and new policies. In a highly publicized first Politburo “collective study session” on December 26, 2002, Hu focused on the rule of law (fa zhi) and the role of the Constitution.35 The Politburo as a policymaking institution was destroyed by Mao and ignored by Deng. Hu, by contrast, selected the Politburo as the policy deliberation forum over many vital issues, beginning with the rule of law.36 This indicated the unambiguous intention of the new leadership to depart from the rule of man (ren zhi). These study sessions, though appearing “academic,” are not without real world implications. For example, the RMA session was in the wake of the U.S. war in Iraq and between Hu’s visit to the naval base in northern China in early May following the Chinese submarine accident, and the dismissal of some top navy officers in mid-June. Surprisingly, Jiang was not present at the RMA study session. In June 2003, the party’s theoretical journal, Qiushi (Seeking truth), argued strongly that China should pursue democracy within the CCP, leading toward eventual “people’s democracy.”37 This inner-party democracy, according to the article, will be achieved with five checking-balancing mechanisms, including those inside the party, by the people, by law, by other democratic parties, and by public opinion. All party members, the article claimed, should be subject to the rule of law,

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and the National People’s Congress should be the highest law-making body.38 In August, the Xuexi Shibao (Study tribune), another authoritative weekly run by the party school, specified that inner-party democracy means the separation of the decision-making, policy execution, and policy monitoring powers within the CCP.39 During the Third Plenary Session of the Sixteenth Party Congress, Hu made an unprecedented move by reporting (shu zhi) to the CCP’s Central Committee on behalf of the Politburo, an interactive mechanism long ignored by the CCP’s previous paramount leaders.40 In February 2004, the CCP officially released its Internal Monitoring Regulation.41 The Politburo’s collective study session on July 21, 2003, though nominally devoted to Jiang’s “Three Represents,” focused on how to put Jiang’s rather abstract theory into more concrete terms and apply it to the real world. Indeed, Hu’s speech at the study session strongly suggested that theories by themselves do not mean anything if they are not, or cannot be, applied to the real world. According to Hu, the CCP’s history shows that the integration of theory with reality has always been a challenge for the party.42 Thus, Hu is not passively awaiting the final power transfer; he is seeking to put his personal imprint on policymaking. Hu’s “new deal” is by no means a mere public relations effort, but is born of deep concerns about widespread corruption, declining ethical standards, and political irresponsibility. Some of these problems are caused by a perceived “holy alliance” between the political, economic, and, to a lesser degree, intellectual elite. The rule of law and democratic mechanisms are considered crucial for balancing the near monopolization of resources by this three-in-one alliance, and are therefore crucial for the survival of the CCP and the stability of Chinese society. Real and effective rule of law and democracy, though a desirable goal for many in China, may not come soon. Hu and his colleagues have thus turned to promoting a bigger “public space” with a freer media to check sociopolitical “evils.” Many Western observers were surprised when a theater version of George Orwell’s Animal Farm started showing in Beijing on November 15, 2002, one day before the closing of the CCP’s Sixteenth Party Congress. This “accident” was the beginning of a gradual but steady liberalization of China’s media and cultural “space.” Since early 2003, top Chinese leaders have urged the media not only to reflect the party’s line, but also the opinion of ordinary people. The official People’s Daily newspaper insisted in February 2003 that China’s media should practice the “three closes”: close to reality, close to the masses, and close to real life. After the initial sluggishness during the SARS epidemic, both the new leadership and the media became more transparent and more responsive to societal needs. Meanwhile, the government promises, in line with WTO requirements, to grant foreign media more access to China’s market.43 Taken as a whole, Hu’s “new deal” is clearly moving beyond Jiang’s paradigm. This means the focus has shifted from speed to quality (more comprehensive and sustainable growth) in economic strategy, from China’s “advanced” to “disadvantaged” groups in social/public policies, from a model that stresses the

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paramount leader over policy institutions to one that focuses on collective leadership, institutions, and democratic interactions, and from opaque to transparent decision making. China’s “Peaceful Rise” In foreign policy areas, Hu’s team has continued the active, cooperative, and low-profile policies of the third generation of leaders while maintaining its own characteristics.44 On his first major trip abroad in May–June 2003, Hu eliminated the largely ceremonial, time-consuming, and wasteful protocols that were previously in place before and after a top leader’s trips. Chinese leaders under Hu have also become far more candid, confident, and cooperative in their dealings with foreign dignitaries. Coping with the real world, however, turned out to be far more challenging than expected. A month before the CCP’s Sixteenth Party Congress in November 2002, the nuclear crisis on the Korean Peninsula was to unravel East Asia’s delicate strategic stability. In March 2003, when Hu took over the state presidency, SARS turned itself into a healthcare disaster, a political earthquake, and an international embarrassment. Meanwhile, the first post-9/11 preemptive war (against Iraq) was generating shock and awe around the world. All of this happened, ironically, in the midst of the smoothest power transition in the PRC’s history. Hu took over as head of the party’s Foreign Affairs Leading Small Group in March 2003 after China’s annual parliamentary session. A more proactive posture toward the Korean nuclear crisis was in the making.45 In April 2003, China was able to persuade Washington and Pyongyang to join trilateral talks in Beijing. While nothing fundamental was resolved at this juncture of the fiftieth anniversary of the end of the Korean War, the talks themselves were a positive step toward delicately handling this inherently difficult and extremely dangerous crisis. SARS proved to be a more difficult challenge. Never in the history of the PRC was so much at stake for so many in such a short period of time. In reaction to the outbreak of SARS and the initial denial and deceit by government officials, Hu moved with decisiveness and diligence to mobilize the medical community, liberalize the press, punish the responsible officials, and provide help for the needy. Meanwhile, governments at different levels have became much more transparent, responsive, and effective than before. It seems that SARS really sped up China’s political reforms toward more liberal and more humane, if not immediately more democratic, governance. In contrast, post-crisis trends in Russia and the U.S. actually led to the curtailing of societal liberty and freedom. Barely emerged from the SARS epidemic, Hu and Wen launched their diplomatic offensive in the second half of 2003. Over the next several months, China’s “charm” diplomacy made the country a platform for comprehensive multilateral diplomacy, which took the new leaders to Moscow, the Shanghai Cooperation Organization summit, the St. Petersburg tricentennial celebration, and to France for the G-8

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annual conference. They followed this in June 2003 with the Sino-Indian Comprehensive Cooperation Declaration, signed during Indian prime minister Atal Behari Vajpayee’s historic visit.46 In their trips to the annual Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC) conference in Thailand, the Association of South East Asian Nations (ASEAN) 10+3 conference in Indonesia, and state visits to Australia and the United States in the second half of 2003, Hu and Wen tried hard to work out various issues with other countries or groups of nations. In October 2003, China became the first major non-ASEAN member to accede to the ASEAN Treaty of Amity and Cooperation (TAC).47 The proactive, cooperative, and low-profile foreign policies under the fourth generation of leaders are by no means tactical and transient. China’s foreign policy analysts seem obsessed with the issue of China’s peaceful rise and have urged their leaders to genuinely commit to such a course for the nation and the rest of the world.48 This was also the theme of Wen’s speeches at Harvard University in October 2003, and at the Bo’ao Forum for Asia held on Hainan Island in November 2003, as well as the topic for the Eighth Politburo Collective Study Session in November 2003. Wen Jiabao went as far as to make China’s peaceful rise a “national strategy.”49 As in the Yao Ming phenomenon, rising China can, and should, be nice to others in the brave new world of preemption.50 Hu’s Lengthy Internship in National Security/Military Affairs It is in the context of a “new deal” for domestic politics and “new thinking” in foreign policy that the relationship between China’s fourth generation of leaders and the PLA is examined. By the time the fourth generation of leaders was phasing into top civilian positions, the PLA was largely professionalized and institutionalized, thanks to the post-CR depoliticization and decommercialization.51 The current and future state of civil-military relations in China, however, should be examined with at least three salient issue areas in mind. The first is the protracted, and still ongoing, process of Hu’s involvement in China’s national security and military affairs. If anything, Hu’s takeover of the PLA is perhaps the most uneventful transition in history, as compared with his predecessors. For example, as stated earlier, Jiang was taking over the PLA at a time of national crisis. It was also a time when many elder statesmen and generals were still around and eager to offer their own advice. That experience of power transition during crisis time should be avoided at all cost. One precaution is to institutionalize the power transition, particularly in the areas of foreign policy and national security. As a result of this institutionalization, not only were the fourth generation of leaders firmly embedded in the policymaking bureaucracies, they were also systematically and carefully given protracted “internships” in key positions long before the official changing of the guard. Both Hu and Wen worked for a long time at the provincial level before coming to the central bureaucracy. Both were seasoned in

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decision making for national affairs, with foreign and defense affairs as the last leg of their final ascendance to power. A clear indication of this “internship” process was Hu Jintao becoming increasingly involved in China’s foreign policy toward the United States prior to the Sixteenth Party Congress of November 2002.52 Of the usually three-stage process of power transition (responsibility for domestic, then foreign, then military affairs), Hu had come to involve himself in both the second and third phases (foreign and military affairs) with increasing responsibility well before he succeeded Jiang. Hu’s “internship” in foreign affairs was virtually complete by the time of his official visit to the United States in April–May 2002, following his trips (as China’s number-two man) to almost all of the major countries in Europe and Asia. In the more sensitive military area, Hu has served since 1999 as a vice chairman of the powerful CMC, a crucial step toward his culmination as the new core leader of the PRC. A year before his CMC appointment, Hu became the vice president of the Chinese state. Hu’s promotion to the presidency of the Chinese state and head of the CCP’s Central Foreign Affairs Leading Small Group during the annual National People’s Congress (NPC) meeting in March 2003 was another major step toward assuming responsibility for Jiang’s vast institutional network regarding China’s foreign and defense policymaking. Shortly after this, Hu also took over the chair of the CCP Taiwan Affairs Leading Small Group. The second point is that Hu has been part of the existing state of civil-military relations, though still under the shadow of Jiang. Hu’s elevation to the number-two position in the CMC was more than a procedural and symbolic promotion, given his deep involvement in the PLA’s commercial divestiture in 1998–99. During the early reform period, the PLA rapidly and significantly expanded its commercial activities. The military was also responsible for much of the rising tide of corruption, tax evasion, and smuggling. Several efforts to reduce the military’s commercial activities during the 1990s yielded few results due to strong internal resistance. Once Jiang Zemin and Zhu Rongji made the decision to divest the PLA from commercial activities, Hu Jintao was assigned to do the “dirty work” of implementing the decision. This was guaranteed to be unpopular among the PLA’s ranking officers. The fact that the PLA went along with these decisions suggests the PLA’s initial acceptance of Hu as its future commander-in-chief.53 From the perspective of Jiang and Zhu, Hu demonstrated that he was able to handle an inherently difficult assignment in a policy arena where they themselves had encountered major difficulties.54 Despite his accomplishments in military affairs, the extent to which Hu will shape the PLA’s strategic thinking and operational mechanisms remains a mystery. Hu nonetheless has reportedly been leading a small ad hoc policy group to supervise a ten-year project to restructure and modernize the PLA.55 Over time, such an assignment will certainly take Hu into the post-Jiang era in military policy. The third point is the correlation between China’s foreign and defense affairs. In this regard, the trend toward more peaceful and low-profile diplomacy is also

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demonstrated in China’s defense policies and military-to-military relations with other countries. One case of this correlation was the publication of China’s third Defense White Paper (DWP) in early December 2002, a few weeks after the Sixteenth Party Congress. The white paper indicates more relaxed threat perceptions with regard to regional security and relations with other countries.56 The DWP does not explicitly mention (let alone heavily criticize) the United States or its foreign policy. It also takes further steps toward transparency regarding China’s military doctrine, organization, training, regulations, arms control policies, and defense industries.57 China also took initial steps toward developing a cooperative relationship with NATO during the Sixteenth Party Congress in November 2002.58 On August 25, 2003, twenty-seven military officers from fifteen countries (including the United States, UK, France, Russia, Germany, Canada, Egypt, and Thailand) were invited to observe an armored brigade’s live exercise in Inner Mongolia.59 In early September 2003, Jiang announced another unilateral cut of 200,000 in PLA manpower, down to 2.3 million, the tenth troop reduction in the PRC’s history and the fifth during the reform era.60 The Future: Crouching Danger, Hidden Opportunities? Given that civil-military relations during the transitional phase from the third to the fourth generation of leaders are more institutionalized, what are prospects for the future? How strong and stable are the legacies of Deng and Jiang in shaping current and future civil-military relations? What are the sources of instability and difficulties in their interactions when both China and the PLA are faced with internal and external challenges? These questions, among others, can be answered by looking at both recent and long-term issues that the leadership is facing. In the first place, Hu and his foreign and military affairs team may have to deal with accidents, contingencies, and even crises. Despite the smooth transition from Jiang to Hu, Hu’s leadership over the PLA has yet to be tested by any genuine and grave foreign policy crisis directly related to China.61 Two “minor” crises—SARS and the sinking of Submarine 361—have altered the political chemistry in China, with a significant spillover effect on China’s civil-military relations. The sacking of Health Minister Zhang Wenkang and Beijing mayor Meng Xuenong on April 20, 2003, was triggered by a signed letter on April 4, 2003, from Jiang Yanyong, a retired physician in the PLA’s General Hospital. While Jiang Zemin apparently adopted a hands-off approach to the SARS crisis, Hu moved quickly to require military hospitals in China to adopt transparency measures equivalent to civilian hospitals. The SARS virus also prompted Hu and the new premier Wen to create a unified crisis-management mechanism for combating the epidemic. The new leadership emerged from the SARS crisis with greater ability and credibility to handle a crisis of both domestic and international dimensions. While SARS rapidly developed from a health crisis into a political one with subtle effects on China’s civil-military relations, the accident involving Submarine 361

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was a more direct “hit” on the delicate relationship between Jiang and Hu. The accident occurred on April 16, 2003, in the Yellow Sea, when the submarine’s diesel engines reportedly failed to shut down during descent and sucked all the oxygen out of the compartments, suffocating the seventy-member crew. Regardless of the real cause of the accident, China chose to publicize it, an unusual departure from the secrecy usually maintained in these situations. Chinese media reported the accident on May 4, 2003, and highlighted a visit by Jiang and Hu to the naval base in northern China where the submarine was based. A month later, two top naval officers were dismissed.62 The publicity devoted to the accident seemed part of an effort by China’s new leaders to make China’s bureaucracies more transparent and closer to the people, which requires the PLA to come out of its self-imposed, backward, and excessive system of protecting military secrecy (baomi zhidu).63 Despite the entirely different nature of the two crises, both were set against the backdrop of the fourth generation of leaders’ effort to make the Chinese bureaucracies more responsive, more transparent, and more efficient in their relations with society and the general public. The outcomes of the two cases, as well, converged with the broader policy trends implemented under Hu and Wen. Beyond Hu’s China, instability and challenges in East Asia appear inevitable due to Japan’s final step toward a “normal,” but not a “pacifist,” state, and because of Taiwan’s obsession with its separate identity. Japanese nationalism, uncapped by collective national amnesia, economic stagnation, and U.S. strategic needs, is now breaking taboos for both the past and the future regarding Japan’s use of force abroad. With its newly acquired “normal” status, Japan now, perhaps more than any time since the end of World War II, is willing and able to test its newfound freedom of action, including going nuclear.64 In Taiwan, the island’s pro-independence Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) has a mindset of solipsism disguised as a referendum for independence, with an uncertain and potentially grave impact on cross-strait and cross-Pacific relations. Indeed, never in the history of U.S.–China relations has so much been at stake, for so many, during one person’s second term in office (Chen Shui-bian). One outcome of this emerging crisis was perhaps the postponement of Jiang’s final retirement as chairman of the CMC. In his speech to the PLA delegates at the annual parliamentary meeting on March 11, 2004, Jiang urged the Chinese military to “fully understand the changing situation, to implement the sacred mission of safeguarding the national security and unification,” and “to seize the historical opportunity to deepen China’s RMA with a sense of urgency.” Jiang also reiterated the party’s absolute leadership over the PLA and reinforced his belief in high discipline and readiness to carry out orders in the PLA.”65 While Jiang continued to be involved in oversight of the PLA, Hu, as the chair of the CCP’s Taiwan Affairs Leading Small Group since the March 2004 National People’s Congress, has injected a sense of urgency and strategic clarity in China’s Taiwan policy after Taiwan’s controversial and chaotic presidential election in March 2004.66 This policy includes an unusually strong statement released by China’s

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Taiwan Affairs Office on May 17, a move to draft a legal document for unification, and a heightened military preparedness for any contingency. Indeed, a “preemptive” posture toward Taiwan has replaced the “wait-and-see” reactive mode since the Taiwan Strait crisis in 1995–96.67 In this regard, the PLA serves the strategic goal of safeguarding China’s territorial integrity, not vice versa. In the longer term, there are a range of issues taking place on China’s periphery that will always spark fresh debate between China’s civilian and military communities. These include the direction and speed of RMA, military spending, force structure, and the command and control mechanism. More recent cases include the U.S. invasion of Iraq in the first half of 2003 and heightened tensions across the Taiwan Strait as the island approached its presidential election in March 2004. A new round of policy debate regarding RMA has been under way since the second half of 2003. Hu’s involvement in the discussion of RMA seems limited and is still hinged on Jiang’s initiatives and public articulation of the issue.68 This reflects the current incomplete transition of Jiang’s leadership of the PLA to Hu, as well as the division of work between the two. Of the ten Politburo collective study sessions held by March 2004, only two (May 23, 2003, and February 24, 2004) have been linked to China’s military and security affairs. Current debate regarding China’s RMA has largely followed Jiang’s articulation. There also appears to be a debate within China’s defense affairs community over the direction, speed, and scope of China’s RMA. One key point seems to be whether China should try to accomplish both of the “dualhistorical missions” (mechanization and digitalization) articulated by Jiang in late 2002 (at the Sixteenth Party Congress), or whether China should skip certain “outdated” stages of development, such as mechanization, and jump to the information age. While Jiang and the PLA’s top leadership seem to be biased toward the former idea, Hu, along with some military scientists and the more technology-intensive branches of the PLA, seems to tilt toward the latter.69 The differences between Jiang and Hu, however, should not be exaggerated with regard to this point. In broader terms, future civil-military relations in China will continue in their current “normal” mode with the CCP in the dominant role and the new leadership developing internal “checks and balances.” Under normal circumstances, such checks and balances will prevent the emergence of any real “paramount” leader. A stable and pragmatic CCP, one with a growing social-democratic propensity, will not only likely provide continuous leadership for China, but will also increasingly interface with the younger and more technology-savvy officer corps through established bureaucratic mechanisms. Notes 1. Samuel P. Huntington, The Soldier and the State: The Theory and Politics of CivilMilitary Relations (Cambridge: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1957); Eric A. Nordlinger, Soldiers in Politics: Military Coups and Governments (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1977); Amos Perlmutter, The Military and Politics in Modern Times (New

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Haven: Yale University Press, 1977); Timothy Colton, for example, prefers a “participatory model” to the Huntingtonian notion of “civilian control” in his study of Soviet civil-military relations. See Timothy Colton, “The Party-Military Connection: A Participatory Model,” in Civil-Military Relations in Communist Systems, ed. Dale R. Herspring and Ivan Volgyes (Boulder, CO: Westview, 1978). In the same vein, William Odom, too, seriously questions the utility of the Huntington model while arguing for an “institutional congruence model” for understanding Soviet civil-military relations. See William Odom, “The Party-Military Connection: A Critique,” in Civil-Military Relations in Communist Systems. 2. It is debatable to what extent the Huntingtonian model covers the nuances in the recent civil-military relationship in the United States. Since the 1990s, the civilian leadership seems more eager than uniformed officers to resort to the use of force (see cover story by Walter Isaacson, “Madeleine’s War,” Time, May 17, 1999). Those with combat experience are less prone to project U.S. forces overseas, be it for peacekeeping or for actual combat (Iraq). Without a draft system and with a growing “privatization” of military affairs, the ties of the U.S. military with society have also been significantly weakened since the end of the Vietnam War. It is therefore pertinent to question the cornerstone of Michael Doyle’s monumental “democracy-peace” theory, that is, “war becomes impossible when the citizens who bear the burdens of war elect their governments.” See Michael W. Doyle, “Liberalism and World Politics,” American Political Science Review 80, no. 4 (December 1986). Last, if not least, the rise of the military-industrial complex and its impact on the highest civilian authorities cannot be easily accommodated by the Huntingtonian model in which civilian-dominated civil-military relations are largely problem free and always serve the national interests. Many decades ago, President Dwight D. Eisenhower warned against the “conjunction of an immense military establishment and a large arms industry” and the “unwarranted influence . . . by the military-industrial complex.” See Walter LaFeber, America, Russia, and the Cold War, 1945–1996 (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1997), pp. 210–211. 3. Huntington, The Soldier and the State, p. 13. 4. Samuel P. Huntington himself contributes to the optimistic assessment of the communist state capacity by theorizing that the communist system shares a long list of common features with Western democracies: effective bureaucracies, well-organized political parties, a high degree of popular participation in public affairs, working systems of civilian control over the military, extensive activity by the government in the economy, and reasonably effective procedures for regulating succession and controlling political conflict. See Samuel P. Huntington, Political Order in Changing Societies (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1968), p. 1. 5. Ellis Joffe’s 1987 book is largely descriptive, without any significant tribute to the Huntingtonian model. See Joffe, The Chinese Army After Mao (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1987). For a discussion of other concepts such as the politicization of the military and the militarization of the party, see David Shambaugh, “The Soldier and the State in China: The Political Work System in the People’s Liberation Army,” China Quarterly (September 1991): 527–568. 6. James Mulvenon, “China: Conditional Compliance,” in Coercion and Governance: The Declining Political Role of the Military in Asia, ed. Muthiah Alagappa (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2001), pp. 317–335. 7. You Ji presents a useful and important aspect of Chinese traditional culture favoring civilian domination over the military (scholars over the warriors). See You Ji, “China: From Revolutionary Tool to Professional Military,” in Military Professionalism in Asia, pp. 111– 136. 8. During the revolutionary phase, the CCP governing institution was largely quasimilitary and frequently run by the PLA itself. It was not until after 1949 that a nationwide, formal governing network was established.

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9. See Mao Zedong, “On Tactics Against Japanese Imperialism” (December 27, 1935), in Selected Works of Mao Tse-Tung (Beijing: Waiwen chubanshe, 1967), vol. 1, p. 160. 10. See Mao Zedong, “Production Is Also Possible in the Guerrilla Zones” (January 31, 1945), in Selected Works of Mao Tse-Tung (Beijing: Waiwen chubanshe, 1967), vol. 3, pp. 197–200. 11. There was a brief period of PLA professionalization between 1953 and 1959, and again immediately following the end of the Korean War. Marshal Peng Dehuai presided over the PLA’s modernization and professionalization largely because of the lessons of the Korean War, during which the PLA literally transformed itself from a peasant-based army to one of a multiservice and highly organized regular military. Peng, however, was among the first of the top Chinese leaders to be purged by Mao in 1959 because of his opposition to the Great Leap Forward economic crash campaign. Marshal Lin Biao, Peng’s successor till 1971, reoriented the PLA toward “politics-in-command” and involvement with politics. 12. See Shambaugh, “The Soldier and the State in China,” p. 530. 13. The CCP’s organizations within the PLA, however, continued to function during the CR. This was particularly true for units at or below the field army (ye zhan jun) level. 14. See Deng Xiaoping, “Jundui yao zhengdun” (The military needs consolidation) (January 25, 1975), and “Jundui zhengdun de renwu” (The task for the consolidation of the military) (July 14, 1974), in Deng Xiaoping guanyu xin shiqi jundui jianshe lunshu xuanbian (Selected quotations by Deng Xiaoping on military work in the new era), ed. Zhongyang Junwei Bangongting (General Office of the Central Military Commission of the CCP) (Beijing: Baiyi chubanshe, 1993). 15. Factionalism during the CR was affected by at least two sources. One was the traditional “localism” (shantou zhuyi, or “mountain-toppism”) developed largely from the wartime, isolated base areas. The other source was the product of the CR, in which almost all top-level military bureaucracies (military region and service headquarters) engaged in certain “rebellion” activities. At the lower level, factionalism within or between PLA units was caused by the “Red Guard” factions that certain PLA units decided to support or to oppose. 16. This means that the PLA supported the “left” (against the “capitalist roaders”), industry, and agriculture, as well as military management and training of civilian educational institutions. 17. The PLA’s Second Artillery force was created in 1968. 18. See Joffe, The Chinese Army After Mao, p. 23. 19. Joffe, The Chinese Army After Mao; You, “China: From Revolutionary Tool to Professional Military”; David Shambaugh, Modernizing China’s Military, Progress, Problems, and Prospects (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2002). 20. The PLA’s deficiency was clearly revealed by the brief border war with Vietnam in 1978. 21. Between late 1977 to July 1979, Deng stressed the importance of the CCP’s leadership over the PLA. In his speech to the enlarged meeting of the Party Commission of the Navy on July 29, 1979, Deng expressed his concern that “If people like us are no longer around, do not believe that the military would do nothing without making trouble. There are many countries in the world plagued by coups and many were made by lieutenants . . . the military therefore must obey the Party. . . .” (in Zhongyang Junwei Bangongting, Deng Xiaoping guanyu xin shiqi jundui jianshe lunshu xuanbian, pp. 92–97). Appointments at the top level included Yang Dezhi as chief of staff in the 1980s, Zhang Aiping as defense minister in 1982, Yu Qiuli as director of the PLA’s General Political Department, and Yang Shangkun as secretary general of the Central Military Commission (CMC). There were also numerous personnel changes at lower levels. 22. You Ji makes a similar observation. See You, “China: From Revolutionary Tool to Professional Military,” pp. 113–114. 23. The only other known real peacetime professionalization of the PLA was between

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1953 and 1959. This was largely the result of the Korean War (1950–53) and fairly good relations with the Soviet Union, which equipped the PLA with both modern hardware and tactical doctrines. With the removal of Defense Minister Peng Dehuai, who was later accused of being pro-Soviet in a 1959 inner party struggle, the PLA became increasingly politicized under Lin Biao, the new defense minister, in the early 1960s. 24. Jiang was summoned to Beijing from Shanghai with only Zeng Qinghong as his assistant. 25. Deng’s support was evident in placing two senior generals, Liu Huaqing and Zhang Zhen, as CMC vice chairmen to facilitate Jiang’s rule over the military. 26. In retrospect, Jiang was clearly underestimated by many. Behind the cheerleader and weathervane (fen pai) style lay a sophisticated and persistent power player. 27. Within the policy hierarchies of the CCP are several Leading Small Groups in the areas of foreign affairs, economic affairs, external propaganda, military sales abroad, Taiwan affairs, and so on. The Foreign Affairs Leading Small Group was first created in 1958 but ceased to function during the CR (1966–76). It enjoyed a revival during the reform decades. 28. Xiong Guangkai, “Guangyu xin junshi biange wenti” (On RMA), speech to the Zhongguo Kexuejia Renwen Luntan (China Forum for Scientists and Humanity), reprinted on May 30, 2003, at www.chinanews.com.cn/BG/junshi/62/20030530/1004534.html; Xinhua, “Renmin jundui jianshe he fazhan de kexue zhinan—yanzhe Jiang Zemin guofang he jundui jianshe sixiang zhiyin de daolu kuobu qianjin” (The scientific guide for constructing and developing the people’s army—advancing with Jiang Zemin’s thought for defense and army building), at www.chinanews.com.cn/n/2003-08-20/26/337139.html, August 20, 2003. 29. Xinhua, “Renmin jundui jianshe he fazhan de kexue zhinan—yanzhe.” 30. In the aftermath of September 11, the image of Bush has been elevated to a wartime president and he is said to be a keen admirer of Winston Churchill. Putin, too, enjoys a carefully managed personality cult during Russia’s historical decline. Yu Bin, “Succession, SARS, Summit Diplomacy, and Hu’s Six Months in Power,” PacNet Newsletter, no. 21A (March 23, 2003), at www.csis.org/pacfor/pac0321A.htm; “When Wen Comes to Washington . . . ,” PacNet Newsletter, no. 49, (December 4, 2003), at http://csis.org/pacfor/pac_0349.pdf. 31. See Cheng Li, China’s Leaders: The New Generation (Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield, 2001); Cheng Li, “Posed to Take the Helm: Rising Stars and the Transition to the Fourth Generation,” in China’s Leadership in the 21st Century: The Rise of the Fourth Generation, ed. David M. Finkelstein and Maryanne Kivlehan (Armonk, NY: M.E. Sharpe, 2003), pp. 21–44. 32. A major policy shift was the reissuance on February 8, 2004, of the once routine “No. 1 CCP Document” focusing on rural issues (all five previous documents were issued and signed by Deng Xiaoping between 1982 and 1986). The 9,000-word document unveils the blueprint of the Hu-Wen team to transform the disadvantaged countryside into a new consumer engine for growth by boosting government spending, slashing rural taxes, and providing job training. See www.people.com.cn/GB/jingji/1037/2325995.html. See also Liao Hong and Lin Yingzhang, “Nianzhong cehua: 2003 tuidong zhongguo shehui jinbu shida xingdong” (Year-end review: Ten major actions for China’s social progress in 2003), at www.people.com.cn/GB/9719/9720/2247203, December 16, 2003. 33. Joseph Kahn, “China’s Rulers Forego Summer by the Sea,” New York Times, August 4, 2003. 34. Pingguo Ribao (Apple Daily) (Hong Kong), cited by www.chinesenewsnet.com, August 21, 2003. 35. Some key revisions of the existing Constitution include adding Jiang’s theory of the the “Three Represents,” new clauses for protection of private property, and freedom of travel and residence. Ta Kung Pao (Hong Kong), cited by www.chinesenewsnet.com, August 13, 2003. 36. Other Politburo collective study sessions include topics of world economics (Janu-

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ary 28), employment (March 28), science and technology (April 28), the revolution in military affairs (May 23), political history and theories of the CCP (July 12), the rise and decline of nine countries including Portugal, Spain, the Netherlands, Britain, and the United States (November 24), cultural issues (August 12), the Constitution (December 26), and world affairs and China’s security environment (February 24, 2004). See www.people.com.cn. 37. One argument for inner-party democracy is that while economic reform can be done from a bottom-up approach, political reform would have to start from the top and then move to lower levels. See Wang Guixiu, interviewed by Xinwen Zhoukan (Newsweek), reprinted by www.chinesenewsnet.com, September 26, 2003. 38. Zhen Xiaoying and Li Qinghua, “Yi Dangnei minzhu tuijin renmin minzhu” (Promoting people’s democracy by inner-party democracy), Qiushi (June 18, 2003). 39. Xuexi Shibao (Study tribune), August 20, 2003. 40. For the Politburo report, see Hu Kui, “Zhengzhiju shuzhi: kaichuang dangnei minzhu xianhe, tigong shifan zuoyong” (Politburo report: Blazing new trails for inner-party democracy and providing a role model), Xinwen Zhoukan (Newsweek) (September 29, 2003), reprinted by www.people.com.cn/GB/shizheng/1026/215814.html. 41. It was released on February 17, 2004, www.people.com.cn/GB/shizheng/1026/ 2344222.html. 42. See www.chinesenewsnet.com, July 28, 2003; Zhongxin Wang, www.chinanesnet.com.cn, August 4, 2003. 43. According a directive issued by the State Council in January 2004, private capital is now allowed to enter China’s media and publication areas, which have been long monopolized by the state. See www.chinesenewsnet.com, February 24, 2004. 44. This included several breakthroughs in 2002, such as the signing of the South China Sea Code of Conduct and a ten-year free trade integration plan with ASEAN. 45. Until this point, China was quite tolerant of North Korea’s behavior. See Yu Bin, “China Is in No Position to Pressure North Korea,” International Herald Tribune, February 27, 2003, www.iht.com/articles/87967.html. 46. For China’s foreign policy in 2003, see Foreign Minister Li Zhaoxing’s press conference (March 6, 2004) at www.chinadaily.com.cn/english/doc/2004 03/07/content_ 312514.htm. 47. See Tyler Marshall, “China’s Stature Growing in Asia,” Los Angeles Times, December 28, 2003; Xing Zhigang, “China Picks Peaceful Path to Prosperity,” China Daily, February 20, 2004, www.chinadaily.com.cn/english/doc/2004 02/20/content_307652.htm; “Asia to Benefit as Ties Improve,” China Daily, October 9, 2003, www.chinadaily.com.cn/ chinagate/doc/2003-10/09/content_270463.htm. 48. This was a theme for the “Sino-American Security Dialogue 2003 Beijing,” sponsored by the Ford Foundation, October 17–20, 2003. Also see Bruce Klingner, “‘Peaceful rising’ seeks to allay ‘China threat,’” Asian Times, March 12, 2004, www.atimes.com/atimes/ China/FC12Ad01.html. For summaries of China’s concerns and debates about its “peaceful rise,” see Zhang Jianjing, “Heping jueqi: yige zhongda de chengnuo” (Peaceful rise: A major commitment), Zhongguo Jingji Shibao (China economic times), December 12, 2003, reprinted at www.people.com.cn/GB/guandian/1033/2242548.html; Qian Fei, “Zhongguo zhoubian waijiao: yilin weishan yilin weiban” (China’s peripherial diplomacy: Be nice with neighbors and treat them as partners), Jiefang Ribao (Liberation daily), December 24, 2003, reprinted at www.people.com.cn/GB/guoji/1030/2262965.html. 49. Zhang Jianjing, “Heping jueqi: yige zhongda de chengnuo.” 50. Terry Foster, “O’Neal’s Words Were No Joke,” Detroit News, January 14, 2003, www.detnews.com/2003/sports/0301/14/f02-59677.htm. 51. Wu Qingcai, “Lianghui qianzhan: zhongguo zhengfu qiushi wushi, yunzuo zouxiang ‘touming’” (Prospects for the two parliamentary conferences: Chinese government seeking

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truth and pragmatism for policy transparency), Zhongguo Xinwen She (China news agency), February 19, 2004, www.people.com.cn/GB/shizheng/1026/2347872.html. 52. This includes Hu’s hosting of President George W. Bush at Qinghua University in Beijing in February 2002, Hu’s official visit to the United States in April–May 2002, and his meeting with Deputy Secretary of State Richard Armitage in Beijing in August 2002. 53. The PLA’s decommercialization, though largely achieved during 1998 and 1999, is not the end of the problem. Military units reportedly continue to evade regulations and hide their commercial activities to varying degrees, though open, large-scale commercial activities are now rare. For example, in early 2003 it was reiterated that military hospitals were not allowed to place advertisements in the media to attract patients. China News Service, cited in www.chinesenewsnet.com, January 19, 2003. 54. Hu seems to have handled the PLA’s decommercialization largely by himself. The issue is not listed in Jiang’s contributions to the PLA’s development by Xinhua’s lengthy article praising Jiang’s leadership over the PLA. See Xinhua, “Renmin jundui jianshe he fazhan de kexue zhinan—yanzhe,” August 20, 2003. 55. Wen Siyong and Ren Zhichu, Hu Jintao Zhuan (Biography of Hu Jintao) (Carle Place, NY: Mirror Books, 2002), pp. 342–343. 56. “China’s National Defense—2002,” Xinhua, December 9, 2002. 57. Ibid. 58. Erik Eckholm, “China Carries Out an Orderly Shift of Its Leadership,” New York Times, January 15, 2003. 59. Zhongxin Wang, www.chinanewsnet.com, August 25, 2003. 60. The PLA has been cut by 1.7 million during the reform decades; www .chinanews.com.cn, September 1, 2003. 61. Hu, however, was involved as Jiang’s deputy in several crises including the U.S. bombing of the Chinese embassy in Belgrade in 1999 and the midair collision between a U.S. surveillance plane and a Chinese jet in 2001. 62. Erik Eckholm, “China Said to Take Two Weeks to Disclose Sub Disaster,” New York Times, May 5, 2003; John Pomfret, “China Replaces Top Navy Officers over Sub Disaster,” Washington Post, June 12, 2003. 63. “Qianting shigu cu zhongguo maixiang ‘haiying shiji’” (Sub accident pushes China toward “oceangoing century”), Xinwen Zhoukan (Newsweek), no. 130 (May 5, 2003). 64. For discussion of Japanese nationalism, see John Nathan, Japan Unbound: A Volatile Nation’s Quest for Pride and Purpose (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 2004); Brian J. MeVeigh, Nationalism of Japan (Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield, 2004); Eugene Matthews, “Japan’s New Nationalism,” Foreign Affairs (November–December 2003). 65. For Jiang’s speech, see http://news.xinhuanet.com/newscenter/2004-03/11/ content_1360725.htm#. Subsequent to the writing of this paper, in March 2005 Jiang relinquished his post as chairman of the state CMC to Hu Jintao. 66. For the statement by the PRC’s Taiwan Affairs Office on May 17, 2004, see http:// tw.people.com.cn/GB/26741/28631/2508494.html. For China’s move to draft a “unification law,” see www.people.com.cn/GB/shizheng/1026/2521808.html. 67. Joseph Kahn and Chris Buckley, “Sharp Words from China for Leaders of Taiwan,” New York Times, May 20, 2004; Li Jin, “China–Taiwan: Talking the Talk, Walking the Walk,” Asian Times Online, May 26, 2004, www.atimes.com/atimes/China/FE26Ad06.html; China’s Foreign Ministry press conference (May 20, 2004), www.people.com.cn/GB/ shizheng/1027/2511358.html. 68. See China’s Foreign Ministry press conference. The Chinese media does not report whether Hu made a speech at the same meeting with Jiang and the PLA delegates at the NPC’s annual meeting in March 2004. 69. Xiong Guangkai, for example, argues that digitalization and mechanization cannot be mechanically separated. Both are needed for China’s military transformation. Xiong

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also emphasizes the “human factor,” and even “people’s war.” See Xiong Guangkai, “Guangyu xin junshi biange wenti” (On new military transformation), May 30, 2003; “Renmin jundui jianshe he fazhan de kexue,” Xinhua, August 20, 2003. Hu’s speech at the Politburo collective study session on RMA issues, May 23, 2003, www5.chinesenewsnet.com/gb/MainNews/ SinoNews/Mainland/2003_5_24_17_0_55_986.html. See Feng Zhoumiao, “Jingbing: zhonguo tese junshi biange de biyouzhilu” (Streamlining: a must for RMA with Chinese characteristics), Zhongguo Guofang Bao (China national defense news), March 11, 2004, reprinted at www.people.com.cn/GB/junshi/1078/2168634.html; “Jiefangjun daibiao changtan guofang he jundui xiandaihua jianshe” (PLA delegates on modernization of defense and army building), Xinhua, http://news.xinhuanet.com/newscenter/2004-03/12/ content_1362856.htm; Zhai Tongzheng, “Tuijin junsi biange, shixian kuayueshi fazhan” (Promote RMA and skip development), PLA Daily, www.pladaily.com.cn/item/studyjzm/ gdwz/49.htm; remarks by Deputy Commissar of the PLA Air Force Huang Xin, in Liaowang (Perspectives), May 20, 2003.

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5 The PLA and the Provinces Military District and Local Issues Zhiyue Bo

This chapter focuses on the nature of the civil-military relationship “beyond the ring roads” in today’s China.1 It will evaluate the relationship between the local PLA leadership and the local civilian leadership (especially at the provincial level); it will introduce the institutional structures that conjoin them, examine areas of cooperation, and analyze issues between them. The Civil-Military Relationship “Beyond the Ring Roads” The civil-military relationship at local levels in the People’s Republic of China (PRC) has undergone fundamental changes in the past quarter of a century. Following their withdrawal from local governance in the late 1970s, People’s Liberation Army (PLA) local units became much more occupied with their own professional development in the 1980s and 1990s.2 Along with the general trend of institutionalization throughout the political system in China, the relationship between the local PLA leadership and the local civilian leadership has also been institutionalized. The trend toward more institutional linkages of the civil-military relationship at local levels, especially at the provincial level, has occurred for a number of reasons. First, the overlap between full-time military professionals and full-time civilian leaders has declined significantly. Few provincial-level military leaders have extensive local experience, while most provincial government and party leaders do not have any military experience. In the 1980s and 1990s, few military leaders assumed important civilian positions at the provincial level. The only exception was Cho Namgi [Zhao Nanqi] (born 1927). After his military colleagues had returned to the barracks in the late 1970s, Cho continued to work in the local government. He was elected vice governor of Jilin Province in April 1980 and became the deputy secretary of the Jilin Provincial Party Committee in October 1981. In the meantime, 96

THE PLA AND THE PROVINCES

Figure 5.1

97

Map of China

Source: http://home.kimo.com.tw/kajin1967/military/cross-strait/PRC-PLA.htm.

he was also the deputy political commissar (and later political commissar) of the Jilin Provincial Military District and first political commissar of the Yanbian Military Subdistrict (June 1979–March 1984). He remained deputy secretary of Jilin Province until March 1985, when he was promoted to deputy director and deputy political commissar of the PLA General Logistics Department.3 From the current list of commanders and political commissars in the provincial military districts (Table 5.1), there is no evidence that any of these military leaders has ever occupied a full-time civilian position. As will be discussed below, one of the two chief military leaders in a provincial military district serves as a concurrent standing member of the provincial party committee. However, none of them has served or is currently serving in any full-time civilian position. Similarly, few provincial leaders have extensive military experience. Among thirty-one provincial party secretaries in February 2004 (Table 5.2), only Chen

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Table 5.1 Provincial Military District Leaders (November 2003) Military regions

Provinces***

Political commissar

Commander

Beijing (Commander: Zhu Qi Pol. Commissar: Du Tiehuan**)

Beijing Tianjin Hebei Shanxi Inner Mongolia

Sun Bensheng Liu Shucai Zhang Lianren Gui Wanzeng Zhang Jinzhu

Liu Fengjun* Duan Duanwu* Chen Yutian* Zheng Chuanfu* Huang Gaocheng*

Shenyang (Commander: Qian Guoliang Pol. Commissar: Jiang Futang)

Liaoning Jilin Heilongjiang

Zhang Deyou* Chu Ping* Xiao Yuguo

Qian Nanzhong Yue Huilai Li Heng

Nanjing (Commander: Zhu Wenquan Pol. Commissar: Lei Mingqiu)

Shanghai Jiangsu Zhejiang Anhui Fujian Jiangxi

Dai Changyou Wu Qi* Ma Yizhi* Zhang Jinrong Wu Qingtian* Chen Lijiu*

Wang Wenhui* Chen Yiyuan Zhang Huaisi Wang Hewen* Zhang Hetian Hao Jingmin

Jinan (Commander: Chen Binde Pol. Commissar: Liu Dongdong)

Shandong Henan

Zhao Chengfeng* Zhang Jianzhong*

Liu Longguang Yang Dixian

Guangzhou (Commander: Liu Zhenwu Pol. Commissar: Liu Shutian)

Hubei Hunan Guangdong Guangxi Hainan Hong Kong Macao

Liu Xunfa Li Jinwei Huang Zhizhong* Zhou Changtong* He Xianshu Wang Yufa Liu Liangkai

Wan Shijun Zheng Zhidong* Lu Desong Qiu Daxiong Li Bixing Wang Jitang Liu Lianhua

Chengdu (Commander: Wang Jianmin Pol. Commissar: Yang Deqing)

Sichuan Guizhou Yunnan Tibet Chongqing

Zhou Guangrong* Zhan Hongchang* Tao Changlian Duan Luding Duan Shuchun

Luo Liewen Chen Qingyun Huang Guanghan Meng Jinxi* Lin Zunlong*

Lanzhou (Commander: Li Qianyuan Pol. Commissar: Liu Yongzhi)

Shaanxi Gansu Qinghai Ningxia Xinjiang

Kong Ying* Li Tonghou* Li Taizhong Yang Jinling Yu Linxiang*

Chen Shibao Zhao Jianzhong Zhang Yueyong Chang Guixiang Qiu Yanhan

Notes: *Standing member of the Provincial Party Committee. **Du Tiehuan was replaced by Fu Tinggui in December 2003. ***Taiwan is not included.

Name Liu Qi Zhang Lichang Bai Keming Tian Chengping Chu Bo Wen Shizhen Wang Yunkun Song Fatang Chen Liangyu Li Yuanchao Xi Jinping Wang Taihua Lu Zhangong Meng Jianzhu Zhang Gaoli Li Keqiang Yu Zhengsheng Yang Zhengwu Zhang Dejiang Cao Bochun Wang Xiaofeng Huang Zhendong Zhang Xuezhong Qian Yunlu Bai Enpei

Provinces

Beijing Tianjin Hebei Shanxi Inner Mongolia Liaoning Jilin Heilongjiang Shanghai Jiangsu Zhejiang Anhui Fujian Jiangxi Shandong Henan Hubei Hunan Guangdong Guangxi Hainan Chongqing Sichuan Guizhou Yunnan

Secretary Secretary Secretary Secretary Secretary Secretary Secretary Secretary Secretary Secretary Secretary Secretary Secretary Secretary Secretary Secretary Secretary Secretary Secretary Secretary Secretary Secretary Secretary Secretary Secretary

Title

China’s Provincial Leaders (February 2004)

Table 5.2

1942 1939 1943 1945 1944 1940 1942 1940 1946 1950 1953 1945 1952 1947 1946 1955 1945 1941 1946 1941 1944 1941 1943 1944 1946

Born 1998.04 1986.09 2002.11 1999.06 2001.08 1986.01 1989.03 1999.12 1992.12 2000.09 2002.10 1992.11 2001.01 2001.04 2001.12 1998.06 2002.02 1990.03 2002.11 1997.07 1993.01 2002.10 2002.12 1998.12 2001.10

Appointment 1 2002.10 1998.05 2002.11 1999.06 2001.08 1997.08 1998.09 2003.03 2002.10 2002.12 2002.11 2000.01 2003.14 2001.04 2002.11 2002.12 2002.02 1998.09 2002.11 1997.07 2003.04 2002.10 2002.12 2001.01 2001.10

Appointment 2 5.10 17.05 1.03 4.08 2.06 17.13 14.11 4.02 11.02 3.05 1.04 11.03 2.13 2.10 2.02 5.08 1.12 13.11 1.03 6.07 10.13 1.04 1.02 5.02 2.04

Tenure 1

(continued)

1.04 5.09 1.03 4.08 2.06 6.06 5.05 0.11 1.04 1.02 1.03 3.13 0.00 2.10 1.03 1.02 1.12 5.05 1.03 6.07 0.10 1.04 1.02 2.13 2.04

Tenure 2

THE PLA AND THE PROVINCES 99

Name Guo Jinlong Li Jianguo Su Rong Zhao Leji Chen Jianguo Wang Lequan Wang Qishan Dai Xianglong Ji Yunshi Zhang Baoshun Yang Jing Zhang Wenyue Hong Hu Zhang Zuoji Han Zheng Liang Baohua Lu Zushan Wang Jinshan Lu Zhangong Huang Zhiquan Han Yuqun Li Chengyu Luo Qingquan Zhou Bohua Huang Huahua Lu Bing Wei Liucheng

Provinces

Tibet Shaanxi Gansu Qinghai Ningxia Xinjiang Beijing Tianjin Hebei Shanxi Inner Mongolia Liaoning Jilin Heilongjiang Shanghai Jiangsu Zhejiang Anhui Fujian Jiangxi Shandong Henan Hubei Hunan Guangdong Guangxi Hainan

Table 5.2 (continued)

Secretary Secretary Secretary Secretary Secretary Secretary Governor Governor Governor Governor Governor Governor Governor Governor Governor Governor Governor Governor Governor Governor Governor Governor Governor Governor Governor Governor Governor

Title 1947 1946 1948 1957 1945 1944 1948 1944 1945 1950 1953 1944 1940 1945 1954 1945 1946 1945 1952 1942 1943 1946 1945 1948 1946 1944 1946

Born 1993.12 1997.08 2003.08 1994.08 2002.03 1991.04 2003.04 2002.12 2002.12 2001.09 2003.04 2001.10 1998.08 2003.03 1998.02 2000.09 1998.11 2002.09 2001.01 1993.02 1995.06 1993.04 1999.01 1993.01 1993.05 1993.01 2003.10

Appointment 1 2000.10 1997.08 2003.08 2003.08 2002.03 1994.05 2003.04 2002.12 2002.12 2003.13 2003.04 2003.14 1998.08 2003.04 2003.02 2002.12 2003.01 2002.10 2002.10 2001.04 2003.01 2003.01 2002.10 2003.03 2003.01 2003.04 2003.10

Appointment 2 10.02 6.06 0.06 9.06 1.11 12.10 0.10 1.02 1.02 2.05 0.10 2.04 5.06 0.11 5.12 3.05 5.03 1.05 2.13 10.12 8.08 10.10 4.13 10.13 10.09 10.13 0.04

Tenure 1 3.04 6.06 0.06 0.06 1.11 9.09 0.10 1.02 1.02 0.01 0.10 0.00 5.06 0.10 0.12 1.02 0.13 1.04 1.04 2.10 0.13 0.13 1.04 0.11 0.13 0.10 0.04

Tenure 2

100 ZHIYUE BO

Wang Hongju Zhang Zhongwei Shi Xiushi Xu Rongkai Qiangba Puncog Jia Zhibang Lu Hao Yang Chuantang Ma Qizhi Ismail Tiliwaldi

Governor Governor Governor Governor Governor Governor Governor Governor Governor Governor

1945 1942 1942 1942 1944 1946 1947 1954 1943 1944

1997.06 1993.02 2000.12 2001.05 2003.01 1994.01 2001.01 2003.10 1993.04 2001.10

2002.10 1999.06 2001.01 2001.06 2003.05 2002.05 2001.01 2003.10 1998.04 2003.01

6.08 10.12 3.02 2.09 0.13 9.13 2.13 0.04 10.10 2.04

1.04 4.08 2.13 2.08 0.09 1.09 2.13 0.04 5.10 0.13

Notes: 1. The term “provinces” refers to provinces, centrally administered cities, and autonomous regions. Hong Kong, Macao, and Taiwan are excluded. 2. The title “governor” includes governors, mayors of centrally administered cities, and chairmen of autonomous regions. 3. Appointment 1 refers to the appointment of the leader in the current province as a provincial leader. It is expressed as the year followed by the month. 4. Appointment 2 refers to the appointment of the leader in the current post of the current province. 5. Tenure 1 refers to the years of experience of the leader in the current province as a provincial leader as of February 2004. 6. Tenure 2 refers to the years of experience of the leader in the current post of the current province as of February 2004.

Chongqing Sichuan Guizhou Yunnan Tibet Shaanxi Gansu Qinghai Ningxia Xinjiang

THE PLA AND THE PROVINCES 101

102 ZHIYUE BO

Table 5.3 Provincial Leaders with Military Experience

Party secretary Governor Deputy secretary Vice governor

Military experience

Total

1 0 4 3

31 31 152 231

Percentage 0.03 0.0 2.6 1.3

Liangyu (born 1946) of Shanghai had any military experience.4 Even so, Chen’s experience was limited to two years’ sojourn in the military for the professed purpose of “gaining experience” (duanlian). No governors had any military experience. Out of 152 provincial deputy secretaries, only four of them served in the PLA, comprising 2.6 percent of all deputy secretaries.5 Out of 231 vice governors, three had worked as soldiers previously, making up only 1.3 percent of all vice governors (Table 5.3).6 Second, it is more difficult to establish personal connections (guanxi) between civilian and military leaders than before. Neither civilian leaders nor local military leaders can stay in one locality for long because of frequent transfers among different provinces or regions. According to one recent study, there were sixty-nine transfers among provincial units between January 1990 and December 2002, and eighty-six transfers from provincial units to the center between March 1990 and January 2003.7 As a result, the average tenure of provincial leaders has declined.8 By February 2004, chief provincial leaders (governors and party secretaries) had, on average, about five years of experience in the provincial units in which they worked, and their experience in their current post was, on average, about one year and eight months (see Table 5.4).9 It is difficult to get complete and accurate information on the mobility of military leaders at the provincial level. From available evidence, it seems that the rotation of provincial-level military leaders is quite frequent.10 For example, Major General Duan Duanwu, currently commander of the Tianjin Guard Command and standing member of the Tianjin Municipal Party Committee, was transferred in October 2003 from Shanxi Province, where he had been commander of the Shanxi Provincial Military District and standing member of the Shanxi Provincial Party Committee. Major General Dai Changyou, political commissar of the Shanghai Guard Command, was transferred in August 2003 from Anhui Province, where he had served as political commissar of the Anhui Provincial Military District. Although the two numbers are not the same, the average tenure of military leaders at the regional level may shed some light on the average tenure of military leaders at the provincial level. From Table 5.5, it is clear that most of the regional military

Provincial experience Experience in this province Experience in this post Experience in this province Experience in this post Experience in this province Experience in this post

Provincial leaders

Secretaries

Governors

Total

62 62

31 31

31 31

Number of cases

0.04 0.00

0.04 0.00

0.06 0.00

Minimum

Experience of Provincial Leaders in Years and Months (February 2004)

Table 5.4

18.01 9.09

11.01 5.10

18.01 9.09

Maximum

5.11 1.72

4.37 1.05

5.84 2.38

Mean

Experience in years and months

4.58 2.02

3.87 1.43

5.15 2.31

Standard deviation

THE PLA AND THE PROVINCES 103

Zhu Qi Fu Tinggui Qian Guoliang Jiang Futang Zhu Wenquan Lei Mingqiu Chen Bingde Liu Dongdong Liu Zhenwu Liu Shutian Wang Jianmin Yang Deqing Li Qianyuan Liu Yongzhi

Beijing

Shenyang

Nanjing

Jinan

Guangzhou

Chengdu

Lanzhou

Commander Political Commissar

Commander Political Commissar

Commander Political Commissar

Commander Political Commissar

Commander Political Commissar

Commander Political Commissar

Commander Political Commissar

Title

Lt. General Lt. General

Lt. General Lt. General

Lt. General General

General Lt. General

Lt. General Lt. General

General General

Lt. General Lt. General

Rank

Full Full

Full Full

CC

Full Full

Full Full

Full Full

Full Full

Alternate Full

Notes: 1. CC refers to membership on the Sixteenth Central Committee of the CCP. 2. Appointment refers to the appointment of the leader to their current post in the military region. 3. Tenure refers to the leader’s experience in their current post as of February 2004.

Name

Military region

The Tenure of Military Leaders in the Military Regions (February 2004)

Table 5.5

1999.09 2002.11

2002.11 1999.05

2002.10 1998.08

1999.12 2002.11

2002.11 2000.11

1999.12 1995.09

2002.11 2003.12

Appointment

4.05 1.03

1.03 4.09

1.04 5.06

4.02 1.03

1.03 3.03

4.02 8.05

1.03 0.02

Tenure

104 ZHIYUE BO

THE PLA AND THE PROVINCES 105

leaders were newcomers in February 2004. In fact, fifty percent of them had assumed their positions in their respective military region within a year and a half of that date. The newest was Lieutenant General Fu Tinggui, who replaced Du Tiehuan as the political commissar of the Beijing Military Region in December 2003, a post he had held for only two months as of February 2004. Six others (Zhu Qi of the Beijing Military Region, Zhu Wenquan of the Nanjing Military Region, Liu Dongdong of the Jinan Military Region, Liu Zhenwu of the Guangzhou Military Region, Wang Jianmin of the Chengdu Military Region, and Liu Yongzhi of the Lanzhou Military Region) all assumed their new posts around the time of the Sixteenth National Congress of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP). The person who stayed in his post longest was General Jiang Futang, who had served as the political commissar of the Shenyang Military Region since September 1995. Six others have held their positions for a range of three years and three months to five and a half years. On average, as of February 2004, these military leaders had served in their current posts for about three years.11 This is hardly long enough for them to establish intimate personal relations with local civilian leaders. We would expect that military leaders at the provincial level are similarly constrained. In other words, although provincial military leaders may have some contact with provincial civilian leaders, their connections are limited and their interactions are likely to be restricted to those of a professional nature. Third, another constraining factor is the institutionalization of the retirement system for both military and civilian leaders. It is well known that the retirement age is sixty-five for chief provincial leaders (party secretaries and governors) and sixty for deputy provincial leaders (deputy secretaries and vice governors).12 Those who reach the required retirement age have to leave their posts either through regular retirement, semi-retirement, or promotion. Among four provincial party secretaries who were sixty-three years old or older in October 2001, two (Jiang Zhuping of Hubei and Mao Rubai of Ningxia) were retired and two (Huang Ju of Shanghai and Wu Guangzheng of Shandong) were promoted.13 Six governors (Cheng Andong of Shaanxi, Li Chunting of Shandong, Xu Kuangdi of Shanghai, Lu Ruihua of Guangdong, Bao Xuding of Chongqing, and Niu Maosheng of Hebei) who were sixty-two years old or older in October 2001 all retired. Cheng (born October 1936) was replaced in May 2002 by Jia Zhibang (born November 1946). Li (born October 1936) was replaced in December 2001 by Zhang Gaoli (born November 1946). Xu (born December 1937) was replaced in December 2001 by Chen Liangyu (born October 1946). Lu (born November 1938) was replaced in January 2003 by Huang Huahua (born October 1946). Bao (born February 1939) was replaced in October 2002 by Wang Hongju (born October 1945). Niu (born October 1939) was replaced in December 2002 by Ji Yunshi (born September 1945).14 As a result, those who are about to reach retirement age are basically lame ducks. They still hold positions, but their power is diminishing. These leaders no longer have the desire for or commitment to long-term plans, and naturally, military leaders do not expect to develop long-term relationships with them.

106 ZHIYUE BO

By the same token, local military leaders are also faced with similar constraints. Beginning in 1985 when Deng Xiaoping completely restructured the PLA, military leaders were required to leave their posts when they reach their age limit.15 According to Article 15 of the PLA Active Duty Officers Law (Zhongguo renmin jiefangjun xianyi junguan fuyi tiaoli) of 1988 (as amended at the Nineteenth Meeting of the Standing Committee of the Ninth National People’s Congress on December 28, 2000), the age limits for officers in active service are sixty-five for chief leaders of military regions (i.e., commanders and political commissars); sixty-three for deputy leaders of military regions (i.e., deputy commanders and deputy political commissars); sixty for chief leaders of provincial military districts (i.e., commanders and political commissars); and fifty-eight for deputy leaders of provincial military districts (i.e., deputy commanders and deputy political commissars).16 Moreover, military leaders also face a tenure limit. According to Article 24 of the PLA Active Duty Officers Law, the tenure limit for chief and deputy leaders of military regions and provincial military districts is ten years.17 Once they reach this limit, they are automatically removed from their posts. This regulation further constrains the actions of military leaders and, thus, the interaction of the military leaders with local civilian leaders. Apparently, the institutionalization of the civil-military relationship at the provincial level has resulted in less personal commitment from either civilian or military leaders to their own institutions. Since they work for institutions outside of their official responsibilities, they are generally less enthusiastic about their institutions and thus lack personal commitment to these institutions. Consequently, their interface is significantly modified from its previous mode of a long-term relationship to short-term formalized interactions. Institutional Structures of Local Civil-Military Relations At the local level, military and party organizations are separate (see Figure 5.2). On the military side, there are four levels of organization: military regions, provincial military districts, military subdistricts, and People’s Armed Forces Departments.18 On the party side, there are three levels of organization: provincial, municipal, and county party committees. Since regional-level party bureaus were abolished at the beginning of the Cultural Revolution, there is nothing on the party side that corresponds to the military region. Since each military region controls several provincial-level military districts, military regions seem to be a bit higher in rank than provincial-level party committees. Since none of the chief regional military leaders (commanders or political commissars) occupy any seats in provincial-level party committees, the seven military regions are independent of local party control. Nevertheless, provincial party leaders are higher in rank than provincial military leaders. One institutional structure that conjoins the local military leaders and local civilian leaders is the system of the first party secretary, in which the party

THE PLA AND THE PROVINCES 107

Figure 5.2

Local Military and Party Organizations (2004)

Local Military Organizations

Local Party Organizations

Military Regions

Provincial military districts*

Military subdistricts

People’s Armed Forces Departments

Provincial party committees**

Municipal party committees

County party committees

Notes: *Garrison command in Beijing and guard commands in Shanghai, Tianjin, and Chongqing are also included here. **Party committees of centrally administered cities and autonomous regions are also included here. Hong Kong, Macao, and Taiwan are not included.

secretary of a local party committee serves as the first party secretary of the party committee of the local military district (or military subdistrict). In accordance with Mao Zedong’s principle of the party commanding the gun, there is a well-established tradition that local party leaders assume leadership positions in the party committee of local military organs. In February 1954, the Central Committee of the CCP approved a proposal by the General Political Department of the PLA on strengthening ties between the PLA and local party committees. According to the circular, local military organs at three local levels (the provincial military district, the military subdistrict, and the bureau of military service) should, in addition to maintaining their vertical supersubordinate relationship in the military system, also become the military work departments of local party committees at the same level.19 As military work departments, they were placed under the leadership of local party committees at the same level. Finally, it should be noted that the party secretary of the local party committee concurrently assumes the position of political commissar of the military organ at the same level.20 In April 1958, the Central Committee of the CCP issued another circular to

.

108 ZHIYUE BO

clarify the relationship between local military organs and local party committees. According to this circular, in those areas where military regions and local administrative regions coincide, such as Jinan, Chengdu, Inner Mongolia, Xinjiang, and Shanghai, the military region also serves as the military work department of the local party committee. It is placed under the leadership of the local party committee, and the provincial (autonomous regional or municipal) party secretary concurrently assumes the position of political commissar.21 Tan Qilong, for instance, was political commissar of the Jinan Military Region until July 1956 when Shu Tong, party secretary of Shandong, took over the post. When Tan became party secretary of Shandong Province in April 1964 (after the dismissal of Zeng Xisheng), he assumed the post of first political commissar in May of the same year. In Guangxi, Wei Guoqing was appointed as first political commissar and first party secretary of the Guangxi Military Region in January 1962, after he had been appointed as first party secretary of the Guangxi Zhuang Autonomous Region in July 1961.22 However, this tradition ended during the Cultural Revolution when local military leaders became first party secretaries of provincial party committees (see Table 5.6).23 In 1978, the tradition of the first party secretary concurrently serving as the first political commissar was restored.24 Initially, this move was intended to restore the original organizational setup of the 1950s. Take Sichuan, for example. As one of the areas where the military region coincided with the administrative region, the original organizational setup for the Chengdu Military Region had been that it was placed under the leadership of the Sichuan Provincial Party Committee. The party secretary of Sichuan, therefore, was concurrently the political commissar of the Chengdu Military Region. From 1952 to 1967, Li Jingquan, party secretary of Sichuan, was political commissar of the Chengdu Military Region.25 Following the tradition, Zhao Ziyang became the first political commissar of the Chengdu Military Region in October 1975, when he was transferred to Sichuan as first party secretary. When he left for Beijing in June 1980, he was replaced as the first political commissar of the Chengdu Military Region by Xu Liqing, a military professional. The first party secretary of Sichuan, Tan Qilong, was the second political commissar of the Chengdu Military Region.26 At the same time, Lu Dadong, second party secretary, was the concurrent first political commissar of the Sichuan Provincial Military District. After Tan’s retirement in October 1982, however, civilian leaders from the Sichuan Provincial Party Committee were detached from the Chengdu Military Region. Tan’s successor, Party Secretary Yang Rudai, did not hold any posts in the Chengdu Military Region.27 He was the first political commissar of the Sichuan Provincial Military District. This detachment of the Sichuan Provincial Party Committee from the Chengdu Military Region was partially due to the upgrading of the latter. In 1986, the practice of local party secretaries assuming concurrent positions as first political commissars was discontinued.28 The title of first political commissar was dropped completely, while the title of first party secretary of the military or-

Party committee 19-Aug-71 5-Apr-71 14-May-71 22-Jan-71 11-Apr-71 18-Mar-71 11-Mar-71 18-May-71 26-May-71 26-Dec-70 17-Feb-71 8-Mar-71 20-May-71

Province

Heilongjiang

Shandong

Guizhou

Shanghai

Shanxi

Beijing

Qinghai

Inner Mongolia

Tianjin

Jiangxi

Gansu

Henan

Hebei

Deputy pol. com., Kunming military region

General, commander, Jinan military region

Major general, deputy commander, Shenyang military region; first pol. com., Heilongjiang provincial military district

Military Positions

Liu Zihou

Liu Jianxun

Xie Henghan

Cheng Shiqing

Xie Xuegong

You Taizhong

Liu Xianquan

Xie Fuzhi

Xie Zhenhua

First pol. com., Hebei provincial military district

First pol. com., Henan provincial military district

Lieutenant general, pol. com., Lanzhou military region

(continued)

Major general, deputy pol. com., Fuzhou military region; pol. com., Jiangxi provincial military district

Pol. com., Beijing military region; first pol. com., Tianjin Guards command

Major general, deputy commander, Beijing military region; commander, Inner Mongolia military district

Major general, commander, Qinghai provincial military district

General, member of the CMC; pol. com., Beijing military region; first pol. com., Beijing garrison command

Major general, commander, Shanxi provincial military district; deputy commander, Beijing military region

Zhang Chunqiao First pol. com., Nanjing military region; first pol. com., Shanghai Guards command

Lan Yinong

Yang Dezhi

Wang Jiadao

Secretary

Provincial Party Committees and their Leaders (1970–1971)

Table 5.6

THE PLA AND THE PROVINCES 109

4-Dec-70 8-Aug-71 21-Jan-71 5-Mar-71 13-Jan-71 6-Aug-71 3-Jun-71 3-Apr-71

Hunan

Ningxia

Anhui

Shaanxi

Liaoning

Sichuan

Yunnan

Fujian

Secretary

Military positions

Lieutenant general, second pol. com., Guangzhou military region

Lieutenant general, commander, Wuhan military region

Long Shujin

Ren Rong

Wei Guoqing

Han Xianchu

Zhou Xing

Zhang Guohua

Chen Xilian

Li Ruishan

Li Desheng

Kang Jianmin

Hua Guofeng

Nan Ping

Xu Shiyou

Major general, commander, Xinjiang military region

Major general, deputy com., Chengdu military region; pol. com., Tibetan military district

General, first pol. com., Guangzhou military region

General, commander, Fuzhou military region

Pol. com., Kunming military region

Lieutenant general, pol. com., Chengdu military region

General, commander, Shenyang military region

Pol. com., Lanzhou military region; first pol. com., Shaanxi provincial military district

Major general, commander, Beijing military region

Major general, deputy commander, Lanzhou military region

Pol. com., Guangzhou military region; first pol. com., Hunan provincial military district

Major general, pol. com., Zhejiang provincial military district

General, commander, Nanjing military region

Wang Huaixiang Major general, deputy pol. com., Shenyang military region; first pol. com., Jilin provincial military district

Liu Xingyuan

Zeng Siyu

Source: Frederick C. Teiwes, Provincial Leadership in China: The Cultural Revolution and Its Aftermath (Ithaca, NY: China–Japan Program, Cornell University, 1974), Table 1, p. 12.

11-May-71

28-Jan-71

Zhejiang

Xinjiang

26-Dec-70

Jiangsu

16-Feb-71

24-Mar-71

Jilin

12-Aug-71

26-Dec-70

Guangdong

Tibet

28-Mar-71

Hubei

Guangxi

Party committee

Province

Table 5.6 (continued)

110 ZHIYUE BO

THE PLA AND THE PROVINCES 111

gan was retained. The provincial party secretary, therefore, was no longer mentioned as the first political commissar but as the first party secretary of the provincial military district. However, this latter title often appeared in media reports when the local party leader attended a function of the provincial military district. Li Ruihuan, for instance, was identified in a report as the first party secretary of the Tianjin Guard Command at a meeting in November 1988, but his résumé does not include this title.29 The second institutional structure that conjoins the local military leadership and local civilian leadership is the system in which a chief military leader concurrently serves as a standing member of the local party committee. This tradition originated in the same 1954 circular that strengthened ties between the PLA and local party committees, mentioned previously. In the 1954 circular, the Central Committee stated that it wanted to ensure that central policies and directives on local work were passed on to the military through local party committees—the primary venue through which the military and the local government could communicate and coordinate. Given this objective, the General Political Department suggested that local military leaders be appointed as members of local party committees, or sit as observers in meetings of local party committees.30 Subsequently, in the 1958 circular, the Central Committee further clarified the relationship between the local military and the local party committee. According to this circular, a chief responsible person of the military district should participate in the leadership of the party committee of a provincial unit, including provinces, centrally administered municipalities, and autonomous regions. The local party committee should invite the responsible person of the local military organ to participate in the local party committee or to participate as an observer at the local party meetings, and the responsible person of the local military organ should attend the meetings of the local party committee.31 The circular did not specify who should represent the local military district in the provincial unit party committee leadership, however. In practice, both political commissars and commanders were candidates. In Guangxi, for instance, both the political commissar (second political commissar) and the commander have had this honor. Tan Shimian became second political commissar of the Guangxi Military District in May 1959 after he had been elected a standing member of the Guangxi Party Committee in July 1958.32 He was also second party secretary of the Guangxi Military District Party Committee, while Ou Zhifu, commander of the Guangxi Military District, was deputy secretary.33 Later on, Ou Zhifu made it to the Standing Committee of the Guangxi Party Committee in October 1962 (after Tan had left) and became second party secretary of the Guangxi Military District Party Committee.34 In the meantime, Fang Guo’an, second political commissar, only made it to the Guangxi Party Committee and was third party secretary of the Guangxi Military District Party Committee.35 In Sichuan, both commander and political commissar (second political commissar) of the Chengdu Military Region were standing members of the Sichuan Provincial Party Committee. He Bingyan,

112 ZHIYUE BO

commander of the Chengdu Military Region between 1955 and 1960, and Guo Linxiang, second political commissar of the Chengdu Military Region between 1959 and 1965, were both standing members of the First CCP Provincial Committee of Sichuan Province (July 1956–May 1967).36 In the late 1970s, demilitarization at local levels went so far that local military leaders were almost absent from local party committees. In Sichuan, neither the commander nor the political commissar (Zhong Hanhua) of the Chengdu Military Region made it to the Sichuan Provincial Party Committee in 1979.37 In the meantime, the commander (Zhao Wenjin) of the Sichuan Provincial Military District was only a full member of the Sichuan Provincial Party Committee. In the early 1980s, the tradition of having local military leaders participate in local party committees was gradually restored. In Sichuan, first You Taizhong (in January 1982) and then Wang Chenghan (in December 1982), commanders of the Chengdu Military Region, made it to the Standing Committee of the Sichuan Provincial Party Committee. As a part of the institutionalization of civil-military relations, the Chengdu Military Region and the Sichuan Provincial Party Committee were finally separated in 1988 when a new provincial party committee was elected. Neither Fu Quanyou (commander) nor Wan Haifeng (political commissar) made it to the Sichuan Provincial Party Committee. Gao Shuchun, political commissar of the Sichuan Provincial Military District, was elected a standing member of the Sichuan Provincial Party Committee as a representative of the military in the local party apparatus. Of course, this intermingling of institutions is not limited to the provincial level. The same institutional arrangement is replicated at lower levels. At the municipal level, the party secretary of a municipality is the first party secretary of its corresponding military subdistrict and the chief leader of the military subdistrict is a standing member on the municipal party committee. At the county level, the party secretary of a county (or district) is the first party secretary of its corresponding People’s Armed Forces Department. The chief leader of the People’s Armed Forces Department is a standing member of the county party committee. Again, as in the 1950s, the political commissar does not always sit on the local party standing committee. In November 2003, for instance, fifteen political commissars and ten commanders of provincial military districts were concurrent standing members of their respective provincial party committees (Table 5.1). In some cases, whether the political commissar or the commander was the concurrent standing member of the provincial party committee depended on seniority. Meng Jinxin, for instance, was commander of the Tibetan Military District between June 1996 and June 2000 but not a standing member of the Tibetan Regional Party Committee. He became a standing member of the Tibetan Regional Party Committee in June 2000 and has kept that status ever since.38 He is a lieutenant general, while his political commissar, Duan Luding, is a major general. Moreover, he is concurrently a deputy commander of the Chengdu Military Region as well as a full member of the Sixteenth Central Committee of the CCP. Similarly, Liu Fengjun, commander of the Beijing Garrison Command, is a standing member of the Beijing Municipal Party Commit-

THE PLA AND THE PROVINCES 113

tee because he is also a deputy commander of the Beijing Military Region and a lieutenant general. His political commissar, Sun Bensheng, is a major general. However, when the two leaders are more or less equal, the political commissar is more likely to be the standing member. Yu Linxiang and Qiu Yanhan, political commissar and commander of the Xinjiang Military District, respectively, both have a rank of lieutenant general and both hold titles in the Lanzhou Military Region. Yu is a deputy political commissar and Qiu is a deputy commander of the Lanzhou Military Region. Yet, although Qiu is an alternate member of the Sixteenth Central Committee, Yu sits on the Standing Committee of the Xinjiang Autonomous Region’s Party Committee because he is the political commissar of the Xinjiang Military District. At the military subdistrict level, which candidate enters the standing committee of the local party committee also depends on seniority. In some cases, commanders, such as Hou Tongjing of Anyang, Henan Province, and Yu Yuquan of Yangjiang, Guangdong Province, sit on the standing committee of their respective municipal party committees. In other cases, however, political commissars occupy the seat on the municipal party committee. Among the standing members, one may find political commissars Du Chunfu of Zhanjiang, Guangdong Province, Yin Zuwen of Nanjing, Jiangsu Province, Wang Bingyang of Suihua, Heilongjiang Province, Lin Bocheng of Zhaoqing, Guangdong Province, Zhao Linsheng of Nanyang, Henan Province, and Li Yusheng of Neijing, Sichuan Province.39 Although regional variations defy generalization, the political commissar of the People’s Armed Forces Department at the county level is more likely to be a standing member than the director of the department. The Chengdu Military Subdistrict, for instance, uses such measures as personal reports, collective evaluations, and interviews with the local party committee to evaluate (and presumably determine) who will serve as a standing member of the People’s Armed Forces Department.40 At the military subdistrict level, the passing of the post of first party secretary has become formalized. On July 29, 2002, the Xiamen Garrison Command held a ceremony to pass the post of first party secretary of the command from Hong Yongshi, the former party secretary of Xiamen, to Zheng Lizhong, the current party secretary of Xiamen and a standing member of the Fujian Provincial Party Committee.41 Moreover, a new practice has emerged in which the first party secretaries of the military subdistricts in a province submit work report to the provincial military district.42 Hunan is a trendsetter in this regard. The first party secretaries of the military subdistricts in Hunan submitted a work report on the theme of the party commanding the armed forces to the Hunan Provincial Military District on June 30, 2003. This type of work report was the first of its kind in China. The first party secretaries reported their achievements and problems to provincial military leaders and received guidance from them.43 This practice has created a new dimension in civil-military relationships at local levels. That is, party leaders at the municipal level have also been placed under the dual leadership of provincial party commit-

114 ZHIYUE BO

tees and provincial-level military districts because the first party secretary of a military subdistrict is also concurrently the party secretary of the city. In military affairs, these party leaders report to military leaders of the next higher level. Another regular institutional structure for mutual involvement between local government and the military is the defense mobilization commissions existing at the county level and above.44 The provincial defense mobilization commission, for instance, provides civilian leadership over mobilization issues. There are five offices under the mobilization commission, and they are responsible for five functional areas: armed forces mobilization, economic mobilization, air defense mobilization, transportation mobilization, and national defense education. The provincial party secretary serves as the first chairman of the commission, while the provincial governor is the chairman. A military leader from the provincial military district, usually the commander, serves as executive vice chairman, and the political commissar and a number of vice governors serve as vice chairmen (see Table 5.7). In Shanxi Province, for instance, Tian Chengping, party secretary of the province, is the first chairman of the Shanxi Provincial Defense Mobilization Commission; Liu Zhenhua, governor, is chairman; Zheng Chuanfu, commander of the Shanxi Provincial Military District, is executive vice chairman; Gui Wanzeng, political commissar, is a vice chairman; Fan Duixiang, executive vice governor, and Niu Renliang, vice governor, are both vice chairmen.45 What is interesting about the local defense mobilization commission system (Figure 5.3), in comparison to the relationship between local military organizations and local party organizations (Figure 5.2), is that regional defense mobilization commissions are superior to provincial defense mobilization commissions, though the former are purely military organizations while the latter are organizations consisting of both civilian and military leaders.46 As first chairmen and chairmen of these provincial defense mobilization commissions, provincial party secretaries and governors are accountable to commanders and political commissars of military regions on issues related to defense mobilization. Theoretically, defense mobilization commissions should have regular meetings and the plenary meetings of the defense mobilization commission should be held at least twice a year. In addition to these regular institutional structures that involve both military and civilian leaders, there is a series of other mechanisms that join the local government and the military. First, the local party committee has to have at least two meetings a year dedicated to military affairs (yijunhui). At these meetings, members of the local party committee listen to work reports by representatives of the military organization, discuss and review plans on the militia and the reserves, examine the implementation of directives from the party committee and higher-level military organs, and solve major problems concerning the militia and the reserves. Second, the first party secretary of the military organ should go to the military organ and work there on a regular basis. At the county level, the county party secretary should spend at least four days a year “working on site.”

Provincial commissions1 Beijing Tianjin Hebei Shanxi Inner Mongolia Liaoning Jilin Heilongjiang

Shanghai Jiangsu Zhejiang Anhui Fujian Jiangxi Shandong Henan

Regional commissions

Beijing (Commander: Zhu Qi Pol. Commissar: Du Tiehuan)

Shenyang (Commander: Qian Guoliang Pol. Commissar: Jiang Futang)

Nanjing (Commander: Zhu Wenquan Pol. Commissar: Lei Mingqiu)

Jinan (Commander: Chen Binde Pol. Commissar: Liu Dongdong)

Zhang Gaoli Li Keqiang

Chen Liangyu Li Yuanchao Xi Jinping Wang Taihua Song Defu Meng Jianzhu

Wen Shizhen Wang Yunkun Song Fatang

Liu Qi Zhang Lichang Bai Keming Tian Chengping Chu Bo

First chairman2

Han Yuqun Li Chengyu

Han Zheng Liang Baohua Lu Zushan Wang Jinshan Lu Zhangong Huang Zhiquan

Bo Xilai Hong Hu Zhang Zuoji

Wang Qishan Dai Xianglong Ji Yunshi Liu Zhenhua Yang Jing

Chairman3

Liu Longguang Yang Dixian

Wang Wenhui Chen Yiyuan Zhang Huaisi Wang Hewen Zhang Hetian Hao Jingmin

Qian Nanzhong Yue Huilai Li Heng

Liu Fengjun Duan Duanwu Chen Yutian Zheng Chuanfu Huang Gaocheng

Executive vice chairman4

Provincial National Defense Mobilization Commissions (November 2003)

Table 5.7

Zhang Chengyi

Zhao Shiju Fan Duixiang, Niu Renliang

Vice chairmen6

(continued)

Zhao Chengfeng Xie Yutang Zhang Jianzhong

Dai Changyou Wu Qi Ma Yizhi Zhang Jinrong Wu Qingtian Chen Lijiu

Zhang Deyou Chu Ping Xiao Yuguo

Sun Bensheng Liu Shucai Zhang Lianren Gui Wanzeng Zhang Jinzhu

Vice chairman5

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Hubei Hunan Guangdong Guangxi Hainan Sichuan Guizhou Yunnan Tibet Chongqing Shaanxi Gansu Qinghai Ningxia Xinjiang

Guangzhou (Commander: Liu Zhenwu Pol. Commissar: Liu Shutian)

Chengdu (Commander: Wang Jianmin Pol. Commissar: Yang Deqing)

Lanzhou (Commander: Li Qianyuan Pol. Commissar: Liu Yongzhi)

Li Jianguo Su Rong Zhao Leji Chen Jianguo Wang Lequan

Zhang Xuezhong Qian Yunlu Bai Enpei Guo Jinlong Huang Zhendong

Yu Zhengsheng Yang Zhengwu Zhang Dejiang Cao Bochun Wang Xiaofeng

First chairman2

Jia Zhibang Lu Hao Yang Chuantang Ma Qizhi Ismail Tiliwaldi

Zhang Zhongwei Shi Xiushi Xu Rongkai Xiangba Pingcuo Wang Hongju

Luo Qingquan Zhou Bohua Huang Huahua Lu Bing Wei Liucheng

Chairman3

Chen Shibao Zhao Jianzhong Zhang Yueyong Chang Guixiang Qiu Yanhan

Luo Liewen Chen Qingyun Huang Guanghan Meng Jinxi Lin Zunlong

Wan Shijun Zheng Zhidong Lu Desong Qiu Daxiong Li Bixing

Executive vice chairman4

Kong Ying Li Tonghou Li Taizhong Yang Jinling Yu Linxiang

Zhou Guangrong Zhan Hongchang Tao Changlian Duan Luding Duan Shuchun

Liu Xunfa Li Jinwei Huang Zhizhong Zhou Changtong He Xianshu

Vice chairman5

Vice chairmen6

Notes: 1 This refers to commissions in provinces, centrally administered cities, and autonomous regions. Hong Kong, Macao, and Taiwan are not included. 2 This post is concurrently held by the party secretary. 3 This post is concurrently held by the governor, including the mayor of a centrally administered city and the chairman of an autonomous region. 4 This post is concurrently held by the commander of the provincial-level military district. 5 This post is concurrently held by the political commissar. 6 These posts are concurrently held by deputy secretaries and vice governors (including vice mayors of centrally administered cities and vice chairmen of autonomous regions).

Provincial commissions1

Regional commissions

Table 5.7 (continued)

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Figure 5.3 Local Defense Mobilization Commissions Regional Commissions

Provincial Commissions

Municipal Commissions

County Commissions

Third, party and government leaders should spend at least two days a year studying military knowledge, participating in military activities, and receiving education on national defense in the format of “military days.”47 Finally, local civilian leaders and local military leaders also work in many ad hoc committees. In provinces where flooding is a major problem, civilian and military leaders staff flood control headquarters. In Tianjin, for instance, Yu Senhai is both a deputy director of the Tianjin Municipal Flood Control Headquarters and deputy commander of the Tianjin Guard Command.48 In March–June 2003, many provinces also established a leading small group composed of both military and civilian leaders on severe acute respiratory syndrome (SARS) prevention and treatment. In Jilin Province, for instance, Governor Hong Hu served as director of the Jilin Leading Small Group on SARS Prevention and Treatment, and Lu Yunzhong, then commander of the Jilin Provincial Military District, served as deputy director.49 Intersections of Civilian and Military Interests at Local Levels Under institutional imperatives, both civilian and military leaders are compelled to collaborate in a number of areas. The most important area of collaboration is planning, training, and developing the militia and the reserves at local levels. This is because the militia and the reserves are under the dual leadership of the local government and the local military district (or subdistrict, or People’s Armed Forces Department).50 Generally speaking, three civilian institutions have responsibilities in local military affairs: party committees, people’s congresses, and governments. The funda-

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mental principle in civil-military relations in China is that the Chinese Communist Party exercises absolute leadership over the armed forces. At local levels, this means that the local party leadership exercises overall control over the local military organizations (provincial military districts, military subdistricts, and People’s Armed Forces Departments). More specifically, local party committees are responsible for: (1) planning the People’s Armed Forces Department work in the locality in accordance with central policies and principles regarding national defense and the reserves; (2) exercising leadership over the political and ideological construction of the militia and the reserves; (3) supervising the leadership of the party committee of the local armed forces; (4) monitoring and selecting People’s Armed Forces Department cadres, fulltime arms cadres, militia cadres, and reserve officers; (5) conducting defense education and mobilizing the people in their jurisdictions to support defense construction; and (6) rendering rewards or leveling punishment on the militia, militia organizations, and full-time arms cadres.51 According to the Defense Law of the People’s Republic of China (adopted by the Fifth Meeting of the Eighth National People’s Congress on March 14, 1997), local people’s congresses and their standing committees at the county level and above play an important role in ensuring compliance with laws and regulations on defense affairs in their jurisdictions (see Article 15).52 However, there are no further specifications on their role in local military affairs. The role of local governments is more specifically defined. The responsibilities of local governments in local military affairs include: (1) planning, organizing, and monitoring various tasks given to the militia and the reserves in their jurisdictions; (2) conducting a yearly reorganization of the militia and the reserves; (3) appropriating funds for military exercises held by the militia and the reserves in order to allow them to carry out their military exercise tasks; (4) ensuring that full-time arms cadres and militia cadres receive appropriate ranks and salaries in accordance with the relevant policies and regulations; (5) assisting the People’s Armed Forces Departments in installation planning and infrastructure construction, paying attention to militia exercise site construction and to the safe management of weapons and ammunition storage, and carrying out various military defense tasks such as people’s defense and national defense projects; (6) organizing conscription and ensuring that qualified youth are sent to the PLA; and (7) assisting civil affairs departments in their work on demobilization and care of family members of martyrs and servicemen.53 As far as local party leaders are concerned, they have incentives to collaborate with local military leaders. Yet party leaders at different levels face somewhat different institutional constraints. Although provincial party secretaries have the obligation to “command” the armed forces in their jurisdictions because they are the first party secretaries of their respective military districts, no mechanisms have been established to evaluate their performance in this area and no mechanisms have been set up that enable them to submit routine work reports to military leaders at the military region level, or to those on the Central Military Commission. At

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the municipal level, however, party secretaries, as the first party secretaries of their respective military subdistricts, have to report to their military superiors in provincial military districts.54 The same is true of party secretaries at the county level. As the first party secretaries of the People’s Armed Forces Departments, they are obliged to report on military affairs to military subdistrict leaders. Between 2001 and 2003, the journal Zhongguo Minbing (China’s militia) published a special column on the first party secretary of the People’s Armed Forces Department or military subdistrict.55 Entitled “On the Post of the First Party Secretary,” this column contained numerous reports on the achievements of local civilian party secretaries serving as the first party secretaries of the People’s Armed Forces Departments or military subdistricts. According to these reports, many first party secretaries have taken their job very seriously. They pay close attention to defense construction as well as to economic construction, they help to institutionalize and legalize defense construction, and they provide financial resources for the modernization and computerization of militia and reserve exercises. Most importantly, although few of them have had any military experience, these model first party secretaries seem to “love” defense construction (wuzhuang) and “truly” understand military affairs. Since they are enthusiastic about defense construction and familiar with military affairs, they often are able to identify key problems in defense construction in their jurisdiction and find pertinent solutions. This trait, moreover, is not limited to male first party secretaries. The same trait is also evident in female first party secretaries. In the March issue of Zhongguo Minbing, four female People’s Armed Forces Department first party secretaries were featured. They were Chang Wei, party secretary of the Baita District in Liaoyang Municipality, Liaoning Province, and first party secretary of Baita District’s People’s Armed Forces Department; Zhu Chunxiu, party secretary of Mianning County, Sichuan Province, and first party secretary of Mianning County’s People’s Armed Forces Department; Tang Lihua, party secretary of the Baoshan District in Shuanyashan Municipality, Heilongjiang Province, and first party secretary of Baoshan District’s People’s Armed Forces Department; and Dai Jianhua, party secretary of the Hongwei District in Liaoyang Municipality, Liaoning Province, and first party secretary of Hongwei District’s People’s Armed Forces Department.56 According to the reports, these modern-day “Mu Guiying” are all dedicated first party secretaries.57 A sentence that often hangs on the lips (chang guanzai zuibian) of Chang Wei is, “[you] can’t do a good job in defense construction unless [you] love defense construction and understand military affairs.”58 Zhu Chunxiu is called “a Yi daughter who loves military affairs and emphasizes defense construction” for her deep involvement in militia organization and management.59 Dai Jianhua has reportedly treated her concurrent job as the first party secretary of the People’s Armed Forces Department as her primary job. She made defense construction her top priority.60 Finally, Tang Lihua’s focus is the institutionalization of defense construction. She has helped to establish a series of defense construction rules, including: (1) an inspection system where members of the local people’s congress and the

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local people’s political consultative conference inspect the work of defense construction; (2) a special visit system in which six departments (the general office of the district party committee, the general office of the district government, the department of civil affairs, the department of finance, etc.) pay a special visit to the People’s Armed Forces Department once every six months; (3) a work system in the arms committee that specifies their responsibilities; and (4) a militia work system that sets the 5th, 15th, and 25th day of each month as activity days for the militia and People’s Armed Forces Departments.61 Local military leaders, on the other hand, are also interested in harmonious relationships with local civilian leaders. According to reports in another special column on military standing members (junshi changwei) in Zhongguo Minbing, many exemplary military standing members of local party committees have learned to serve as effective bridges between local military organizations and the local civilian leadership.62 “Three” is a magic number in their descriptions. According to Ying Mingquan (director of the People’s Armed Forces Department of Dengzhou Municipality, Henan Province, and standing member of the Dengzhou Municipal Party Committee), a military standing member should play three roles: the role of publicist (xuanchuan yuan), the role of a military leader with local responsibilities (zhandou yuan), and the role of liaison (lianluo yuan).63 As a publicist, the military standing member should keep the local civilian leadership informed of defense laws, defense policies, and militia work. As a military leader with local responsibilities, the military standing member should fulfill his duties as a leader in military affairs as well as his role as a local leader. As a liaison between the People’s Armed Forces Department and the local party committee, the military standing member should coordinate militia and reserves work with local civilian leaders and relevant offices. According to Sun Jianguo (political commissar of the People’s Armed Forces Department of Qufu Municipality, Shandong Province, and standing member of the Qufu Municipal Party Committee), the military standing member should assume three identities: a person who cares about local affairs, a person who advocates defense work, and a person who is dedicated to militia work.64 As a participant in local affairs, the military standing member should play the role of advisor to the local party committee on military affairs as well as the role of local leader in local affairs. As an advocate for defense construction, the military standing member should make timely reports on the situation of the People’s Armed Forces Department and its problems. As a dedicated military leader, the military standing member should also improve his qualifications and enhance his capabilities as a military leader. According to Tan Desheng (director of the People’s Armed Forces Department of Gongyi Municipality, Henan Province, and standing member of the Gongyi Municipal Party Committee), a military standing member should fulfill three functions: that of an advisor, that of a bridge, and that of an integrator.65 The military standing member should try to become a qualified advisor for the local party committee. To do this well, one has to be willing to follow the leadership of the local

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party committee, to assist with local economic construction, and to be independent. The military standing member should try to fulfill the function of a bridge, coordinating with the municipal party committee and the municipal government as well as with township and village enterprises. The military standing member should also try to function as an integrator, learning to speak the language of “the military” (wuhua) on defense construction and to speak the language of the “civilians” (wenhua) on local affairs.66 Major Issues in Civil-Military Relations at Local Levels Although these model local civilian and military leaders have made sincere efforts to establish, maintain, and develop harmonious relationships with one another, there have been a lot of issues between the PLA and civilians at local levels. These issues can be classified into two categories: institutional and noninstitutional. Institutional issues are those issues that arise as a result of institutional structuring or restructuring in the past twenty-five years. Noninstitutional issues involve the military and the civilians in multiple dimensions outside of institutional domains. A decade-long institutional issue between local military districts (and subdistricts) and local governments has been the status of People’s Armed Forces Departments. These departments were originally named the “bureaus of military service.”67 In 1958, they were renamed the “People’s Armed Forces Departments,” and, until the 1980s, these military organs at the county level were a part of the overall military organization, though they were subordinate to county party committees as well. In 1985, the Central Military Commission (CMC) decided, as a measure of streamlining the military, to transfer People’s Armed Forces Departments to the local government the following year. The decision affected more than 2,600 People’s Armed Forces Departments at the county level, involved tens of thousands of military officers, and created many problems.68 People’s Armed Forces Departments were faced with the same set of tasks after the transfer, yet they no longer had the wherewithal to accomplish these tasks. They continued to receive orders from their military superiors in military subdistricts, but they had to depend on local civilian governments for financial resources.69 Cadres in these departments continued to have the same responsibilities, but their rank was downgraded and their salaries were frozen.70 Before the transfer, People’s Armed Forces Departments at the county level enjoyed the same rank as the county government. However, after the transfer their rank was half a rank lower than the county government. According to Central Document No. 5 (1985), which ordered the transfer, cadres in the People’s Armed Forces Departments were to receive the same treatment as police officers in terms of salaries and welfare benefits. In reality, their salaries were lower than those of police officers, they were not given the position subsidies that police officers enjoyed, and they were overlooked in the 1987 salary increase.71 Under the demands of local military organizations and local governments, the CMC reversed its decision in 1995, and transferred departments at the county level back to the military in 1996.72

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Another institutional issue is demobilization.73 Due to massive reductions in the PLA over the past two decades and the reform of state enterprises, demobilized officers and soldiers have become a serious burden for local governments.74 On the demand side, increasing numbers of officers and soldiers are being demobilized. Following a reduction of the PLA’s forces by one million in 1985, the Central Committee of the CCP and the CMC decided to reduce the military by another half a million people in 1997. In September 2003, the CMC decided to cut another 200,000 officers and soldiers by 2005.75 Moreover, in 1998 the Military Service Law (Bingyi fa) amended the term of service for conscripts to two years in the army (from three years) and four years in the navy and the air force.76 On the supply side, fewer jobs are available as all kinds of enterprises, especially state enterprises, are under the pressure of market competition and in pursuit of profitability and efficiency. Consequently, demobilized officers and soldiers have to depend on themselves to find jobs. Local governments, however, have to share the burden. According to the Military Service Law, urban demobilized soldiers are to be given a one-time lump sum fee if they find themselves a job (Item 4, Article 56).77 In Beijing, the fee ranged from RMB 10,000 to 30,000 (between about US$1,220 and US$3,650) per person. In 1999 alone, with over 6,000 demobilized soldiers, this one provision cost Beijing between RMB 60 million and 180 million (between US$7 million and US$22 million).78 Noninstitutional issues have become much more extensive in the era of economic reforms and tend to be centered on competition between military and civilian entities over limited resources such as airports, harbors, piers, real estate, and roads. Sometimes these issues are resolved through coordination and negotiation. Other times, they are settled in court. According to one report, between 1989 and 2002, as a measure to improve civil-military relations, the military gave up more than one hundred airports, harbors, and piers to local governments. Yet, in some cases, the military has had to resort to legal means. One navy regiment’s legal consulting office has assisted its officers and soldiers with thirty-two such civilmilitary disputes since 1999.79 In a well-publicized case, a regiment of the Second Artillery Corps won a lawsuit against villagers in May 2002 under the Law of the People’s Republic of China on the Protection of Military Installations (adopted at the Twelfth Session of the Seventh National People’s Congress Standing Committee, promulgated by Order No. 25 of the president of the People’s Republic of China on February 23, 1990, and effective as of August 1, 1990).80 Four suspects were convicted and given prison sentences ranging from five to seven years. According to the military, the villagers injured some soldiers in a physical fight over construction projects on regimental installations. Based on a contractual agreement between the village and a different military unit more than a decade earlier, the villagers demanded that the regiment stop the projects until it received their permission. Regimental leaders decided that the contract was no longer valid and went ahead with their construction plans. Mediations through the local government failed, and conflicts between the villagers and the military later escalated into

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a physical fight in which several soldiers were injured. The leaders of the regiment brought a lawsuit against the villagers and won the case.81 Conclusions The most important feature of the relationship between the local PLA leadership and the local civilian leadership in today’s China is institutionalization. The institutionalization of the civil-military relationship at local levels, especially at the provincial level, has occurred for a number of reasons. First, the overlap between full-time military professionals and full-time civilian leaders has declined significantly. None of the provincial-level military leaders has extensive local experience, and most provincial government and party leaders do not have any military experience. The only exception, in February 2004, was Chen Liangyu, party secretary of Shanghai, but his military experience was limited to a period of two years and was expressly for the purpose of “gaining experience.” Second, it is more difficult to establish personal connections (guanxi) between civilian and military leaders than before. Neither civilian nor local military leaders can stay in one locality for long because they are frequently transferred to different provinces or regions. Consequently, the average tenure for both civilian and military leaders in their current posts is rather short. As of February 2004, provincial leaders (party secretaries and governors), for instance, had an average tenure of less than two years in their current posts. Based on our observation of regional military leaders, we would expect that the chief military leaders (commanders and political commissars) of the provincial military districts do not stay in their posts for very long. As of February 2004, the chief regional military leaders were mostly newcomers. Fifty percent of them had assumed their current posts within the previous year and a half. On average, as of February 2004, the regional military leaders had stayed in their current posts for about three years. Although this period is a bit longer than the average tenure of chief provincial leaders, it is not long enough for regional military leaders to establish intimate and extensive relations with their civilian counterparts in the provinces. We would then expect the chief military leaders of provincial military districts to have similar experiences. Third, due to the institutionalization of the retirement system for both military and civilian leaders, those who reach retirement age have to leave their posts. The retirement age is sixty-five for chief provincial leaders (party secretaries and governors) and sixty for deputy provincial leaders (deputy secretaries and vice governors). In the military, the age limit is sixty-five for chief leaders (commanders and political commissars) and sixty-three for deputy leaders (deputy commanders and deputy political commissars) at the regional level, sixty for chief leaders (commanders and political commissars) and fifty-eight for deputy leaders (deputy commanders and deputy political commissars) at the provincial level. Finally, both local civilian and military leaders have a tenure limit of ten years. Once they reach this limit, they are either transferred away or simply removed. For these reasons, the

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interface between military and civilian leaders is significantly different from its previous mode of a long-term relationship to short-term formalized interactions. Although the local military system is autonomous from the local party and government system, local military leaders and local civilian leaders are mutually involved through certain institutional structures. Both the system of the first party secretary and the system of a military standing member can be traced back to a circular issued by the Central Committee of the CCP in 1954. Based on a proposal by the General Political Department of the PLA, the Central Committee started the tradition of institutional mutual involvement at local levels by placing local military organizations under the dual leadership of local party committees and their military superiors. What is interesting about the current civil-military institutional structure is that although the fundamental principle of the civil-military relationship is that the party commands the gun, the military organizations at local levels seem to have an institutional advantage over the party organizations. At the county level and above, there are three layers of local party committees (provincial, municipal, and county level), but four layers of local military organizations (regional, provincial, municipal, and county level). Because of the absence of civilian governments at the regional level, civilian provincial leaders report to regional military leaders in some instances. The clearest example in this regard is the institutional setup of the defense mobilization commission. There are four levels of defense mobilization commissions: regional, provincial, municipal, and county level. The regional defense mobilization commissions, which are composed of military leaders, are the superiors of the provincial defense mobilization commissions, which are composed of both civilian and military leaders. Because of institutional imperatives, both civilian and military leaders are compelled to collaborate with one another. Generally speaking, three civilian institutions have responsibilities in local military affairs: local party committees, local people’s congresses, and local governments. Although the role of local governments and local people’s congresses is clearly defined in relevant laws and regulations, local party committees play the most significant role in local military affairs. However, local party leaders at various levels face different institutional constraints. Apparently, the party secretaries of municipal and county party committees have stronger institutional incentives to collaborate with their military counterparts because they are being evaluated by their military superiors as first party secretaries of their respective military subdistricts or People’s Armed Forces Departments. On the other hand, local military leaders are also interested in establishing, maintaining, and developing harmonious relations with their civilian colleagues because they need local cooperation to accomplish their tasks. There are numerous issues between the military and the civilians at local levels, which can be classified into two categories: institutional and noninstitutional issues. A decadelong institutional issue between local military districts (and subdistricts) and local governments has been the status of the People’s Armed Forces Departments. As a measure of streamlining the military, the CMC transferred the People’s Armed

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Forces Departments at the county level to the local government in 1986, affecting more than 2,600 People’s Armed Forces Departments and tens of thousands of military officers. As a result, those who were in charge of local military affairs (provincial military districts and municipal military subdistricts) were no longer in charge of financial resources for military tasks (in the People’s Armed Forces Departments). Those who were in charge of financial resources for military tasks (local governments) were not the ones to whom military tasks were assigned. Moreover, cadres in these departments were caught in a quandary: they continued to receive orders from their military superiors but had to work with their civilian leaders to carry out these orders. They were less favorably positioned in terms of their prospects for salary raises and promotions. This institutional issue was later solved in 1995, when the CMC reversed its decision and returned the People’s Armed Forces Departments at the county level to the military. Noninstitutional issues have become much more extensive in the era of economic reforms and tend to be centered on competition between the military and civilians over limited resources. Although both the military and civilians still try to resolve their differences through coordination and mediation, they have also gradually learned to use legal means to settle them. In sum, at local levels, the most significant features of the civil-military relationship in the People’s Republic of China are institutionalization and legalization. It is very likely that this trend of institutionalization and legalization will continue in the foreseeable future of the twenty-first century. Notes The author would like to thank Stephanie Corso for her research assistance. 1. With the Forbidden City at the center, Beijing, the capital of China, is literally composed of rings of roads. “Beyond the ring roads” is a metaphor, referring to places beyond Beijing. However, it does not necessarily mean strictly the provincial level. It could mean all local levels. This study will pay particular attention to the civil-military relationship at the provincial level, with some reference to other levels. This study does not include Taiwan. 2. For a brief overview of civil-military relations in the era of Deng Xiaoping, see Ellis Joffe, The Chinese Army After Mao (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1987). Chapter 7 is of particular interest. 3. For his biography, see www.people.com.cn/GB/shizheng/252/9667/9685/20021129/ 877650.html. 4. Before February 2004, Song Defu, party secretary of Fujian, was the only one who had extensive military experience. He joined the PLA in 1965 and moved up the ladder of success in the military until he became deputy director of the Organization Department of the General Political Department of the PLA in 1985. In the meantime, he concurrently served as the first secretary of the Communist Youth League of China (CYLC) Central Committee. However, he was replaced on February 25, 2004, by Lu Zhangong, governor of Fujian Province. It was rumored that Song had been seriously ill since March 2003 and he has been absent from Fujian since then. For news on Fujian’s reshuffle, see www.66163.com/ Fujian_w/news/fjrb/gb/content/2004-02/16/content_535924.htm. For rumors, see www.secretchina.com/news/articles/3/7/24/47082.html. 5. They are Qiang Wei of Beijing, Liu Dewang of Hebei, and Chen Shaoji and Wang

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Huayuan of Guangdong. Only Wang Huayuan had substantial military experience. He was demobilized after twenty-eight years of service in the air force. 6. They are Tian Weiqian of Anhui Province, He Tongxin of Hunan Province, and Xie Qihua of Guangdong Province. 7. Zhiyue Bo, “The Institutionalization of Elite Management in China,” in Holding China Together, ed. Barry Naughton and Dali Yang (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2004). 8. For an earlier study in this regard, see Zhiyue Bo, “Governing China in the Early 21st Century: Provincial Perspective,” Journal of Chinese Political Science 7, nos. 1–2 (2002): 125–170. 9. To calculate the average tenure, I used February 2004 as the current date and months as the basic unit. After the calculation, I converted months back to years. The result for the experience in the provinces for all provincial leaders is sixty months, that is, five years, and the result for the experience on post for all provincial leaders is about twenty months, that is, one year and eight months. According to this method, party secretaries had tenures of 34.03 months (two years and ten months) on average, and governors had tenures of 19.52 months (one year and seven months) on average. 10. Because of a lack of systematic information, I was compelled to resort to the “positive identification” method to identify local military leaders and their mobility by scanning newspapers online. I used the first appearance of the military leader in question in the new provincial unit as the date of transfer, though this date may be a few months off from the real date of transfer. For an earlier attempt at gathering information on local military leaders of the 1960s, see John Gittings, The Role of the Chinese Army (Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1967), pp. 298–301. 11. It is 36.36 months (three years) on average, using months as the basic unit. It is 2.75 years using the combination of years and months. The former is more accurate. For commanders, the average is 30.57 months (two years and six months); for political commissars, the average is 42.14 months (three years and four months). 12. This includes mayors of the central administered municipalities such as Beijing, Tianjin, Shanghai, and Chongqing, and chairmen of the minority regions. For details, see Melanie Manion, ed., “Cadre Recruitment and Management in the People’s Republic of China,” Chinese Law and Government 17, no. 3 (Fall 1984): 67–69. 13. For a complete list of the chief provincial leaders in October 2001, see Zhiyue Bo, “The Provinces: Training Ground for National Leaders or a Power in Their Own Right?” in China’s Leadership in the 21st Century: The Rise of the Fourth Generation, ed. David M. Finkelstein and Maryanne Kivlehan (Armonk, NY: M.E. Sharpe, 2003), pp. 89–91, Table 4.6. 14. Many of these retirees are now in the center, either working for the National People’s Congress (NPC) (such as Jiang Zhuping, Mao Rubai, Li Chunting, and Lu Ruihua), or the Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference (CPPCC) (such as Xu Kuangdi and Niu Maosheng). See http://past.people.com.cn/GB/shizheng/19/20030317/945863.html, http://past.people.com.cn/GB/shizheng/252/10307/10308/20030313/943241.html, and http:// past.people.com.cn/GB/shizheng/252/10307/10313/20030315/944692.html. 15. Gao Xin, China’s Top Leaders: Bios of China’s Politburo Members (New York: Mirror Books, 2003), vol. 2, p. 700 (in Chinese). 16. The text in Chinese is available at www.pladaily.com/item/jglaw/content/ law011_pladaily.htm. 17. Ibid. In the original text, the term limit was applied to officers at the division, army, and military region level. There is no mention of the provincial military district. However, the term limit also applies to the provincial military district because it enjoys the same rank as the army. Similarly, provincial civilian leaders also face a ten-year tenure limit. For details on the tenure limit of provincial leaders, see Bo, “The Institutionalization of Elite Management in China.”

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18. Garrison Command in Beijing and Guard Commands in Shanghai, Tianjin, and Chongqing, as well as PLA Garrisons in Hong Kong and Macao, are included. 19. These were later renamed the People’s Armed Forces Department. 20. Jiang Enyi, Yang Guoyu, and Yang Zhihua, eds., Zhonggong Renmin Jiefangjun Dashidian (Encyclopedia of the People’s Liberation Army) (Tianjin: Tianjin renmin chubanshe, 1992), vol. 2, pp. 1249–1250. 21. “Zhonggong zhongyang guanyu jiaqiang difangdangwei dui jundui de lingdao he miqie dingfangdangwei tong jundui guanxi de zhishi” (The CCP Central Committee’s circular on strengthening the leadership of local party committees over the military and building closer ties between local party committees and the military), April 8, 1958. See Jianguoyilai zhongyaowenxie xuebian (Selections of important documents since 1949) (Beijing: Zhongyang wenxian chubanshe, 1995), p. 253. 22. The Organization Department of the CCP Guangxi Autonomous Regional Committee, Zhongguo Gongchandang Guangxi Zhuangzu Zizhiqu juzhishi ziliao: 1925–1987 (The materials on the organizational history of the Chinese Communist Party in the Guangxi Zhuang Autonomous Region: 1925–1987) (Nanning: Guangxi renmin chubanshe, 1995), p. 445. 23. In Shanxi, Qinghai, and Inner Mongolia, the commander of the provincial military district assumed the position of provincial unit first party secretary. 24. Han Huanzhi, Chen Chao, Cao Yuguang, Song Yinggi, and Jiao Feng, eds., Dangdai Zhongguo Minbing (The militia in contemporary China) (Beijing: Zhongguo shehui kexue chubanshe, 1989), pp. 19–21. 25. The title was changed to first party secretary in December 1954, and to first political commissar in March 1960. Li was replaced as first party secretary by Liao Zhigao in February 1965. 26. The four military districts in Sichuan—Chuandong, Chuannan, Chuanxi, and Chuanbei—were merged into the Sichuan Provincial Military District in September 1952, which was renamed the Chengdu Military Region in February 1955. In December 1968, the Tibetan Military Region was downgraded to a provincial-level military district and placed under the Chengdu Military Region. In January 1969, a separate Sichuan Provincial Military District was established under the Chengdu Military Region. 27. The title was changed from first party secretary to party secretary. 28. Han et al., The Militia in Contemporary China, p. 211. 29. Zhang Yuekui and Zhi Zhu, “Tianjin minbing gongzuo yu chengshi jingji tizhi gaige jianrong bingcun” (Tianjin coordinates the work of the militia and the urban economic reforms”), Zhongguo Minbing (China’s militias), no. 1 (January 1989): 9. 30. Jiang Enyi, Encyclopedia of the People’s Liberation Army, pp. 1249–1250. 31. The CCP Central Committee’s circular on strengthening the leadership of local party committees over the military and building closer ties between local party committees and the military, April 8, 1958, p. 254. 32. The Organization Department of the CCP Guangxi Autonomous Regional Committee, The Materials on Organizational History of the Chinese Communist Party, p. 445. 33. Ibid., p. 446. It should be noted that the first political commissar was the first party secretary of the Guangxi Party Committee. 34. Ibid., pp. 427, 446. 35. Ibid., pp. 427, 446. The focus of this section is on who represents the military in local party committees. The internal structure of the military party organ belongs to an entirely different topic. For an earlier study of the military party organs in the Soviet Union, see Timothy J. Colton, Commissars, Commanders, and Civilian Authority: The Structure of Soviet Military Politics (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1979). According to Colton, the commander in the Soviet military system was more powerful than the political commissar. 36. He Bingyan was subsequently “demoted” to third political commissar in November

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1965 when Liao Zhigao, first party secretary of Sichuan, became second political commissar. He and Liao were both members of the Sichuan Provincial People’s Council in 1955. 37. In fact, there was no commander then. Wu Kehua left in January 1979 and his successor, You Taizhong, did not come until January 1980. You Taizhong entered the Standing Committee in January 1982. 38. He was promoted to a deputy commander of the Chengdu Military Region in July 2001, while holding his concurrent positions in Tibet. For his resume, see www .xizang.xinhua.org/adangjia/dangjia20010916010.html. 39. Zhongguo Minbing, no. 1 (January 2003); www.southcn.com/news/dishi/yangjiang/ ggl/200303041018.htm; http://yxonline.silversand.net/yxkx/200211/20021125171711.html; http://lh.sina.com.cn/videonews/2003-08-12/news_96.shtml; www.northeast.com.cn/suihua/ shiwei.htm; www.nanyang.gov.cn/sld/sldzls.htm; http://big5.xinhuanet.com/gate/big5/ news.xinhuanet.com/newscenter/2003-06/26/content_939969.htm. 40. Lai Jun, Ze Mao, Jian Sheng, and Wang Weitong, “Shei jin ‘Changweihui’?” (Who enters the standing committee?), Zhongguo Minbing, no. 7 (July 1998): 9. 41. See www.csnn.com.cn/csnn0207/ca90703.htm. 42. The position of first party secretary of a military subdistrict was probably instituted in the 1980s. Zhang Huifang, party secretary of Yichun City, Heilongjiang Province, for instance, assumed the position of the first party secretary of the Yichun Military Subdistrict in 1986. For her brief biography, see Zhongguo Minbing, no. 6 (June 1988): 13. 43. See www.people.com.cn/GB/junshi/1076/1948905.html. 44. For some reason, the long anticipated law on defense mobilization has not been promulgated. The proposal for drafting such a law was initially made at the Third Meeting of the Fifth National People’s Congress (NPC) in 1980. It was listed as Proposal No. 661 and was subsequently urged by deputies in the following meetings of the Fifth NPC as well as meetings of the Sixth, Seventh, Eighth, and Ninth NPCs. In December 1998, the proposal entered the list of planned legislation for the Standing Committee of the Ninth NPC. The drafting process began in January 2001 and produced a draft in December of the same year. It was widely anticipated in early 2002 that the law would be promulgated by the end of the year. See http://china.com.cn/chinese/kuaixun/116757.htm. However, by November 2003, the law had not yet been promulgated. 45. Zhang Baoshun, a former Chinese Youth League cadre, replaced him as governor on January 10, 2004. See www.people.com.cn/GB/shizheng/14562/2289753.html. See also www.sx.xinhuanet.com/tpbd/2003-08/26/content_863361.htm. 46. Another area in which regional military leaders enjoy superior leadership roles is air defense. According to the Civil Air Defense Law of the People’s Republic of China (adopted at the Twenty-second Meeting of the Standing Committee of the Eighth National People’s Congress of the People’s Republic of China on October 29, 1996), with the authorization of the State Council and the Central Military Commission, the military regions shall exercise leadership over the work of civil air defense in the areas under their jurisdiction (Article 6). See www.ybxjy.com/guofang/fagui/index6.htm. 47. Yuhuan Guofang Jiaoyuwang (Yuhuan National Defense Education Network), “Dang guan wuzhuang” (The party commands the armed forces). See www.yhgf.net/fagui/fagui.htm, accessed February 24, 2004. 48. See www.tianjindaily.com.cn/docroot/200306/13/rb01/13020101.htm. 49. See www.jilin.gov.cn/2002new/mhy/fd/aspnews/news/fd-zz-jg/2003516140341.asp. 50. For a detailed study of the militia and the reserves in today’s China, see Dennis Blasko, “People’s War in the Twenty-first Century: The Militia and the Reserves,” Chapter 14 in this volume. For earlier studies of the militia at local levels, see Victor Nee, “Between Center and Locality: State, Militia, and Village,” in State and Society in Contemporary China, ed. Victor Nee and David Mozingo (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1983), pp. 223–243; Richard P. Madsen, “Harnessing the Political Potential of Peasant Youth,” in

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State and Society in Contemporary China, pp. 244–263; and Harvey Nelsen, “Regional and Paramilitary Ground Forces,” in The Military and Political Power in China in the 1970s, ed. William W. Whitson (New York: Praeger, 1972), pp. 135–152. 51. Yuhuan National Defense Education Network, The Party Commands, accessed February 24, 2004. 52. For the complete text in Chinese, see www.gulousky.com/guofangfagui/ guofangfagui.htm. 53. Yuhuan National Defense Education Network, The Party Commands, accessed February 24, 2004. 54. In Chinese, it is called shuzhi, referring to making a work report to one’s institutional superior. 55. This journal is managed by the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) Daily under the PLA’s General Political Department. It can be accessed through a link at the PLA Daily online at www.pladaily.com.cn/item/zgmb/huigu.htm. The column started in issue no. 10 of 2001 and ended in no. 12 of 2003, with a total of twenty-seven issues. It was discontinued as of the first issue of 2004. See www.pladaily.com.cn/item/zgmb/200401/index.htm. 56. Zhongguo Minbing, no. 3 (March 2003). See www.pladaily.com.cn/item/zgmb/ 200303/txt/24.htm. 57. Mu Guiying is a legendary historical figure from the Song Dynasty (A.D. 960–1279). She is well known for her heroic feats of defending the nation against invaders. 58. Zhongguo Minbing, no. 3 (March 2003). See www.pladaily.com.cn/item/zgmb/ 200303/txt/24.htm. 59. Ibid. 60. Ibid. 61. Ibid. 62. This column probably started in the first issue of 2002. Since the second issue of 2002, there has been a column on military standing members in all issues, including the first issue of 2004. See www.pladaily.com.cn/item/zgmb/huigu.htm. 63. Zhongguo Minbing, no. 7 (July 2002). See www.pladaily.com.cn/item/zgmb/200207/ txt/10.htm. 64. Ibid. 65. Zhongguo Minbing, no. 5 (May 2003). See www.pladaily.com.cn/item/zgmb/200305/ txt/12.htm. 66. Ibid. 67. Selections of Important Documents Since 1949, The CCP Central Committee’s circular on strengthening the leadership of local party committees over the military, April 8, 1958, p. 252. 68. Zhongguo Minbing, no. 7 (July 1986): 1. 69. Their administrative expenses were covered by the local budget, military recruitment fees were provided for by the military recruitment offices at different levels, and fees for militia training came from the provincial military district and the military subdistrict. 70. Yang Xin and Lian Jipo, “Jiejue renwuganbu nanzi de ‘sanbuqu’” (A “three-pronged solution” to the quandaries of cadres of the People’s Armed Forces Department), Zhongguo Minbing, no. 8 (August 1989): 9. 71. Zeng Liansheng and Li Xiangyun, “Renwuganbu jidaijiejue de wuge shijiwenti” (Five practical problems concerning cadres of the People’s Armed Forces Department that require immediate attention), Zhongguo Minbing, no. 5 (May 1989): 11. 72. For complaints about the transfer, see Jiang Yongjiang, “Shisanda daibiao tan minbing yubeiyi gongzuo gaige” (Deputies to the Thirteenth National Congress of the Chinese Communist Party on reforms in militia and reserve work), Zhongguo Minbing, no. 12 (December 1987): 1; Duan Jinlin, “Renwuganbu de nanchu shizaiduo” (Cadre of the People’s Armed Forces Department have indeed too many difficulties), Zhongguo Minbing, no. 4 (April

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1989): 4; Zeng and Li, “Renwuganbu jidai jiejue de wuge shijiwenti,” p. 11; Yang and Lian, “A ‘Three-Pronged Solution,’” p. 9; and Wang Zhenyong, “Renwubu de tizhi yingyu gongzuo xiangshiying” (The institutional setup of the People’s Armed Forces Department should correspond to its tasks), Zhongguo Minbing, no. 11 (November 1989): 9. 73. For a detailed study of demobilization in today’s China, see Maryanne KivlehanWise, “Demobilization and Resettlement,” Chapter 13 in this volume. For an earlier overview of demobilization in China since 1949, see Yitzhak Shichor, “Demobilization: The Dialectics of PLA Troop Reduction,” in China’s Military in Transition, ed. David Shambaugh and Richard H. Yang, pp. 72–95 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997). 74. Although demobilized officers and demobilized soldiers are often addressed in one phrase, fuzhuan junren in Chinese, they constitute two distinct categories of demobilization. Demobilized soldiers are those who left the military after having fulfilled their terms of service in the military in accordance with the relevant regulations and laws. Some of them may be leaders or deputy leaders of platoons. In principle, demobilized soldiers go back to where they came from (Article 56 of the Military Service Law of the People’s Republic of China, as amended in 1998). See http://chwj.51.net/new_page_10.htm. They could go back to urban areas if they came from urban areas; they would have to go back to rural areas if they came from rural areas. Demobilized officers, however, are entitled to a job in urban areas that is appropriate to their rank in the military. For a brief explanation of the differences, see Gao Xin, China’s Top Leaders: Bios of China’s Politburo Members, vol. 2, pp. 698–699. 75. According to the People’s Daily, September 2, 2003, Jiang Zemin made the announcement on September 1 at the fiftieth anniversary celebration of the National Defense University that the Central Committee and Central Military Commission of the Chinese Communist Party had decided to cut 200,000 troops before 2005. See http://www.people .com.cn/GB/paper464/10061/922433.html. Although few questioned the decision itself, many were outraged by the fact that Jiang made the announcement without top party and government leaders present. For a criticism of Jiang over this issue, see “Jiang Denounced for Overstepping His Authority,” Association for Asian Research (September 28, 2003), at www.asianresearch.org/articles/1571.html. 76. According to Article 18 of the Military Service Law (Bingyi fa) (adopted at the Second Session of the Sixth National People’s Congress, promulgated by Order No. 14 of the president of the People’s Republic of China on May 31, 1984, and effective as of October 1, 1984), the term of service for conscripts is three years in the army and four years in the navy and the air force. Article 18 of the law, as amended by the Sixth Session of the Ninth National People’s Congress Standing Committee on December 29, 1998 and promulgated by Order No. 13 of the president of the People’s Republic of China on the same day, the term of service for conscripts was reduced to two years. See http://chwj.51.net/ new_page_10.htm. 77. The Military Service Law (promulgated on May 31, 1984 and amended on December 29, 1998). See http://chwj.51.net/new_page_10.htm. 78. Sheng Mingzhi, “Tuiwubing tuixianghefang?” (Where should demobilized soldiers be sent?), Xinhua News Agency (September 4, 2000). See http://202.84.17.11/society/xhzh/ 0904.htm. 79. See www.soa.gov.cn/oceannews/hyb1244/48.htm. 80. See www.ybxjy.com/guofang/fagui/index7.htm. 81. Xu Lianyue and Hao Ping, “Yifaweiquan zhenjunwei: ji erpao moutui yunyong falüshouduan jiejue ‘junmin jiufen’” (Maintaining its authority and reputation as a military organization through law: A regiment of the Second Artillery Corps uses legal means to solve “civil-military conflicts”) (September 2, 2003). See www.acla.org.cn/pg/ lawyerShow.php?Id=798/.

6 The Political Implications of PLA Professionalism Lyman Miller

The professionalization of the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) since the mid1980s replicates a parallel process of encouraging professionalism among other corporate groups that Beijing considers essential to the development of China’s national wealth and power. In all such groups, the encouragement of professionalism has created potential tensions between the ideals of each group’s professional ethos and the political purposes of the regime. From Beijing’s perspective, encouraging professional expertise in service to China’s progress, while blunting the potential challenges to its political authority motivated by professional idealism, has generated recurring dilemmas throughout the reform era. Because of the PLA’s critical mission of maintaining China’s security against foreign and domestic threats, Beijing’s need to control the dynamic of military professionalism and political allegiance is particularly acute. No corporate group has received more concentrated reinforcement of its political obligation to serve the state than has the PLA, which has been the object of a relentless campaign since 1989 to ensure its “absolute loyalty” to the Chinese Communist Party (CCP). The persistence of this campaign and its related targets—such as calls to “nationalize” the PLA—underscore the abiding ambiguity of the relationship between military power and civilian authority in China today. From a long-term perspective, Beijing’s present-day dilemma of sustaining political authority with respect to military power has roots that go back to the nineteenth century. Since then, China has faced a persistent crisis of political authority, reflected in the fact that its dominating leaders have, until recently, uniformly been military leaders. Beijing’s civilian leaders today, however, are decidedly not military leaders. Most of them, in fact, are devoid of any military experience, which raises new questions about the long-standing ambiguity in the PLA’s relationship to civilian authority in China. 131

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This chapter offers a panoptic view of the political implications of PLA professionalism today. It reviews the context for the emergence of PLA professionalism and examines some of the tensions its rise has provoked. It evaluates these tensions in comparison with the rise of other professions in post-Mao China and assesses their import for the evolution of China’s long-standing crisis of political authority. The Restoration of PLA Professionalism The PLA has been undergoing a sustained process of professionalization for nearly two decades. Observers today dispute how successful this process has been in transforming the PLA’s officer corps, but few would dispute the direction of change. The present effort to instill an element of military professionalism in the PLA is the second such attempt in the history of the PLA under the People’s Republic of China (PRC). The first emerged in the mid-1950s, during the heyday of SinoSoviet solidarity, when massive Soviet assistance in military modernization brought an attendant effort to transform the PLA’s officer corps along professional lines. That effort was cut short in 1959 with the replacement of Peng Dehuai by Lin Biao and the ensuing reassertion of Yan’an-era political requirements in the years preceding the Cultural Revolution. While efforts at military modernization continued —manifested most spectacularly in the development of nuclear weapons and ballistic missiles—political criteria supplanted emphasis on professional criteria. The PLA became “a great school for the Thought of Mao Zedong.” This was embodied in the “little red book,” Quotations from Chairman Mao. The book was originally compiled under Lin Biao’s supervision for intra-PLA study, but was universalized for nationwide study in 1965. It became Mao Zedong’s most important base of support during the Cultural Revolution. The present episode of PLA professionalization began in the mid-1980s, following directly from the revision of the PRC’s national defense priorities at the watershed 1985 Central Military Commission (CMC) meeting and its ramifications for the PLA’s mission, doctrines, equipment, and training.1 No longer facing the imminent prospect of an all-out war with either the United States or the Soviet Union, the PLA now needed to prepare to fight “limited, local wars” (jubu zhanzheng) on China’s periphery. This mission necessarily entailed capacities to project force rapidly and decisively to the diverse terrains and conditions of China’s continental and maritime frontiers. It required capacities for joint operations as well as greater roles for the PLA Navy and PLA Air Force, both of which had had only limited, secondary roles under the previous strategies of “People’s War” and then “People’s War under modern conditions.” It required concerted efforts to upgrade the technological levels of the PLA’s equipment, as well as the technical skills of PLA soldiers and the command-and-control capacities of PLA officers. All of these requirements underscored the need for a resumption of PLA professionalism after more than two decades of Maoist politicization.

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Impetus for the 1985 CMC revision of China’s defense priorities and for the reorientation of the PLA derived from several contextual factors. First, Beijing by the mid-1980s was well on its way to establishing its most secure international context since the PRC’s founding. Beijing had successfully normalized relations with Tokyo in 1978 and with the United States in 1979, and by 1985 it was four years into an effort to re-normalize relations with Moscow, establishing stable relationships with all three of the great powers that had been China’s greatest security threats. Second, Beijing’s successful diplomacy made it possible for China to revise its development strategy. Beijing could abandon the cellular pattern it had employed to diffuse China’s economic assets geographically to prepare for potential superpower invasion, and resume a development focus on the coastal provinces. It could reject the autarkic, “self-reliant” development approach that economic isolation by the West and the Soviet Union imposed in favor of an “open” policy that brought resources from the international economy to bear. Such an approach, however, effectively concentrated China’s industrial eggs in the basket of its vulnerable coastline, underscoring the need for maritime defense capabilities that were unnecessary under previous circumstances. Finally, in a landmark speech at a 1978 conference on science, Deng Xiaoping underscored an emergent world revolution in science and technology—including developments in computers, lasers, satellite communications and imagery, biotechnology, and nuclear power—that was elevating the criterion of national power in the international system. China was not only not catching up with advancing contemporary world technological capacities, Deng believed; it was in danger of falling even farther behind. Trends since 1985 have only served to reinforce the professionalization of the PLA. In particular, the revolution in science and technology that Deng pointed to in 1978 appeared by the time of the 1991 Gulf War to have matured into revolutionary new military capacities in the hands of the armed forces of the United States. Since then, the U.S. conduct of the 1999 Kosovo, 2001 Afghanistan, and 2003 Iraq wars confirmed this conclusion and magnified its implications for China. In the wake of the first Gulf War, the CMC stipulated that the PLA now needed to be ready to fight “limited, local wars under high-tech conditions.” By the mid1990s, Jiang Zemin’s emergent “military thought” stressed the role of science, technology, and innovation in PLA modernization. By the turn of the century, authoritative commentary required the PLA to acquire capacities to wage “multidimensional warfare” that incorporated “informationization” as a critical ingredient in a “revolution in military affairs with Chinese characteristics.” The sweeping reorientation of the PLA’s mission, doctrines, and training since the mid-1980s drove the restoration of efforts to create an officer corps instilled with the universally recognizable elements of military professionalism that have become more and more pronounced in the years since.2 These include:

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• Restoration of ranks in 1988, replacing the Yanan-era division between “commanders” and “fighters” that Mao had reintroduced in 1965, as well as the creation of a noncommissioned officer corps; • Regulations for promotion emphasizing professional military and technical skills and provision of norms for mandatory retirement; • Elaboration of functionally specialized military career paths; • Elaboration of the military education system, including the establishment of the National Defense University, the primary military academy for PLA officer training; and • Concerted efforts to frame military responsibilities and processes in codes of law and regulations, culminating in the 1997 National Defense Law. Although judging the success of these efforts leaves wide room for debate, there is little doubt that by the late 1990s major progress in PLA professionalization had been made. As Jiang Zemin promoted scores of generals and as professional promotion and retirement criteria took hold, a new PLA brass had supplanted transitional revolutionary-era leaders like Liu Huaqing and Zhang Zhen, and a wholesale turnover of generations had been completed in the broader officer ranks. Attainment of higher levels of professional military education had advanced to the point that by 2003, the PLA was announcing new programs for postgraduate education at both military and civilian universities for 1,600 of its officers.3 Challenges to PLA Professionlization The progress of PLA professionalization over the past two decades has been impeded in some significant respects by policies and societal trends that clashed with the priorities of military professionalism. One such distraction was the mid-1980s impetus given for PLA industries to go into business, first by producing goods not only for PLA use but also for civilian markets, and later, by encouraging joint ventures between PLA enterprises and civilian and foreign ventures. The object of these efforts was to supplement state budget allocations for the PLA, limited by the policy set down at the beginning of the reform era that defense modernization follow overall economic modernization. By 1998, however, corruption in the PLA, and the debilitating impact of doing business on the ongoing effort to instill military professionalism, led the party leadership—in the person of general secretary– in–training Hu Jintao—to order PLA divestiture of its involvement in commercial ventures.4 Complementing the strain of military business activities on PLA professionalism has been the impact of a commercializing Chinese society on PLA officers and the ranks in general. PLA Daily (Jiefangjun bao) commentary since the mid1980s has stressed that the PLA does not exist in seclusion from the rest of China’s society in transition to a market-based economy, and that the PLA must strive to sustain the disciplined, self-sacrificing spirit that goes along with military profes-

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sionalism. Commentary in the wake of the 1989 Tiananmen events lamenting the impact of a changing society on PLA professionalism, for example, decried manifestations of officer elitism and the commercialization of officer–soldier relationships. Some officers, for example, had employed “principles of commodity exchange” in handling applications for admission to military academies, appointments of noncommissioned officers (NCOs), and applications for home leave. Meanwhile, political education campaigns using traditional military models such as Lei Feng to sustain the proper military ethos had failed to overcome such behavior and, in fact, had been distorted in ways that abetted it. Some officers and troops in the PLA had become “confused” about what values Lei Feng stood for and believed that his image needed to be updated in step with the times: “Now we should talk about how Lei Feng would be good at earning money, how appropriately he would spend what he earned, and how much he would pay attention to his outward appearance,” demonstrated, for example, by his wearing a Swiss watch and leather jacket. “If Lei Feng were alive today, he surely would be among the foremost contributors” to the market economy as an “entrepreneur.” Even if he were not an entrepreneur, some concluded, “He would still be earning at least 10,000 yuan [about US$1,220] a year.”5 Although such commentary was particularly evident during the PLA political education campaign following the events of 1989, similar themes have been sounded regularly in the PLA Daily in the years since, making it clear that the impact of social trends in a commercializing economy continue to affect military professionalism. The other major distraction from PLA professionalization was the reassertion of political criteria emphasizing the PLA’s “absolute loyalty” to the CCP following the Tiananmen crisis of 1989. The need for this effort stemmed from evident vacillation and resistance on the part of some PLA units to the orders to intervene in the martial law period, and especially the order to clear the square by force.6 In the summer following June 4, 1989, a concerted campaign was launched to attack erroneous ideas that were believed to have contributed to PLA vacillation during the Tiananmen crisis and to assert the authority of the CCP in commanding the PLA. The campaign focused on several themes and points of criticism. Some in the PLA had resisted the order to intervene in the Tiananmen demonstrations because they believed the suppression of domestic subversion to be the duty of the People’s Armed Police and other civilian forces, not the PLA. Others in the army were confused about the legitimacy of the party’s order to intervene and impose martial law, believing that ultimately only the institutions of state (and, in particular, the National People’s Congress) could issue such orders. These beliefs made some PLA officers susceptible to assertions by “prominent figures propagating bourgeois liberalization”—presumably associated with deposed party General Secretary Zhao Ziyang—calling for “separation of party and army” and “neutrality” and “noninterference by the army in politics.” Such confusion was exacerbated by dissidents and by “hostile foreign forces” that sought to “create divisions in the

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army” and incite defections among PLA units.7 In addition, Zhao Ziyang was blamed (as CMC vice chairman) for neglecting political indoctrination in the PLA, a deficiency that would be redressed by reasserting the importance of political criteria in officer evaluations and by a concerted campaign of political re-education among the troops. Accordingly, a conference on PLA political work, convened in December 1989, was addressed by General Political Department director Yang Baibing, who endorsed a new program of political indoctrination stressing the PLA’s “absolute loyalty” to the party. However much the reassertion of political criteria in 1989 offset the stress on professional criteria of military expertise over the ensuing months, it is clear that this had changed by the early 1990s. In the wake of Chinese assessments of the performance of American forces in the Gulf, Jiang Zemin began in 1995 to stress the critical significance of science, technology, and innovation in China’s development in general, and in PLA modernization specifically. This theme gathered strength through the rest of the 1990s and remains today at the core of the now much-discussed “revolution in military affairs with Chinese characteristics.” The emphasis on the PLA’s “absolute loyalty” to the CCP, however, has not waned over the same period of time. Throughout the 1990s and on into this decade, even while the observance of political criteria has seemed more and more perfunctory alongside an increasingly powerful stress on substantive technological expertise, commentary in the PLA Daily and leadership statements and speeches on Army Day and other military occasions have continued to dwell on this and related themes as a staple. In 2003, for example: • A signed article in the PLA Daily on January 8 warned that in an international security context characterized by “overall peace but local wars, overall relaxation but local tensions, and overall stability but local turbulence,” the PLA must continue to resist “the corrosive influence of various kinds of decadent ideology and culture as well as erroneous trends of thought.” In particular, “Western hostile forces have gone all out to advocate ‘separating the armed forces from the party’ and ‘nationalizing [guojiahua] the armed forces’ in an attempt to divorce the armed forces from the party.”8 • A long dissertation on the Lei Feng spirit in the PLA Daily on February 27 insisted that “following the commands of the party is a prime directive in the ethos of military people and the absolute leadership of the military by the party is forever the unchanging spirit of our military.” Members of the PLA must “unswervingly resist false trends of thinking about ‘departisanization and depoliticization of the military’ and ‘nationalization of the military.’”9 • A long commentary in the PLA Daily on March 20 on the implications for the PLA of the “Three Represents”—the formulation that Jiang Zemin enunciated in February 2000, and that since May 2000 has been authoritatively endorsed as the party’s approach to governing an increasingly complex society by co-opting its emergent social and professional elites—sounded simi-

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larly cautious. “It should be noted that with the rapid spread of high-tech means of communications and the Internet, contention among different ideas and the struggle in the ideological realm has become acute and complicated,” it observed. “Under the new situation,” it warned, “hostile forces have vigorously called for ‘departisanization and depoliticization of the army’ as well as ‘nationalization of the army’ in an attempt to separate the army from the party’s leadership.”10 • A commentary in the party journal Qiu Shi (Seeking truth) on June 1 insisted that “a ruling party should lead the army; strong political power should be guaranteed by military power.” “In the face of the complicated situation facing political schemes of international hostile forces to ‘westernize’ and ‘split’ China, the infiltration of various corrupt ideas of the West, and the influence of various sectors of the economy, interest groups, social organizations, and diverse social lifestyles, we must uphold the party’s absolute leadership over the army and make sure that our army is not destroyed by its formidable enemies and smashed by ‘sugar-coated bullets’ and that our army is able to withstand all risks and tests.”11 • A long symposium published in the PLA Daily on September 17, 2003, warned that “one common cause for the drastic changes in Eastern Europe and for the collapse of the Soviet Union was the separation of the army from the party’s leadership.” Today, as “hostile Western forces have intensified their infiltration into our army” to insinuate ideas of “depoliticizing” and “nationalizing” the PLA, allegiance to the party’s “absolute leadership” needs all the more to be strengthened.12 The persistence of these themes nearly fifteen years after they were first propagated is striking. In the absence of apparent external challenges from “hostile Western forces,” the impetus for their repetition for so long must be sought in the PLA’s domestic context. There, several factors may account for their continued relevance. First, the campaign has continued because Jiang Zemin, and perhaps now Hu Jintao, does not want to emulate the negative example of Zhao Ziyang, whose supposed slighting of political work in the PLA fed the PLA’s vacillation during the Tiananmen crisis. Similar to the routine media stress on “opposing bourgeois liberalization” after the student demonstrations in December 1986 that led to Hu Yaobang’s demotion as party general secretary in January 1987, Jiang simply has not wanted to be vulnerable to criticism of his leadership from the left, and so the campaign has been extended out of sheer political prudence. Second, during the propaganda campaign following the Tiananmen crisis, the prevalence of “confused” attitudes in the PLA on the party’s “absolute leadership” was blamed in part on the study in the new and restored military academies of Western military theories, among which were texts that emphasized military neutrality toward partisan politics. In the years since 1989, study of Western military texts has not ended; if anything, in fact, it has undoubtedly intensified. If so, West-

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ern perspectives on civil-military relations have continued to be available to PLA officers, and there may exist significant sentiment within the PLA that advocates that the military should be beyond party politics and obedient only to the command of the institutions of state. The continuing campaign stressing “absolute loyalty” to the party is, in this context, intended to inoculate those “confused” by Western views of civil-military relations against applying such perspectives to their own relationship to political authority. Third, confusion about the PLA’s relationship to civil authority, whether party or state, may exist among the PLA officer corps simply because that relationship is confusing. And, it is fair to say, it has become more so as the process of legalizing the place of the military in China’s political order has proceeded in the period since 1989. With the possible exception of the Vietnam People’s Army, the place of the PLA in relation to civil authority is unique among the present and former states of the communist world. Historically, the PLA traces its origins to the late 1920s, during the warlord era and the Nanjing decade, when the CCP was a persecuted, underground party and when political power was not attainable by any political group without complementary military force. (This is the sense of Mao Zedong’s famous dictum that “political power grows out of the barrel of a gun.”) The PLA therefore existed as the CCP’s military arm for its first twenty-two years, until the PRC was established in 1949. Even after 1949, the PLA remained an arm of the Communist Party, not of the PRC state. The PRC’s first constitution (1954) did stipulate (Article 42) that “the chairman [president] of the PRC shall command the Armed Forces of the Nation,” a provision consistent with the program of Soviet-assisted PLA modernization and professionalization under way at the time.13 Mao Zedong held that position until yielding it to Liu Shaoqi at the Second National People’s Congress (NPC) in 1959. But, in the wake of the purge of Peng Dehuai at the Lushan Plenum later that year, Mao moved to reassert his personal authority in the PLA through the party’s CMC and with the assistance of Peng’s replacement, Lin Biao. Two PRC constitutions since the Cultural Revolution (1975 and 1978) altered the 1954 Constitution’s stipulation and formally asserted party leadership by stating, “the chairman of the CCP commands the armed forces of the PRC” (Articles 15 and 19, respectively). In the early 1980s post-Mao period, Deng Xiaoping launched a series of institutional reforms with respect to the PLA’s relationship to civilian authority. These reforms extended efforts begun by Mao and aided by Deng to reverse the PLA’s direct involvement in politics, which had been one of the main consequences of the Cultural Revolution. Deng’s reforms sought, in that respect, to build an institutional firewall against future PLA involvement in party politics. At the same time, these reforms complemented his ambitions to restore PLA professionalism. In the context of sweeping political reforms to the party and state under discussion in 1980 (the gengshen reform debates), some People’s Daily commentary argued that command of the military by the institutions of state rather than any

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political party are prerequisites of a “mature” socialist system. In step with that theme, the apparent intention was to abolish the party CMC in favor of a new PRC CMC during the forthcoming Twelfth Party Congress (which at the time was expected to be convened in 1981, a year ahead of schedule) and the Sixth NPC. Those convocations would ratify these and other political reforms in new party and state constitutions. In any event, the resulting civil-military reforms were less than anticipated, presumably because of opposition among the party leadership and PLA brass to relocating command of the military and because of evident leadership debate over the lessons of the 1980–1981 Polish crisis. The PRC Constitution adopted at the Fifth NPC’s fifth session in November 1982 did establish a new PRC CMC, but it did not abolish the party’s CMC. The 1982 PRC Constitution also effectively restored the provision of the 1954 Constitution by stipulating that “the CMC of the PRC directs the armed forces of the country.” It also stipulated that the chairman of the PRC CMC “is responsible” to the NPC and its Standing Committee. The provisions for the party CMC in the new party Constitution, adopted two months earlier at the Twelfth Party Congress, specified nothing beyond its role in “prescribing” the organization of party organs in the PLA and stipulating that the chairman of the party CMC must be a member of the party Politburo Standing Committee. The potential for conflict over divided command of the PLA between the two CMCs was resolved simply by appointing the same membership to each CMC and by appointing Deng Xiaoping as chairman of both. Throughout the 1980s down to the 1989 Tiananmen crisis there was no doubt that the party CMC remained the locus of decision making. Nevertheless, the ambiguities inherent in the 1982 arrangements were increased in 1987, when Deng Xiaoping retired from the Politburo and its Standing Committee but retained his position as party CMC chairman. The 1982 party Constitution was revised, excising the stipulation that the chairman of the party CMC sit on the party Politburo Standing Committee. At the Seventh NPC in 1988, he was reconfirmed as chairman of the state CMC. On eve of the 1989 Tiananmen crisis, therefore, PLA officers might not be blamed for confusing the authority of the party and the state in commanding the military. Since 1989, the institutional ambiguities regarding command of the PLA have not been clarified. In particular, the 1997 National Defense Law elaborated the role of state leadership institutions—the NPC and the State Council—with respect to the PLA and the national defense sector in general, which is consistent with the continuing effort to codify the PLA’s position in the political order legally and to “administer the army by rule of law.” Article 18 stipulated that the PLA “shall abide by the Constitution and laws” of the PRC, while Article 19 stated that the PLA is “subject to the leadership of the CCP” and that party organizations in the armed forces must abide by the party Constitution.14 Throughout the 1990s down to the 2002 Sixteenth Party Congress, Jiang Zemin consolidated his leadership over the PLA by serving concurrently as chairman of both the party and state

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CMCs. His retention of those positions after ceding his top party and state posts in 2002 and 2003, respectively, to Hu Jintao, replicated the uncertainties in political authority over the military highlighted by Deng’s retention of the same posts after his retirement from the Politburo in 1987. Despite the ambiguities of these institutional relationships over the past two decades, the impression seems unmistakable that civilian authority over the PLA is in a protracted process of transfer from the party to the state.15 Because this process is incremental and protracted, however, confusion about which civilian authority—the party or the state—commands the military must continue to exist in the PLA. Professionalization with Chinese Characteristics From a larger perspective, PLA professionalization and its political implications are not inherently different from trends in other professional groups in post-Mao China. The purposes that have driven PLA professionalization, and many of the ambiguities and tensions it has produced, are also visible in the evolving relationship to the CCP and state of scientists and technicians, journalists, lawyers, educators, and other professions critical to the CCP leadership’s postrevolutionary agenda of building China’s wealth and power. In the Maoist era after 1957, such professions were intensely politicized to the point of compromising the expertise that each embodied and that set them apart from other groups in the labor force. In the Deng reform era, these groups benefited from party enjoinders to lend their respective expertise to the project of modernizing China under the party’s guidance. Professional groups were assisted in restoring the credentials of their expertise and rebuilding the educational institutions that provide them, in recreating the professional associations that administered them under significant grants of autonomy from political interference, and in sustaining their monopoly on their respective expertise in codes of law. Continuing uncertainties, however, about the nature of their relationship to the CCP itself and about the “guiding” relevance of the party’s political values complicated the restoration of these professions, leading to recurring episodes of tension, confrontation, and sometimes dissent. The PRC’s scientific community, for example, was a major beneficiary of the Deng reform agenda in the 1980s and after.16 At the 1978 national conference on science, Deng Xiaoping personally volunteered to be the “logistics officer” for China’s scientific community. He and other leaders stressed the role of science and technology in China’s progress, eventually elevating it to the status as “the foremost force of production” in the contemporary era. The Academy of Sciences restored its defunct position of academician and other ranks, and its governing Scientific Council was elected and operated under a broad license of autonomy over its own work. Meanwhile, universities reopened and the granting of advanced academic degrees resumed. Professional organizations of scientists resumed ac-

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tivity for the first time since their Cultural Revolution, and their umbrella professional organization, the Chinese Association of Science and Technology, which resumed activities in 1977, announced at its 1980 session a membership of ninetyfive professional associations. Tensions between the norms of scientific professionalism and political authority emerged early in the reform period, nevertheless. Sweeping reforms in science policy and the reorientation of the science community toward a more direct role in an increasingly market-based economy met resistance among some scientists, who saw their newly resumed careers careening off into work not of their own design. As broader urban society prospered and inflation emerged cyclically in the Chinese economy in the 1980s, many scientists tied to fixed salaries in state research institutions saw their livelihoods and social standing decline, despite the prestige the party accorded their roles in China’s advance. Others resented the assertions by some party ideologues of a continuing “guiding role” of Marxism-Leninism in science. Such political intrusions into the preserve of scientific theory—the core expertise of scientists—sparked instances of outright political dissent and agitation, as is demonstrated by the trajectories of astrophysicist Fang Lizhi, physicist Xu Liangying, and atomic bomb pioneer Wang Ganchang in this period. The party responded by cutting into the preserve of scientific professionalism in a manner that it hoped would curb such agitation while preserving its ability to enlist the scientific community’s energies behind ongoing economic reforms. It reasserted party authority in the Academy of Sciences and limited the prerogatives of its Scientific Council in Academy decision making. In addition, it cracked down on and made an example of dissident scientists like Fang Lizhi. From a broad sociological perspective, the tensions between political authority and professionalism among professional groups in China in the past two decades are generically similar. Despite the sensitivity of the PLA’s mission in preserving China’s and the CCP regime’s security, the political implications of PLA professionalism since the 1980s are not unique. A useful framework for assessing these tensions is offered by Eliot Freidson’s analysis, Professionalism: The Third Logic. According to Freidson, professionalism as an ideal type entails five “interdependent elements.”17 Paraphrasing Freidson, they are: • Specialized work in a theoretically based body of knowledge that is accorded special status; • Exclusive jurisdiction over that work to the exclusion of other groups in the labor force; • A “sheltered” status within the workforce by virtue of distinctive credentials; • Formal training normally acquired outside the main economy and controlled by the profession itself; and • An ideology or ethos of service to a higher public good rather than narrow self-interest and to quality rather than efficiency.18

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The role of the state with respect to professions, according to Freidson, is critical. Only the state has the legitimate instruments of coercion to define a profession’s authority over its expertise and to license its monopoly over it, through codes of law and bureaucratic regulation. How a state addresses these roles determines the degree to which the five elements of professionalism Freidson identifies are manifested in any given case.19 On that basis, Freidson is skeptical of assertions that professions in Nazi Germany and in the Soviet Union were “deprofessionalized” under relentless politicization. In those instances, he states, the professions’ monopoly on their distinctive expertise—embodied in the first four “elements” of his scheme—was not challenged by the state, and, with the exception of history, philosophy, and law, for the most part they continued professional work in their respective disciplines. Instead, politicization challenged only their ethical competence—their ideology or ethos, the fifth element. From this perspective, the political tensions stemming from PLA professionalization, as well as instances in other professions in China, do not appear categorically different in their nature or dynamic.20 Freidson notes that, of course, states differ and employ different approaches to regulating professions. His analysis here offers insight into the broader political implications of PLA professionalization in the context of an evolving Chinese political order. He distinguishes between “activist” states, which define a comprehensive public good that in turn authorizes supervision and control over the associations in society and economy, and “reactive” states, which are essentially liberal in providing a framework within which society’s members pursue goals they determine themselves, either as individuals or in associations. He also distinguishes between state approaches to policy implementation by professions as either “hierarchical”— in which the state itself generates the professions’ agendas—or “coordinate”—by which the state legitimates the professions and defends their pursuit of agendas they themselves determine. By means of these distinctions, Freidson differentiates three types of state– profession interaction. “Activist-hierarchical” states recognize and support only professional groups that advance their agenda and policies, and suppress those that do not. Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union fall into this category. “Reactivehierarchical” states mediate relationships with the professions through regulation by state agencies staffed by professionals. Such arrangements resemble variations of corporatism. “Reactive-coordinate” states such as the United States and the U.K. exercise only minimal intervention in the professions, legitimating their expertise but otherwise leaving them free to govern their own activities.21 With this framework in mind, it seems reasonable to depict the place of professions in China as somewhere between the “activist-hierarchical” and “reactivehierarchical” categories, in transit from the former toward the latter. In assessing this conjecture, it is important to take into account the transformation of the CCP itself in this evolution. Since the watershed 1978 Third Plenum, the CCP’s mission shifted from a “revolutionary” agenda (to borrow Richard Lowenthal’s

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terminology) of guiding China’s social transformation through “waging class struggle” to a “postrevolutionary” one of managing China’s modernization. In keeping with this shift in mission, the composition of the party’s membership has been transformed according to “technocratic” criteria that emphasize expertise, rather than ideological-political criteria. The party’s processes and relationships with other hierarchies in the political order have thus become increasingly institutionalized. These changes have been reflected at the very top of the party, where the post-Deng leaderships have increasingly been selected because of their professional expertise and administrative experience that suit an agenda of governing an increasingly complex and pluralistic modern society. The party’s present long-term strategy of co-opting emerging economic and social elites within itself—which is what the “Three Represents” portends—reflects these changes both in society and also in the party itself. Given the sensitivity of its mission, the professionalization of the PLA may not have proceeded as far as that of some of the other professions in China today. However, it is not dramatically behind and is moving in the same direction with respect to the state, in part because the agenda of the state requires it. As the party itself undergoes a fundamental transformation in its nature and its relationship to the state and society, and as society changes around it, it is not surprising that the party leadership should insist on an anchor in the “absolute loyalty” of the PLA. But the same logic that is driving the transformation of party, state, and society also applies to the PLA in its area of expertise. Over time, however incremental and halting this evolution may be, the PLA’s place in the political order will shift accordingly. How far this broader political evolution proceeds is anyone’s guess. It is inviting, however, to place the political implications of PLA professionalization in the broader context of China’s long-standing crisis of political authority. Since the mid-nineteenth century, when the Qing court authorized the formation of regional political-military machines to suppress the Taiping rebellion, China has been governed by a succession of strongmen who were either military leaders themselves or whose power rested on close military connections—the Empress Dowager Cixi, Yuan Shikai, Chiang Kai-shek, Mao Zedong, and Deng Xiaoping. Previous episodes of military professionalization in China—under the late Qing xinzheng reforms of the Beiyang units, the 1935 reorganization of Nationalist units, and the mid-1950s Soviet-assisted transformation of the PLA—all failed for various reasons and ultimately did not result in stable relationships to state power (the reasons were the 1911 Revolution and the demise of Yuan Shikai’s regime in 1916, the Japanese invasion and the destruction of the core Nationalist armies at Shanghai in 1937, and the escalating struggle for power in the CCP leadership in the late 1950s, respectively). The present episode that began nearly two decades ago in the mid-1980s has proceeded far longer than any of the previous three episodes, and it has continued under the installation of two generations of party leaders who are civilians virtu-

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ally devoid of military experience. In that regard, the concurrent processes of PLA professionalization and the transformation of the CCP itself are important and may ultimately resolve the crisis of political authority that China has endured over the past century. Notes 1. These changes have been assessed concisely and authoritatively by Paul H.B. Godwin in “From Continent to Periphery: PLA Doctrine, Strategy, and Capabilities Toward 2000,” China Quarterly, no. 146 (June 1996): 464–487; “The PLA Faces the 21st Century,” in China’s Military Faces the Future, ed. James Lilley and David Shambaugh (Armonk, NY: M.E. Sharpe, 1999), pp. 39–63; and “Compensating for Deficiencies: Doctrinal Evolution in the Chinese People’s Liberation Army: 1978–1999,” in Seeking Truth from Fact, ed. James Mulvenon and Richard Yang (Santa Monica: RAND Corporation, 2001), pp. 87–130. 2. On these trends, see the study by James Mulvenon, Professionalization of the Senior Chinese Officer Corps: Trends and Implications (Santa Monica: RAND Corporation, 1997). See also Nan Li, “Organizational Changes of the PLA, 1985–1997,” China Quarterly, no. 158 (June 1999): 314–349; and Thomas J. Bickford, “Regularization and the Chinese People’s Liberation Army,” Asian Survey 40, no. 3 (May/June 2000): 456–474. 3. Xinhua News Agency, September 29, 2003. 4. James C. Mulvenon, Soldiers of Fortune: The Rise and Fall of the Chinese MilitaryBusiness Complex, 1978–1998 (Armonk, NY: M.E. Sharpe, 2001); and “PLA Divestiture and Civil-Military Relations: Implications for the 16th Party Congress Leadership,” China Leadership Monitor, issue 1, part 2 (Winter 2002). 5. PLA Daily, March 5, 1990. 6. A judicious review of these events is in David Shambaugh, Modernizing China’s Military: Progress, Problems, and Prospects (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2002), pp. 20–25. 7. Wang Chenghan article, PLA Daily, December 18, 1989; Bai Xuan commentary, PLA Daily, December 19, 1989; and Shambaugh, Modernizing China’s Military, pp. 25– 28. 8. Fu Wen, “Upholding Absolute Party Leadership is the Fundamental Task in Ideological and Political Construction,” PLA Daily, January 8, 2003. 9. Wang Lianbin, “Actively Promote Lei Feng’s Spirit in Strengthening Ideological and Ethical Building,” PLA Daily, February 27, 2003. 10. Su Jungao, “Transform the Important Thinking of the ‘Three Represents’ into a Relentless Spiritual Driving Force,” PLA Daily, March 20, 2003. 11. Qu Ming and Ting Ying, “The Party’s Absolute Leadership over the Army Is the Eternal Soul of the Army,” Qiu Shi (Seeking truth), June 1, 2003. 12. PLA Daily, September 17, 2003. 13. Text of PRC Constitution adopted at the First NPC, June 15, 1954. 14. “Law of the PRC on National Defense,” Xinhua News Agency, March 18, 1997. 15. On this point, I concur with the judgment of Shambaugh, Modernizing China’s Military, p. 46. 16. The restoration of professionalism in China’s science community and the political tensions it generated in the 1980s is the subject of the book by Lyman Miller, Science and Dissent in Post-Mao China: The Politics of Knowledge (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1996). 17. As a historian and not a political or social scientist, I prefer this term to the wretched “model.”

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18. Eliot Freidson, Professionalization: The Third Logic (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2001), p. 127. Freidson’s scheme is more useful for comparative purposes among the professions than Huntington’s classic formula of military professionalism, which works better for Western liberal settings than communist ones. For comparison, see Samuel Huntington, The Soldier and the State: The Theory and Politics of Civil-Military Relations (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1957). 19. Freidson, Professionalization, pp. 133–134. 20. Ibid., pp. 129–132. 21. Ibid., pp. 135–141. Freidson notes the difficulty of conceptualizing an “activistcoordinate” approach and locating compelling examples.

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7 Unravelling the Myths About Political Commissars You Ji

The political commissar is a unique phenomenon found only in communist societies. As such, it has been a topic that attracts a great deal of attention from researchers of civil-military relations. The reason for this is that political commissars have historically served as a defining feature in the interaction between the armed forces and ruling communist parties, and have served as the instruments of party control over the military.1 In the People’s Republic of China (PRC), the political commissar system is one of three systems that the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) relies on to control the gun (the other two being the party committee system and the political affairs network system).2 Jiang Zemin once said that these three systems are what make the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) different from all other armed forces in the world, including those in socialist countries.3 Based on this control over the armed forces, the CCP monopolizes both government and military power in China. Therefore, political commissars constitute the foundation of the communist system and the core of the ruling class in China. On the other hand, the political and functional status of commissars has been changing constantly ever since the system was imposed upon the PLA in 1927. Post-Mao reforms in China have in particular changed the way political commissars behave in party–army–society relations. Clearly, political commissars are no longer the type of people formerly defined as “party representatives” in the military: the overwhelming majority of them are professional solders with political affairs missions in the PLA. In addition, there are civilian political commissars who are externally appointed party secretaries of local governments. These are a different kind of political commissar: although they also carry out the mission of party control over the military, they are part-timers in the PLA and have incomplete institutional authority over the units in their locality. It is therefore difficult for these commissars to penetrate an increasingly autonomous officer corps. 146

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Despite their importance, few serious studies have been conducted to assess the altered role of political commissars. As a result, a number of myths have emerged about commissars that have distorted the true picture of the relationship between commanders and political affairs staff in the PLA. Given this, it is time to reexamine how political commissars really work under a set of institutional frameworks. This chapter therefore attempts to clarify some of the misconceptions about political commissars and to analyze their new functions. Commissars and the CCP–PLA Relationship in the Early Years The PLA did not have commissars when it was founded in 1927 (as the Red Army). The party–army interaction was basically between top party officials and military leaders who defected from the Nationalist or warlord troops—the former acted as party representatives and carried out the party’s political programs in the army. Following the Soviet example, they were later renamed political commissars. This was, in fact, the origin of the misconception of equating political commissars with party representatives. While it is true that for some time political commissars were party representatives in the army and had dominant power over military commanders, during the mid- to late 1930s this situation changed dramatically. Gradually, the PLA’s political commissars were composed of professional soldiers promoted from inside the army rather than of party representatives. In the formative years of the PLA, the relationship between CCP representatives and generals was weak and uneasy. It was conducted either on the basis of personal friendship, such as the ties between Zhou Enlai and Zhu De, or on the basis of naked coercion, as in the heavy-handed leadership style of Zhang Guotao vis-à-vis commanders in the Fourth Front Army. The presence and influence of party representatives remained only at the top levels of command. In tactical units, for example, party cells were virtually nonexistent. This was cited as the cause of early failures of the Red Army (campaign defeats and personnel defections).4 The party center in Shanghai was fearful that its shaky ties with the military might ruin the revolution. In order to tighten the control over the gun, the party took two measures: it institutionalized the party representative system in the upper levels of command, reflected in the overwhelming power granted to political commissars, and created party branches and political affairs networks in basic units.5 Therefore, from the PLA’s beginnings, political commissars constituted the concrete organizational form of party leadership in the military.6 Primarily, they were to ensure that professional commanders yielded to party control. Secondly, they were required to recruit as many new party members into the rank and file as possible to act as human carriers of party control. Mao’s order to install party branches at all levels of command guaranteed the internal cohesion of the army. Since then, the political commissar system has become firmly institutionalized in the PLA, and, to this day, is still seen as one of the key mechanisms of the party’s control over the military.

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This said, the party’s control over the army, and in particular the commissar system, has been more complicated than we currently understand. In the early stages of the PLA’s inception, many senior commanders sympathized with the Nationalist course but were not true believers in communism. The problems of ideological mistrust and political loyalty persisted. Therefore, the party appointed civilian figures to exercise physical monitoring of the officers corps. At the turn of the 1920s and 1930s, the party center in Shanghai dispatched a relatively large number of civilian commissars to the Soviet Union. Gradually these people, such as Zhang Guotao, Guan Xiangying, Ren Bishi, Yang Shangkun, and Deng Xiaoping, took charge of the daily work of the army. They sidelined the professional soldiers in terms of command and control as a way of implementing party policies. Sending civilian commissars to the army has origins in China’s feudal tradition of emperors sending supervisors (jianjun) to the front to supervise military commanders.7 This imposition of outsiders on the military constituted a unique feature of civil-military relations in China, the root cause of which is the imbalance of power between civilians and generals. The feudal supervisor system, then, was deliberately designed to reduce the power of military commanders. The commissar system bears clear resemblance to this design. From 1930 onward, political commissars conducted intensive ideological campaigns to convert soldiers into communist fighters and adopted relentless methods to purge commanders they did not trust.8 A political commissar responsibility system (zhengzhi weiyuan qunqun daibiaozhi) was established. Institutionally, the system was backed by the military criminal code and discipline reinforcement. Under the system, commissars enjoyed the final word on all matters, including administration and operations. The Red Army Political Work Regulations clearly stipulated, “when a dispute emerged between commissars and commanders, the former has the legal right to stop the latter,” and, “when a military commander issues any order, it has to be co-signed by the commissar in his unit.”9 It is interesting to note that between 1932 and 1936, even the party committee system was abolished in order to enhance commissars’ control over military personnel (because the majority of party committee members were commanders, they had the power to restrain the outsider commissars). Moreover, the CCP’s practice of appointing civilian commissars to the army as a way of consolidation of control was as much motivated by ideological worry as by factional considerations. Between 1927 and 1934, each CCP mainstay faction leader in Shanghai would send his followers as commissars to the army for the sake of consolidating his political influence. These commissars were deeply involved in army factional activities and divided the military. Often, generals were subjected to commissar-led politics. (The reason for this factional infighting was, in particular, Mao.) Many of Mao’s military followers were implicated in the infighting, and this resulted in a series of battlefield defeats that led senior military officers to resent political commissars.10 They regarded externally imposed commissars not as representatives of the party, but as representatives of one particular party leader and his erroneous political line.

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This gave rise to the evolving crisis between the party center and the top brass that finally erupted in the Zunyi conference of 1935. By a large measure, the conference was the rebellion of senior military officers secretly organized by Mao against externally imposed commissars. It also served as the symbol of a failed party representation system at the top command. In 1936, the commissar responsibility system was formally terminated. This marked the gradual decline of civilian commissars in importance and status in the PLA. For the bulk of the war against Japan (1937–1945), the Eighth Route Army exercised the commander responsibility system. During these years of war, combat officers enjoyed easier promotion opportunities. This not only helped pave the way for them to gain prominence in the PLA over the course of the next six decades, but also created a culture favoring military officers over commissars.11 The Rise and Fall of Party Representatives This brief historical overview challenges the popular belief that political commissars play a role equal in importance to that of military commanders. Institutionally, placing civilian supervisors above military commanders always has negative consequences, as this adversely affects professional decisions and seriously disrupts the military chain of command. This is especially true during times of war: for example, the fall of the Ming Dynasty was largely due to mistrust between emperors and their military subordinates.12 In contrast, the abolition of this supervisory mechanism led General Yuan Shikai to usurp power in 1912, ending the Qing Dynasty.13 Striking a balance between effective party control from outside and maintenance of the combat efficiency of the PLA has been a difficult test for the CCP in the last seven decades. The Fall of the Party Representative System Even before the founding of the PRC in 1949, the “supervisors” (jianjun) practice was gradually phased out. There are several reasons for this. First, Mao had acquired firm control over the military, and thus the need to appoint a trusted civilian supervisor to the PLA subsided. In fact, Mao’s main power base was the military: he tried hard to keep other politicians away from military affairs, stressing that zhengzhijiu yi zheng, junwei yi jun (the Politburo’s realm is state affairs and the realm of the Central Military Commission [CMC] is military affairs).14 At the same time, Mao dispatched trusted comrades to units that did not belong to his First Front Army. For instance, in 1939 he sent Deng Xiaoping to lead the 129th Division, previously the Fourth Front Army under Zhang Guotao, Mao’s longtime bitter enemy. By 1943 it had become apparent that, with or without an external commissar system, military commanders accepted Mao’s leadership. Second, and equally important, the PLA was expanding rapidly and the over-

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whelming majority of political commissars were progressively selected from among professional soldiers. Fewer and fewer party leaders were transferred to the PLA to take political affairs positions in the lead-up to the communist victory. Indeed, after 1949 civilian cadres (ganbu) were rarely appointed as commissars in the PLA. The PLA increasingly acquired a corporate spirit, an exclusive identity, and rising professionalism, and an enhanced sense of unique institutional (i.e., PLA) identity was the direct result of this development.15 This incipient institutional identity developing within the PLA after 1949 heightened tensions between civilian party commissars and their PLA counterparts that had existed since the early days of the Red Army. This tension was underscored during the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution (GPCR). Throughout that tumultuous period there was widespread struggle between civilian commissars (party representatives) and PLA commissars trained by PLA’s own political work system. The former tried hard to radicalize the PLA as a way of deepening revolution, to the effect of paralyzing military command. The latter worked hard to protect the cohesion of the rank and file, but was criticized as a conservative force as a result.16 This conflicting political stance reflected the different functions and professional pursuits of the two types of commissars. It is important to note that functionally there is a sharp difference in mentality between a civilian commissar and a commissar who is a professional soldier. The former, with the status of party representative, shoulders a clear task of monitoring PLA activities on behalf of the party. His concern is directed less toward issues of combat capability and defense modernization than toward the political correctness of the soldiers under him. A professional soldier commissar may have a reverse set of priorities. Since the abolition of the commissar responsibility system in 1936, political work has served the purpose of military victory. Party control is secondary in importance for professional soldier commissars. 17 This is especially true today, when winning the next war has become the ultimate goal for commissars.18 Back to the Future The rise of PLA autonomy is indicative of an organizational imperative, an inevitable developmental trend of any well-structured collective. However, this may be seen as a potential threat to the party’s absolute control over the gun. The fear that is deeply instilled in the minds of the civilian leaders of losing control over the military will never disappear. This propels them to fall back on the external supervisor system when they feel a situational need. This is especially true during periods of political uncertainty, such as in times of political succession. For example, Mao stressed politics in the commanding ranks of the PLA when he felt challenged by other party leaders, and then used the PLA to launch a counterattack against the party.19 After the Peng Dehuai incident, Mao brought back the party representative system. In 1958, he created the dual leadership

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framework over the PLA’s three levels of regional command (county, prefecture, and province).20 He reinforced this system during the Cultural Revolution, especially before and after the Lin Biao incident. This dual leadership mechanism was later also established at the military region level. As one civilian control measure over the gun, Mao designated the first party secretary of a central province in a strategic geographic region (Liaoning in Northeast China) to be the first political commissar of the regional command. For example, Mao appointed Politburo member Ji Dengkui to be the first political commissar of the Beijing Military Region (BMR) in 1970 as a way to break the domination of Lin Biao’s sphere of influence in the region. These civilian commissars were asked by the party center to attend important local unit meetings, sign their documents, and make suggestions to their superiors regarding officer selection. This created an invisible channel that reported to Mao in addition to the normal CMC chain of command. However, this practice inevitably caused tension between the party and the PLA. Many of the commissars appointed by Mao were radical leftists (Ma Tianshui in Shanghai, Mao Yuanxin in the Shenyang MR, Zhang Chunqiao in the General Department of Political Affairs, and Wang Hongwen in the CMC). They viewed senior officers, including professional soldier commissars, as the objects of the Cultural Revolution. Mao, however, recognized the inherent organizational contradiction of appointing civilian supervisors to the PLA, and therefore tried to negotiate a point of equilibrium between party control and military autonomy. He understood that senior commanders disliked the idea of outside interference in their management of troops.21 Therefore, Mao’s supervisor system was very different from that of the early 1930s in that it had little impact on field armies and their operation. Not surprisingly, the party representative system was among the first Cultural Revolution excesses to be abolished soon after Mao’s death (this was also a reward for the PLA’s support of the purge of the “Gang of Four”). The abolition of the system may have also implicitly reflected the PLA’s resistance to the practice. The PRC’s history of civil-military relations has shown that when the balance of power shifts, instituting or abolishing an external commissar system in the PLA is the first indicator of changing party–army relations. It is interesting to note that in the mid-1980s local party secretaries were again told that they should concurrently take the post of first party secretary of the PLA’s local administration (county, prefecture, and province), although not as its first political commissar.22 The forthcoming end of the strongman type of control over the gun upset the balance of power between civilians and generals and could have led to a high level of leadership uncertainty. Furthermore, political and economic regionalism was on the rise at the time, and Chinese history is full of precedents where local generals and military officers formed alliances to trigger national disintegration. Clearly, the party needed an organizational mechanism of control over PLA garrison agencies that could assume the mission of maintaining stability. The party secretary, as the first party secretary in the PLA

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local command, has access to major decisions of these units through attending their party committee meetings. However, without the title of commissar, he has no direct control over the daily management of the units. This shows that party leadership in the PLA in the mid-1980s had even less responsibility than under Mao. Safeguards were created to prevent civilians from being overtly intrusive in the PLA’s daily administration. After all, like Mao before him, Deng used the PLA as his primary power base. In recent years, Jiang pushed this dual leadership role a step further. Party secretaries are now concurrently the first political commissars of PLA regional commands. Jiang’s decision was based on three parallel considerations that differ significantly from Mao’s. First, Jiang wanted to enhance PLA interests in local affairs through civilian-military interaction. Party secretaries acting as commissars can also serve as the bridge between two otherwise separate systems.23 Under this guiding principle, the first political commissar should act as the PLA’s representative in the civilian leadership process and convey the requests of the PLA concerning local matters that involve military interests. When he presides over discussions about military affairs among his civilian colleagues, he wears the military hat as the first political commissar of the regional command. The second mission of the first commissar is to promote popular awareness of national defense in society. In 1999, the Politburo made a strategic decision to accelerate preparation for military struggle.24 Correspondingly, a new committee of military affairs was established in local party committees, embracing various party, military, and government offices in the region. Naturally, the civilian commissar is the head of the committee. Since then, the local government has added a new monthly work agenda (called yijun) to its regular standing committee meetings. This work agenda mainly focuses on military affairs, such as anti-air-raid exercises, mobilization, militia training, and the construction of war preparation infrastructure. When interacting with his military colleagues, the party secretary is supposed to contribute to the formulation of long-term plans to develop units in the region and to provide opinions on personnel matters. In August 2002, the party center, the State Council, and the CMC jointly issued a decree stipulating that civilian political commissars need to report annually on civil-military affairs in their respective localities to the party military committee at the next-highest level.25 This instruction is meant to address the visible trend in China of local governments placing economic development far above military affairs. It is also meant to help the party spark the general public’s interest in national defense matters, which has been on the wane in recent years—a dangerous situation when one looks at the tense situation with Taiwan. On the other hand, the party’s enhanced war preparation has paved the way for the PLA to exercise more influence in local government processes than it previously had. Politically, this is Jiang’s method of wooing the PLA.26 Jiang’s third reason for reviving the civilian commissar system may have stemmed from his concern regarding uncertainties associated with his transfer of power to the

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Fourth Generation of party leaders. Hu Jintao’s consolidation of power as commander-in-chief required effective outside-in organizational support from the PLA. After all, any post-Deng party leader would be relatively weak in commanding the gun not only because he has little military experience, but also because he is the only civilian with a military portfolio. In a sense, he is alone at the top. However, because the number one party boss in each locality assumes the post of first political commissar, these party members effectively serve as Hu Jintao’s organizational network in garrison commands. They can also be employed as a check-and-balance system to protect the party’s best interests vis-àvis the military. It is not clear to what extent civilian commissars function as supervisors today. What is clear is that the existence of a dual party–army leadership structure has not affected the basic command chain for the PLA, which extends from the CMC down through the field armies and special services. Nor can commissars interfere with the operational activities of PLA local units. On the whole, then, political commissars’ influence and scope of authority is still limited.27 Despite this, the commissar system remains an essential part of the party’s organizational means of exerting “absolute control.” What is less clear are the conditions under which the control function might be exercised—in particular, would it be exerted in cases where there is no major policy disagreement between the party and the army? In addition, it remains to be seen whether civilian commissars may exercise any effective control over the PLA’s local authority, especially in light of the rising level of military autonomy in decision making. Indeed, through the introduction of military discussion into local governments’ monthly standing committee meetings, military interests may actually be better protected than in the past. The long-term consequences of this reform may result in a “back to the future” situation for party–army relations, and need to be carefully studied. Institutional Hollow-out of Absolute Control As mentioned earlier, a commissar promoted from within the military behaves differently from a civilian commissar who is externally appointed by the party. While the military commissar is formally entrusted to carry out party programs and protect party interests, there is often a gap between formality and reality. The undeniable fact is that a uniformed commissar regards himself first and foremost as a professional soldier, as opposed to a supervisor sent by an outside organization. This is a reflection of the process by which commissars are promoted within the military: the majority of commissars who join the PLA as soldiers are trained as officers and are only later assigned to take political affairs jobs. In addition, many commissars are transferred from command posts. In each force reduction campaign, in order to maintain combat readiness, PLA authorities at various levels deliberately retain as many military officers as possible. The most convenient

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method by which to do this is by moving military officers to political affairs posts. As a result, the number of commissars promoted from within the PLA is far greater than the number of civilian commissars appointed by the party. For example, in a group army in the Jinan Military Region, over half of the political affairs staff at the regiment level and below were originally military officers.28 Functional Imperatives vs. Party Control Missions Logically, a combat officer cares more about soldiers’ military professionalism than about their political and ideological indoctrination. In his perception of PLA–party relations, he is strongly conscious of the vested interests of the armed forces, the level of military spending in the state budget, the nature of the country’s overall foreign and defense policy, and the commitment of civilians to hardware and software modernization.29 To most military personnel, obedience to their immediate military superior is their natural duty.30 It is reasonable to assume that this is also the case with political commissars who are promoted from within the military. Given their background and training, their loyalty to the armed forces may come before their loyalty to the party. Despite the presence of party-appointed political commissars in the PLA, this characteristic of military political commissars may have contributed to the party leadership’s concern that “There is an inherent danger of the PLA abolishing party leadership.” Party leaders might have good reason to worry: in the history of PLA–CCP interaction, there have been only a few tests requiring political commissars to demonstrate their loyalty to the party over the PLA. The Zunyi conference in 1935, the February 1967 protest of senior officers against radical Cultural Revolution policies, and the dissenting voices of retired generals in 1989 are some of the only examples of critical moments when political commissars had to choose between divergent PLA and party interests.31 The institutional significance of commissars promoted from within the PLA or appointed externally by the party is related to the nature of party control over the gun. The painful lesson learned from the commissar responsibility system in the first half of the 1930s is that party-appointed civilian commissar control over the PLA’s personnel, administrative, and even its operational functions resulted in the phenomenon of the party “controlling all” (dangguan yiqie). This inevitably led to a clash of interests between these two powerful organizations and resulted in the PLA’s rejection of the “party controlling all” idea. This has provided an historical precedent: a professional force with a unique corporate identity (i.e., the PLA) has resisted the concept of the “party controlling all.”32 In contrast, a commissar promoted from within the PLA is responsible for conducting the party’s political leadership in the form of carrying out party lines, policies, and programs.33 However, these lines, policies, and programs do not bear any direct relationship to the daily concerns of a specific PLA unit. As a soldier, the political commissar is part of the professional team that manages military affairs in his unit.

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The difference between these two types of commissars reveals an important institutional confusion in party–army relations that has long been overlooked. Institutionally, “absolute control” by the party cannot be achieved without the insertion of party representatives into the armed forces. However, an effective organizational mechanism, such as the commissar command system in the 1930s, does not exist today to underpin such an insertion.34 This is because today, unlike in the 1930s, the concept of political leadership by the party is separate from the administrative control of the PLA. Thus, the PLA’s professional independence and autonomy as an organization are sustained. The rising autonomy of the PLA as an institution separate from the party “hollows out” the slogan “the party’s absolute control over the gun.” Institutional Conflicts: Shuangzhangzhi vs. Yizhangzhi One long-held myth is that political commissars are at least as important, if not more important than combat commanders in rank and in influence. The truth is that the latter play a far more important role than the former in managing PLA affairs. The higher the level of command, the more this is the case. To understand the functions of political commissars better, it is necessary to analyze the reasons why the myth about their importance and influence has been perpetuated for so long and why it is so widely held. The first reason is institutional. According to the PLA’s 1995 “Political Work Regulations,” shuangzhangzhi (parallel rank of military commander and political commissar, or “the double-heads system”) is exercised in the PLA to assure equality of authority for both commanders and commissars.35 The second reason is that commissars are responsible for important tasks such as internal security, personnel management (i.e., officer selection and promotion), legal and discipline matters, and liaising with parallel civilian party and government offices. The third reason for this myth is that the CCP has long defined the PLA as a military organization that carries out political missions.36 At times, the party has placed more emphasis on political missions as opposed to military tasks. One such example of this was during the Cultural Revolution, when the importance of political commissars was highlighted. The “double-heads” system in place today legitimizes the equal status of commissars in the PLA vis-à-vis commanders. It is a kind of internal system of checks and balances against generals, and ensures that the party’s political message is carried out in the PLA. However, this is only one side of the coin. The “double-heads” system clashes with the primary functional imperative of any military: effective command of the troops requires the concentration of power in one center. The PLA is no exception to this iron law. In order to prevent confusion in command that might arise from the “double-heads” system, the PLA has implemented another institutional arrangement: the “commander responsibility system” (yizhangzhi, or the one-man command system). Therefore, we see a two-tier command-and-control structure in the PLA: at the apex of power and in headquarters departments, yizhangzhi is

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exercised. Yet, at and below the army level, shuangzhangzhi is carried out. At the military region level, there are complications. Shuangzhangzhi is the official leadership mechanism. However, due to PLA tradition and to the practical needs of command and control, yizhangzhi is exercised. In this sense, the variations in leadership structures at various levels of the PLA constitute a key cause for the perception that political commissars are the equals of combat commanders. It is well known that the CMC utilizes a commander responsibility system.37 In the past, this system has been exemplified by the leadership of Mao and Deng, who overwhelmingly acted as commanders-in-chief, with most of their time spent on military affairs. It would therefore be wrong to put Mao and Deng in the category of political commissars. Jiang’s role, however, is less clear. In the Jiang era, the PLA achieved unprecedented levels of autonomy in military administration, as compared with the eras of Mao and Deng. Under the principle of “reign without overt rule,” Jiang let the bulk of military decisions be made by professional soldiers in the CMC. Despite this delegation of responsibility, Jiang’s leadership style is not considered to be “hands off” by any means.38 After the CMC reshuffle in 1992 (the departure of Yang Baibin) and 1997 (the departures of Liu Huaqing and Zhang Zhen), Jiang increased his involvement in the daily running of the CMC. Although Jiang liked to talk about politics, he defined his primary duty as commander-in-chief to be enhancing the PLA’s combat capability in order to win the next war.39 He played a decisive role in formulating the PLA’s two post-Deng national defense strategies: the “limited regional war under high-tech conditions” and the “information technology revolution in world military affairs” double transformation strategy (this focused on the simultaneous mechanization and informatization [xinxi hua] of the PLA).40 Additionally, since its recreation in 1954, the CMC has been predominantly composed of military officers. This was especially true in the Jiang era. For instance, in the CMC of the Fourteenth Party Congress, the two executive vice chairs, Generals Liu Huaqing and Zhang Zhen, were military officers. Generals Zhang Wannian and Chi Haotian were vice chairs of the CMC of the Fifteenth Party Congress. This pairing may give the impression of shuangzhangzhi, as Zhang headed the military system and Chi the political affairs system. However, in reality, General Chi, although he spent much of his career as a commissar, first entered the CMC as chief of the General Staff of the PLA. In the current CMC, Generals Guo Boxiong and Cao Gangchuan are Politburo members and executive CMC vice chairs. In comparison, General Xu Caihou (former director of the General Political Department), the top political commissar in the PLA, is much lower in rank in both the party and military hierarchies. He is the only member of the CMC who can be identified as a political affairs person.41 It is likely that General Xu will replace General Cao as a Politburo member when the latter retires at the next National Party Congress in 2007. Even so, the balance of strength between military officers and political affairs staff in the CMC is still clearly in favor of the former.42 In fact, since the party’s Seventh National Party Congress in 1945, PLA repre-

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sentatives in the Politburo and in the CMC have been mostly military officers. This is rooted in the PLA’s beginnings: by 1945 the commander responsibility system had been in place for eight years (since 1937).43 The result was that when the first military rank system was created in 1955, nine out of ten marshals and eight out of ten senior generals were military commanders. They alone possessed the qualifications necessary to enter top party bodies. In fact, in the entire history of the PLA, there were only brief periods when political commissars controlled the CMC’s daily agenda. The most recent such period was the era of the Yang brothers from the mid-1980s to the early 1990s. During this era, political affairs leaders visibly subdued military officers.44 As a result, the Yang brothers triggered open resentment from the top PLA leadership, such as Yang Dezhi, Xiao Ke, Hong Xuezhi, and many others. This alarmed Deng to the extent that he worried about PLA instability. He eventually dumped Yang Baibing shortly before the Thirteenth National Congress in 1992. Yang’s case proves that it is impossible for commissars to maintain control of the PLA for any sustained period of time. The harmony of the PLA depends on the smooth cooperation of commanders and commissars. Yet, the foundation of such cooperation rests on the subordination of the political affairs system to the combat command system. Institutionally, PLA headquarters departments do not implement shuangzhangzhi, although leadership is not entirely based on yizhangzhi either. The commandand-control mechanism is a combination of both. Commanders, however, do take much more responsibility than their counterparts in political affairs circles. In the four headquarters departments, commanders are the indisputable leaders. For example, the General Staff Department (GSD) does not even have a political commissar post (nor does the General Political Department [GPD] have one, but this is a different case). In terms of importance, the GSD is number one in the PLA chain of command. It is the CMC’s administrative arm. For a long time, its general office served as the CMC General Office and its security bureau concurrently acted as the Central Guard Bureau. The GSD is the head, heart, and soul of the PLA. This testifies to the status of combat command vis-à-vis political affairs offices in the military. The other two headquarters departments, the General Logistics Department (GLD) and the General Armament Department (GAD) have political commissars. However, they are institutionally subordinate to the department directors because the latter are automatically functional CMC members. Nothing is clearer in differentiating the ranks and responsibilities of directors and commissars than this CMC membership. Once in the CMC, one acquires the title of PLA leader. Otherwise, one is only the leader of a headquarters department or a service. This paves the way for the director to become the ultimate authority. In all other PLA units directly under the CMC (dadanwei), shuangzhangzhi is administratively, but not politically and culturally, applied. This is particularly true in the PLA’s military regions, where running a large geographic area without one person in clear command is difficult. In the military regions, military commanders clearly have authority over political commissars.

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The ranking of military commanders above political commissars has historical precedent in military regions. The PLA’s military regions were formed from the five field armies of the late 1940s whose commanders enjoyed indisputable authority due to combat toughness. Lin Biao (Fourth Field Army) and Peng Dehui (First Field Army) were decisively more respected than their commissars. Chen Yi (Third Field Army) and Nie Rongzhen (North China Field Army) simply concurrently took the post of commissar. Only the Second Field Army had a powerful commissar—Deng Xiaoping. He, however, made himself subordinate to his commander, Liu Bocheng, during the bulk of the war years. As Mao stated, “Deng was very helpful in assisting Liu’s command of the Army.”45 Tradition aside, managing a large geographic area efficiently is similar to running national affairs: there can be only one emperor. Therefore, there must be one person who is more equal than others in the collective leadership. As a result, it is more often the case that commanders are designated as the top leader and granted overall decision-making authority. In terms of party and professional ranks, commanders of dadanwei are normally a half step higher than commissars. In general, these commanders are also secretaries of military region party committees. It is worth noting that for a long time, when Mao appointed commanders and political commissars of military regions and special services, he chose commanders with more prestige (war experience) and seniority (service history) as compared to political commissars with less (or no) military experience. In this way, he was confident that power struggles would be avoided and that effective command and control was guaranteed. Moreover, Mao would select several commanders of key military regions to enter the Politburo. Deng furthered this tradition when he was commander-inchief.46 However, Jiang found it difficult to continue this tradition because, in peacetime, military commanders with visibly more respect and seniority than commissars are not easily identifiable. Despite this, it is clear that more institutional weight continues to be given to commanding posts rather than political posts. The simple truth is that in order to maintain combat efficiency and to ensure the smooth implementation of orders from above, there is little room for a “two-power-center” conflict in the top command. This begs the question of why political commissars are appointed to top positions in the first place. This question hits the core of the institution of shuangzhangzhi, and is related to the basic function of political commissars in the PLA. The Dual-Power Structure Under the Party Committee Shuangzhangzhi is universally conducted in PLA units at the army level or below. Institutionally, commissars normally achieve hierarchical status parallel to that of military commanders. There is no clear evidence of whether either is more important than the other. A great deal depends on seniority, personality, competence, and ties with superiors. Service duration in the same unit is also a crucial factor

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and involves the extensiveness of personal networks. However, the importance of the two posts can be illustrated by their areas of functional responsibility in daily affairs. In contrast to the system of yizhangzhi in central headquarters, the personal responsibility system of commanders and commissars under the party committee is exercised at the army level or below. One reason political commissars are thought to be more powerful vis-à-vis commanders is that they are commonly the secretary of the party committee in a respective unit. Not surprisingly, the party committee is thought to be the locus of power, given the status of the CCP as the ruling party in China. Currently, there are over 90,000 party cells in the PLA.47 These party cells provide a good institutional foundation for commissars to control the work agenda of the unit because the CCP’s organizational principle dictates that all important matters must be discussed in committee meetings, including important matters in the PLA.48 The committee also provides a forum for resolving disputes between commissars and commanders. For example, in emergency situations, commanders and commissars are allowed to make decisions on the spot; however, they must present full reports on the matter to the committee afterwards.49 As convener of the committee, a commissar can theoretically have an additional say in setting the agenda of the committee. In reality, the interaction between the two is much more complicated. Imbalance of Representation in the Party Committees Functionally, commanders can take the upper hand vis-à-vis commissars for the following reasons. The first is related to the institutional procedures of the party committee in the PLA. Party committees are made up of people from two subsystems: military affairs and political affairs. This structure actually weakens the authority of commissars because the representation from each subsystem is uneven. Although the members of the party committee in any PLA unit should be elected by the regular party congress, the core of the committee, or the standing committee, is decided on by the unit’s superior organization (this is closely linked to the personnel appointment system of the PLA).50 Normally, in the committee, the commissar is the secretary and the commander is the vice secretary. Yet the reverse can also be the case if the commander is senior in rank and experience in the unit. Among the committee members, there are two or three deputy commanders in charge of administration, operation, and training and equipment, and one or two deputy commissars responsible for personnel discipline and other noncombat affairs. Also included are the chief of the General Staff and director of the General Political Department (very often also the directors of the General Logistics Department and the General Armament Department). For instance, the political commissar of the Navy, Admiral Hu Yanlin, is the party secretary, while Commander-in-Chief Zhang Dingfa is the vice secretary. Among the members of the standing committee, there are three deputy commanders, Admirals Yao

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Xingyuan, Wang Yucheng, and Jing Mao. Only one deputy commissar, Liu Xiaohong is included. They are joined by Chief of the General Staff Zhao Xingfa, Director of the General Political Department Bi Huiyi, and Director of the General Logistics Department Zhou Hanrong. (The post of another member, Shen Binyi, is unknown). Deputy Commissar Kan Chengke is not yet a member.51 Here we can see that six members are under the direct command of deputy secretary and commander-in-chief Zhang Dingfa (they are the three deputy commanders, a chief of staff, and the directors of General Logistics Department and the General Armament Department), while three or four are under Commissar Hu Yanlin. At the lower levels of command this imbalance of representation is even more severe. The PLA’s organizational reforms in the 1980s stipulated that there should not be more than one deputy political instructor at the battalion and company levels, however, there can be more than one deputy commander. The imbalance is further highlighted by the ongoing PLA reform effort that is transforming the army– division–regiment structure to that of army–brigade–battalion.52 As a result of this, the number of political staff in the PLA will be substantially reduced. This provides more personal advantages to commanders and enhances their influence in committee activities. Procedural Advantages The imbalance in representation of both subsystems in party committees matters greatly when disputes emerge between commanders and commissars. Collective leadership is the primary principle of the party committee. Major decisions are made by a one member–one vote balloting system.53 Organizationally, this gives the commander a numerical advantage. The imbalanced representation of the two subsystems is also reinforced by other institutional party committee procedures. It is important to point out that the party committee system operates in two tiers. The one-man rule system (yizhangzhi) is implemented in each of the two subsystems. Each head (zhuguan) has a decisive say on matters within his jurisdiction, although strategic decisions need to be cleared formally in the party committee’s standing committee. The PLA’s “Regulations on Political Work” clearly stipulate that the equal relationship between commanders and their deputies in the party should not be translated into their relationship in the chain of command. The deputies and heads of various departments must answer personally to the zhuguan of their respective subsystems.54 For example, any specific motion from a deputy to the party committee should first be agreed upon by the zhuguan of each subsystem before it is tabled, unless it is an idea brought up by both of the zhuguan. Organizationally, this policymaking process is strictly observed.55 Therefore, the one-man responsibility system under the party committee has two layers of operational principles. First, the whole of the party committee system is based on collective leadership. Commanders and commissars are responsible to the party

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committee. Second, in each of the subsystems, the one-man responsibility system is the name of the game. Each zhuguan has enormous personal power vis-à-vis the party committee. This means that most of the decisions in each subsystem are made prior to the convening of party committees, where they are simply rubber stamped. It is relatively rare for disputes to be resolved via the casting of votes.56 Here is one example of how the two-tiered system works in specific situations: A deputy divisional commander (a standing committee member) is in charge of logistical affairs in the committee. In a committee meeting, he proposed a plan to repair the divisional headquarters’ office building. This caused heated debate in the meeting. Eventually, he was found guilty on several accounts. First, he did not report the motion to his direct superior, the divisional commanding officer, before he proposed it at the meeting. This violated the organizational regulations regarding the process by which policy is formulated in PLA party committees. More importantly, he disrupted the chain of command.57 Second, he also violated another committee procedure—no motion should be discussed in a meeting if it is not in the previously agreed-upon agenda. He should have first presented his motion to his zhuguan, who would then have discussed it with the commissar. If they had no objection, the motion would be formally incorporated into the meeting agenda. This procedure gives the commander effective control over the committee’s work. These detailed procedural stipulations play a very important part in preventing overt conflict between the two centers of power. If any disputes occur, there are also detailed regulations on how they should be resolved. Acceptable methods include committee votes, consultation with superiors, and direct compromises between the two key players. After fifty years in practice, the one-man rule system exercised in party committees has fostered a culture of cooperation between the two zhuguan. This is in sharp contrast to the serious two-center strife in China’s state-owned enterprises (SOE), in which SOE managers and party secretaries involved themselves in bitter power struggles in the 1980s, until the managers finally took the upper hand a decade later.58 Functional Advantages for Commanders In the two subsystems, the commander is in charge of administration, operations, equipment development and maintenance, training, and logistics. Political commissars are responsible for the political affairs system, including discipline inspection, personnel management, legal affairs, internal security, propaganda, establishing liaisons with civilian government, and political studies. If one only looks at the division of labor, it is not clear whether the commander or the political commissar is more influential. In order to ascertain the status and role of commanders and commissars in the PLA, a more detailed examination is necessary. In reality, the two subsystems in PLA units do not enjoy the same level of importance in terms of work hours, budget allocations, or attention from the leadership.

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By any measure, the military subsystem is much more favored (this includes the numerical strength of military officers in party committees, discussed previously). According to PLA researchers, over two-thirds of daily activities in PLA units are related to military affairs: since the Politburo reached the decision to accelerate preparation for war in 1999, the central focus of PLA activities has increasingly leaned toward raising combat capabilities.59 Another survey shows that the majority of themes inspection groups from superior commands hand down to subordinate units are related to military affairs, such as regular training exercises, equipment maintenance, competition of information technology facility handling, and tests of knowledge of operation tactics. Therefore, under the one-man responsibility system, military zhuguan functions are far more important than commissarial functions for the wellbeing of the unit.60 After all, the PLA is a military organization. In comparison, the status of commissars has been slowly marginalized. This is largely due to the fact that political affairs work has been increasingly downplayed vis-à-vis military affairs work. The CCP has three basic objectives for PLA political affairs work: that it should ensure conformity with the party’s political line, that it should serve military modernization, and that it must enhance cohesion of the rank and file.61 The key mission of the political commissar is to coordinate these multiple objectives and incorporate them into concrete daily work agendas. However, the party line is somewhat of a line drawn in the sand. When there are not any major policy disagreements between the party and the PLA, it is difficult for commissars to put the first objective into practice on a daily basis. The second objective was the dominant task of commissars during wartime. It is also their top concern today.62 However, since the mission for war preparation is fundamentally the responsibility of commanders, what commissars can do is assist from the sidelines. For example, even in the best units, about 40 percent of soldiers lack confidence in the PLA’s ability to win a major high-tech war. Commissars are required to rectify this problem through political work.63 Consequently, the bulk of commissars’ work is directed toward the maintenance of soldiers’ morale and mental health. More concretely, commissars spend the majority of their working hours improving soldiers’ food, recreational activities, and discipline. To a great extent, commissars act as troubleshooters and chaplains, handling all kinds of noncombat managerial issues in combat units. They play a support role to commanders in keeping the collective house in order.64 One popular slogan in the PLA is that commanders are responsible for operations and commissars are responsible for soldiers’ daily lives.65 Obviously, in terms of importance, social welfare work and the provision of spiritual comfort cannot compare with professional military pursuits. Commanders can also play a key role in matters of personnel management, an area in which commissars maintain primary responsibility. The long-held PLA tradition with regard to officer selection and promotion is that the commander and commissar each make recommendations for appointing their deputies to the next highest body (after coordination and discussion at their own level of command). This helps foster personal ties between mentors and appointees. According to PLA regulations, key

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personnel decisions must be discussed in party committee meetings. Here again, the military commander can take advantage of the favorable ratio of military commanders to political commissars to sway the outcome of such meetings. The committee mechanism and procedures were established in the 1940s to prevent the repetition of the commissar responsibility system that severely suppressed the initiative of commanders in the early 1930s. This spirit is still dominant today and is well captured by the following statement by a senior PLA officer: “The military affairs subsystem is the carrier of the political affairs subsystem. Separated from the former, the latter would lose the very foundation of its existence. It would lose its object of service. Therefore, unless the political affairs subsystem is closely integrated with the military subsystem, it would not have the right direction, energy, and future.”66 Long-Term Consequences in Party–PLA Relations A uniformed commissar is entrusted with party control jobs in the military, but he is also an integral part of the professional officer corps of the PLA. These two selfcontradictory missions could give rise to an identity problem among commissars in terms of divided loyalty or sequential loyalty toward the CCP. This evolutionary situation is of great political significance in our analysis of the nature of long-term CCP–PLA interaction. Broadly speaking, the nature of the relationship can no longer be defined as symbiosis.67 Short of crisis, the CCP’s survival is more dependent on economic growth, effective governance, and forceful campaigns against corruption than on forceful suppression of dissenting views. The military can sustain the life of China’s existing political system, but not the legitimacy upon which the future of the system is decided. Although not symbiotic, the CCP and PLA clearly have common interests. Each of them benefits from the CCP’s monopoly of power. In other words, the CCP represents the PLA’s best partner in politics, as it provides the military with the kind of privilege and special status that no other political force possesses. The alliance is solidified by their shared national goal of making China socially stable, economically prosperous, and militarily powerful. The close bond of interdependence will not only help them stay together in the years ahead, but will also help them work together.68 For instance, military modernization is linked to the CCP’s effort to raise China’s international profile. Inevitably, this entails the continued increase of military spending. At the same time, the PLA accepts the party’s priority of developing the nation’s economy, as it agrees with the CCP’s argument that military strength lies ultimately in the country’s comprehensive strength.69 What this means is that, at the moment, the prospects of the PLA facing the question of divided loyalty are not great. However, conflicts of interest do exist.70 The postsymbiotic CCP–PLA ties reflect the fact that the PLA is no longer the only dominant interest group in China’s political system. In times of peace, other

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key groups of power now parallel the PLA in importance. For instance, the bureaucracy wields enormous power in running state affairs. The diversified structure of the arrangement of power means inevitable competition for resources between the PLA and other power groups. The military’s pursuits are even sometimes at odds with the party’s. For instance, the allocation for the military budget has always fallen short of what the PLA requires.71 In the 1980s, Deng forced the PLA to exercise patience with, and tolerance of, the party line of economic modernization as the country’s first priority. This aroused quiet protest among senior PLA officers.72 These inevitable conflicts, although they will not be unmanageable for some time to come, will trigger the problem of divided loyalty and present a serious challenge to the PLA. The question is whether the party network in the PLA can handle this challenge. There is a qualitative difference between symbiosis and shared interests. The former dictates that the gun will save the party no matter what. The latter creates a situation in which the military would seriously consider whether it is in its best interest to side with individual civilian leaders. Although it is hard to imagine that the PLA would watch the CCP collapse without doing anything, there is no precedent of permanent symbiotic civil-military relations in Chinese history. Popular protests marked the beginning of the end of European communist societies. The final blow, however, came when militaries adopted noninterventionist attitudes toward social uprisings. Will China eventually follow suit? In 1989, there was a level of PLA reluctance in clearing Tiananmen Square with tanks.73 It is not entirely unthinkable to see similar negative responses from PLA officers when faced with another party decision to dampen a major social protest. Given deepening party corruption and state–society tensions, another Tiananmen incident is almost certain in the years to come if no major political reform is launched to deal with the worsening structural flaws in the political system. The reality the party faces, then, is that the longer this social eruption resulting from flaws in the political system is delayed, the bigger its impact will be. PLA commanders, furthermore, will be forced to make more difficult decisions when confronting the question “Which side should the PLA take?” In any crisis situation, the party would immediately mobilize the party network in the PLA to pressure commanders to follow the party line. Political commissars, as the party link to the PLA, are primarily responsible for applying this pressure. As such, they would face a dilemma: on one hand, they must ensure the party’s control over the gun, the primary mission assigned to them more than seventy years ago. On the other hand, they, like combat officers, would struggle to identify the right course of action. The question of whether they regard themselves as insiders in the PLA or outsiders appointed by the party would play a key role in where they stand in their basic professional and political positions. As PLA insiders, their institutional loyalty might outweigh their partisan loyalty, and their corporate identity and professional spirit might prevail over their ideological preference. Yet, if they regard themselves more as party representatives in the PLA,

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their judgment, behavior, and practical actions could be very different. Although it is too early to speculate about the PLA’s response at a time of acute party–society confrontation, the long-term evolutionary trend indicates that once the PLA reaches a decision, political commissars will follow the PLA, even if the decision is at odds with the party line. Most likely, professional soldiers rather than political commissars will dominate this decision-making process. Conclusion This chapter argues that despite the CCP claim that the PLA is a military group carrying out political missions, the PLA is ultimately a powerful organization whose chief task is militaristic. This underlines the changing functions of political commissars in the last several decades. The result is that their political status, influence, and stance have been quite differently viewed from a continuum angle, and our understanding of political commissars has not kept pace with reality. It is imperative to reconstruct a realistic picture of the commissars, their interaction with military commanders, and their role in party–army relations in China. This chapter points out that, first, uniformed commissars are not party representatives in the PLA, as many believe to be the case. They are military officers shouldering political affairs functions on behalf of the party. If, indeed, these commissars regard themselves primarily as professional soldiers, there may emerge a question of divided or sequential loyalty when the party’s fundamental interests clash with those of the military. The “supervisor” (jianjun) practice has, throughout Chinese history, been the civilian leaders’ control mechanism vis-à-vis the military. It is also used by the CCP today, as party secretaries take posts as first political commissars in local PLA commands. However, their functions have been greatly narrowed as compared to the party representative system imposed on the PLA in its formative years and in the Mao era. Second, the party’s slogan of “absolute control” does not have a solid institutional framework to sustain it. The CCP–PLA relationship is currently defined as political leadership that is based more on political influence and policy guidance than on detailed organizational penetration and control. At this moment, and probably for a long time to come, there is little possibility that soldiers would disobey party decisions when the two powerful organizations share fundamental interests. However, in Chinese history, there has never been a permanent symbiotic civil-military relationship. Thus, control of the PLA from the outside is destined to break one way or another at some stage of civil-military interaction (an example that was previously cited is the miserable fall of the Ming Dynasty, which relied on the supervisor system). The lack of acceptance of outside interference is deeply rooted in the minds of all PLA commanders. This would pose a long-term challenge to the CCP’s “absolute control” in the years to come, as it is likely that political commissars would follow PLA decisions reflecting the views of military

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commanders, who now dominate the CMC and the rank and file of the armed forces. This is related to commander–commissar relations. Political commissars have always been in a subordinate position vis-à-vis commanders, except during short periods of time. Very few people have written about this reality. The protracted twenty-eight-year Chinese Civil War delivered predominance to military commanders in the PLA. Authority is supported by the institutional arrangement of the oneman command system and is nurtured by securing victories in battlefields, not in the classroom of ideological indoctrination. This has helped create a culture that dictates that political affairs staff should not sit above combat personnel. More importantly, the institutional formation of the two subsystems of military affairs and political affairs in a PLA unit provides advantages to commanders in the daily management of the PLA vis-à-vis commissars. Commanders possess the power of numbers in party committees. Moreover, the current military reform and preparation for war presents them with better chances for promotion. This is why the majority of PLA officers do not seek a job in the General Political Department, but prefer command posts.74 Post-Mao military modernization has strongly promoted professionalism in the PLA. The development of technology, the revolution in military affairs, and the changing composition of PLA personnel have all contributed to an accelerated transition away from the symbiotic party–army relationship toward increasing institutional autonomy for the PLA. Political commissars are required to implement the most urgent task of the PLA, namely, war preparation. Their daily work is meant to bridge the gap between peacetime training and combat readiness.75 Although the end result of this development is not clear at this stage, the trend is already relatively clear. Like any non-Western military, the PLA assumes both internal and external missions. However, the proportion of the two tasks is changing visibly: the bulk of the PLA is increasingly reoriented toward dealing with external threats, leaving internal missions to the People’s Armed Police. This will exert a profound impact on the nature of political affairs work in the PLA, the ties between political commissars and military commanders, and, ultimately, party–PLA relations. Notes 1. Amos Perlmutter and William LeoGrande, “The Party in Uniform: Toward a Theory of Civil-Military Relations in Communist Political Systems,” American Political Science Review 76 (December 1982): 778–789; David Shambaugh, “The Soldier and the State in China,” China Quarterly, no. 127 (1991): 527–568. 2. Qian Haihao, Jundui zuzhi bianzhixue (The study of military organization and structure) (Beijing: PLA Academy of Military Science Press, 2001). See Chapter 9. 3. The Party History and Party Building Research and Teaching Group of the PLA, Zhidao xinshiqi jundui sixiang sixiang jianshe de yiju (Guidance for enhancing the PLA’s political and ideological work in the new era) (Beijing: National Defense University Press, 2000), p. 60. 4. Zhou Enlai, Zhou Enlai xuanji (The selected works of Zhou Enlai) (Beijing: Renmin chubanshe, 1986), p. 173. See volume 1.

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5. Deng Liqun et al., eds. Dangdai Zhongguo jundui de zhengzhi gongzuo (Political work in the armed forces in contemporary China) (Beijing: Dangdai Zhongguo chubanshe, 1994). See Chapter 1. 6. The Party History and Party Building Research and Teaching Group of the PLA National Defense University, Zhongguo Renmin Jiefangjun zhengzhi gongzuoxue (PLA political affairs work) (Beijing: National Defense University Press, 2003), p. 306. 7. This was typically the case of both the Song and Ming dynasties, where the emperor sent trusted civilians, often eunuchs, from the capital to the army. They enjoyed the same rank as the commanders and secretly reported their activities to the court. See, for instance, Ray Huang, 1587, A Year of No Significance (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1981). 8. Gao Hua, Hongtaiyang shi ruhe shengqide (How the red sun rose) (Hong Kong: Chinese University of Hong Kong Press, 2000). 9. National Defense University (NDU), Zhidao xinshiqi jundui zhengzhi sixiang jianshe de yiju (The basis for guiding the PLA’s political and ideological work in the new era) (Beijing: National Defense University Press, 2000), p. 60. See also Kang Shijian, Zhongguo Renmin Jiefangjun dangweizhi (The party committee system in the PLA) (Beijing: National Defense University Press, 1995), pp. 31–37. 10. Deng Xiaoping was one of the key followers to be persecuted in the early 1930s. Mao’s brother, General Mao Zetan, was deliberately left in the Soviet areas when the Long March began. KMT soldiers later killed him. 11. A soldier’s sequence of choice in jobs begins with that of commanding officer, technological officer, political affairs officer, and logistics officer. Source: interviews with over seventy officers in the PLA between 2000 and 2003. 12. Fan Wenlan, Zhongguo tongshi 3 (Chinese history, volume 3) (Beijing: Renmin chubanshe, 1973), p. 289. 13. The banned TV series “Zouxiang gonghe” (Fighting for the republic) revealed this historical experience in a vivid manner. 14. This is from Mao’s speech to the enlarged Politburo meeting in 1973, where the order to swap the commanders of eight military regions was announced. 15. You Ji, “China: From a Tool of Revolution to a Professional Military,” in Military Professionalism in Asia: Conceptual and Empirical Perspectives, ed. Muthiah Apalagapa (Honolulu: East-West Center, 2001), pp. 93–110. 16. Li Ke and Hao Shengzhang, Wenhua dageming zhong de Renmin Jiefangjun (The PLA in the Cultural Revolution) (Beijing: Zhongguo dangshi ziliao chubanshe, 1989). 17. For instance, the primary mission of political affairs work in the PLA in the period of the War of Liberation was to implement the CMC’s strategic war plan. See Deng et al., Political Work in the Armed Forces. 18. General Fu Tingui, “Zuohao junshi douzheng zhunbei zhengzhi gongzuo xuyao bawo de jige wenti” (Several questions in political affairs work in the preparation of military struggle that have to be handled well), Guofang daxue xuebao (Journal of the PLA National Defense University), no. 2 (2002): 40–42. See also Qiu Keren and Liu Zhengzhong, Xinshiji jundui zhengzhi gongzuo de chuangxin yu fazhan (Innovation and development of PLA political work in the new century) (Beijing: National Defense University Press, 2003), pp. 222–223. Note: General Fu was the political commissar of the Beijing Military Region. 19. Thomas Robinson, ed., The Cultural Revolution in China (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1971). See also Frederick Teiwes, Leadership, Legitimacy, and Conflict in China (Armonk, NY: M.E. Sharpe, 1984). 20. Deng et al., Political Work in the Armed Forces, p. 423. This regional command includes: the People’s Military Affairs Department of the county government, military subdistrict at the prefecture level, and provincial military district. Military regions were added to the list in the mid-1960s. 21. Interview with senior retired military officers in Beijing in 2001 and 2002. Also see

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the PLA Academy of Military Science, Ye Jiang yuanshuaizhun (The autobiography of Marshal Ye Jianying) (Beijing: Academy of Military Science Press, 1995). 22. Kang, The Party Committee System in the PLA, p. 118. 23. Jiang Zemin’s speech to the PLA delegation to the Tenth National People’s Congress, March 16, 2003. 24. General Qian Guoliang, “Quanmian luoshi Silingbu jianshe gangyao gaobiaozhun zhuahao silingbu jiguan jianshe” (Comprehensively implement the guideline of headquarters construction, and do a good job in headquarters construction), Guofang daxue xuebao (Journal of the PLA National Defense University), no. 6: 4. Note: at the time of writing, General Qian was the commander of the Shenyang Military Region. 25. PLA Daily, August 15, 2002. 26. You Ji, “Institutionalizing Party-Army-State Relations,” in Les cahiers d’Asie (China’s new politics), ed. François Godement, no. 3 (August 2003): 91–126. 27. The author interviewed a number of these commissars. They stated that the instruction to them from above is simply to take a positive and supportive approach to the military affairs in the localities. 28. Research office of the Political Affairs Department of the Jinan Military Region, “Duitigao zhengzhi ganbu wenhua keji suzhi de sikao” (Some thoughts on raising the cultural and technological quality of political affairs staff), Journal of PLA National Defense University, no. 1 (2000): 60. 29. James Mulvenon, “Conditional Compliance,” in Coercion and Governance, ed. Muthiah Apalagapa (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2001). Also see Ellis Joffe, “How Much Does the PLA Make Foreign Policy?” in China Rising: Interdependence and Nationalism, ed. David Goodman and Gerry Segal (London: Routledge, 1997). 30. This has been Chinese military culture and tradition for the last 3,000 years. It is still very much stressed in the PLA, which may have a contravening effect on party leadership. 31. Writing Group of the PLA Academy, The Autobiography of Marshal Ye, p. 670. 32. The PLA Institute of Political Affairs, Jundui zhengzhi gongzuo lishi ziliao (Historical documents of political affairs work), 1985, p. 433. See volume 2. The Jiefangjun Zhengzhi Xueyuan (PLA Political Work College) merged with the PLA National Defense University in the 1980s. 33. The Party History and Party Building Research and Teaching Group of the PLA, Guidance for Enhancing the PLA’s Political and Ideological Work in the New Era, p. 307. 34. Kang, The Party Committee System in the PLA, p. 31. 35. Zhongguo Renmin Jiefanjun zhengzhi gongzuo tiaoli, 1995 (PLA Political Affairs Work Regulations), 1995. 36. Mao Zedong, 1929 Gutian speech. 37. Yang Shangkun gave the best interpretation of this when he addressed the senior commanders of the PLA on the evening of the declaration of martial law in Beijing in May 1989. In his speech, Yang played down the role of Zhao Ziyang as the first deputy chair of the CMC. He said the CMC had implemented the commander responsibility system where the final decision was in the hand of the chair (Deng), while all other CMC members were simply Deng’s advisers. There was no room for argument, not to mention opposition to the chair’s decision. 38. See, for instance, You Ji, “The Supreme Leader and the Military,” in The Nature of Chinese Politics: From Mao to Jiang, ed., Jonathan Unger (Armonk, NY: M.E. Sharpe, 2002), pp. 279–296. 39. Chen Xiaohong, “Xinxingshi xia jiaqiang zhengzhi jiguan ganbu duiwu de sikao” (Thoughts on strengthening the construction of the political affairs work personnel in the PLA under the new situation), Journal of the PLA National Defense University, no. 1 (2004): 61.

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40. You Ji, “Learning and Catching Up: China’s RMA Initiative,” in The Information Revolution in Asia, ed. Emily Goldman and Tom Mahnken (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2004). 41. In fact, a better characterization of his career is one that portrays him as a technocrat. Many commissars at the rank of army and above fit into this category. There is a need to analyze the difference between these technocrats-turned-commissars and traditional types of commissars because this would affect the long-term orientation of party–military relations. However, there is not room in this chapter for a detailed assessment of this important development. 42. For a detailed analysis, see You Ji, “China’s New Top Command and PLA Professionalism,” CAPS Papers no. 37, Taipei, Chinese Council of Advanced Policy Studies (2004). 43. Kang, The Party Committee System in the PLA, p. 59. Even though since 1938 the institution of “Political and Military Committee” was established in military regions, the commanders-in-chief have had far more personal authority than this committee. 44. Yang Shangkun caused deep discontent among senior officers when he implemented Deng’s decision of force reduction and the merger of military regions in 1984. Yang angered a number of senior retired generals in pursuing the clampdown of 1989 on those generals who expressed opposition to the use of the PLA in settling the unrest. See also David Shambaugh, Modernizing China’s Military: Progress, Problems and Prospects (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2003), p. 24. However, Jiang Yanyong, the PLA doctor who exposed SARS to the world, said that Yang told him that he was opposed to the decision to send tanks to clear Chang’an Street. To be objective about what the Yang brothers did was simply Deng’s policy preference. For instance, “bojia huhang” (protecting Deng’s market reform after the conservative backlash in the early 1990s) was most likely Deng’s instruction, but when this caused serious political trouble to Yang Baibin, Deng did not come forth to protect him. Indeed, the anger from senior military officers at some of Deng’s reforms could only be directed toward the Yang brothers. 45. Mao’s comments on Deng’s self-criticism report to him in 1969. 46. Certainly there were exceptional cases. Occasionally political commissars might outweigh their military counterparts due to their close ties with the commander-in-chiefand sometimes due to factional considerations at the time. Examples include Su Zhenhua and Zhang Tingfa. 47. The Party History and Party Building Research and Teaching Group, Guidance for Enhancing the PLA’s Political and Ideological Work, p. 60. 48. The Charter of the CCP, 2002. 49. The Party History and Party Building Research and Teaching Group of the PLA, Guidance for Enhancing the PLA’s Political and Ideological Work in the New Era, p. 311. 50. The PLA Academy of Military Science, Zhongguo Renmin Jiefangjun ganbu renshi zhidu gekuang (The basics of the PLA personnel system) (Beijing: PLA Academy of Military Science Press, 1988). 51. Renmin haijun (People’s Navy), January 8, 2004: 1. Note that Zhang Dingfa’s position has changed since the writing of this chapter: he is now a member of the Central Military Commission and the indisputable top leader of the PLA Navy. 52. Liu Jiukui, “Nuli tansuo xintizhi bianzhixia jiceng jianshe de tedian he guize” (Explore new characteristics and rules of the work in grass roots units under the new army structure), Journal of the PLA National Defense University, no. 8 (2000): 51. 53. The Party History and Party Building Research and Teaching Group of the PLA, Guidance for Enhancing the PLA’s Political and Ideological Work in the New Era, p. 301. 54. Ibid., p. 304. 55. The Graduate School of the PLA National Defense University, Jundui zhengzhi gongzuo jingxuan (Selection of good cases from political affairs work of the PLA) (Beijing: PLA National University Press, 2003), p. 109.

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56. Interviews with a number of PLA political commissars in Beijing, 2002. 57. The Graduate School of the PLA National Defense University [Selection of good cases], p. 112. 58. You Ji, China’s Enterprise Reform: Changing State–Society Relations After Mao (London: Routledge, 1998). See Chapter 3. 59. Major General Zeng Quten, “Shiying junshi biange yaoqiu, tuijin zhengzhi gongzuo gaige chuangxin” (Meeting the demand of revolution in military affairs and promoting innovation of political affairs work), Journal of the PLA National Defense University, no. 1 (2004): 50. 60. This is the overwhelming view of PLA officers, political affairs officers included. Source: Author interviews with these officers during the last five years. 61. Qiu and Liu, Innovation and Development of PLA Political Work, p. 10. 62. General Fu Tinggui (commissar of Beijing Military Region), “Zuohao junshi douzheng zhunbei zhengzhi gongzuo” (Several questions on political work in the preparation of military struggle), Journal of the PLA National Defense University, no. 2 (2002): 40. 63. Yang Ruping, “Yingji jidong zuozhan budui zhanbei jiaoyu yanjiu,” in Youxiu shuoshi lunwenji (Selected master’s theses of 2001 academic year), ed. Xian PLA Political Affairs College (Beijing: PLA Academy of Military Science Press, 2002), p. 196. 64. General Fu Tinggui, “Zuohao junshi douzheng zhunbei zhengzhi gongzuo” (Several questions on political work in the preparation of military struggle), Journal of the PLA National Defense University, no. 2 (2002): 40. 65. Renmin wujingbao (People’s Armed Police Daily), December 9, 2003. 66. Qian, The Study of Military Organization, pp. 192–193. 67. For some recent publications, see Jeremy Paltiel, “PLA Allegiance on Parade: CivilMilitary Relations in Transition,” China Quarterly, no. 143 (September 1995). 68. You, “Institutionalizing Party-Army-State Relations,” pp. 91–126. 69. Liu Chunzhi, “Sunzi de guofangguan jiqi dui dangdai de qishi” (Sunzi’s national defense outlook and its inspiration to our times), Journal of the PLA National Defense University, no. 9 (1999): 50. 70. Ellis Joffe, “The PLA and the Succession Problem,” in China’s Military: The PLA in 1992–1993, ed. Richard Yang (Boulder, CO: Westview, 1993), pp. 149–160. 71. Major General Xu Hongzhang, “Shiyingxingshi ketuojinqu nuliba zhanchangsheshi jianshe jinfeiguanli tigaodao yikexin shuiping” (In keeping with the new situation, create, innovate and work hard to raise the managerial level in regard to allocation of funds for battlefield reconstruction), Junshijingjixue (Military economic research) 23, no. 2 (2002): 5–7. 72. David Shambaugh, “The Soldier and the State: The Political Work System in the People’s Liberation Army,” in Individual and the State in China, ed. Brian Hook (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997). 73. Shambaugh, Modernizing China’s Military, p. 24. 74. Impression from many interviews with PLA soldiers. 75. Wen Zunren, “Zuohao xinshiqi junshi douzheng zhengzhi gongzuo yin zaoli bawo de jige wenti” (Resolve several problems in the political affairs work in the new era of military struggle), Junshi xueshu (Military studies) 29, no. 3 (2002): 3.

8 Searching for a Twenty-First-Century Officer Corps Thomas J. Bickford

China’s leaders have long wanted a People’s Liberation Army (PLA) that is both “red” and “expert.” In past years the emphasis has increasingly been on developing expertise in the PLA. While the recently published Proposals on Improving the Quality of Staff Officers of the PLA lists loyalty to the party, ideological purity, and sound morals as key qualifications for staff officers, the bulk of the proposals are concerned with expertise. This includes professional and technical knowledge, research and investigative skills, planning capabilities, and good command and operation skills.1 A well-educated officer corps is essential for the PLA’s modernization drive. Military modernization is much more than the acquisition of new weapons systems, new doctrine, and organizational reforms. It requires highly capable officers with the intellectual tools and technical background to take full advantage of recent improvements in the PLA, and who can constantly upgrade their knowledge and expertise as the PLA continues to develop into a modern, twenty-first-century military force. Moreover, the PLA needs officers that can understand the complex social, political, economic, and technological forces that are reshaping the environment in which it must operate. In order to meet these challenges, the PLA has made considerable efforts in reforming its officer education since the mid-1980s. The PLA has reorganized and streamlined some of its military academies, reformed course content and teaching methods, introduced graduate courses and degrees into its military education system, introduced new regulations aimed at improving the quality of teaching staff, and sent officers abroad. These improvements, however, are not sufficient, and the PLA is now turning to the civilian university system to help educate and recruit the officers that it requires. The need to recruit from civilian colleges has a number of implications for the PLA. First, the PLA must now be far more concerned about retaining qualified officers than in the past, as it faces increasing competition with the civilian economy to attract the kind of personnel that it needs. This in turn has led 171

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to greater concern with benefits such as health and education for military dependents, and better pay for officers. The new emphasis on recruiting from civilian colleges also suggests that the PLA’s officer corps will be drawn from a different societal base than in the past, with a different set of social values and expectations. The PLA and the Need for Better-Educated Officers Much of the initial impetus for improved officer education in the PLA as a whole came from the new political leadership that emerged after the death of Mao. Deng Xiaoping placed a great deal of emphasis on improving the officer corps, which he regarded as bloated, overmanned, and filled with leaders who were too old and insufficiently educated.2 Noting that the days when all an officer needed to know was when to yell “charge!” were long gone, Deng argued that the PLA needed a military education system capable of producing officers who understood modern warfare.3 Deng and others were keenly aware that China had fallen behind and that military education needed to be a greater priority. Their support is important in that it provided a clear political endorsement of a more professionally oriented educational system in the PLA— something that was lacking in the Maoist era. The support for better officer education has only intensified under the post-Deng leadership. Since becoming chair of the Central Military Commission (CMC), Jiang Zemin has made professional military education (PME) an important part of his push for greater regularization and improvement in the PLA. For example, Jiang made a point of visiting National Defense University (Guofang Daxue) no fewer that eleven times between 1992 and 1998.4 In addition, PLA publications emphasize that accelerating innovation in military education is an important measure of implementing Jiang’s “Three Represents.”5 To a large extent, the greater emphasis on developing better-educated officers is a result of how much the PLA feels that it has fallen behind other world powers. The deficiencies in the Chinese military were dramatically underscored by the PLA’s relatively poor performance in the brief conflict with Vietnam in 1979. Since then, the Falklands conflict, the 1991 Gulf War, Kosovo, the invasion of Iraq, and the U.S. air war in Afghanistan have all served to highlight how important technology and information-based warfare have become on the battlefield. As one recent PLA Daily (Jiefangjun Bao) editorial stated, in the early twentieth century scientific advancement accounted for just 10 percent of military power, but currently scientific knowledge accounts for 60 percent of military power.6 Furthermore, the editorial argued, knowledge power and structural power were just as important as striking power, mobile power, and defense power.7 PLA leaders see the nature of war as undergoing two fundamental shifts. First, it is shifting away from local wars under “normal” conditions to local wars that are of short duration, high intensity, and driven by high-tech weaponry. Second, the PLA sees a shift away from an emphasis on numbers and size to quality and efficiency.8 This will require changes in PLA weaponry, doctrine, and organization, and just as important, it will require changes to the training and personnel of the PLA.

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For the PLA, the human element is just as important as the technology in this transformation of warfare. This means that improving the education of its officer corps is crucial. There is a clear sense that the key to winning future conflicts rests as much on superior technical knowledge as on any other factor. The PLA press notes that the world’s only superpower has 50 percent of the world’s postgraduates and that the U.S. military alone has more than 100,000 officers with master’s degrees.9 This level of education is supposed to give the United States and other Western countries an edge in international competition: Since the beginning of the twenty-first century, science and technology have developed rapidly. High and new technology, with information technology as the core, has triggered innovation in military theory, the form of wars and the model of battles. Human beings will be the factor that determines fighting strength in future wars. High-quality professionals are the key and education is the basis for having the initiative in the future.10

Furthermore: Competition on the global military field has now become increasingly synonymous with competition for new and high technological strength and for higher qualified military professionals. Competition [among] high-quality military professionals is, to some extent, competition in cultivation and education. The one who creates as many ways as possible for cultivation and education will gain the upper hand. . . . If we cultivate people in isolation from society in the age of information, it is synonymous with creating a cart with the door closed.11

The PLA’s view is thus fairly clear. In modern warfare the human element is still important and that human element means expertise (as opposed to the old emphasis on “redness”). Moreover, as the above quotations make clear, expertise cannot be purely military. Military competition with other countries is competition in knowledge and education. This means making use of all of the country’s educational resources, not only the professional military education (PME) system. The PLA is acutely aware of the fact that other armed forces make use of both civilian and military colleges and that the PLA cannot isolate itself from the civilian sector if it wants to improve the quality of its officers.12 Implementation: What the PLA Is Doing to Develop Better Officers Since Deng Xiaoping’s call for a better-educated officer corps in the late 1970s, the PLA’s efforts have been primarily centered on reforming its professional military education system. While the PLA has made, and continues to make, progress in the reform of its PME system, since 1999 it has also increasingly turned to civilian colleges and universities as a source of officers. This section will first provide a brief overview of changes in the PME system and then focus on the PLA’s efforts to recruit more officers from civilian universities.

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The PME System The PLA maintains an extensive PME system. Since direct promotion from the ranks was banned in 1980, all would-be officers must first graduate from a military academy. In theory, all candidates for military schools must have at least a senior middle school education and meet the same entrance requirements as candidates for civilian colleges. Military academies are divided up according to branch of service: ground forces, PLA Navy (PLAN), PLA Air Force (PLAAF), Second Artillery (nuclear forces), and People’s Armed Police. Within each service there are academies for specialized tasks such as logistics, engineering, armored forces, and so on. There are also military academies for different levels of command—as an officer progresses up the ladder of promotion he or she must periodically attend the appropriate military school to qualify for the next level. Depending on the branch of service and level of command, courses at these military academies can be from two to four years long (six for medical officers).13 At the top of this system is the National Defense University (NDU) which concentrates on the education of officers at the divisional level or above. Despite the PLA’s ambitious plans to consolidate many of these academies and reduce the overall number by one-third by 2010, the PME system still consists of nearly 100 academies.14 Enrollment in these academies is approximately 40,000 students, of whom more than half are pursuing undergraduate studies.15 Since the mid-1980s, PLA academies have made considerable efforts to improve teaching and basic curricula. The PLA has tried to make it easier for officers on active duty to improve their knowledge by developing correspondence courses, and by experimenting with distance learning.16 It has also tried to improve the classroom environment at its academies by promoting active learning, debate, creativity, innovation, and spontaneity.17 Another important innovation the PLA has undertaken was the introduction of electronic equipment into the classroom. This has included the use of computers and electronic simulation. Videos and television programming have also been widely introduced. However, despite nearly two decades of such efforts, PLA publications admit that military academies still lag well behind their civilian counterparts in terms of educational equipment and the use of such equipment in the classroom.18 PLA military academies also try to improve education through foreign exchanges with other armed forces. NDU and other PLA institutions accept students from other countries. Since 1991, the PLA has sent over 20,000 people involving more than 800 delegations overseas on inspection tours, research trips, and to participate in studies in about twenty countries.19 In theory, such academic exchanges should greatly strengthen the quality of PME in China. Exchanges of experiences and ideas between military professionals can greatly enhance the quality of debate within the PLA and help it to develop new ideas on how to approach national security problems. However, evidence again suggests that foreign exchanges have not been as effective as they could be. Foreign officers studying in China tend to be segregated in their own classrooms away from their Chinese counterparts.20 Most PLA trips

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abroad have been inspection tours and, since 1996, only about 300 PLA officers have taken academic courses abroad despite official support.21 Again the PLA press has been upfront in stating that civilian universities have far better opportunities for exchange than do PLA academies.22 Many academies have expanded their curricula. Traditionally, Chinese PME has focused on technical issues, combat operations, and political education. Increasingly, however, courses are including social science subjects such as economics, psychology, education theory, legal studies, international relations, and personnel management.23 This is moving closer to the Western experience that views officers not just as skilled combat technicians, but as managers who need to understand human and economic relations as well as the international environment in which they operate. However, evidence suggests that these courses still only constitute a small portion of the PME curriculum. Another important innovation in PME has been the expansion of postgraduate courses and degrees since the mid-1980s. As noted above, the PLA is well aware that graduate degrees are becoming increasingly important in all modern armed forces, and the Chinese are paying more respect to the notion of the scholar-soldier.24 The PLA Daily has noted, for example, that the Australian army requires officers to be able to speak at least one of ten different Asian languages to gain promotion to the rank of major and that the U.S., British, French, German, Israeli, and Japanese armed forces all require some postgraduate work of their officers above the rank of major.25 Given these numbers, the PLA has been trying to catch up with foreign militaries in the area of officer education. One source indicates that since 1992 the PLA has successfully trained more than 4,100 doctorate students and 22,500 postgraduate students.26 Many of these degrees are in science and engineering; however, some are also in the social sciences, reflecting the PLA’s need to better understand economic trends, international politics, new threats such as terrorism, and new missions such as participation in peacekeeping operations. This highlights the fact that the PLA is developing its own group of experts on international issues. Assessing the quality of these new postgraduates, and indeed all curricula changes, however, is problematic. While PLA sources indicate that the quality of classroom instruction and postgraduate work is steadily improving, the same sources also continue to admit that standards are lower than in the civilian sector and that only a few military academies will be at advanced national standards by 2010.27 These shortcomings are in large part due to a shortage of fully qualified teaching staff. A PLA Daily article revealed that in 2000 only 15 percent of Chinese military instructors had a master’s degree or higher (as opposed to 90 percent for American military academies).28 With over 100 academies and low pay, it is very difficult to attract the best-qualified instructors. Some press reports also indicate that military academies do a very poor job of screening job applicants.29 Since 1998, the PLA has created a number of new regulations to address this problem.30 These regulations dictate the standards for the hiring and promotion of instructors in the PME system.

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In addition, there are now guidelines for rewarding those staff that excel as well as guidelines for dealing with academic deadwood.31 While the adoption of these regulations is a very significant step forward (on paper at least), one cannot help but notice that such basic elements as academic standards and administrative duties were not clearly defined until 2000.32 Teaching standards and the quality of instructors found at military academies still lag far behind those of civilian institutions. One can see just how far behind military academies are from the fact that out of 100 “great teacher” awards given by the Ministry of Education in 2003, only three were given to military instructors. The rest were awarded to professors at civilian universities.33 The Role of Civilian Colleges It is not surprising, then, that in 1998 the PLA began a process of turning to civilian colleges and universities to help improve the quality and education of its officers. This is a major change for the PLA education system, which until that point had largely existed in isolation from civilian tertiary education. One major impetus for the change has been the shortcomings of the PME system as discussed above. Another factor is the important recognition that, in the information age, the PLA cannot develop properly if it is intellectually isolated from society (see note 11). In turning to civilian universities, the PLA is also following a practice seen in many Western militaries, which rely in part on civilian education, especially in more technical areas. Cooperation with civilian colleges since 1998 has primarily focused on five areas. These are direct recruitment of officers among civilian graduates, the creation of a National Defense Scholarship program to send promising students to civilian universities, developing cooperative research and teaching arrangements with civilian universities, sending military personnel to civilian institutions for postgraduate work, and having civilian professors teach at military academies. Traditionally, PLA officers were recruited directly from the ranks or entered military colleges upon completion of their secondary education. Whatever college-level education officers received was the product of the PME system. Since the 1980s, the PLA has made a strong effort to recruit new officers from among civilian university graduates. According to the Xinhua News Agency, some 46,000 college graduates joined the PLA between 1992 and 1999.34 Of these, at least 1,600 joined the Second Artillery, 2,700 joined the PLAN, and 6,200 have joined the General Staff Department.35 However, these new recruits had to first join the military and then become officers through the existing PME system. The changes in military regulations in 1998 and 1999 altered that, and for the first time graduates of civilian colleges were allowed to be directly recruited as officers into the PLA. This means that some PLA officers receive their education in civilian schools rather than through military academies. In some cases, students undergo a combination of military and civilian education; some students spend two years in a civilian university and two years in a military academy, after which they receive a joint degree from both institutions and a commission in the PLA.36 In other cases, stu-

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dents complete their entire education at a civilian school and, after a brief threemonth military course, are commissioned as lieutenants in the PLA.37 This simplifies the process of recruiting from civilian universities and should therefore encourage new recruits. At the time of writing, approximately fifty civilian universities had signed agreements with the PLA to help recruit and train suitable students for the military. At least two universities have developed websites to promote student interest in a military career.38 Participating universities will provide science and engineering courses suitable for both civilian and military purposes and will help recruit students for the military. The list of cooperating universities includes some of the best that China has to offer: Beijing University, Qinghua University, the Graduate School of the Chinese Academy of Sciences, and Tianjin University. Most of the universities listed tend to focus on engineering and science, for example, Harbin Polytechnic University, Northwest China Engineering University, Xi’an Electronic Science and Technology University, and Shaanxi University of Science and Technology. PLA sources indicate that the bulk of civilian graduates recruited into the PLA so far are in the sciences and engineering fields. Of the 1,500 university graduates recruited by the Beijing Military Region (MR) between 1999 and 2002, 70 percent had majored in science and engineering, 10 percent in literature and history, and 20 percent in medicine, foreign languages, or physical education.39 Recruitment of civilian college graduates is very expensive. One source indicates that the Beijing MR, Guangzhou MR, and the Second Artillery are spending well over 1 million yuan annually on such recruitment.40 Obviously, most of the officers recruited from civilian universities are going to technical posts (where they are needed most), though PLA sources indicate that a number are also being assigned to combat posts.41 College recruits are also being assigned to the reserves, and the PLA is setting up reserve-duty officer recruitment and training centers on a number of civilian campuses.42 This last aspect of the program appears to be closely modeled on the ROTC program in the United States. To further develop civilian universities as a recruiting ground for future officers, the PLA has also instituted the National Defense Scholarship program. This program aims to identify promising high school students and helps pay their costs of going to a university in return for service in the military upon graduation. High school students who qualify for these scholarships receive between RMB 4,000 and 6,000 a year (about US$400–700) to cover tuition and boarding expenses.43 In order to qualify for these scholarships, students must be under the age of twenty, pass the national college entrance exams, and meet the PLA’s political and physical requirements. Students who choose not to join the PLA upon graduation must pay back the scholarship in full plus pay a fine equivalent to 60 percent of the scholarship.44 Students who receive the scholarship go to one of the civilian universities with which the PLA has negotiated an agreement. Given the increasing costs of education in China, this scholarship program should be very effective in attracting recruits from civilian colleges and thereby upgrading the technical level

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of the PLA officer corps. Some sources indicate that the PLA has other perks for students who join but are not in this scholarship program. These include tuition reductions, bonuses, flexible class scheduling, and other nonfinancial benefits. One source notes that Second Artillery units have raised and invested their own money in the professional recruitment of college graduates, which strongly implies that state funding for military scholarships is insufficient for recruiting needs.45 Exactly how many college graduates are being recruited through the National Defense Scholarship program is difficult to determine. One source indicates that there were 2,000 students involved in the program in 2001 and 4,000 students in 2002, with the quota to be expanded each year.46 A different source indicates that there were 5,000 students on defense scholarships in 2002.47 About 1,000 national defense students joined the PLA in 2003.48 It is even less clear how many college graduates are being recruited by the PLA and what percentage of those are on these scholarships. The PLAN’s recruitment plans for 2003 indicate that the naval academies planned to recruit 1,600 civilian university graduates (as opposed to 2,050 high school graduates) and that civilian universities would enroll a further 1,050 students who had agreed to serve in the navy upon graduation.49 This suggests that nearly half of civilian graduates being recruited into the PLAN are on scholarships or have some other arrangement with the navy. This correlates well with figures from the Beijing Military Region, where 620 out of 1,500 college students recruited were national defense scholars.50 However, caution must be used when extrapolating these figures to the rest of the PLA, as there seem to be considerable differences between PLA units in the recruitment of civilian college graduates. The PLAN is drawing a fairly high percentage of its new officers from civilian colleges; a measure that is in line with its stated plans to have recruits from nonmilitary schools make up about 40 percent of all naval officers by 2010.51 In contrast, the PLAAF did not have any pilots recruited from civilian colleges until 2003, when it managed to recruit nineteen (it promised each a bonus of RMB 5,000, which translates into US$600).52 To put that in perspective, in the same year the PLAAF recruited 196 senior middle school students for its flight training college.53 This may indicate serious resistance to recruitment of civilian college graduates in the PLAAF, or it may simply indicate that the PLAAF has difficulty attracting qualified graduates from the civilian sector. This, in turn, might well explain the promised bonus of RMB 5,000 apiece. It would seem, therefore, that recruiting qualified personnel from civilian universities in the quantities the PLA seems to want and need will be a very expensive process, and that it will be some time before the full effects of this shift are apparent. In addition to undergraduate education and the recruitment of entry-level officers, the PLA is turning to the civilian sector for more postgraduate education. As stated above, postgraduate work is now a normal, even mandatory part of officer education in modern armed forces. Obviously many areas such as computers, aeronautics, and mechanical engineering require advanced degrees, and it is more cost-effective to send officers to major research institutions for further instruction and intellectual growth.

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This is especially true in China, given the problems with staff and equipment at many military academies. Most of the activity between the PLA and civilian schools has been concentrated in the science and engineering fields because it is clear that PLA education is weakest in these areas. The Beijing Military Region, for example, selects about 100 officers every year to study for master’s degrees in natural science at institutes such as the Chinese Academy of Sciences, and selects hundreds of others to participate in short-term engineering and science projects.54 The PLA also benefits from sending officers to civilian schools in that there are many courses offered that are simply not taught in military academies. For example, despite the obvious need for military personnel to be trained in management, not a single military academy offered graduate-level classes in public administration until 2002.55 As already stated above, PLA military academies are also weak in other areas of social science such as international relations, psychology, and economics. The PLA will also increasingly need officers who are fluent in foreign languages, and it can enhance its expertise in this area by sending officers to civilian schools. The PLA also sends officers to civilian schools for shortterm courses on specific subjects. Taking advantage of the better educational opportunities offered by graduate courses in civilian schools will help develop the PLA’s small but growing group of experts in economics, psychological warfare, and other international issues such as terrorism. Sending PLA officers to civilian schools for specific courses and graduate degrees not only helps the PLA through access to better education, but it also helps break the intellectual isolation of the PME system. Previously, PLA postgraduate degrees were mostly the product of a closed system. Master’s and doctorate degrees were granted by military academies to military men who were then hired by the same institutions that taught them.56 For want of a better phrase, military postgraduate work was inbred. Sending officers to other institutions helps generate better research through the exchange of new ideas and perspectives. The PLA is building on this exchange by developing more joint research projects between military and civilian academic institutions and by encouraging civilian instructors to teach in military academies. The PLA has engaged in a number of civilian-military research projects as part of its effort to cultivate a better-educated officer corps. The Beijing MR has employed over 100 civilian academics in such science projects.57 The Second Artillery has also made use of such projects to recruit civilian graduate students interested in new lines of research.58 The PLAN’s Navy Equipment Research Institute has also used such research stations to recruit nonmilitary postdoctorates to at least share in research projects with military experts.59 The Beijing MR invites at least 100 specialists a year to give lectures at military academies and military bases to help raise officer education levels.60 The Command College of the Second Artillery has raised funds to establish forty-five visiting professorships, which it uses to bring in promising young and middle-aged professors to improve teaching at the college.61 To briefly summarize, the PLA has several ongoing programs to improve the

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quality of its officer corps. It is working on several fronts to improve its PME system, and it is also working hard to attract and recruit well-educated men and women from civilian universities as well as to develop better exchanges of personnel and expertise between civilian and military colleges. While many of these efforts are still in their early stages of implementation, the variety and scope of the effort is impressive. There is, however, the very real problem of retention. It is one thing to attract better-educated officers to the PLA. It is another thing to keep them. As one PLA Daily article noted, an ordinary graduate of an electrical engineering department can expect to earn between RMB 5,000 and 10,000 a month (US$600–1,200) in the private sector.62 Like many other armed forces, the PLA now has to increasingly concern itself with the retention of highly qualified personnel who can often make much higher incomes in the civilian sector. Retention Issues The PLA has developed a variety of approaches to retain the best and the brightest officers. The simplest approach is to pay officers more. Officers’ salaries have steadily increased since the early 1990s, and had as much as a 100 percent increase in 1999–2000 for some ranks.63 The PLA has also developed a wide variety of perks aimed at retaining qualified personnel. For example, all nine missile experts at a certain base have brand new cars for official business.64 Other perks aimed at keeping experts include favorable treatment in research and study opportunities, promotions, “life subsidy,” and housing.65 Whether these measures create friction within the PLA between the favored experts and others is unclear. The potential to create resentment is clearly there. It also remains to be seen if the PLA can continue to afford such perks as its quota of experts increases. In addition to perks and extra pay, the PLA has been showing much more concern with benefits and family issues. The heavy cost of recruiting and training better-qualified officers means that, if the PLA is to truly benefit from this expense, it needs officers who are willing to serve for longer periods of time. Inevitably, this brings up family issues—if officers have trouble supporting their families they will likely leave. The PLA is now spending much effort on social security support for the spouses of PLA members, as well as focusing on other family issues such as vacations, visitation, employment of spouses, and the legal rights of soldiers’ families.66 In one instance, the Beijing MR persuaded Shanxi University and the Shanxi provincial education department to admit more than 100 children of PLA officers to college.67 The primary rationale was that the officers in question were stationed in a poverty-stricken area and were very concerned about their children’s educational opportunities. The PLA is having to develop more ad hoc policies such as this to deal with problems officers are facing in remote areas. Another instance is from the Chengdu MR, where commercial insurance was issued to some PLAAF personnel so that they could afford to go to the local civilian hospital rather than travel long distances to a military hospital.68

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Without figures on retention rates it is not possible to assess how effective these policies are. What is clear is that they are very expensive and in some cases, such as the employment of spouses or sending officers’ children to college, they put a burden on local civilian institutions. Social and Political Implications This section is rather speculative as it rests on what can be inferred rather than proven from the information in the preceding sections. A concrete implication is that the efforts to recruit more from civilian colleges and universities, as well as efforts to retain those recruited, is a major expense. This puts a financial burden on the military services and regions, which must spend money on recruiting fairs, reserve officer courses on campuses, perks for recruited officers, and other expenses. It puts more pressure on PLA payroll expenses as well as on the Ministry of Education, which helps finance national defense scholarships. Admitting officers’ children, employment and social insurance for military spouses, and other benefits place a burden on local institutions, and, given scarce resources, are likely to be a source of increased friction between local civilian institutions and the PLA. The various rewards aimed at retaining better officers are also likely to generate friction within the officer corps between officers of different educational backgrounds and accomplishments. Nor will these problems be resolved anytime soon. As long as the Chinese economy keeps growing at its current pace, the PLA will have to continue to compete heavily with the civilian sector, especially for officers with scientific and engineering skills. Of course, the strong sense of nationalism that exists in China can also be a powerful recruiting tool. While there is some indication that patriotism does help draw college students to the PLA, money still matters and that means better pay and better perks. Another important inference is that the makeup of the PLA officer corps is changing not just in terms of education, but in terms of who these officers are. Traditionally, the bulk of officers and enlisted men in the PLA have come from rural and semirural areas. These areas tend to produce soldiers who are tough but not very well educated. Given the educational needs of the PLA, more and more officers are being recruited from urban areas, which are more likely to produce qualified candidates with a senior middle school education. Urban areas are also more likely to produce students who can gain entry to the “key” universities from which the PLA wants to recruit. These officers are different from those of the past. Certainly, there are problems of physical fitness and stamina. There is considerable evidence that the new officers have trouble meeting basic fitness standards or enduring training exercises.69 The PLA also appears to be more concerned with psychological counseling and helping officers and enlisted personnel adjust to military life.70 Of more long-term consequence will be the new values and attitudes these officers bring to the military. The new officers entering the PLA in the last few years are increasingly being recruited from urban areas and therefore constitute the most glo-

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balized portion of the Chinese population. These are the individuals who are connected to the Internet and are well aware of the latest social trends, both in China and abroad. Furthermore, given the PLA’s desire to have at least some of its officers attend civilian institutions for postgraduate training, these new officers are likely to remain linked to social and political trends in the civilian population. Available evidence suggests that between 75 and 90 percent of civilian college graduates joining the PLA are party members, so loyalty to the party is not the concern here.71 What is an issue is that perspectives on the role of the military, its relation to society, and its organizational culture and values are likely to change as these new officers move up the ladder of promotion and have greater impact on the PLA. This leads to the most speculative part of this chapter. Observers of the PLA have focused heavily on the professionalism model of civil-military relations. In the view of this author, that is absolutely what we should be focusing on for now. However, professionalism assumes a military elite that is separate from a civilian elite. As the PLA becomes more involved with civilian education, those barriers break down somewhat. As the PLA becomes more concerned with pay and benefits as a means of dealing with retention, the military becomes less concerned with only professional issues and becomes more concerned with “occupational” ones. Military sociologists such as Charles Moskos have suggested that there are civil-military relations models beyond the professional model first proposed by Huntington. Moskos has suggested that with a “postmodern” model in which there are new professional roles such as soldier-scholar and soldier-statesman, there is greater interpenetration of civilian and military spheres and values.72 While this author does not feel that the PLA fits the proposed postmodern model, there are trends in officer education in the PLA that could move in that direction. This strongly suggests that PLA scholars need to think about trends in the PLA and in Chinese society, and about how those trends might affect civil-military relations at the societal level. Assessment and Conclusion In terms of sheer numbers, the PLA appears to have done a remarkable job in increasing the educational level of its officer corps since 1978. One source states that in 1978 only 8 percent of all PLA cadres had college degrees or the equivalent.73 Educational rates were still low in 1982. One Xinhua report stated that only 1.2 percent of officers at the army level had a college-level education. Corresponding figures for divisional level and regional level cadres were 1.6 percent and 2.2 percent respectively.74 In contrast, China’s 2002 White Paper on national defense states that 80 percent of all PLA officers have received a college education or higher.75 The vast majority, 72 percent of all PLA officers, are dazhuan (holders of two- or three-year degrees).76 General Cao Gangchuan has noted that by 2003, the PLA had nearly nine times more Ph.D.s than it did in 1992, and that it has doubled the number of master’s degrees over the same period. The majority of these have been in the science and engineering fields.77

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The PLA and party leadership have also demonstrated that there is strong and sustained support for upgrading the educational quality of the officer corps. This can be seen in the commitment to raise educational standards in the military, awareness of teaching and curriculum issues, commitment to reforming and improving military academies, and new regulations to institutionalize these reform efforts. The commitment in funds and effort to recruit from civilian colleges is also clearly there and shows that there is understanding of the need and value of bringing in officers educated outside of the military system. That said, it is equally clear that these efforts are still in the early stages. The PLA has a long way to go in terms of transforming its officer corps. Chinese sources indicate that ideas about modern education have yet to be fully assimilated and applied to officer education, and that subject matter and curriculum models are not yet up to the new standards and new tasks.78 Other sources indicate that even when college-educated officers are successfully recruited by the PLA, a sizable number of them do not develop into crack troops but instead are “dulled” and “ground down” by their experiences in the armed forces.79 This is a strong indication that the drive to recruit a new type of officer has yet to change the dominant organizational culture within the PLA, and that there are adjustment problems in assimilating officers with a civilian educational background. A great deal more needs to be done in terms of recruitment incentives, assimilation, and retention. A lot will depend on the availability of funds and the PLA’s ability to offer benefits packages that rival those offered by the private sector. Five years into the PLA’s push to recruit from civilian educational institutions, the PLA is clearly making progress but still has a long way to go to meet its goals. If the PLA can succeed in doing a better job of recruiting and retaining these officers, it will not only significantly improve the capability of the PLA as a fighting force, but may also have a major impact on who is in the PLA and how it relates to society. Notes 1. “General Headquarters/Departments Urge to Develop High Quality Staff Officers,” PLA Daily online, English-language version, November 12, 2003, http:// english.pladaily.com.cn. 2. For Deng’s key speeches on military reform see Deng Xiaoping, Selected Works of Deng Xiaoping 1975–1982 (Beijing: Foreign Languages Press, 1984), especially pp. 11–13 and 73–79. 3. Ibid., p. 34. 4. “China National Defense University: Cradle of Generals,” Kuang chiao chuang, December 16, 1998. 5. See, for example, “PLA Daily Commentator on Promoting Modernized Education at Military Academies,” PLA Daily, October 25, 2002. 6. “The Dawning of Knowledge Military Calls for Innovative Education,” PLA Daily, online version in English, December 9, 2003, http://english.pladaily.com.cn. The editorial did not explain how these percentages were calculated. 7. Ibid. 8. “Hi-Tech Local Wars’ Basic Requirements for Army Building,” Zhongguo junshi

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kexue (China military science), no. 4, November 20, 1998, and “New Change in Military Affairs Worldwide Calls for Revamped PRC Military,” Liaowang (Outlook), August 15, 2003. See also, “Strategic Thinking on Vigorously Cultivating Cross-Century Navy Talents with Deng Xiaoping as Guidance,” Zhongguo junshi kexue, no. 4, November 20, 1998. 9. “PLA Daily on Training Qualified Senior Military Personnel,” PLA Daily, April 9, 2001. 10. “PLA Daily Commentator on Promoting Modernized Education at Military Academies,” PLA Daily, October 25, 2002. 11. “PLA Daily Commentator on Expanding Channels for Talented Personnel Training,” PLA Daily, July 23, 2003. 12. “Intellectual Military Calls for Scholar-Generals,” PLA Daily, February 2, 1999. 13. Xue Lianxin and Zhang Zhenhua, eds., Zhongguo junshi jiaoyu shi (A history of Chinese military education) (Beijing: National Defense University Press, 1991), p. 404. 14. David Shambaugh, Modernizing China’s Military (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2002), p. 177. For an analysis of the initial attempts to consolidate and streamline PLA military academies, see Thomas J. Bickford, “Professional Military Education in the Chinese People’s Liberation Army: A Preliminary Assessment,” in A Poverty of Riches: New Challenges and Opportunities in PLA Research, ed. James Mulvenon and Andrew Yang (Santa Monica: RAND Corporation, 2003), pp. 16–17. 15. “PLA Speeds up Training of Commanding Officers for High-Tech War,” Xinhua, January 8, 2002. 16. For example, at least six different naval academies offered correspondence courses in the 1980s, and between 1983 and 1987 some 3,400 naval personnel took part in correspondence courses covering different subjects. See PLA Service Branch History Series, Haijun shi (A history of the navy) (Beijing: Liberation Army Press, 1989), p. 254. See also “PRC: PLA Promulgates Regulations on Correspondence Education at Military Academies,” PLA Daily, February 6, 2003. On distance learning, see “PRC: PLA’s First Online University Profiled,” Xinhua, June 17, 2002. 17. “Major Reform of the Concept of Military Education: Guo Anhua Discusses Questions of Carrying Out Innovative Education,” PLA Daily, 1999. 18. “PLA Daily Commentator on Expanding Channels for Talented Personnel Training,” PLA Daily, July 23, 2003. 19. Kenneth W. Allen, “Showing the Red Flag: The PLA Navy as an Instrument of China’s Foreign Military Relations,” The CNA Corporation, 2003, p. 4; “Army Officers to Study Abroad,” China Daily, March 12, 2002. 20. The author would like to thank Bernard Cole and Cynthia Watkins for this information. 21. “Xinhua on People with Higher Education Playing Important Role in Army Building,” Xinhua, March 13, 2002, and “Jiang Zemin Stresses Importance of Foreign Study for Military Personnel,” Xinhua, February 25, 2002. 22. “PLA Daily Commentator on Expanding Channels for Talented Personnel Training,” PLA Daily, July 23, 2003. 23. Xue and Zhang, A History of Chinese Military Education, p. 403. 24. “Intellectual Military Calls for Scholar-Generals,” PLA Daily, February 2, 1999. 25. “PLA Daily on Training Qualified Senior Military Personnel,” PLA Daily, April 9, 2001, and ibid. 26. “PRC Politburo member Cao Gangchuan Urges Quickening of Military Transformation,” Xinhua, October 2, 2003. 27. “Central Military Commission Issues Program for Educational Reform and Development of Military Academies,” PLA Daily, April 15, 2000, and “PLA Daily Commentator on Expanding Channels for Talented Personnel Training,” PLA Daily, July 23, 2003. 28. “Education Reform: Step Taken Towards Intellectual Military,” PLA Daily, Internet version, April 25, 2000. See http://english.chinamil.com.cn.

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29. “Blueprint for Reform of Military Academies, 2000–2010,” PLA Daily, April 25, 2000. 30. “Military Service Law of the People’s Republic of China,” Xinhua, December 30, 1998. 31. See, for example, “PLA Departmental Chiefs Express Appreciation to Military Academy Teachers,” PLA Daily, September 22, 2003; “Red Card Warning for Three Inexerted Associate Professors,” PLA Daily, English version, February 25, 2004, http:// english.pladaily.com.cn. 32. “Jiang Zemin Signs Decree on Education in Military Schools,” Xinhua, February 28, 2000. 33. “Three Professors from Military Universities Awarded the Title of ‘Great Teachers,’” PLA Daily online, English version, September 5, 2003, http://english.pladaily.com.cn. 34. “Army Better Educated,” China Daily, December 12, 2000. 35. “Training New Missile Troops,” PLA Daily, December 26, 1999; Xinhua, August 17, 1999; “Almost 800 Graduates of Chinese Civilian Universities Join Army,” Xinhua, November 7, 2000. 36. “New Cadets for Air Force Engineering Academy,” PLA Daily online, English version, September 9, 2003, http://english.pladaily.com.cn. 37. “PRC: General Staff Deputy Chief Urges Students to Stand Firm, Make Contributions,” PLA Daily, February 15, 2002. See also “Almost 800 Graduates of Chinese Civilian Universities Join Army.” 38. “Another Batch of National Defense Students Enter the Army,” PLA Daily online, English version, November 3, 2003, http://english.pladaily.com.cn. 39. “Beijing Military Region Relies on Universities to Train Military Officers,” Xinhua, June 24, 2002. 40. “Roundup of PLA Forum on Strategic Personnel Development,” PLA Daily, June 25, 2003. 41. One source indicates that 78 percent of civilian college graduates were sent to combat units. See “Roundup of PLA Forum on Strategic Personnel Development.” 42. “PRC Issues Decision on Training Military Cadres at Universities,” Xinhua, July 6, 2000. 43. “PRC’s 40 Key Colleges to Enroll National Defense Students This Year,” The Standard, June 18, 2002. 44. Ibid. 45. “Roundup of PLA Forum on Strategic Personnel Development.” 46. “PRC’s 40 Key Colleges to Enroll National Defense Students This Year.” 47. “PLA Department, Tianjin University Sign Agreement on Training Military Cadres,” Zhongguo Xinwen She, June 4, 2002. 48. “Over 1,000 Graduates from 30 Chinese Universities Will Join the Army This July,” Zhongguo Xinwen She, July 8, 2003. 49. “Chinese Naval Academies to Recruit More Cadets from High Schools, Universities,” Xinhua, June 18, 2003. 50. “Beijing Military Region Relies on Universities to Train Military Officers.” 51. Xinhua, August 17, 1999. 52. “PLAAF Offers Bonuses to College Graduates Pilot Trainees,” Xinhua, November 2, 2003. 53. “PRC Air Force Recruits 196 High School Graduates as Pilot Trainees,” Xinhua, July 17, 2003. 54. “Roundup of PLA Forum on Strategic Personnel Development.” 55. “PLA Recruits Officers to Attend Graduate MPA Program for the First Time,” Xinhua, March 25, 2002. 56. See Bickford, “Professional Military Education in the Chinese People’s Liberation Army: A Preliminary Assessment,” pp. 1–24. 57. “Roundup of PLA Forum on Strategic Personnel Development.”

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58. Ibid. 59. “Postdoctorate Working Station Ready for Business,” PLA Daily online, English version, November 11, 2003, http://english.pladaily.com.cn. 60. “Roundup of PLA Forum on Strategic Personnel Development.” 61. “A Command College Invites Experts to Be Its Visiting Professors,” PLA Daily online, English version, December 26, 2003, http://english.pladaily.com.cn. 62. “National Defense Students in Tsinghua University,” PLA Daily online, English version, November 19, 2003, http://english.pladaily.com.cn. 63. Bernard D. Cole, The Great Wall at Sea: China’s Navy Enters the 21st Century (Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 2001), p. 115. 64. “Letting Top-Notch Experts Enjoy Better Working and Living Conditions,” PLA Daily online, English version, February 24, 2004, http://english.pladaily.com.cn. 65. Ibid. 66. “Liao Xilong Says Social Security for PLA Spouses Will Attract, Retain Talent,” Xinhua, January 2, 2004; “PLA Daily Commentator on Social Insurance Measures for Unemployed Military Spouses,” PLA Daily, December 28, 2003; “Circular on Protection of Legitimate Rights of Military Personnel, Families Issued,” Xinhua, January 23, 2002; “New Regulations Issued for Military Officer’s Family Visits and Vacations,” PLA Daily online, English version, December 25, 2003, http://english.pladaily.com.cn. 67. “Kids of Officers Enter University,” PLA Daily online, English version, September 25, 2003, http://english.pladaily.com.cn. 68. “Officers and Men in Remote Areas Have Access to Convenient Medical Treatment,” PLA Daily online, English version, February 24, 2004, http://english.pladaily.com.cn. 69. Guofang shibao has a series of articles on this topic. 70. “Brigade Provides Psychological Consultants for New Soldiers,” PLA Daily online, English version, December 13, 2003, http://english.pladaily.com.cn. 71. “Roundup of PLA Forum on Strategic Personnel Development.” 72. See Charles C. Moskos, John Allen Williams, and David R. Segal, The Postmodern Military: Armed Forces After the Cold War (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000). 73. “PLA Officers, Soldiers Become Better Trained,” Xinhua, September 29, 1994, p. 57. 74. “PLA Reviews Military, Civilian Cadre Systems,” Xinhua, July 28, 1988, p. 20. 75. “National Defense White Paper: Most PLA Officers Receive Higher Education,” Xinhua, December 10, 2002. 76. “PLA Daily Commentator on PRC’s 5 Year Military Education Plan,” PLA Daily, November 25, 2001. 77. “Cao Gangchuan: Promote PLA College Education Reform and Speed Up Military Talents Cultivation,” PLA Daily online, English version, September 26, 2003, http:// english.pladaily.com.cn. 78. “PLA Daily Commentator on Promoting Modernized Education at Military Academies,” PLA Daily, October 25, 2002. 79. “PLA Daily on Need to Make Best Use of College-Educated Personnel in PLA,” PLA Daily, May 7, 2002.

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9 Educating the Officer Corps The Chinese People’s Liberation Army and Its Interactions with Civilian Academic Institutions Kristen A. Gunness

Throughout the decade of the 1990s, the Chinese People’s Liberation Army (PLA) has been undergoing an impressive reform and modernization program that continues today. It is clear that the PLA intends to become a much more operationally capable force as well as a more professional force in the Huntingtonian sense of the term. Most of the scholarship focusing on Chinese military modernization tends to center on the accrual and fielding of new weapons and battlefield capabilities. However, a significant aspect of PLA reform and modernization revolves equally around institutional reform. The institutional aspects of reform remain relatively neglected at best or ignored at worst. However, the institutional reforms the PLA is currently undergoing contain tremendous potential to have an equally great impact on the future capabilities of this massive defense establishment, as do the weapons and platforms it is buying or developing. This chapter addresses one of the myriad institutional reforms the PLA is enacting: the trend toward increasing interactions between the PLA and Chinese civilian academic institutions in order to cultivate an officer corps capable of fighting the “high-tech” wars of the future. This interaction is taking place in four key areas: recruitment of students at civilian colleges, educational development of select career PLA officers at civilian academic institutions, enhancement of military academy faculty with civilian academics, and research partnering by PLA researchers with civilian experts. Other interactions that do not fit into these four categories will also be discussed. While data on this subject are still incomplete, and the future implications of various new programs still unclear, this trend of PLA interaction with civilian academic institutions is noteworthy in its own right as we ponder the larger issue 187

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of the future of civil-military relations in China in the decades ahead. This chapter will: • Provide a brief contextual overview in which to place this development; • Discuss each of the aforementioned areas of interaction; and • Engage in speculation about what the implications of these interactions portend. PLA Modernization and the Need for a More Educated Officer Corps This first section will briefly outline the PLA’s modernization program and provide some background to discuss why the PLA is turning to civilian institutions to help educate its officer corps. The Two Transformations During the 1990s, the PLA began to institute a new program of reform and modernization called the “Two Transformations.”1 Based on its own assessment of the changing nature of modern warfare, the PLA apparently concluded that it must be better equipped to fight the wars of the future, which it called “Local Wars Under Modern High-Tech Conditions” (this has since been revised to “Local Wars Under Informationalized Conditions”). This entailed changing the PLA in two ways: • From an army preparing to fight local wars under ordinary conditions to an army prepared to fight and win Local Wars Under Modern High-Tech Conditions; and • From an army based on quantity to an army based on quality. A corollary to the “Two Transformations” is that the PLA must shift from an army that is personnel intensive to one that is science and technology intensive. The scope of reforms that the PLA is aiming to implement in order to achieve this is broad and affects all areas of PLA activity. Three key areas that the PLA is focusing on include: • The development, procurement, acquisition, and fielding of new high-tech weapons, technologies, and combat capabilities; • The development of new operational concepts and warfighting doctrine for their employment; and • The vast array of institutional reforms that will be necessary to underwrite the first two. Improving the overall educational level of its forces and attracting qualified professionals in the high-tech, science, and engineering fields is one of the areas the PLA sees as essential to achieving these reforms.2 Increasing the educational level of the officer corps in particular is viewed by the PLA as an

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important aspect of its overall reform and modernization program. It is seen as a necessary element to having an army that can handle high-tech weaponry and is “based on quality rather than quantity.” This emphasis on officer education has been witnessed at the highest levels of the Chinese leadership. An article published in the PLA Daily in June 2000 quotes a line from one of Jiang Zemin’s speeches on PLA modernization. He states, “If we do not treat qualified personnel education as a strategic task, it will be difficult to build a modern army and we will be unable to defeat an enemy with high-tech superiority.”3 The PLA’s emphasis on officer education has required the reform of its professional military education system. This has included a downsizing of the PLA’s massive traditional officer education system, and changes in the methods it employs to recruit personnel. At the same time, the Chinese civilian population has become increasingly educated and the national education system has continued to make advances in the areas of science and technology. Chinese newspapers have published numerous articles on the current low quality of education in PLA academies as compared to some civilian academic institutions. As a result, the PLA no longer has a monopoly on the research and development of some technologies. In some cases the civilian sector has even surpassed the PLA in such expertise. In addition, civilian colleges are producing the types of highly educated people in the technology, science and engineering fields that the PLA is looking to recruit, and that are in short supply from its own military academies. This theme of the civilian education system having “caught up” to the PLA’s military academies in terms of science and technology is apparent in an article published in the PLA Daily, which quoted several PLA National Party Congress delegates on the integration of military and civilian education. Wang Hui, the director of a teaching and research office at the Dalian Ground Forces Academy, stated: With advances in science and technology, military and civilian technology and military and civilian education are the same in many respects. Military personnel development must continue to follow the new path of relying on civilian educational resources. This can not only improve the military personnel structure and reduce the cost of the military’s academies and schools, it can also promote the development of civilian educational institutions, and strengthen the concept of national defense among all the people.4

Seeking a More Educated Officer Corps Given the PLA’s increasing need for highly educated officers in the science and technology fields, the downsizing of the PLA’s officer education system, and the increasing quality of the civilian higher education system, the PLA is apparently recognizing the benefits of looking to civilian academic institutions. However, this is a fairly recent trend. Although a small number of civilian college graduates were recruited into the PLA officer corps as early as the 1980s, wide-scale recruiting

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from civilian colleges and the sending of officers to civilian academic institutions for further education was not emphasized until the 1990s. The first agreement between the PLA and a civilian academic institution was signed in July 1998 between the General Political Department and Beijing and Qinghua universities.5 This agreement, which sent PLA officers to select civilian academic institutions for further education, was the beginning of an experimental PLA officer training program that was later implemented in twenty-two civilian universities and colleges around the country. Two years later in June 2000, the State Council and Central Military Commission issued the “Decision on Establishing a Military Cadre Cultivation System Relying on General High-Level Education” as part of Jiang Zemin’s overall guidance to incorporate military education into the national education system and to “train PLA officers by both military and civilian schools.” The “Decision” was implemented by the General Political Department and the Ministry of Education, and had two main parts: • It focused on the further education of PLA officers by both PLA academies and civilian academic institutions in areas of military and civilian applicability. • In addition, it focused on targeted recruitment of students in civilian colleges for accession into the PLA officer corps upon graduation. As part of this, the “Decision” also emphasized the education of such recruited civilian students by both civilian academic institutions and PLA academies.6 The driving force behind this decision was twofold. First, the PLA recognized that its own military academies could not satisfy its requirements for qualified people in the science and technology fields. Second, shifting to using civilian higher education to educate PLA officers supported the PLA’s downsizing of its military academy system. It cut costs by allowing some of the burden of officer education to fall on the civilian education system in areas of crossover between the two. As one PLA Daily article states: This [decision] will prompt military schools to readjust their functions, make many of them gradually shift from mainly providing a qualification education to providing a continuous education. It will further reduce the tasks of military schools in training [officers] with specialties of both military and civilian applicability, and thereby enable military schools to display more characteristics of military education and improve their overall educational standard and efficiency.7

In addition to this decision, several other laws and regulations regarding joint education by military academies and civilian colleges were promulgated in 2000 and after: • The PLA Active Duty Officers Law (Zhongguo renmin jiefangjun xianyi junguan fuyi tiaoli) (2000) stipulates that all PLA officers must undergo pro-

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fessional military education (PME) training prior to promotion to any command position. To help support this, it is possible that the PLA is experimenting with training military personnel at civilian academic institutions, as well as emphasizing civilian academic training for technical officers specializing in areas that have both military and civilian applications. • In addition, in 2000 the PLA published a full set of regulations for military academies, which call for the selection of teachers at PLA academies to include a mix of returned students and graduates of civilian universities.8 • In 2001, the PLA set forth a series of ambitious near-term education requirements, which were outlined in the 2001 “Plan for on-the-Job Scientific and Cultural Education for PLA Personnel.” The “Plan” states that by 2005, 85 percent of PLA officers should have a college-level or higher educational background, and 40 percent of these officers should have experience at a civilian college or university.9 In September 2003, the Central Military Commission released a “Plan for Implementing a Strategic Project for Highly Qualified Military Professionals.” This plan, which is likely based on the “Decision on Establishing a Military Cadre Cultivation System Relying on General High Level Education” focuses on “the development of highly qualified commanding officers, staff, scientists, and technological experts, and regards the cultivation of highly qualified military professionals and the improvement of quality [of officers and soldiers] as the core.” The plan also called for “the cultivation of a large number of new highly qualified military professionals that pays equal attention to military education and to civilian education . . . and that unites cultivating such professionals at military academies and relying on civilian educational resources.”10 A number of laws and regulations were promulgated following the issuance of the “Plan for Highly Qualified Military Professionals.” One such set of regulations was published by the PLA’s four General Departments, entitled, “Regulations on Strengthening Development of Armament and Technical Support Cadres under Combat Units.”11 These regulations require that a larger number of civilian college graduates fill technical job openings, as well as that the PLA recruit a larger number of students who have graduated from civilian colleges and universities (the article was not specific as to what “a larger number” means). The civilian recruits should have majored in the natural sciences, and will be used to fill positions in the logistics and technology area. In addition, the regulations state that the PLA should recruit technical specialists from civilian manufacturers or research institutes to meet the PLA’s technological requirements when there are not enough specialists within the PLA itself. These specialists would work as technological consultants to combat troops. The regulations also state that the PLA should enroll officers working in the logistics and technology fields for combat troops into training programs at civilian engineering and polytechnic colleges and universities, and should arrange for said officers to pursue advanced degrees at civilian colleges.

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It appears that the PLA has good reason to turn to civilian colleges for the education and recruitment of officers, and that it is doing so on many different levels. As a result, the past decade has witnessed growing interaction between the PLA and civilian academic institutions. The following sections will discuss these areas of interactions. Key Areas of Interaction Between the PLA and Civilian Academic Institutions As was stated previously, there are four key areas of interaction between the PLA and civilian academic institutions: • Recruitment of students at civilian colleges for commissioning as PLA officers upon graduation; • Educational development of select career PLA officers through matriculation to civilian academic institutions for advanced degrees or training; • Enhancement of military academy faculty by attracting civilian academics to be adjunct professors or experts; and • Research partnering by PLA researchers with experts at civilian academic institutions. This section will examine these four areas of interactions in detail and provide examples of each. PLA Officer Recruitment12 The first area of interaction is the recruitment of students at civilian colleges for commissioning as PLA officers upon graduation. By most accounts, the PLA is having a difficult time recruiting and training officers and high-quality personnel. Establishing and growing a widespread program to recruit students in civilian colleges for the officer corps has therefore been a focus of the PLA. The PLA has gradually revived the practice of recruiting officers from civilian universities over the past decade. The first such program was initiated in the 1980s, however, the practice of recruiting civilians to become officers did not really take hold until after the Fourteenth Party Congress in 1992, when there was a push for greater integration of military academies and civilian universities. This recruitment program was further expanded and formalized after the Fifteenth Party Congress in 1997, to include instituting a formal officer recruitment program at civilian universities, opening on-campus PLA recruitment offices at key universities, and establishing the National Defense Scholarship program (discussed below). The PLA’s program to recruit both undergraduates and individuals completing master’s and doctoral programs for its officer corps was begun on a trial basis in 1998 at Beijing University.13 This was followed by similar recruiting programs in

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other civilian universities. Since then, the PLA’s recruitment program has grown to include various units in the PLA recruiting from a number of prestigious civilian universities across the country. For example, in 1999, representatives from the Guangzhou Military Region reportedly actively recruited at civilian colleges in seventeen provinces and municipalities around China. In addition, in 1999 the PLA established on-campus recruitment offices in universities, which were intended to oversee the recruiting of new civilian graduates, liaisions with the university, and coordinating the selection and training of national defense students. In November 2001, in response to the “Decision on Establishing a Military Cadre Cultivation System Relying on General High-Level Education,” the General Political Department and the Ministry of Education announced the implementation of a national plan to recruit postgraduate students. The plan apparently focused both on recruiting postgraduate students from civilian colleges for entry into the PLA officer corps, as well as sending PLA officers at and below the regiment level who possessed special skills to civilian academic institutions for a three-year course. In 2002, the General Political Department decided to identify and enroll about 1,600 PLA officers in this program. The program was implemented in twentyseven civilian academic institutions including Qinghua University, Nankai University, Beijing Aeronautics and Astronautics University, and the University of Science and Technology of China.14 Some PLA services or departments have developed their own recruitment plans for targeting civilian colleges. One example of this is the PLA Air Force’s (PLAAF) Civilian College Non-Flying Officer Recruitment Program, which was instituted in 1998. The program targets civilian college graduates to fill positions requiring special training in high-technology areas.15 In addition, the PLAAF started a program in 2003 where it offered bonuses of RMB 5,000 (about US$600) in cash to nineteen pilot trainees it had recruited from civilian colleges. This was the first group of students recruited by the PLAAF that did not come up through the PLA educational system. After graduating from their civilian colleges, these students study aviation theory and flying in the China Air Force Aviation College for two years. They subsequently graduate with a military bachelor’s degree.16 The PLAAF’s offer of bonuses highlights the presumed difficulty the service is having in recruiting high-quality personnel. In 2000, as part of its “10th Five-Year Program for the Development of Talented People,” the Second Artillery, the PLA’s strategic rocket force, set up offices at local civilian institutions of higher learning for the recruitment of civilian college students. The program is intended to recruit educated civilians who are considered to be “top-notch technical talent.”17 Another example of specific recruitment programs are those belonging to the military regions, each of which likely has its own recruiting program at civilian colleges and recruits within its specific territorial boundary. Xinhua reported in 1999 that the Guangzhou Military Region planned to recruit from key schools in five provinces in central and south China, and the Chengdu Military Region concentrated on colleges within Sichuan Province.18

194 KRISTEN A. GUNNESS

So far, the recruitment programs discussed in this chapter are focused on attracting those civilians with degrees in the science, technology, and engineering fields. In addition, the PLA is looking to attract and retain Ph.D. holders. One article in the PLA Daily, published in December 2003, stated that the General Political Department, the General Logistics Department, and the General Equipment Department of the PLA jointly issued “A Circular on the Distribution of Regulations on Military Postdoctoral Management.” The circular stated that the PLA would establish a postdoctoral management office to strengthen postdoctoral management and attract Ph.D. degree holders from civilian universities to work at mobile postdoctoral stations and doctoral workstations in the army. While it is unclear what these stations do, this shows that the PLA is aiming to attract highly educated candidates.19 The National Defense Scholarship Program The National Defense Scholarship program was first established in 1999, at a total of twenty-one civilian universities.20 The program was established because one of the obstacles the PLA was encountering was that in order to compete with the growing private sector for quality college graduates, the PLA had to start recruiting students during their first years in college. As a result, a defense scholarship program was instituted in some civilian universities. National defense scholarships offer RMB 5,000 (about US$600) per year, and entail that students receive the necessary political and military training required by the PLA. Upon graduation, national defense students take an assessment exam, after which they are assigned to the PLA to serve as either military officers or as civilian cadres.21 Students are selected from the various universities participating in the program, as well as from the graduating classes of regular high schools. National defense students are recruited from majors such as mechanical design, manufacturing and automation, electrical engineering and automation, computer science and technology, and communications engineering—all areas of expertise that the PLA is looking to grow.22 It is unclear how much military training time the students go through after they graduate and join the PLA, but it appears as though they train for three months in various locations.23 According to a report by Xinhua, as of May 2004 there were approximately 15,000 national defense students enrolled in ninety universities around the country, most of them majoring in engineering and information technology. In addition, in 2005 Chinese civilian colleges planned to enroll approximately 8,000 students from thirty-one provinces, a record number since the program’s inception.24 Another report by the PLA Daily stated that in 2004, 1,800 national defense student graduates from various civilian universities or colleges were slated for assignment to military units.25 It is yet unclear how the PLA utilizes these national defense students. There is an apparent difference between how the ground forces and the technical services (Navy,

EDUCATING THE OFFICER CORPS 195

Air Force, and Second Artillery) assign their civilian educated officers. As one PLA Daily article stated, “There is a continuing debate about whether officers should be trained by schools or selected directly from among soldiers, and whether ‘student officers’ are capable of leading and managing troop units.”26 According to some reports, by the end of the 1990s, the Second Artillery had recruited 1,600 civilian college students and the PLA Navy had recruited 2,700 students, with plans to have recruits from civilian academic institutions make up about 40 percent of naval officers by 2010.27 Other reports indicate that almost all civilian college graduates have been assigned to military civil service or technical positions. Educational Development of PLA Officers The second area of interaction is the educational development of career PLA officers through selection and matriculation to civilian academic institutions. As this chapter has discussed, the PLA is focused on increasing the overall educational level of its forces. It is doing this first and foremost through the education of its officer corps—by making professional military education a requirement for officer promotion, and by setting goals for the number of officers with a collegelevel or higher educational background (85 percent by 2005, and 40 percent with civilian university education). In addition to recruiting advanced degree holders from civilian universities, both of these goals have necessitated that the PLA send officers to civilian colleges for further education. The type of education PLA officers receive at civilian academic institutions generally takes two forms: • PLA officers attending civilian academic institutions in pursuit of an advanced degree; and • PLA officers receiving short “training” courses on a particular subject at civilian academic institutions of higher learning. The PLA Active Duty Officers Law promulgated in 2000, states that all officers must undergo some type of professional military education (PME) prior to promotion to a command post. Given that the PLA’s current educational structure is undergoing reform, the PME requirement for officers will likely start to include a mix of education at civilian academic institutions and at military academies. In addition, the “Decision on Establishing a Military Cadre Cultivation System Relying on General High Level Education” highlights the PLA’s emphasis on continuous education for its active-duty officers. As a result, the PLA has been experimenting with sending officers to civilian universities for further education. The current pilot program for this is limited to a small number of civilian colleges, and emphasis is being placed on civilian academic training for technical officers specializing in areas that have both civilian and military applications. Examples of agreements between PLA and civilian academic institutions for education of officers include:

196 KRISTEN A. GUNNESS

• In 1999, the PLA Air Force (PLAAF) Equipment Department signed an agreement with the Beijing Aeronautics and Astronautics University to train and educate PLAAF equipment officers for the department’s staff. The first batch of twelve officers graduated after three and a half years with a master’s degree and a researcher’s certificate.28 • In 2004, the Guiyang Command School of the People’s Armed Police (PAP) and Guizhou Normal University formalized an agreement on jointly running schools and educating officers. Guizhou Normal University agreed to teach seven of the basic courses offered at the Guiyang Command School, and the Guiyang Command School agreed to provide military training for the students at Guizhou Normal University.29 • In August 2004, the PLA Air Force Armament Research Institute signed an agreement with the Beijing Aeronautics and Astronautics University on overall cooperation in research and development and in personnel education. The PLAAF has also signed agreements with the National Defense Science and Technology University and Qinghua University for the education of PLA officers.30 • In 2002, the Shenyang Military Region Air Force Party Committee signed an agreement with eight civilian universities to run professional research and training classes for officers at the division and brigade levels, as well as communications, radar, and technology classes for specialized personnel.31 Faculty Enhancement The third area of interaction is the enhancement of PLA academy faculty by attracting civilian academics to be adjunct professors or visiting experts. While this appears to be a relatively new trend, there is some evidence that the PLA is working to recruit PhD and master’s degree students from civilian academic institutions to teach in military academies. Part of the reason for this appears to be that PLA academies are having trouble attracting and retaining qualified instructors. The low pay, combined with lower academic standards than can be found in the civilian education system, means that good instructors are difficult to find.32 Given that one of the PLA’s goals is to raise the standards of military education by incorporating the PLA’s system into the overall national education system, inviting instructors from civilian institutions to teach as visiting professors or adjunct faculty at PLA academies seems a likely avenue that the PLA would pursue.33 There are some examples of such efforts to recruit civilian professors to teach at PLA academies. One such example is that the Command College of the PLA Second Artillery invited experts from civilian universities to be visiting professors in 2003. This was written up in an article published in the PLA Daily, which stated:

EDUCATING THE OFFICER CORPS 197

Facing the fact that it is difficult to appoint top-notch talents to join its faculty, the party committee members of the command college emancipated their minds and decided to establish specially appointed positions for key disciplines and specialties set either by the state or the army, and then invited excellent young and middleaged professors and experts from inside and outside the army, as well as appointing famous professors from prestigious universities as visiting professors.34

In addition, an article in the PLA Daily from April 2000 told the story of a reserve division in Jiangxi that reportedly hired more than twenty professors from military academies, as well as technical experts and scholars from civilian institutions, as visiting professors, apparently with “great success in raising the educational level of the division.”35 These are just some examples of the PLA looking to civilian academic institutions to augment its teaching and training of personnel. Given the PLA’s intent to raise the standard of its academic programs, it is likely we will see more of this type of interaction in the future. Research Partnering The final area of interaction is research partnering by PLA researchers with experts at civilian academic institutions. The PLA collaborates with civilian academic institutions to research a specific issue or set of issues. Again, while there is not much data to be found on PLA academies cooperating with civilian academic institutions, this is an area in which future cooperation is likely. Some examples of this type of interaction include: • A Guangxi frontier regiment teamed up with military and civilian universities, as well as scientific research institutes, to develop a system for combat readiness that is specifically geared for use by the frontier forces.36 • A “talent-introducing project” was implemented between Nanjing University and several PLA units, which resulted in the introduction of civilian postgraduates into PLA research projects.37 Other Interactions As the PLA continues to develop its higher education and training programs for officers, there is likely to be even more interaction between the PLA and civilian academic institutions. Some interactions that do not fit into the categories listed in this chapter include: • Military and civilian universities jointly opening academic forums: On December 15, 2003, the Engineering College of the Air Force Engineering University and the Northwest Polytechnical University jointly held a forum for master’s and Ph.D. degree holders. The forum was intended to provide cadets

198 KRISTEN A. GUNNESS

with an open science and technology platform. More than 100 doctoral and master’s degree holders conducted academic exchanges during the forum.38 • Structural reorganization: On August 24, 2004, four military colleges, including the First Military Medical University, the Jilin Medical College of the Fourth Military Medical University, the Quartermaster University, and Chengdu Medical Institute of the Third Military Medical University, were turned over to local governments. The four universities were formerly affiliated with the General Logistics Department.39 Implications for the Future: An Exercise in Speculation The PLA is clearly placing emphasis on educating its officer corps. In order to reach its ambitious goal of having 85 percent of the officers corps with a college-level educational background and to implement its “Two Transformations” modernization program, the PLA is both reforming its military education system, and is looking to the civilian education system to supplement educational resources and as a new base of recruitment. This is illustrated by the following points: • The PLA’s interactions with civilian academic institutions have grown since the 1980s. • An array of decisions, regulations, and laws have been issued by the party and the Central Military Commission on integrating military education with the civilian education system in areas that have both military and civilian applicability. • PLA recruiting programs at civilian colleges have become more widespread. • The PLA is sending an increasing number of officers to civilian schools for higher education. This said, the PLA’s effort to incorporate the civilian education system into its training and education program raises a host of questions that are difficult to answer at this time. Chief among them is the question of how the PLA’s interaction with the civilian education system fits into the larger picture of what the PLA is trying to accomplish. On one hand, the PLA leadership appears to recognize the shortcomings in its own education system, and realizes that civilian academic institutions are stronger in areas that the PLA needs expertise in to modernize—namely engineering, science, and technology. In addition, using civilian academic institutions to educate and train recruits and officers in areas of overlap between civilian and military education both cuts costs for the PLA and allows PLA academies to streamline their programs. On the other hand, the number of officers with some type of civilian education, while growing, is still quite small when compared to the PLA’s entire officer corps. In other words, it seems as though the PLA, while touting the

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benefits of merging civilian and military education, is merely sticking its toes in the water rather than taking the plunge. There are several possible reasons for this. One reason could be that the PLA is testing the waters to see how civilian-educated officers “mesh” with the rest of the PLA, and if civilian-educated officers can be successfully integrated into the PLA’s officer corps. There have already been indications of tensions between civilian-educated and PLA-educated officers, and questions about the ability of civilian-educated officers to perform duties equivalent to those of PLA officers have arisen. On the flip side, there have been reports of civilian-educated officers receiving special treatment over PLA-educated officers.40 Despite efforts to integrate these two groups, it is likely that such biases will exist and cause problems for the PLA in the future. Another possible reason is that because the PLA is having difficulty recruiting and retaining high-quality personnel, it is using the civilian education system as a means to “advertise” joining the PLA, as well as expanding the benefits to those who do join or who stay on after their term of service is up. With the rising cost of education in civilian colleges, incentives such as the PLAAF bonuses to civilian-educated trainees, and National Defense Scholarships for students, are making the PLA a more attractive opportunity for civilian college students. In this sense, it is possible that the PLA is intending to use the civilian education system more as a recruiting base and as a means to interact with Chinese society in general, rather than looking at a wholesale integration of military and civilian education. It is also possible that the PLA really is looking to utilize the civilian education system as much as possible, and that the pilot programs for recruitment and officer training are only the beginning of a larger “merging” of the PLA’s educational system with the civilian education system. Reports seem to indicate that the PLA is using the civilian education system to streamline its own military academy system, rather than to fully integrate its academies into the civilian education system. However, it is unclear how much integration the streamlining will require, and what direction the PLA will go in terms of utilizing civilian educational resources. These are only three of many possible scenarios. While the PLA seems to have settled on including civilian education in one way or another in its modernization program, it still appears to be experimenting with the level and method of such inclusion. It is likely that many other factors than were discussed in this chapter will have influence over this—factors such as the state of China’s economy, reform in the civilian education system, and the PLA’s changing needs and goals, will all determine the level of interaction, or integration, of the PLA and civilian education systems. As to what the future holds in this regard, it is too early to tell. Notes 1. Kenneth Allen, Dean Cheng, David Finkelstein, and Maryanne Kivlehan, Institutional Reforms of the Chinese People’s Liberation Army: Overview and Challenges (Alexandria, VA: The CNA Corporation, 2002), p. 3. 2. Chai Yongzhong, “On New Military Changes and the Quality of Troops—Interview

200 KRISTEN A. GUNNESS

with Experts and Scholars of National Defense University,” PLA Daily (online version), October 8, 2003, at http://english.pladaily.com.cn/english/pladaily/2003/10/08/ 20031008001015_MilitaryNews.html. 3. Zheng Gan, “Jiefangjun Bao Lauds Training of Army Officers at Civilian Schools,” PLA Daily, June 27, 2000. 4. “PLA Deputies Discuss Jiang Zemin Speech on Personnel,” PLA Daily, March 15, 2004. 5. The PLA organization has four general departments: the General Staff Department, the General Political Department, the General Logistics Department, and the General Equipment Department. These departments are responsible for developing policies for the entire PLA under guidance of the Central Military Commission (the leading command body of the PLA). The General Political Department is responsible for leading the political organization of the PLA, including party building in the Army, developing political plans, and educating the PLA. It is also responsible for personnel issues and civil-military interactions. 6. Zheng Gan, “PLA Daily Lauds Training of Army Officers at Civilian Schools,” PLA Daily. 7. Ibid. 8. See Tom Bickford, “Professional Military Education in the Chinese People’s Liberation Army: A Preliminary Assessment of Problems and Prospects,” in A Poverty of Riches, ed. James Mulvenon and Andrew Yang (Santa Monica, CA: RAND, 2003), p. 19. 9. Cheng et. al., Institutional Reforms, p. 20. 10. “PLA Daily Commentator: CMC’s Plan for Highly Qualified Military Professionals Project,” PLA Daily, September 8, 2003. 11. Zhu Hongjun, “Provisions on Strengthening Cultivation of Armament Technical Support Cadres for Combat Troops Promulgated,” PLA Daily online, August 18, 2003, at http:// english.pladaily.com.cn/english/pladaily/2003/08/18/20030818001014_ TodayHeadlines.html. 12. Much of the information in this section was taken from Allen et al., Institutional Reforms, pp. 6–7. 13. “Military to Launch Large-Scale Graduate Recruitment,” Xinhua, December 9, 1998. 14. “PRC: Ministry of Education, PLA to Train Cadres Through Universities,” Zhongguo Tongxun She, November 13, 2001. 15. “Training New Missile Troops,” PLA Daily, December 26, 1999. 16. “PLAAF Offers Bonuses to College Graduate Pilot Trainees,” Xinhua, November 2, 2003. 17. Dong Jushan, “PLA Second Artillery Plan for Developing Talent People in 10th Five-Year Plan Period,” PLA Daily, August 20, 2000. 18. Allen et. al., Institutional Reforms, p. 9. 19. “PLA Improves Military Postdoctoral Management,” PLA Daily online, December 19, 2003, at http://english.pladaily.com.cn/english/pladaily/2003/12/19/20031219001022_ MilitaryNews.html. 20. Sun Weijun, “PLA Department, Tianjin University Sign Agreement on Training Military Cadres,” Zhongguo Xinwen She, May 31, 2002. 21. Zhang Chunping, “PRC Military Office in Taiyuan College to Recruit First Group of Defense Students,” Taiyuan Shanxi Ribao, May 28, 2001. 22. Ibid. 23. “National Defense Students Trained in Xiamen,” PLA Daily online, August 22, 2003, at http://english.pladaily.com.cn/english/pladaily/2003/08/22/20030822001017_ MilitaryNews.html. 24. “PLA Enlarges Enrollment of Military Recruits in Civilian Universities,” Xinhua, May 7, 2004.

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25. “First Batch of National Defense Students Graduate from Tsinghua University,” PLA Daily online, July 14, 2004, at http://english.pladaily.com.cn/english/pladaily/2004/ 07/14/20040714001038_ChinaMilitaryNews.html. 26. “Training New Missile Troops,” PLA Daily, December 26, 1999. 27. Ibid. 28. Xinhua, January 28, 2003. 29. Xu Minghua, “Military and Civilian Schools Pool Their Efforts in Human Resources Development,” PLA Daily online, January 18, 2004, at http://english.pladaily.com.cn/english/ pladaily/2004/01/18/20040118001024_ChinaMilitaryNews.html. 30. See www.sina.com, August 17, 2004. 31. Xu Jian, “Shenyang Military Region Air Force Recruits for Frontline,” PLA Daily online, July 24, 2002. 32. “Blueprint for Reform of Military Academies, 2000–2010,” PLA Daily online, April 25, 2000. 33. Zheng Gan, “PLA Daily Lauds Training of Army Officers at Civilian Schools,” PLA Daily, June 27, 2000. 34. “A Command College Invites Experts to Be Its Visiting Professors,” PLA Daily online, December 26, 2003, at http://english.pladaily.com.cn/english/pladaily/2003/12/26/ 20031226001018_MilitaryNews.html. 35. Zhou Niansheng, “Jiangxi Reserve Division Explores New Training Methods,” PLA Daily, April 15, 2000. 36. Cao Xuebing, “Fostering First-rate Fighting Capacity in Mountainous Forest Area,” PLA Daily online, June 7, 2004, at http://english.pladaily.com.cn/english/pladaily/2004/ 06/07/20040607001035_ChinaMilitaryNews.html. 37. Xi Shigang, “Report on Development of Senior Personnel of Science and Technology by the Arms Department of the PLA General Staff Headquarters,” PLA Daily online, April 29, 2002. 38. “Military and Civilian Universities Jointly Launched Ph.D. Forum,” PLA Daily online, January 6, 2004, at http://english.pladaily.com.cn/english/pladaily/2004/01/06/20040106001028_ ChinaMilitaryNews.html. 39. Tang Xiangdong, “Four Military Colleges and Universities Turned Over to Local Governments,” PLA Daily online, August 25, 2004, at http://english.pladaily.com.cn/english/ pladaily/2004/08/25/20040825001027_ChinaMilitaryNews.html. 40. “PRC: Ministry of Education, PLA to Train Cadres Through Universities.”

202 JOSEPH FEWSMITH

10 China’s Defense Budget Is There Impending Friction Between Defense and Civilian Needs? Joseph Fewsmith

It is often posited that because China’s defense budget is low relative to its gross domestic product (GDP), and because its GDP has been growing rapidly, China does not face a significant “guns versus butter” problem. In fact, China’s budgetary allocations over the past twenty-five years suggest that central decision makers are quite sensitive to the relationship between the civilian and military sectors and that, despite the double-digit growth of China’s military budget in the 1990s, civil concerns have consistently weighed more heavily in the minds of the Chinese leadership. Moreover, there is some reason to believe that the very large defense budgets of recent years are likely to decrease as China faces new decisions on how to allocate its resources; a trend that may exacerbate tensions between military and civilian decision makers. This chapter looks at civil-military relations through the lens of the official defense budget as published in various Chinese statistical yearbooks. There is, of course, a portion of the defense budget that is not included in this official budget, and the size of that hidden budget has been the subject of much debate. Wang Shaoguang estimated that the “real” defense budget was about 1.5 times the size of the published budget.1 David Shambaugh concluded that China’s defense budget, including arms sales, extra budgetary expenditures on defense research and development, and subsidies for defense conversion, and so forth, would add up to double the size of the official budget.2 These estimates seem much more reasonable than some of the wilder figures that have been bruited in the press. In any event, as long as the hidden part of the budget and the official part of the budget remain in roughly the same proportion to each other, one can look at the relative size of the civilian and military portions of the budget over time to draw conclu202

CHINA’S DEFENSE BUDGET 203

sions about their relationship and to assess the possible tensions that may develop in the Chinese leadership over the two. One of the remarkable stories of China’s economic reforms was the degree and decisiveness with which China shifted resources from defense to economic and social concerns during the first decade of reform. Although China’s border war with Vietnam in 1979 drove up defense expenditures for that year, budget allocations for the 1980s confirmed Deng Xiaoping’s intention to make national defense the last of China’s “four modernizations” (the other three being industry, agriculture, and science and technology). Deng had foreshadowed his budget priorities in the mid-1970s when he served as chief of staff (prior to again being ousted from power in 1976). In a speech to the military leadership, Deng bluntly stated that the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) is bloated, inefficient, factionalized, and wasteful, and that military expenses took up too much of the state budget.3 By 1984, Deng had justified his reallocation of central resources by announcing that the dominant theme of the times was “peace and development.” In keeping with this theme, he also announced a cut of 1 million men from the 4.5million-man PLA and essentially shifted resources away from the military. As Table 10.1 shows, although its GPD grew from RMB 362.4 billion in 1978 to RMB 1.4 trillion in 1988 (312 percent), China’s defense expenditures increased only 29.9 percent (from RMB 16.78 billion to RMB 21.80 billion). As a percentage of GDP, China’s defense allocations had dropped from 4.6 percent to only 1.5 percent. Revenue growth in this period did not match GDP growth (growing only 117 percent), but defense expenditures as a percentage of total revenue still fell from 14.8 percent to 9.2 percent. Examining China’s budgetary allocations during this period makes even clearer the shift of resources from the military (and capital construction) to sectors that had been relatively deprived of funds in the Maoist period: culture and education on the one hand and government administration on the other. Funds for culture and education grew 295 percent from 1978 to 1988, while funds for government administration grew a whopping 413 percent (thus significantly outpacing GDP growth in the same period) (see Table 10.2). Beginning in 1989, however, defense expenditures began to climb significantly. No doubt some of this increase was due to a degree of political “payback” to reward the PLA for its loyalty during the June suppression of student demonstrations. In addition, Jiang Zemin’s taking over the helm of the military in 1989 also accounts for some of this increase in PLA budgets.4 Whereas Deng could command PLA loyalty (or at least compliance), as attested by the figures in Table 10.1, Jiang could not. Having never spent a day in the military, Jiang embarked on assiduous efforts to cultivate PLA loyalty, and increased budgets were part of this effort. Moreover, after more than a decade of economic growth, China had the resources to pay attention to the “fourth” of China’s four modernizations. Finally, the dramatic demonstration of U.S. military technology in the Gulf War underscored the need to modernize the PLA, while the confrontation in the Taiwan Strait

362.4 403.8 451.8 486.2 529.5 593.5 717.1 896.4 1,020.2 1,196.3 1,492.2

1978 1979 1980 1981 1982 1983 1984 1985 1986 1987 1988

NA 11.4 11.9 7.6 8.9 12.1 20.8 25.0 13.8 17.3 24.8

Percent growth 113.23 114.64 115.99 117.58 121.23 136.70 164.29 200.48 212.20 219.94 235.72

Total revenues 28.2 –1.6 –1.6 0.4 3.2 11.1 20.2 24.3 7.9 4.8 10.9

Percent growth 16.78 22.26 19.38 16.80 17.64 17.71 18.08 19.15 20.08 20.96 21.80

Defense expenditures 12.6 32.7 –12.9 –13.3 5.0 0.4 2.1 5.9 4.9 4.4 4.0

Percent growth 4.6 8.1 4.3 3.5 2.9 3.0 2.5 2.1 2.0 1.8 1.5

Defense as % of GDP

14.8 19.4 16.7 14.3 14.6 13.0 11.0 9.6 9.5 9.5 9.2

Defense as % of total revenue

Note: The figures in this and subsequent tables up to 2002 come from Zhongguo caizheng nianjian (China finance yearbook), 2003. Figures for the years 2003 and 2004 are drawn from either the annual government work report or the annual budget report presented to the National People’s Congress in the spring. These figures do not jibe perfectly because these statistics are revised on the basis of fuller information before they are included in the official yearbooks. Thus, they should be taken as estimates rather than as solid figures. For instance, Hu Jintao’s work report for 2003 stated that defense expenditures for that year would be RMB 185.3 billion, a 9.6 percent increase over the previous year. But defense expenditures for 2002, as reported by the China Finance Yearbook, were RMB 170.78 billion, and a defense allocation of 185.3 billion would be only an 8.5 percent increase. In Table 10.3, I used the figures provided by Hu Jintao rather than recalculating RMB because his statement that defense allocations would increase by 9.6 percent seemed more important than the accurate numbers.

GDP

Year

Defense Expenditures, 1978–1988 (in billion RMB)

Table 10.1

204 JOSEPH FEWSMITH

Total Expenditures

112.21 128.18 122.88 113.84 123.0 140.95 170.10 200.43 220.49 226.22 249.12

Year

1978 1979 1980 1981 1982 1983 1984 1985 1986 1987 1988

16.78 22.26 19.38 16.80 17.64 17.71 18.08 19.15 20.08 20.96 21.80

Defense 14.95 17.37 15.77 14.76 14.34 12.56 10.63 9.55 9.11 9.27 8.75

As % of Total Expenditures 71.90 76.99 71.55 63.08 67.54 79.48 96.82 112.76 115.90 115.35 125.84

Economic Construction 64.08 60.06 58.23 55.41 54.91 56.39 56.92 56.24 52.56 50.99 50.51

As % of Total Expenditures 14.70 17.51 19.90 21.15 24.30 28.25 33.21 40.84 48.51 50.58 58.12

Culture and Education 13.10 13.66 16.19 18.58 19.76 20.04 19.52 20.38 22.00 22.36 23.33

As % of Total Expenditures 5.29 6.31 7.55 8.26 9.08 10.31 13.98 17.11 22.00 22.82 27.16

Government Administration

Defense Expenditures Compared with Other Expenditures, 1978–1988 (in billion RMB)

Table 10.2

4.71 4.90 9.14 7.26 7.38 7.31 9.92 8.54 9.98 10.09 10.90

As % of Total Expenditures

3.54 5.10 4.50 4.56 4.44 5.21 8.02 10.57 14.01 16.51 15.20

Other

3.54 4.0 3.66 4.01 3.61 3.70 4.71 5.27 6.35 7.30 6.10

As % of Total Expenditures

CHINA’S DEFENSE BUDGET 205

206 JOSEPH FEWSMITH

following Lee Teng-hui’s visit to Cornell University in 1995 bolstered PLA cries for higher military allocations. Thus, as Table 10.3 shows, defense expenditures in the 1990s (and into the new century) grew rapidly. As Table 10.3 shows, military expenditures increased 15.9 percent per year between 1989 and 2002, compared with only 4.16 percent per year in the eleven years between 1978 and 1988. Although there was significant inflation in the early 1990s (China’s general consumer price index rose from 103.1 in 1990 to 124.1 in 1993), price deflation in the latter part of the decade brought prices down by the beginning of the new century to below where they had stood a decade earlier (the price index standing at 99.2 in 2002), making these gains in defense expenditures real.5 So if the military budget benefited in the decade and a half since Tiananmen, what part of the overall budget lost? And can such large increases be sustained? Obviously, one way that China was able to sustain such large increases in the military budget in these years was through rapid economic growth. As Table 10.3 shows, defense expenditures as a percentage of GDP actually declined in the mid1990s (to 1.1 percent) before increasing to a still modest 1.7 percent at the beginning of the new century—just slightly above where they had stood in the late 1980s. Moreover, defense expenditures as a percentage of total revenues actually fell throughout most of these post-Tiananmen years, from a high of 10.8 percent in 1991 to 8.8 percent in 2004. More importantly, revenues were increasing in these years. Thus, as Table 10.4 shows, defense expenditures remained nearly constant as a percentage of total expenditures. It is noteworthy that the big winner in the budget wars in the reform era has been government administration, which accounted for only 4.71 percent of total expenditures in 1978 but grew to a whopping 18.6 percent by 2002. Defense expenditures, however, come primarily out of central government revenues, not total revenues (approximately 99 percent of reported defense expenditures are paid for out of central government revenues).6 Central government revenues increased greatly in the 1990s, particularly in 1994, as a result of the tax reform that reallocated revenues from the localities to the central government (in exchange for revenue transfers to the localities). The 1994 tax reform caused defense expenditures to fall from 27.3 percent of central government revenue (in 1993) to only 15.8 percent (in 1994). Nevertheless, as Table 10.5 shows, defense expenditures have held nearly constant as a percentage of central government revenues every year since, suggesting that the tax reform provided no room for expanding defense expenditures in proportional terms. Indeed, what is remarkable is the degree to which defense expenditures correlate with both total revenues (about 1.5 percent) and central government revenues (about 16 percent). These figures have not varied much in a decade. Defense expenditures in the 1990s were able to sustain healthy gains because government revenues were increasing rapidly; much more rapidly than GDP was growing. As Table 10.6 shows, revenue as a percentage of GDP grew from a low of 10.7 percent in 1995 to 18.9 percent in 2004. When China’s decision makers re-

GDP

1,690.9 1,854.8 2,161.8 2,663.8 3,463.4 4,675.9 5,847.8 6,788.5 7,446.3 7,834.5 8,206.8 8,946.8 9,731.5 10,479.1 11,670.0 12,486.9

Year

1989 1990 1991 1992 1993 1994 1995 1996 1997 1998 1999 2000 2001 2002 2003 2004

13.3 9.7 16.6 23.2 30.0 35.0 25.1 16.1 9.7 5.2 4.8 9.0 8.8 7.7 11.4 7.0

Percent Growth 266.49 293.71 314.95 348.34 434.90 521.81 624.22 740.80 865.11 987.60 1,144.41 1,339.52 1,638.60 1,890.36 2,169.10 2,357.00

Total Revenues

Defense Expenditures, 1989–2004 (in billion RMB)

Table 10.3

13.1 10.2 7.2 10.6 24.8 20.0 19.6 18.7 16.8 14.2 15.9 17.0 22.3 15.4 14.7 8.7

Percent Growth 25.15 29.03 33.03 37.79 42.58 55.07 63.67 72.01 81.26 93.47 107.64 120.75 144.20 170.78 185.30 206.80

Defense Expenditures 15.4 15.4 13.8 14.4 12.7 29.3 15.6 13.1 12.8 15.0 15.2 12.2 19.4 18.4 9.6 11.6

Percent Growth

1.5 1.6 1.5 1.4 1.2 1.2 1.1 1.1 1.1 1.2 1.3 1.3 1.5 1.6 1.6 1.7

Defense as % of GDP

9.4 9.9 10.5 10.8 9.8 10.6 10.2 9.7 9.7 9.4 9.4 8.8 8.8 9.0 8.5 8.8

Defense as % of Total Revenue

CHINA’S DEFENSE BUDGET 207

283.38 308.36 338.66 374.22 464.23 579.26 682.37 793.76 923.36 1,079.82 1,318.77 1,588.65 1,890.26 2,205.32 2,201.20

2,460.70

2004

Year

1989 1990 1991 1992 1993 1994 1995 1996 1997 1998 1999 2000 2001 2002 2003

Total Expenditures

206.80

25.15 29.03 33.03 37.39 42.58 55.07 63.67 72.01 81.26 93.47 107.64 120.75 144.20 170.78 185.30

Defense

8.4

8.9 9.4 9.8 10.0 9.2 9.5 9.3 9.1 8.8 8.7 8.2 7.6 7.6 7.7 8.4

As % of Total Expenditures

NA

129.12 136.80 142.85 161.28 183.48 239.37 285.58 323.38 364.73 417.95 506.15 574.84 647.26 667.37 NA

Economic Construction

NA

45.73 44.36 42.18 43.10 39.52 41.32 41.85 40.74 39.50 38.71 38.38 36.18 34.24 30.26 NA

As % of Total Expenditures

592.46

50.58 58.12 66.84 73.76 84.97 97.01 117.83 150.15 175.67 208.06 246.94 293.08 363.87 438.45 521.32

Culture and Education

NA

17.85 18.85 19.74 19.71 18.30 16.75 17.27 18.92 19.03 19.27 18.73 18.45 19.25 19.88 NA

As % of Total Expenditures

NA

38.63 41.46 41.40 46.34 63.43 84.77 99.65 118.53 135.89 160.03 202.06 276.82 351.25 410.13 NA

Government Administration

Defense Expenditures Compared with Other Expenditures, 1989–2004 (in billion RMB)

Table 10.4

NA

13.63 13.45 12.22 12.38 13.66 14.63 16.60 14.93 14.72 14.82 15.32 17.42 18.58 18.60 NA

As % of Total Expenditures

NA

22.64 27.31 36.42 31.80 56.92 49.90 57.80 71.79 94.54 115.29 139.05 177.79 226.23 364.58 NA

Other

NA

8.00 8.86 10.75 8.50 12.26 8.61 8.47 9.04 10.24 10.68 10.54 11.19 11.97 16.53 NA

As % of Total Expenditures

208 JOSEPH FEWSMITH

CHINA’S DEFENSE BUDGET 209

Table 10.5 Defense Expenditures Compared with Central Revenue, 1990–2004 (in billion RMB)

Year

Central Govt. Total Revenue

% Growth

As % of GDP

As % of Total Revenue

Defense Expenditures

As % of Central Revenue

1990 1991 1992 1993 1994 1995 1996 1997 1998 1999 2000 2001 2002 2003 2004

147.46 142.86 153.82 155.78 347.66 386.66 426.50 483.07 548.91 644.73 758.83 917.37 1,102.66 1,102.00 1,246.50

N/A –3.1 7.7 1.3 123.2 11.2 10.3 13.3 13.6 17.5 17.7 20.9 20.2 12.8 9.6

8.0 6.6 5.8 4.4 7.4 6.6 6.3 6.5 7.0 7.9 8.5 9.4 10.5 9.4 10.0

50.0 45.4 44.1 35.8 66.6 61.9 57.6 55.8 55.6 56.3 56.6 56.0 58.3 50.8 52.9

29.03 33.03 37.79 42.58 55.07 63.67 72.01 81.26 93.47 107.64 120.75 144.20 170.78 185.30 206.80

19.7 23.1 24.6 27.3 15.8 16.5 16.9 16.8 17.0 16.7 15.9 15.7 15.5 16.8 16.6

formed the tax system in 1994, one of their chief goals was to bring budgetary revenues up to 20 percent of GDP. This goal has now been nearly reached, and indeed the growth of revenue has begun to slow, from 22.3 percent in 2001, to 14.7 percent in 2003, to only 8.7 percent in 2004. In other words, government revenues —and hence defense expenditures—are more likely to resemble the increases in China’s GDP than they are the double-digit gains registered in the 1990s. Unless China is willing to shift significant resources from other uses—willingness it has not shown in the past twenty-five years—then the growth of defense expenditures will be limited by the size of GDP growth. This conclusion is reinforced by two other factors. First, China has engaged in a significant degree of deficit financing in recent years. Despite the rapid increases in revenues, the government has pursued a policy of “active finance” in the years since 1998 in order to stimulate demand. China’s budget deficit stood at a modest RMB 58.2 billion (6.7 percent of revenues) in 1997. The following year, China’s deficit increased 58.3 percent to RMB 92.2 billion. It grew to RMB 315.0 billion in 2002 and RMB 309.8 billion in 2003. In his budget report to the National People’s Congress (NPC) in March 2004, Finance Minister Jin Renqing indicated that the budget deficit would be held to RMB 319.8 billion in 2004, indicating that the Chinese government feels that it does not want to expand the budget deficit, particularly at a time when the economy has been overheating. Reinforcing that message, Hu Jintao stated that issuing construction treasury bonds

210 JOSEPH FEWSMITH

Table 10.6 Ratio of GDP to Budgetary Revenues, 1978–2004 (in billion RMB) Year 1978 1979 1980 1981 1982 1983 1984 1985 1986 1987 1988 1989 1990 1991 1992 1993 1994 1995 1996 1997 1998 1999 2000 2001 2002 2003 2004

GDP 362.4 403.8 451.8 486.2 529.5 593.5 717.1 896.4 1,020.2 1,196.3 1,492.8 1,990.9 1,854.8 2,161.8 2,663.8 3,463.4 4,675.9 5,847.8 6,788.5 7,446.3 7,834.5 8,206.8 8,940.4 9,593.3 10,479.1 11,670.0 12,486.9

Budgetary Revenues 113.2 114.6 116.0 117.6 121.2 136.7 164.3 200.5 212.2 219.9 235.7 266.5 293.7 314.9 348.3 434.9 521.8 624.2 740.8 865.1 987.6 1,144.4 1,339.5 1,638.6 1,890.4 2,169.1 2,357.0

Revenue as % of GDP 31.2 28.4 25.7 24.2 22.9 23.0 22.9 22.4 20.8 18.4 15.8 15.8 15.8 14.6 13.1 12.6 11.2 10.7 10.9 11.6 12.6 13.9 15.0 17.1 18.0 18.6 18.9

was an interim measure adopted in a period when demand was insufficient, and their amount would be reduced accordingly.7 Bond issues do not, as far as is known, support defense expenditures directly, but they do support overall government expenditures, freeing up (in theory at least) funds that might be spent elsewhere (though, as the figures above indicate, there is no evidence that deficit spending has been used to expand, directly or indirectly, defense spending). In any event, although deficit financing will continue, the amount of indebtedness will apparently be capped, suggesting tighter spending constraints across the board, and making it even less likely that PLA budgets will be expanded at the expense of other needs. The other factor that may well impinge on PLA spending is the growing need to build a welfare state. As the problems of building social security, unemployment, healthcare, and pension systems all loom large on the horizon, the Chinese leadership must rapidly come up with solutions to these and other pressing social issues.

CHINA’S DEFENSE BUDGET 211

According to Wen Jiabao’s Government Work Report to the NPC in March 2004, the central government allocated an additional RMB 4.7 billion in subsidies for job creation in 2003 and would allocate an additional RMB 3.6 billion in 2004 (for a total of RMB 8.3 billion). In addition, in order to implement the “two guarantees” policy (guaranteeing the living allowances for workers laid off from state-owned enterprises and guaranteeing that the pensions of retirees are paid on time) and the “three-stage guarantee” for laid-off workers, the central government spent RMB 70 billion in 2003, up 19.9 percent over the previous year. Such allocations would be further increased by 11.3 percent in 2004. Moreover, Wen promised that the central government would appropriate for transfer payments to support a reduction in rural taxes and reduce administrative charges. Wen also promised to allocate an additional RMB 5 billion for investment in agriculture.8 Such allocations are easily absorbed by the central government—they amount to about 1.5 percent of central government revenues—but they appear to mark the tip of the iceberg, for such social spending will inevitably increase significantly in the years to come. Conclusion It is apparent from this examination of China’s defense expenditures that the doubledigit budget increases that the PLA has received in the 1990s have primarily reflected Beijing’s success in extracting more resources from the Chinese economy rather than any shift of resources from other areas to the military. China’s military expenditures have remained modest—about 1.5 percent of GDP and about 15 percent of central budgetary revenues—and quite constant. There is no evidence that China’s greater attention to military modernization has either diverted attention from economic modernization or that China is repeating the mistakes of the former Soviet Union by spending too much on the military and crowding out other investment. It is also apparent that there is a limit to the amount of resources Beijing can effectively extract from the economy. In the 1990s, China’s decision makers paid much attention to bolstering the country’s “state capacity” by enhancing revenue extraction and particularly by increasing the proportion of resources that go to Beijing rather than to the provinces (some of which is offset by central subsidies to the localities). However, they also recognized that there was a limit to this process. They hoped to raise government revenues to 20 percent of GDP, and are now very close to that goal (reaching 18.9 percent). As the rate at which the percentage increase in revenue extraction has slowed as it has approximated the 20 percent mark, the rate of increase of military expenditures has also begun to decline. Perhaps the new president, Hu Jintao, intended to signal a shift of resources to the civilian side of the ledger when he announced in 2003 that the increase in the defense budget would be held to 9.6 percent—the first time since 1989 that the increase in the defense budget was held to less than 10 percent. His budget, however, also reflected a real tightening of resources as the rate of increase of government revenues declined.

212 JOSEPH FEWSMITH

The fact that Hu Jintao announced that defense expenditures would rise by 11.6 percent in 2004 does not contradict this conclusion. Increasing China’s RMB 206.8 billion defense budget in 2004 by 11.6 percent instead of the 9.6 percent the PLA received the year before does give the PLA an additional RMB 4 billion, but that hardly seems like enough to argue that any significant amount of resources are being shifted to the PLA. After all, the 11.6 percent increase was still significantly below the 15.9 percent increases the PLA had enjoyed on average between 1989 and 2002. While the variation in the size of increases the PLA has received from year to year cautions one against making hard and fast predictions about future increases, the general trend toward smaller increases, more in keeping with the rate of GDP growth, seems clear. To point to smaller increases in the size of the PLA budget is not to say that China has not or will not make significant strides in military modernization. China has been spending more on science and technology (the average increase in science and technology research expenditures was 16 percent between 1990 and 2002, again reflecting more robust revenue streams, but still making up only about 4 percent of total revenue) and has purchased a significant number of weapons from abroad (mostly from Russia).9 These modernization efforts, while reflecting a broad reconfiguration of China’s forces to enhance coastal defense, appear to revolve around efforts to intimidate Taiwan and, if necessary, to try to defend against U.S. forces if military conflict broke out in the Taiwan Strait. Indeed, in announcing the larger increase in defense allocations for 2004, Hu Jintao specifically cited tensions in the Taiwan Strait.10 As the spike in China’s defense spending in 1979 showed, China is willing to divert significant resources if the cause is deemed important enough. Nevertheless, it might be significantly more difficult to divert large amounts of funds to national defense today, when military allocations account for about 1.5 percent of China’s GDP, than it was in the late 1970s when military expenditures accounted for about 4.5 percent of GDP. After a quartercentury of relative decline in military spending, efforts to increase defense spending substantially are likely to be resisted by other interests. Finally, if the argument in this chapter is correct that defense expenditures in the coming years will correlate more closely with GDP growth (which will probably be in the 7–8 percent range) than has been the case over the past decade and more, then there is likely to be increased friction between the military establishment and the civilian portion of the economy. Military delegates to the NPC in both 2003 and 2004 complained that defense allocations were inadequate. Such complaints are likely to be heard annually if current trends continue—especially if tensions in the Taiwan Strait increase. Such debates may also be reflected in differences in policy between the leadership of Jiang Zemin and Hu Jintao. Jiang Zemin was generous to the military throughout his tenure as CCP general secretary, partly in an effort to buy military support and partly because increased revenue streams allowed him to do so. Hu Jintao, however, faces a difficult problem. Like Jiang, he has no military experience and presumably would be inclined to follow Jiang’s

CHINA’S DEFENSE BUDGET 213

example of being generous to the military. Nevertheless, increased social demands and declining resources (in relative terms) will make it difficult for Hu to respond to military demands for more resources. Moreover, given that Hu has staked his reputation on addressing China’s domestic social issues, it will be difficult for him to increase military allocations significantly. Whether the military will accept more modest budgetary increases remains to be seen.11 Notes 1. Wang Shaoguang, “Estimating China’s Defense Expenditure: Some Evidence from Chinese Sources,” China Quarterly, no. 147 (September 1996). 2. David Shambaugh, Modernizing China’s Military: Progress, Problems and Prospects (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2002), pp. 222–223. 3. Deng Xiaoping, “Jundui yao zhengdun” (The military must be rectified), Deng Xiaoping wenxuan (1975–1982) (Selected works of Deng Xiaoping) (Beijing: Renmin chubanshe, 1983), pp. 1–3. 4. Tai Ming Cheng, “Looking Beyond the Party: The PLA and the Changing Domestic Order to the Year 2000,” in 5th Annual AEI Conference on the People’s Liberation Army, ed. James Lilley (Washington, DC: American Enterprise Institute, 1994). 5. Zhongguo caizheng nianjian (Chinese finance yearbook), 2003, p. 442. 6. Zhongguo caizheng nianjian lists budgetary expenditures of the central government by item, including national defense expenditures, for the years 1995–2002. By comparing these with published figures for national defense, one sees that some 99 percent of the published national defense budget comes from central expenditures. 7. Hu Jintao, “Government Work Report,” March 5, 2004. 8. Ibid. 9. Zhongguo caizheng nianjian, p. 352. 10. Hu Jintao, “Government Work Report.” 11. Editor’s note: China’s 2004 Defense White Paper, published after this chapter was written, placed the official defense budget at RMB 190.7 billion for 2003, and RMB 211.7 billion for 2004.

214 JAMES MULVENON

11 The PLA in the New Economy Plus Ça Change, Plus C’est la Même Chose James Mulvenon

The Chinese People’s Liberation Army (PLA) has been involved in economic activities since its very inception in the 1920s. In the Deng and Jiang eras, the PLA’s economic role was dramatically transformed. Leveraging its unique access to structural advantages, the military moved from domestic farming and small-scale industrial production to international commerce, including hotels, passenger airlines, and telecommunications. At the same time, this foray into business for profit spawned deep levels of corruption in the system, leading the civilian leadership to order the PLA to divest its commercial operations in 1998. The divestiture process, which is still ongoing, has been difficult and protracted, but has ultimately succeeded in returning the PLA to its economic production roots, including the use of PLA labor for infrastructure construction around the country. Yet the PLA’s role in the new economy after divestiture is also changing in important ways, especially in the information technology (IT) sector, where a new defense-industrial paradigm (the “digital triangle”) is helping revolutionize PLA C4ISR (command, control, communications, computers, intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance). This chapter explores these themes in detail. “Act One” examines the historical antecedents of the Chinese military-business complex, especially the imperial, pre-1949, and Maoist periods, focusing on the similarities and differences between these earlier systems and the current system. It then identifies the circumstances, political constraints, key players, and critical decisions involved in the decision to expand the PLA’s role in the post-Mao economy, as well as the course of its development over the last twenty years, and analyzes the evolution of structure and process in the Chinese military-business complex, focusing specifically on changes in hierarchy, regulation, and decision-making procedures. “Act One” explores the potential and actual consequences of increased military participation in the economy, analyzing the various organizational, legal, finan214

THE PLA IN THE NEW ECONOMY 215

cial, normative, and coercive countermeasures undertaken by the political and military leaderships to mitigate the observed and putative negative effects, such as the increased incidence of military corruption. “Act Two” assesses the origins and relative success of the divestiture of the Chinese military economy initiated in July 1998. “Act Three” explores new trends in PLA involvement in the economy, in particular the rise of the “digital triangle” in the defense IT sector. Act One: A Brief History of PLA Economics Militaries throughout history have, to varying degrees, been forced to feed and arm themselves.1 In premodern societies, individual warriors or soldiers were responsible for supplying their own armor and weapons, and in fact socioeconomic status was one of the most important determinants of warrior status.2 In the field, the lack of an effective supply system often led to pillaging and looting of the surrounding battlefield, living off the land regardless of whether it was enemy or friendly territory. Only the modern nation-state has sought to provide complete financial support for the military, largely to buttress corresponding notions of apolitical civil-military relations.3 In only a few Western nations, such as the United States, has the goal of complete financing been fully realized. In many other cases, militaries are funded by a combination of central fiscal contributions and internal military production and commerce. Notable examples of historical militaries that were heavily involved in economic production include the Byzantine “theme armies,” Elizabethan privateering/joint stock companies, and Russian military settlements.4 Similarly, militaries in imperial China were expected to be partially, if not fully self-supporting.5 In fact, it was quite unusual for the military to receive full fiscal support from the government, and this state financing often resulted in economic disaster for the state, primarily due to the inability of the imperial system to consistently extract revenues from the populace. For example, a reigning emperor of the Northern Song blamed the impoverishment of his country on the enormous amount of state funds required to support his largely mercenary army, which approached 80 percent of central revenue in the 1060s.6 Dynasties responded to this resource problem by adopting one of two selfsufficiency policies for military support. The first, which draws inspiration from the writings of Legalist philosophers, placed the burden of production for military consumption on the backs of the civilian populace. The Legalists, particularly Lord Shang (255–206 B.C.), proposed an authoritarian state organized for military conquest, and agricultural production controlled by the military to support that conquest.7 To Shang, an effective merger of military and production functions guaranteed national supremacy. Shang’s theory of the economic role of the military was first applied during the Qin Dynasty (221–209 B.C.).8 From the beginning, the economy of the Qin was basically a military economy, based on Legalist principles. In the early years, the emperor placed great emphasis on agriculture, taxing two-thirds of output for military use. These policies were

216 JAMES MULVENON

repeated in a more elaborate fashion during the Sui-Tang period (A.D. 589–907), when the central government distributed land to peasants under the “equal-field” system. In return, the peasants were required not only to serve in the armed forces, but also to equip themselves from the profits generated by their own agricultural production. The second and more common self-sufficiency policy used by imperial dynasties to fund the armed forces called for the military itself to engage in production to supplement governmental expenditures. The most advanced version of this policy was the tuntian, or “military habitation” system, which first appeared during the Han Dynasty (202 B.C.–A.D. 220), and served as the dominant paradigm for Chinese imperial military economics for almost two millennia. It was particularly important during the Yuan (1279–1368), Ming (1368–1644), and Qing (1644– 1911) periods, though it reached its most advanced form during the Ming.9 As in the Yuan, the military under the Ming had a dedicated farming role in the areas under its control. At the beginning of the dynasty, these areas did not include colocated peasant lands, since the military was not allowed to confiscate land for farming. Instead, units were only allowed to develop allocated government-owned land and wilderness (huang) in the northern sections of the country, which totaled nearly 620,000 qing, or 41.3 million hectares. On this land, total output was supposed to be given to the government, but over time the military was able to negotiate a more equitable bargain, retaining at least 50 percent of the output. Later, the government share was reduced even further to 25 percent, due to the increasing needs of the military and its relatively advantageous political position vis-à-vis the government under wartime conditions. This record of Chinese imperial military economics suggests that the PLA’s enterprise system has deep historical roots. Indeed, one scholar has persuasively shown that the imperial systems were an explicit model used by Mao and the Communist leadership to implement the PLA’s enterprise system.10 This was especially true of production activities carried out by Wang Zhen and the 359th Brigade in the Yan’an base area in the late 1930s and early 1940s, which are still held up for emulation by the current Chinese military leadership. Similarly, the campaigns to expand military production during the Great Leap Forward and the Cultural Revolution reveal many links to the past, especially the integration of military units and an internal agricultural system. Like the imperial system, the primary motivation for the development of PLA’s military economy before 1978 was self-sufficiency, necessitated by the sometimes dire economic circumstance of the Communist forces. During the guerrilla period, Red Army self-sufficiency was a key factor in the survival of the Communist movement, especially during the precarious years of the Fifth Encirclement, the Long March, and the base area at Yan’an.11 During the Maoist era, the PLA’s dependence on military production remained, especially during the difficult economic periods of the Great Leap Forward and the Cultural Revolution.12 A secondary motivating factor for PLA production was the party’s desire to

THE PLA IN THE NEW ECONOMY 217

hold up the military as an object of political and ideological emulation. During the pre-Liberation period, for example, the Red Army was well known for helping the peasantry bring in the harvest, and this reputation helped differentiate the Communist forces from their looting counterparts in the KMT army.13 Likewise, the active participation of the PLA in production during mass campaigns like the Great Leap Forward positioned the military as an ideological vanguard and its soldiers as model workers.14 At the same time, this political use of the PLA as an economic vanguard appeared to oscillate significantly with the CCP’s cycles of mobilization and consolidation. Specifically, economic difficulty in the civilian realm often led to temporary mobilizational surges of the PLA’s production activities. The most important mobilizational periods were the Great Leap Forward and the Cultural Revolution. After the Cultural Revolution, however, the PLA’s nascent military economic capability lay dormant, as the nation recovered from the “ten years of chaos.” The rise of Deng Xiaoping and the rehabilitated cadres, however, signaled a new, reformist era for the Communist regime and its military organizations, one in which the patterns of past military production and the ethos of marketization would be combined in a volatile new mixture. Act Two: The Origins of PLA, Inc. (1978–98) To understand the commercialization of the PLA after 1978, it is first necessary to understand the fiscal relationship between the state and military. To begin with, there is strong evidence to suggest that the PLA during the Maoist era enjoyed virtually unlimited access to funds from the national budget. According to Jonathan Pollack, “few within the leadership ever challenged the army’s entitlements,” and, as a consequence, “the army grew by accretion and inertia.”15 The best example of the high budgetary priority placed on defense during this period was the Third Front industrialization campaign of the early 1960s, which was personally directed by Deng Xiaoping.16 Predicated on Mao Zedong’s fear of foreign invasion, onefourth of the entire national defense-industrial complex was rebuilt in the mountainous regions of ten provinces. Chinese officials estimate that the financial cost of these enterprises was RMB200 billion over a twenty-year period ending in 1984, equivalent to two-thirds of the defense budget over the same period.17 For Deng Xiaoping and the reformers in the late 1970s, however, the stagnation of the Chinese economy from the Great Leap Forward (1958–61) through the Cultural Revolution (1966–76) meant that the civilian government could not meet the budgetary needs of the PLA and provide the large capital investments necessary for an ambitious and costly program of post-Mao economic reforms.18 At a March 12, 1980, enlarged meeting of the Standing Committee of the Central Military Commission (CMC), Deng Xiaoping drew a direct link between reducing the defense budget and strengthening economic reform, stating: “our current military expenditures are rather high, to the detriment of national construction. . . . During

218 JAMES MULVENON

RMB (in billions)

Figure 11.1

90 80 70 60 50 40 30

Nominal and Inflation-Adjusted Defense Budget, 1978–1997

Nominal Inflation-adjusted

20 10 0 1978 1980 1982 1984 1986 1988 1990 1992 1994 1996

this time, we should try our best to cut down military spending so as to strengthen national construction. In short, it is necessary to reduce ‘bloatedness’ [in the army] if we want to carry out the Four Modernizations.”19 Soon afterwards, appropriations for other parts of the state budget, including the defense budget, were slashed to pay for increased investment in civilian economic projects. Between 1979 and 1981, the military budget was cut by more than 24 percent. While the military was told that its defense budgets would eventually increase as China’s economy became more developed, additional short-term measures were taken to supplement defense revenue. The most important of these involved the exploitation of the PLA’s latent economic capacity, which derived from three sources: (1) fifty years of PLA experience with various types of economic production; (2) a well-developed and exploitable military logistics infrastructure, ranging from transportation to factories and farms; and (3) the deeply ingrained socialization among the ranks and the top-level civilian leadership that production was an acceptable military task. From later Chinese writings, it is clear that this internal military economy was expected to generate sufficient revenue to “make up for insufficient spending.”20 Much to the chagrin of the military, the importance of the PLA’s internal economy as a supplement to the defense budget only grew over time, as shrinking defense budgets forced the military to become increasingly dependent on the rising extra-budgetary revenue from its enterprises. In terms of budgets, for example, there is a consensus among Chinese and Western analysts that, as a consequence of redirected fiscal priorities and the regime’s diminishing capacity to extract rents from the economy, the official defense budget between 1979 and 1989 declined considerably in real terms, while only increasing marginally in nominal terms (see Figure 11.1).21

THE PLA IN THE NEW ECONOMY 219

Even the double-digit budget increases since 1989, which averaged a rate of 14 percent per year, were largely absorbed by a 13 percent average rate of inflation. Any attempts by the government to arrest this decline in real defense budgets were offset by rapidly increasing budget deficits, reaching almost RMB60 billion in 1996. At the same time, the profits from the military’s enterprises by the late 1980s and early 1990s were providing a significant percentage of local unit operating funds, especially subsidies for wages, food, and facilities. Furthermore, these enterprises employed soldiers’ dependents and demobilized soldiers, supplementing the meager wages of active-duty personnel. Over time, the profits and revenue from these military enterprises became essential components of military financial management. These two trends (the combination of decreasing government capacity to fund the military from central coffers and the increasing dependence of military units on profits from military enterprises) combined to create a sense of bureaucratic “lock-in” for the military-business complex. As a result, the military leadership found it increasingly difficult to contemplate putting an end to the military-business complex, despite the troubling rise in rampant corruption within its ranks. The PLA’s level of dependency also made it impossible for the civilian leadership to wean the military away from commercial activity. The political leadership, ever cognizant of the central role of the PLA in the post-Deng transition, was understandably reluctant to separate the PLA from its businesses unless it could replace the lost funds with increased budgetary allocations.22 Structure, Process, Consequences, and Countermeasures The commercialization of the PLA’s internal economy can be divided into three rough phases. In the first, which lasted from 1978 to 1984, the PLA leveraged its internal assets and infrastructural privileges in limited ways. Military farms were encouraged to sell in the new local markets and the PLA began to “civilianize” some of its underused ports, wharves, airfields, trucks, and rail space.23 Between 1984 and 1989, the military-business complex experienced its most intensive period of growth, by some estimates doubling the number of enterprises.24 Profits reportedly grew by 700 percent as the PLA moved from primarily agricultural production to manufacture of light consumer goods, such as pianos, refrigerators, TV sets, washing machines, baby carriages, and hunting rifles. By 1989, the sales of goods made by PLA factories had reached RMB20 billion in the Chinese market, and more than RMB140 million in export revenue. The PLA economy had grown to over 20,000 enterprises, employing several million workers and generating significant profits. A snapshot of the PLA economy at its height is displayed in Table 11.1. The significant area of growth was service enterprises, which had exploded in number since 1984 and by 1987 made up more than half of all PLA enterprises. More than 90 percent of these enterprises were small-scale ventures with little

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Table 11.1 PLA Production and Business Statistics, 1987

Type

Output value (in million RMB)

Profit (% total)

Profits (in million RMB)

Farms Numbered factories Military enterprises Tertiary Total

NA 4.291 3.682 2.380 10.353

14.6 26.0 34.4 25.0 100.0

316 656 830 612 2,414

Units

Workers

591 242 3,700 6,870 11,403

155,000 300,000 170,000 45,000 670,000

Note: Tertiary enterprises are generally service enterprises, such as hospitals or hotels.

capital investment and with workforces of no more than several dozen employees. They were similar to the township and village enterprises (TVEs) that had also proliferated in huge numbers in rural areas during this same period of time. These military businesses, like the TVEs, had wide-ranging autonomy, received little government assistance, produced low-cost labor-intensive goods, and enjoyed profit margins of 20–30 percent per year. At the same time, the late 1980s was also the period in which serious problems began to emerge within the ranks of the PLA, especially corruption and illegal economic behavior among officers and enlisted men. Toward the end of 1988 and the beginning of 1989, corruption and illegal economic behavior began to grow more worrisome to the central military leadership. A series of specific discipline regulations related to both legal and illegal business activities were promulgated, and some tentative rectification campaigns were initiated. Scholars at the Military Economic Institute in Wuhan began to write in earnest about the concept of “one army, two systems,” which was meant to provide an organizational template for reform.25 For the most part, however, these efforts were unsuccessful, confirming the fears of the political leadership that military commercialism was a necessary and unavoidable evil. The third phase of military commercialism followed in the wake of Tiananmen Square in 1989. After the crackdown on demonstrators in Beijing, the People’s Liberation Army was primarily concerned with rooting out officers and soldiers who had not responded to the orders from the leadership, and in some cases, openly sided with the protesters.26 By the fall, however, the situation had stabilized enough to call an “All-Army Production and Business Operations Discussion Meeting” to discuss the impact of Tiananmen on the military enterprise system.27 At this conference, a clean-up campaign targeting PLA companies was launched. The campaign was led by the new Leading Group of the Rectification of Army Firms, established in October 1989 under the leadership of General Logistics Department

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director Hong Xuezhi. This rectification continued throughout 1990, and by the end of the year the number of military companies (junban gongsi) had reportedly been trimmed by 88 percent.28 At the same time, the CMC soon issued instructions that military units’ attention “should be aimed mainly at promoting farm production,” which continued to be perceived as less vulnerable to illegal economic behavior because of the smaller scale of profits involved.29 This push was also aimed at developing large-scale intensive farming operations, producing crops that could be sold for profit.30 The post-Tiananmen slowdown in both the military and civilian economic spheres was briefly reversed by Deng Xiaoping’s dramatic February 1992 “Southern Tour” (nanxun) of China’s special economic zones (SEZs), during which he called for rapid and bold economic reforms. Borrowing one of Mao’s favorite metaphors, Deng declared that the reforms “must not be like a woman with bound feet,” but must “stride boldly forward” for thirty or forty more years.31 The military was a belated supporter of this Dengist reform offensive, as were many other conservative groups within the Chinese system. Eventually, General Yang Baibing, the half-brother of party elder Yang Shangkun and one of the most powerful officers in the Chinese military, jumped on the bandwagon, announcing that the PLA would be the “escort and protector” (baojia huhuang) of the reforms.32 Within a few months, more than one hundred of the PLA’s most senior generals visited the SEZs. In the month of June alone, the CMC dispatched four high-level military groups to Shenzhen and other locations for briefings.33 The military’s public support for Deng’s reform had a predictably positive effect upon growth in the military economy. The remainder of 1992 and the first half of 1993 witnessed a significant expansion of the military economy, matching the dramatic increases among civilian enterprises during the same period. Production among military enterprises rose 16.68 percent in the second half of 1992, and profits jumped 19.88 percent. Because the new policies allowed them to accept civilian customers, the biggest beneficiaries of the new policy were the service enterprises like hospitals and hotels, which registered turnover rates of more than 30 percent. In the beginning months of 1993, the Chinese military press could confidently report that income from production was now covering one-fifth of the PLA’s budgetary shortfalls, the highest point ever.34 By the summer of 1993, however, it was clear that the old problems of illegal economic behavior and corruption had returned. Smuggling was on the rise,35 bribery of officers was a continuing problem,36 military license plates were still being sold or leased to civilians wishing to avoid road tolls and customs charges,37 military transport and warehouses were being used to transport and store illegal goods, and enterprises continued to hide or launder money through unauthorized bank accounts.38 For example, an eightmonth armywide audit in late 1992 of more than three quarters of all military units uncovered RMB1.05 billion in funds that were owed to the General Logistics Department by military units for production and other activities.

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By the fall, a backlash against economic misbehavior had gained momentum. It culminated in the November 1993 All-Army Production and Management Work Conference, which launched the most ambitious rectification campaign in the history of the military enterprise system. The meeting’s participants asserted that the PLA’s most important role was that of a professional fighting force, and its participation in economic activities was only of secondary importance. Chief of the General Staff Zhang Wannian told the conference that “production and management, in essence, are not fundamental tasks assigned to armed forces by society.”39 He also declared that “over the past few years, the army has managed to make up for the deficiency in military spending, ensure normal military training and operations against war, and improve its own material conditions by engaging in production and business, but such a practice also gave rise to some problems.”40 Jiang Zemin himself appeared at the conference to lend his personal support for the campaign, reminding the conference participants that “army comrades should clearly bear in mind the historic responsibilities they shoulder,” and that they will “always be combat troops.”41 As a result, he insisted that the armed forces should primarily rely on eating “imperial grain” (chi huangliang), implying that they should regard the annual defense budget allocation as the primary source of their operating revenue. The subsequent organizational reforms would last for almost two years and completely change the structure of the Chinese military-business complex. By the time the campaign ended in September 1995, the total number of PLA enterprises (jundui qiye) had been cut in half, from 20,000 to 10,000.42 Nearly 1,000 militaryrun companies (junban gongsi) had been closed down, and several hundred enterprises had been forced to sever their business ties with local civilian companies.43 A massive audit of more than 9,000 enterprises and 1,100 production and management departments conducted between June and September 1995 yielded more than RMB700 million in undeclared profits, RMB150 million of which was turned over to the state.44 When the 1993–95 rectification came to a close, the resulting PLA enterprise system bore little resemblance to the primitive system of 1978 or the “go-go” economy of the late 1980s. Enterprises that had once been attached to units at all levels of the system were now centralized under newly formed national, regional, and sectoral conglomerates (jituan). The purpose of these conglomerates was twofold. On the one hand, they were designed to exploit greater economies of scale through the centralization of previously disparate enterprises run by individual units, often in competition with each other. On the other hand, the conglomerates were to serve a disciplinary purpose by removing a significant source of corruption from the purview of military commanders and placing them in the hands of centrally directed logistics officers.45 As soon as they were established, however, rumors had already begun to surface in Beijing suggesting that these conglomerates were themselves transitional organizational forms, eventually becoming autonomous economic units completely

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separate from the military structure.46 Despite these changes in the structure of the system, however, the military was not any less reliant on the revenue of its enterprises than it had been at any time in the previous twenty years. The potential gains from double-digit increases in the Chinese defense budget had largely been absorbed by inflation rates averaging 13.1 percent between 1988 and 1995. Moreover, the demands on the PLA to modernize had been given an even greater sense of urgency by the growing prospect of a military conflict with Taiwan and possibly the United States. This precarious budget situation made the military leadership reluctant to limit the expansion of the military-business complex, despite the rampant corruption that had accompanied the commercialization of the military economy. The PLA’s level of dependency also made it impossible for the civilian leadership to wean the military away from commercial activity. The political leadership, ever cognizant of the central role of the PLA in the post-Deng transition, was understandably reluctant to separate the PLA from its businesses unless it could replace the lost funds with increased budgetary allocations.47 For nearly twenty years, therefore, the PLA was trapped in a catch-22: it could not fully professionalize without abandoning its economic enterprises, nor could it sustain the current professionalization process without them. Even Jiang Zemin allegedly said: “If we were given an additional RMB30 billion in a short time, there would be no need for the armed forces to engage in trade.”48 Since he did not have the extra funds, however, he publicly maintained the position that “the Army can play an active role in reducing the burdens on the state . . . when it engages in production.”49 As the PLA approached the twenty-first century, most observers seemed convinced that the civilian leadership and the PLA would be forced to maintain this uncomfortable arrangement for the foreseeable future. PLA Divestiture On July 22, 1998, at an enlarged session of the Central Military Commission, CMC chairman Jiang Zemin publicly called for the dissolution of the militarybusiness complex, asserting: To make concerted efforts to properly develop the army in an all-around manner, the central authorities decided: The army and the armed police [wu jing] should earnestly screen and rectify [qingli] various commercial companies operated by their subordinate units, and shall not carry out any commercial activities in the future. . . . Military and armed police units should resolutely implement the central authorities’ resolution and fulfill as soon as possible the requirements that their subordinate units shall not carry out any commercial activities in the future.50

This announcement, which was unprecedented in its public airing and the severity of the language used, was seconded in subsequent days by key members of the military and civilian leadership, including the de facto head of the PLA, Gen-

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eral Zhang Wannian, as well as Politburo Standing Committee member Hu Jintao, chief of the General Staff General Fu Quanyou, General Political Department director General Yu Yongbo, and General Armament Department director General Cao Gangchuan.51 While the divestiture was immediately touted by Western and Chinese media as a dramatic reversal of policy, it should instead be seen as the logical culmination of over six years of rectification and consolidation campaigns in the military enterprise system. Indeed, it was not even the first divestiture announcement. A decision to divest had actually been made over a year earlier in May 1997, though the major transfers were not set to begin until three years later, in May 2000. The reasons behind the acceleration of the divestiture timetable are not entirely known, but there are at least two competing stories. One rumor claims that divestiture was initiated by an angry Jiang Zemin upon receiving an account of the excessively corrupt activities of six PLA and People’s Armed Police companies, the most egregious of which involved oil smuggling that was bankrupting the country’s two geographical oil monopolies.52 A second version of the story actually begins with Zhu Rongji.53 According to cited U.S. intelligence sources, Zhu Rongji angered the PLA at the July 17, 1998, meeting of the anti-smuggling work conference by accusing the General Political Department’s Tiancheng Group of rampant corruption. In particular, he singled out a case in which the company had avoided paying RMB50 million in import and sales taxes after purchasing a shipment of partially processed iron ore from Australia. “Every time our customs officials tried to snare these bastards, some powerful military person appeared to speak on their behalf,” Zhu allegedly charged at the closed-door meeting. As anger and resentment spread through the PLA leadership, Jiang Zemin appeared at the conference four days later to lend his support to Zhu, confirming that “some units and individuals” in the PLA were involved in smuggling. According to this account, Jiang thereupon announced the divestiture order. Before acting, however, Jiang Zemin allegedly discussed the divestiture announcement with at least the two most senior officers in the PLA, Generals Zhang Wannian and Chi Haotian, but did not reportedly disseminate his decision to the rank and file. To support this account of events, military officers in Beijing pointed to the fact that the investigation and work team phase of the divestiture was not initiated until after the anti-smuggling meeting. By contrast, previously military rectification campaigns were initiated long before the announcement, so that the kick-off meeting could be closely followed by the heralding of preliminary results. In this case, however, the investigation and work team phase of the divestiture lasted well into the fall of 1998, with official press releases of results beginning to appear in late November/early December. Also, some of the PLA’s largest corporations claimed to have not been informed prior to the announcement. An official of PLA pharmaceuticals manufacturer Sanjiu (999), for instance, claimed two days after the anti-smuggling meeting that the company had

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not been informed “officially.”54 Third, some of the PLA’s most notorious and corrupt enterprises, such as the Redian (Hot Spot) disco in the compound of a Beijing military unit, were operating in the first few days after the announcement as if it were business as usual, and continued to do so throughout the summer.55 These accounts of the decision to divest the PLA of its enterprises raise a fundamental analytical question: how did the PLA and the CCP work their way out of what could only be described as the fiscal and political catch-22 of military commercialism? The answer would speak volumes about the current nature of the PLA as a military organization, and in particular its relationship to the civilian apparatus. If, in the end, civilian intervention was sufficient to extract the PLA from its businesses, then perhaps a “balance” or “bargaining” model of Chinese civil-military relations is overstated. If, however, the civilian leadership’s decision to extract the PLA from business met strong and possibly insurmountable military resistance, then perhaps the PLA’s institutional power vis-à-vis the civilian apparatus was greater than commonly thought. Since the announcement, two major schools of thought have emerged. There is compelling evidence in support of both perspectives, making any conclusion premature at this time, though some preliminary assessments can be found in the concluding section of this chapter. The first asserts that the decision to divest the PLA of its businesses reflects an attempt at reassertion of civilian authority over the PLA by Jiang Zemin. For evidence, some point to General Zhang Wannian’s use of the phrase “supreme leader” for Jiang Zemin as a new attempt by the party leader and his supporters to cultivate a Mao-like cult of power within the PLA.56 Advocates of this position also point to the fact that only a few top military leaders were informed of the announcement ahead of time, effectively presenting the PLA with an unpopular fait accompli. Some even questioned the logic of upsetting the PLA at a time of economic downturn and great potential social upheaval in China, concluding that Jiang felt he had to expend precious political capital to rein in the PLA no matter what the potential costs. The argument that the divestiture was the signal of a looming civil-military clash was further supported by the high-profile investigation of Hong Kong–based J&A Securities in late July 1998, whose main shareholders were the Guangzhou Military Region and the Ministry of State Security.57 Reportedly, the probe focused on corruption allegations against the chairman of the company, Zhang Guoqing, who was Shenzhen’s fomer chief securities regulator, and its president, Yang Jun.58 Within days, clients who had sought to invest with J&A because of its top-level connections to the military and security leadership in Beijing abandoned the company and moved their money elsewhere.59 Eventually, the true political nature of the probe was exposed, as the investigation was taken over by Politburo member and secretary of the Central Discipline Inspection Commission Wei Jianxing.60 It was later revealed that rumors of irregularities had been circulating for months, but investigations into the company’s accounts by the State Auditing Administration were often obstructed by Zhang Guoqing, who had powerful backers in the PLA. As a result, the move against

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J&A Securities seemed to signal that Jiang was willing to confront even the most protected military enterprise operations. A second school of thought on the civil-military implications of divestiture argues that the divestiture was largely supported by a corruption-weary military leadership, provided that they received a sufficiently generous compensation package. If true, the heart of the bargain between the PLA and the civilian leadership would center on financial compensation, in this case two separate financial deals. The first was the one-time transfer of the PLA’s divested enterprises. Reportedly, the financial burden for these enterprises, including their weighty social welfare costs and debts, was to be placed upon local and provincial governments rather than the central government, though no money was to change hands. This devolution of responsibility from the center to the localities was seen by many as yet another attempt by Zhu Rongji to restore some measure of macro-level economic authority in China by forcing the lower levels of the system to assume greater financial responsibility for the economic units in their area. The second negotiation focused on the annual budget increases to make up for lost enterprise revenues. Before the divestiture was completed, Hong Kong sources reported that the PLA would receive between RMB15 and 30 billion per year, with the exact time frame subject to negotiation.61 Two months later, the same author reported that the PLA would receive RMB50 billion as compensation for its lost enterprises.62 The Wall Street Journal quoted U.S. diplomats as saying the government offered about $1.2 billion but the military demanded $24 billion. Sources at the General Logistics Department (GLD) claimed in December 1998 that the PLA would receive between RMB4 and 5 billion in additional annual compensation, complementing continued double-digit budget increases.63 As the divestiture entered 1999, however, some serious bureaucratic and political conflicts began to surface. Overall, they can be divided into two categories: resource allocation and discipline. Each of these disputes has important implications for our assessment of the final success or failure of the divestiture process, as well as our view of Chinese civil-military relations. In terms of resource allocation, recent trends suggest that the PLA’s compensation, especially in the area of the official budget, is going to be far less than the military expected. In March 1999, Minister of Finance Xiang Huaicheng announced the military budget for the new fiscal year in his annual work report: In line with the CCP Central Committee request, central finances will provide appropriate subsidies to the army, armed police force, and political and law organs after their severance of ties with enterprises. In this connection, this year’s defense expense will be 104.65 billion yuan, up 12.7 percent from the previous year because of the provision of subsidies to the army and of regular increases.64

Outside observers immediately noticed the meagerness of the figure, both in relative and absolute terms. At a relative level, the 12.7 percent increase was not

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significantly higher than the 12 percent increase of the previous year, calling into question the notion that the fiscal priority of the PLA had been augmented. Even in absolute terms, the increase of RMB13.65 billion between 1998 and 1999 was not that much larger than the RMB10.43 billion increase between 1997 and 1998, and reportedly included only a RMB3 billion compensation for the loss of business income. Where was the additional RMB15–50 billion reported in the Hong Kong media? Why did the military receive only RMB3 billion extra when even the official China Daily newspaper pegged the estimated annual profits and taxes of the enterprises at RMB5 billion (US$602 million)?65 There are several plausible explanations for this budgeting outcome. The first, and most difficult to prove, is that the PLA was sufficiently compensated with offbudget funds that are not calculated into the official budget. Given the Byzantine nature of the Chinese budgeting process, we may never have a definite estimate of any off-budget compensation. The second explanation is that the PLA did not have as much leverage in the divestiture process as it or outsiders thought, allowing the civilian leadership to get the military out of business “on the cheap.” The third possibility, supported by a loud chorus of PLA grumbling and complaining, is that the military was “duped” by the civilian leadership, the latter of whom had implicitly promised a higher level of compensation. Indeed, there is some evidence to suggest that the RMB3 billion of compensation is based on the conservative profit estimate of RMB3.5 billion (on total revenue of RMB150 billion) that the PLA gave to Zhu Rongji before the divestiture announcement in July. This low estimate was very much in line with previous PLA estimates by the GLD, which consistently undervalued the profit of the military enterprise system in order to lessen the central tax burden of the commercial units. If the above story is true, then the major source of the PLA’s animus may be that it was hoisted by its own petard. At the time of writing, it is difficult to judge which of these three explanations is correct, but the fact remains that vocal elements within the PLA appear to be significantly dissatisfied with the compensation package, above and beyond the usual bureaucratic rapaciousness for ever greater resources. Apart from budgets, additional resource allocation disputes have arisen over distribution of enterprises in the post-divestiture environment. One of the most public examples of this is the dispute between the Beijing Military Region and the General Armaments Department (GAD) over the fate of the Huabei Hotel in central Beijing.66 Under the rules of the handover, military units at the bureaucratic rank of military region, which also covers the new GAD, are allowed to keep only one three-star hotel. Before divestiture, the Beijing Military Region controlled two three-star hotels, including the Huabei, which it agreed to hand over to the State Economic and Trade Commission (SETC) Receiving Office. Since the GAD is a new organization and therefore had no hotels, it reportedly coveted the Beijing command’s extra hotel. Thus far, however, the military region headquarters has declined to transfer the hotel to the General Armaments

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Department, igniting an unresolved bureaucratic struggle within the top military and civilian leaderships. The second major set of problems resulting from divestiture involved discipline issues, mainly corruption and profiteering. While the data in this area remains anecdotal, there is some evidence to suggest that the civilian leadership has aggressively pursued discipline investigations involving corruption in PLA enterprises, much to the chagrin of PLA officers who feel that the effort is gratuitous and harmful to the public reputation of the military.67 Susan Lawrence, of the Far Eastern Economic Review, reported from well-placed Chinese sources that the SETC Receiving Office has a list of twenty-three company executives at the rank of majorgeneral or above who have fled the country since the divestiture was announced.68 Seven of these officers are from the Guangzhou Military Region, which handed over more than 300 enterprises, and another five are from PLA headquarters. Among the latter is Lu Bin, former head of the General Political Department’s Tiancheng Group, who was arrested overseas and extradited in January 2000. Other arrestees include a senior colonel who was the head of one of the PLA’s top hotels, the Huatian, which is located in Changsha. As the various receiving offices continue to process the assets and books of some of the shadier PLA enterprises, one can only expect the numbers of disciplinary investigations to increase. In conclusion, the disputes between the military and the civilian leadership outlined above, as well as within the military itself, highlight the enormous difficulties inherent in the effort to decommercialize the PLA. The appearance of alleged divisions, however, does not automatically lead to the conclusion that the decision to divest was foisted upon the PLA, since the latter could have agreed with the general thrust of the campaign but felt dissatisfied with the results. Instead, the current evidence suggests that both the PLA and political leaderships agreed in principle with the goals of divestiture, but the former now feels slighted by the meager compensation and aggressiveness of the anti-corruption campaigns within its ranks. Given that divestiture is still a work in progress, the long-term implications of these developments for Chinese civil-military relations are not entirely clear at the current moment. They do, however, highlight the extent to which the political and military leaderships play a complex and nuanced game in their policy interactions with one another. On the one hand, the relatively weak political leadership could not simply order the PLA out of business without a series of side-payments. On the other hand, the civilian leadership seems willing to incur the costs of not fully meeting the compensatory demands of the military, suggesting a future course of either increasing civil-military confrontation or increasing civilian control of the military. Act Three: Post-Commercial PLA Economics— The “Digital Triangle” The Chinese military is in the midst of a C4I (Command, Control, Communications, Computers, and Intelligence) revolution, characterized by the wholesale shift

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to digital, secure communications via fiber-optic cable, satellite, microwave, and encrypted high-frequency radio. The pace and depth of these advances cannot be explained by traditional Chinese defense-industrial dynamics, but instead spring from a paradigm shift known as the “digital triangle,” which resembles a classic techno-nationalist strategy, with high-level bureaucratic coordination and significant state funding. The three vertices of the “digital triangle” are (1) China’s booming commercial information technology companies, (2) the state R&D institute and funding infrastructure, and (3) the military. The linkages between these three vertices are long-standing, as telecommunications and information technology in China were originally under military auspices, and the commercial relationships with state and military research institutes remain important. Vertice One: Most of the major Chinese IT and electronics companies are genuinely commercial in orientation, seeking to capture domestic and eventually international market share. If we compare these firms with traditional defense industries, the new IT companies carry none of the oft-cited structural burdens, enjoying (1) new facilities in dynamic locales, (2) a lean, high-tech work force motivated by marketbased incentives and stock options, and (3) infusions of near state-of-the-art foreign technology, thanks to the irresistible siren song of China’s huge IT market, which encourages foreign companies to transfer cutting-edge technology for market access. Vertice Two: The strong foundation under this industry, however, is the state research institute and R&D funding system. For defense-related work, these units include numbered research institutes under the Ministry of Information Industry, the PLA General Staff Department, and other defense-industrial entities, funded with money from the Ministry of Science and Technology’s 863 Program. Vertice Three: Through this system, the military supports the civilianization of military technical research, becoming an R&D partner and privileged consumer of products. This synergy is further facilitated by two critical technology trends: (1) the growing use of COTS (commercial-off-the-shelf) technology, such as computer network switches and routers for military communications, which allows the PLA to directly benefit from the globally competitive output of China’s commercial IT companies; and (2) the rise of China as a locus for global fabless integrated circuit production, which potentially permits the PLA access to the advanced microelectronics that lie at the heart of modern military sensors and weapons systems. Of these two trends, COTS technology, particularly in telecommunications equipment, has provided the greatest early dividends to the PLA, as evidenced by the expansion of its fiber-optic computer networks. Microelectronics, by contrast, could be slower in advancement, since the component designs are generally more military-specific, and therefore cannot directly benefit from global COTS technology developments. At the same time, however, the increasing sophistication of China’s commercial semiconductor fabrication facilities (“fabs”) provide the base production capacity necessary for the military to implement design ideas in a secure, domestic environment. For the PLA, the “digital triangle” offers great gains in some crucial informa-

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tion technology areas. However, the operational impact of these gains is uncertain. The introduction of secure communications, for instance, has likely improved communications and operational security, but the impact of these systems on actual war-fighting performance cannot be known with absolute certainty prior to conflict. Conclusion In a sense, divestiture in 1998 brought PLA economics full circle. The pattern of the campaign, ranging from the transfers of its high-profile commercial enterprises to the retention of its lower-level farms and industrial units, suggested that the military has essentially returned to the pre-1978 “self-sustaining” economy. Thus, the widespread conclusion that the PLA was “banned” from business is far too simplistic. The military continues to operate a wide variety of small-scale enterprises and agricultural units, with the goal of supplementing the incomes and standards of living for active-duty personnel and their dependents at the unit level. No longer, however, will profit and international trade be critical features of the system. Moreover, the PLA’s leadership hopes that the divestiture of profitable companies will greatly reduce the incidence of corruption and profiteering in its ranks, and thereby refocus the PLA on its important professionalization tasks. Yet it is probably still too soon to judge the long-term impact of this divestiture on the PLA. The years following the divestiture have been marked by repeated “mop-up” campaigns on the part of the central leadership and significant resistance and footdragging on the part of local government and military officials, repeating the pattern of earlier rectifications. Nonetheless, it is important not to downplay the significance of what occurred. The military-business complex of the 1980s, with its freewheeling commerce, is gone, likely forever. More important, the PLA is now free to pursue professionalization and modernization full-time. It is, therefore, no surprise that the military has made important gains since 1999 in training, exercises, education, and equipment modernization. The absence of competing economic priorities, as well as the ability to leverage new economic resources through the “digital triangle,” all point to a brighter future for the Chinese military, and should therefore be of concern to analysts and leaders in Taipei, Washington, and other capitals that could face a modern PLA on the battlefield. Notes 1. This discussion of premodern and modern logistics is drawn from Martin van Creveld, Supplying War: Logistics from Wallenstein to Patton (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1977); and John A. Lynn, ed., Feeding Mars: Logistics in Western Warfare from the Middle Ages to the Present (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1993). 2. See Richard Preston, Alex Roland, and Sydney Wise, Men in Arms: A History of Warfare and Its Interrelationships with Western Society (Fort Worth, TX: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston, 1991), p. 16.

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3. The relationship between civilian allocation of defense budget funds and civilian control of the military is discussed in Samuel Huntington, The Soldier and the State: The Theory and Politics of Civil-Military Relations (Cambridge, MA: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1957), p. 15. For a summary of Weber’s views on the subject, see Stanislav Andreski, Military Organization and Society (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1968), pp. 85–88. 4. Information on the Byzantine themata can be found in John Haldon, State, Army, and Society in Byzantium: Approaches to Military, Social and Administrative History, 6th– 12th Centuries (Hampshire, England: Variorum, 1995). For information about the Russian military settlements, see John L.H. Keep, Soldiers of the Tsar: Army and Society in Russia, 1462–1874 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1985), pp. 275–295; Richard Pipes, “The Russian Military Colonies, 1810–31,” Journal of Modern History 22 (1950): 205–219; and Alan D. Ferguson, “The Russian Military Settlements, 1825–66,” in Essays in Russian History: A Collection Dedicated to G. Vernadsky, ed. Alan D. Ferguson and Alfred Levin (Hamden, CT: Archon Books, 1964), pp. 109–28. For analysis of Elizabethan privateering, see Kenneth Andrews, “Elizabethan Privateering: The Harte Lecture 1985,” in Raleigh in Exeter 1985: Privateering and Colonization in the Reign of Elizabeth I, Exeter Studies in History 10, ed. Joyce Youings (Exeter, England: University of Exeter, 1985), pp. 5–6; and Kenneth Andrews, Elizabethan Privateering: English Privateering During the Spanish Civil War, 1585–1603 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1964), p. 10. 5. Ch’i Ch’ing-hsiao, The Military Establishment of the Yuan Dynasty (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1978), pp. 3–11. 6. Ibid., p. 7. 7. For more on Lord Shang’s views on agriculture and war, see The Book of Lord Shang, translated by J.J.L. Duyvendak (London: Arthur Probsthain, 1928); and “Lord Shang and Han Fei Tzu” in History of Chinese Political Thought, ed. Hsiao Kung-ch’üan (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1979), pp. 368–424. 8. The following discussion of Qin Dynasty military economics is taken from Cao Zhiying, “Cong junshi jingji de jiaodu kan Qin Wang de xing” (The rise and fall of the Qin Dynasty: A military economic review), Junshi jingji yanjiu (Military economic studies) 4 (April 1996): 75–80. 9. This discussion of the tuntian system during the Ming is drawn largely from Fu Wanlu, “Mingdai juntun zhidu yange” (Evolution of garrison troops engaging in agricultural production in the Ming Dynasty), Junshi jingji yanjiu 4 (April 1996): 87–88; and “Mingchao de junshi jingji” (Ming Dynasty military economics), in Zhongguo junshi jingjishi (Chinese military economic history) (Beijing: Jiefangjun chubanshe, 1991), pp. 312–377. 10. Although he clearly labels as “simplistic” the notion that PLA enterprises are simply a continuation of traditional Chinese military organization, Thomas Bickford suggests that the imperial military economics model served as sources of ideas for the CCP leadership, which they consciously drew upon and adapted to the needs of the Red Army in the guerrilla period. See Thomas Bickford, “March of the Entrepreneurs: Military-Owned Enterprises and the Marketization of the Chinese Economy” (paper presented at the annual meeting of the Association for Asian Studies, Washington, DC, March 1998), p. 4. 11. See David Bernard Bobrow, “The Political and Economic Role of the Military in the Chinese Communist Movement, 1927–1959” (Ph.D. dissertation, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 1962), vol. 1. 12. Ibid., vol. 2. 13. Peter Williams Donovan, “The Red Army in Kiangsi, 1931–34” (unpublished manuscript), p. 38. 14. Jonathan Adelman, The Revolutionary Armies: The Historical Development of the Soviet and Chinese People’s Liberation Armies (Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1980), pp. 168–169.

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15. Jonathan Pollack, “Structure and Process in the Chinese Military System,” in Bureaucratic and Elite Decision-Making in China, ed. David Lampton and Kenneth Lieberthal (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991), p. 154. 16. Barry Naughton, “The Third Front: Defense Industrialization in the Chinese Interior,” China Quarterly, no. 115 (September 1988): 351–86. 17. Zhou Changqing, “Yi ge juda de jingji wutai” (A giant economic stage), People’s Daily, June 8, 1987, p. 3. Zhou is the deputy director of the Third Front Office of the State Council. 18. As an example of the economic stagnation of the Maoist period, it is estimated that wages in China were frozen for nearly twenty years from 1958 to 1978. 19. See Deng Xiaoping, “Streamline the Army to Increase its Combat Effectiveness (March 12, 1980),” in Deng Xiaoping wenxuan (Selected works of Deng Xiaoping) (Beijing: Renmin chubanshe, 1983). 20. Interview between the author and a knowledgeable PLA official, February 1997. 21. Huang Yasheng, Inflation and Investment Controls in China: The Political Economy of Central-Local Relations During the Reform Era (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996); Christine Wong, Central-Local Relations in an Era of Fiscal Decline: The Paradox of Fiscal Decentralization in Post-Mao China (Santa Cruz, CA: Group for International and Comparative Economic Studies, Department of Economics, University of California, Santa Cruz, 1990); and Jia Hao and Lin Zhimin, eds., Changing Central-Local Relations in China: Reform and State Capacity (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1994). 22. The Hong Kong press has published reports in which Jiang Zemin laments the situation, claiming that if he had an additional US$5 billion, he would give it to the PLA in exchange for a clean break from the economy. 23. For example, see Liu Huinian and Xu Jingyao, “PLA Releases Airfields, Ports for Civilian Use,” Xinhua, February 17, 1985. 24. Tai Ming Cheung, “The Chinese Army’s New Marching Orders: Winning on the Economic Battlefield,” in Mixed Motives, Uncertain Outcomes: Defense Conversion in China, ed. Jörn Brommelhörster and John Frankenstein (London: Lynne Rienner, 1997), pp. 181–204. 25. See Hao Si, “The Idea of Implementing the Practice of ‘One Army, Two Systems’ in Building China’s National Defense,” Zhongguo Tongxun She, August 2, 1988. The idea of “one army, two systems” is generally attributed to Chen Fang. 26. According to Baum: “there had been at least 111 serious breaches of military discipline by PLA officers at or above the level of company commander. In some cases, divisional and regimental commanders had refused to bring their troops into the city; in other cases, unit commanders had balked at carrying out orders to discharge their weapons against civilians. In addition, some 1,400 ordinary soldiers had reportedly ‘shed their weapons and run away’ during the crackdown.” As a result, a thorough shake-up of the military command structure was eventually carried out, followed by the court martial or imprisonment of a few high-ranking officers and transfers of many others, including six of China’s seven regional military commanders and five regional political commissars. In total, 1,500–3,000 officers were investigated for possible breaches of discipline during the martial law period. See Richard D. Baum, Burying Mao: Chinese Politics in the Age of Deng Xiaoping (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1994), pp. 304–306. 27. Zhongguo renmin jiefangjun dashidian [hereafter Dashidian] (Encyclopedia of the People’s Liberation Army) (Tianjin: Tianjin renmin chubanshe, 1992), p. 2037. 28. It is important to note that military companies (junban gongsi) are a subset of military enterprises (jundui qiye). From accounts of the clean-up, it appears that most of these companies were “briefcase companies” (pibao gongsi), some of which existed only on business cards. These can be directly contrasted with military factories (jundui gongchang) or farms, which possess significant tangible assets. Interview with knowledgeable PLA official, February 1997.

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29. “Army Farms Achieve Summer Grain Bumper Harvest,” Xinhua, July 13, 1990. This move did not affect the PLA’s industrial enterprises, most of which were run directly by the General Logistics Department (GLD). 30. “Military Forum States That Developing Agricultural and Sideline Production Is a Long-Term Policy of the Army,” PLA Daily, April 13, 1990. 31. For an excellent account of this episode, see Baum, Burying Mao, pp. 341–368. 32. See Xinhua, March 31, 1992; and South China Morning Post, April 1, 1992. 33. Hsin wan pao (The New Evening Post), June 11, 1992. 34. “Civilian Production Bolsters Budget,” PLA Daily, July 23, 1992. 35. Willy Wo-Lap Lam, “Beijing Said to Crack Down on Army, Police Corruption,” South China Morning Post, September 10, 1993, p. 8; “Military Commission Takes LowKey Approach to Income Disparities Between Servicemen and Civilians to Avoid Provoking Discontent,” Ming pao, July 16, 1993, p. 10; and Li Chu, “Chi Haotian Personally Handles Smuggling Cases in the Military,” Zheng ming, September 1, 1993, pp. 20–21. 36. “Lieutenant Commander He Yunchuan Arrested for Accepting Bribes Amounting to 370,000 Yuan,” Ming pao, September 6, 1991, p. 9. 37. John Kohut, “Military License Plate Change Under Way,” South China Morning Post, June 24, 1993, p. 6. 38. Lin Chung-hsing, “Regularization of the Military Legislative System: Legal Bureau of Central Military Commission Starts Functioning,” Junshi jingji yanjiu (Military Econmics Research) (January 1993): 34–36; and Christian Virant, “Corruption in the PLA,” Eastern Express, May 1, 1996, p. 1. 39. Renmin ribao (People’s Daily), December 10, 1993, p. 3. 40. Ibid. 41. Jiang’s comments can be found in Guo Jia, Luo Yuwen, and Zhang Dongbo, “Jiang Zemin Addresses PLA Production Activities,” Xinhua, November 8, 1993. 42. Interview between the author and a knowledgeable PLA official, February 1997. 43. Meng Minlin, “The Army Has Achieved Significant Results in Reforming and Rectifying its Production and Business,” PLA Daily, February 10, 1995, p. 1. 44. Zhang Dongbo, “All-Army Auditing Brings About 1 Billion Yuan in Economic Benefits,” Xinhua, December 16, 1995. 45. This is not to say that logistics officers are less susceptible to corruption than combat commanders. The leadership was probably prioritizing, knowing that corruption could not be stamped out altogether until the PLA was removed from the economy entirely but wanting to have a minimal impact on the operational effectiveness of line units. 46. Interview between the author and a knowledgeable PLA official, February 1998. 47. See note 22 for a more detailed explanation. 48. “Central Military Commission Holds an Enlarged Meeting Before the Spring Festival to Discuss the Key Issues of Unity and Anti-Corruption in the Army,” Ming pao, February 3, 1993. 49. Guo Jia et al., “Jiang Zemin Addresses PLA Production Activities,” p. 35. 50. Wu Hengquan, Liu Zhenying, and Wang Jinfu, “Hu Jintao Speaks on Banning PLA Businesses,” Xinhua, July 28, 1998. 51. Ibid.; “Fu Quanyou on Supporting Jiang’s Anti-Smuggling Drive,” Xinhua, July 23, 1998; “Yu Yongbo Calls on Army to Cease Business Operations,” Xinhua, July 26, 1998; “General Armament Department to Fight Smuggling,” Xinhua, July 26, 1998. 52. Tai Ming Cheung, personal communication with the author, November 12, 1998. 53. This account is taken from Susan Lawrence’s excellent article “Bitter Harvest,” Far Eastern Economic Review (April 29, 1999): 22–26. 54. Mark O’Neill, “Beijing Spikes Business Guns of PLA Power,” South China Morning Post, July 24, 1998. 55. Author’s personal observations in Beijing, July 1998.

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56. Sun Maoqing and Jia Chaoquan, “Zhang Wannian Praises Jiang’s Leadership,” Xinhua, September 3, 1998. 57. O’Neill, “Beijing Spikes Business Guns of PLA Power.” See also Christine Chan, “Markets Fall as Regulators Grill J&A Chiefs,” South China Morning Post, July 15, 1998. 58. Christine Chan, “More Staff Quizzed at J&A,” South China Morning Post, July 16, 1998. 59. Christine Chan, “Nervous J&A Clients Bail Out,” South China Morning Post, July 17, 1998. 60. Foo Choy Peng, “J&A Probe Becomes Political,” South China Morning Post, July 18, 1998. 61. Willy Lo-Lap Lam, “PLA to Get HK28 Billion for Businesses,” South China Morning Post, August 3, 1998. 62. The RMB15 billion number comes from Kuang Tung-chou, “Premier Promises to Increase Military Funding to Make Up for ‘Losses’ After Armed Forces Closes Down All Its Businesses,” Sing tao jih pao, July 24, 1998, p. A5. For the RMB30 billion figure, see Willy Wo-Lap Lam, “PLA Chief Accepts HK47 Billion Payout,” South China Morning Post, October 9, 1998. 63. The author would like to thank Dennis Blasko for this information. 64. PRC finance minister Xiang Huaicheng, “Report on the Execution of the Central and Local Budgets for 1998 and on the Draft Central and Local Budgets for 1999,” Xinhua, March 18, 1999. 65. “Separation of Army from Business Done,” China Daily, March 21, 1999, p. 1. 66. Lawrence, “Bitter Harvest,” 24. 67. Ibid. 68. Ibid.

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12 The Challenge of Conscription in an Era of Social Change Sijin Cheng

The revision of the Military Service Law (Bingyi fa), passed by the Standing Committee of the National People’s Congress (NPC) on December 29, 1998, represented the third change in the conscription system of the People’s Liberation Army (PLA). This revision represented the personnel component of the sweeping reform taking place in the PLA, a vital link in the military’s quest for professionalization and modernization. More specifically, it was designed to address the problems arising from the old conscription system that was based on the Military Service Law passed in 1984. The military was feeling the effects of market reforms and the overall loosening of state control on society—movements that both enabled it to finally begin its long-awaited modernization efforts and lessened its appeal to an increasingly open society where citizens were presented with more opportunities than ever before. Revisions to the conscription system, which include shifting the emphasis away from conscripts to an equal reliance on conscripts and noncommissioned officers (NCOs), creating a system of incentives to attract better-educated youth to join the military, and shortening the service term, demonstrate the military’s awareness that it needs to work with the market forces that are replacing state command in determining people’s decisions. Despite the new measures, the basic structure of the conscription process remains essentially unchanged, relying on strict quotas based on the residence system that has been in place since 1949. The challenges to the new conscription system, as a result, reveal many flaws in the new system that are related to the fundamental problems of China’s market reform. Until the government abolishes differential policies toward cities and rural areas, and provides a better social welfare system and universal preliminary education, especially to rural children, the military will find itself constrained by forces beyond its control. This study draws heavily on People’s Armed Forces Department (PAFD) offi235

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cial reports and directives from cities and villages, in addition to official media and the few but insightful scholarly studies of the subject. The military media, while for the most part touting the ingenuity of the new conscription policies, occasionally also reports on problems with the new policy. The point needs to be emphasized, however, that the conscription system is still undergoing frequent updates and experiments. Moreover, since the military has undertaken multiple reforms in its organization and force structure, the interaction of these reforms may have surprising consequences unforeseeable by focusing on one element alone. As reforms begin to make a lasting impact on the makeup and competence of the PLA, further research needs to be done to assess the impact of conscription reform on the preparedness and the level of training of the troops. Motivations for Reform Changes in the PLA’s conscription policies in the past tended to follow social and political upheavals that transformed civil-military relations. In 1955, as the new People’s Republic recovered from the Korean War and passed its first Military Service Law, it sought to institutionalize the recruitment of soldiers—a task that became necessary as the former rebels now had to construct a standing army. As the military played an increasingly radical role in Mao’s later years, it made political radicalism the sole criterion for recruiting and evaluating troops. When the PLA became entangled in the war against Vietnam in 1979, its credentials badly damaged and its failings laid bare for the world to see, Deng Xiaoping realized that the military had suffered from a severe lack of training. The Military Service Law passed in 1984 sought to address these issues by incorporating volunteers or conscripts who have fulfilled their service obligation and choose to remain in the military. Volunteers could choose to stay on for another eight to twelve years before retiring. The military also shared the implicit understanding with Deng that military modernization must wait in the wings while the Chinese economy lurched ahead; the PLA thus underwent perhaps the most drastic force reduction in history and watched in angst as its weaponry became obsolete. What a difference a decade makes. By the mid-1990s, changes in China’s security environment, the fast, sustained growth of the economy, and the increasingly apparent flaws of the old system finally compelled the Chinese leadership to institute new recruiting policies as part of the comprehensive reform of the military. The motivations were multifold, but they converged on the need to change the composition of the troops to better prepare them for the conflicts of the future. The Context of Military Modernization Conflicts in the 1990s, fought (and won) primarily by the United States, shocked the PLA and the Chinese leadership in two different ways. They rendered the PLA’s advantages in manpower, maneuvers, and tenacity, so proudly upheld and validated

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through bloody wars of attrition, completely useless in one bold stroke. The PLA came to realize that the wars of the future would be fought and won before massive mobilization could take place, from a distance, and with impunity on the side with precision strike capabilities, high-technology communication and control systems, and joint combat capabilities. The Chinese military, not surprisingly, found itself far behind in all these areas. Suddenly, great endurance and sacrifice, political awareness, and affinity to the masses became irrelevant to the limited, often overseas conflicts of the post–Cold War era. The quintessential Chinese foot soldier, the kid from a peasant family with at most a middle school education, could no longer bring victory in such wars. As the Chinese military began to realize the importance of advanced weaponry and information technology, it also awoke to the need for a new enlisted force to wield those weapons and participate in technologically sophisticated battles. These conflicts also forced China to reevaluate its security environment. Multipolarization, the preferred replacement of the bipolar world order of the Cold War, did not materialize as China had hoped. Instead, an unrivaled United States, increasingly interventionist in the eyes of Chinese leaders, adopted a new, humanitarian justification for its involvement in a myriad of conflicts. The rise of pro-independence forces in Taiwan, coupled with a strong showing of American deterrence during the Taiwan Strait crisis of 1996, elevated the prospects of a conflict involving both China and the United States. China was also concerned with the development and potential extension of the National Missile Defense system to Taiwan, which would neutralize its trump card of nuclear deterrence in the event of a Taiwan Strait conflict. In short, China found itself much less secure in the 1990s than in the 1980s, challenged on multiple fronts, and lagging hopelessly behind in crucial aspects of military performance. Flaws of the Old System The failings of the PLA were certainly highlighted by the advent of a new kind of conflict and a more threatening security environment for China, but they also exposed a widening gap between the PLA’s criteria for selecting enlisted personnel and the receptiveness of Chinese society in fulfilling these needs. Economic reforms, which by 1998 had quadrupled China’s economy, had unleashed powerful market forces and spawned social and demographic trends that diminished the appeal of life in the military. By 1998, of the 150,000 youth qualified for conscription in Guangdong Province, more than 10,000 attempted to disqualify themselves on the basis of myopia.1 Joining the military had become so undesirable in affluent parts of the country that in the early 1990s, a candidate for conscription in Ningbo, Zhejiang Province, fabricated a criminal record of murder and drug use, announcing that he would rather be in jail for four years than in the military for three.2 The tried and true incentive structure of the old conscription system, counting heavily on awarding political “status” to conscripts and their families and also on a comparatively attractive pay scale for officers, failed miserably in the face of

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growing prosperity and the breakdown of the command economy. In a poll conducted prior to 2001 in the more affluent cities on the east coast, joining the military was ranked twelfth out of the total twenty-six career choices in the fourteento eighteen-year-old age group, falling sharply to nineteenth place in the nineteento thirty-five-year-old group.3 The political appeal of having a son in the military dissipated as China’s society became depoliticized. Although officers were paid 20 to 30 percent more than their civilian counterparts until the 1970s, the stagnant pay scale meant that their salaries grew slowly in the 1980s and 1990s.4 As Professor Zhang Zhaozhong of the National Defense University revealed, his salary in 1999 was 1,600 yuan a month (roughly US$200). A senior colonel, therefore, who had served in the military for thirty years and received a special bonus from the government for his work, made in 1999 about half of what a fresh graduate of Beijing University did. Moreover, as the PLA felt the squeeze of its slashed budget in the 1980s and went through several rounds of demobilization, the previous benefits of job security and post-service placement evaporated. Yet the cities were not the only place where pervasive conscription evasion occurred. In rural villages, traditionally reliable sources of vast manpower, young men and women were migrating in large numbers to seek better opportunities in the cities, leaving behind the old and the feeble, and returning only for the harvest. They left for the cities not only because tilling the land did not offer nearly as much return as laying bricks in a large city, but also because the market reforms that started in 1978 distinctly favored coastal cities, showering incentives on cities to become engines of growth. Rural areas, in contrast, saw social security and healthcare cuts, took on the additional costs of funding local governments, and continued to subsidize cities through the arbitrary pricing of agricultural goods. By the mid-1990s, the first generation born under the one-child policy came of military age, and the effect was drastic. The pool of willing conscripts dwindled even further. In certain cities like Beijing and Hangzhou, over 80 percent of potential candidates were only children, and the number of one-child families was increasing by about 10 percent each year.5 Parents were much more reluctant to send their only child away for military service for three or four years. In general, these children tend to be better educated, but their ability to withstand hardship is questionable. A 2001 report by a Beijing Garrison Command division stated that of all the new only-child conscripts entering the force that year, 76 percent had never done their own laundry.6 Current officers in the military, who fondly recall their own days of grueling drills in new conscript training camps, have a difficult time empathizing with the delicate physiques and egos of new conscripts. The higher education reform that accelerated in the late 1990s further pulled youth away from the military. As colleges swelled in number and size, admission rates grew at a steady speed, reaching 60 percent in Zhejiang Province and in Beijing in 2001.7 The number of college graduates also increased, from 1.15 million in 2001 to 2.12 million in 2003, a rise of 84.3 percent.8 Since the Military Service Law allowed college graduates to delay entering the military and capped the conscription age at twenty-two (often twenty in actual practice), it effectively

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excluded college students from its pool of candidates. The possibility of students enrolled in colleges actually choosing to enter the military was negligible, as the vast majority of them focused on finding a good job, going abroad to study, or, at the very least, applying to graduate school to obtain an urban residence card. Ten years after the 1984 Military Service Law was adopted, widespread conscription evasion, a result of these complex social and economic changes that multiplied people’s career choices, coupled with the practical difficulty of tracking down candidates in an increasingly mobile society, was taking a toll on the effectiveness of the military as a whole. Zhang Yi points out that the vast majority of the enlisted force in the PLA has only received a middle school education, with high school graduates making up less than 20 percent of the force.9 This disappointing figure is actually worse in real terms; many conscripts have not in fact received the level of education they claim, because the conscription system, riddled with human error and corruption, allowed widespread record falsification to take place.10 Enlisted members and officers alike cannot speak foreign languages, write computer programs, or use newly adopted automated command systems.11 The dilemma for the PLA, indeed, was that not only were most conscripts undereducated for the needs of an increasingly modern military, they were also increasingly difficult to find. The conscription process is an intensive period of candidate identification, registration, medical checkups, background screening, and selection, all taking place from mid-October to the end of December. Moreover, it requires close collaboration among the local People’s Armed Forces Department, the Public Security Bureau, and representatives from the military. Specific numbers are assigned down to the neighborhood and village level, with detailed quotas for rural and nonrural residents as well as for education level. The rigid quota system adopted in 1990 prescribed that 73.5 percent of the conscripts nationally must be drawn from the rural population, and the remaining 26.5 percent from the urban population, a figure based on China’s overall population distribution, with residence status based solely on residence cards received at birth.12 Since rural youth are increasingly mobile, and because the Regulations on Conscription Work require that candidates be conscripted and counted at their original place of residence, the task for the local governments in rural areas was daunting indeed. They had to account for four-fifths of the overall personnel needs of the military even though cities now housed both the urban population and an immense migrant rural labor force. The spread of urbanization and conversion of villages into townships put the quota out of date, yet the political task had to be done. The result, predictably, was a fraud-laden system in which all records, from age to education level to health, were tampered with at will. New Regulations on Military Service and Conscription The Military Service Law passed in 1998 initiated a multifaceted reform designed to accommodate these societal changes and satisfy the personnel needs of China’s

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modernizing defense posture. To gradually improve the military competence of its enlisted force, the PLA started to recruit aggressively in colleges, and proclaimed that the military would rely equally on NCOs and conscripted soldiers, a shift away from the historical reliance on conscripts. With the expansion of the noncommissioned officer corps, whose extended term of service can run up to thirty years, the PLA hopes to encourage enlisted personnel to consider the military as a lifelong career. To restore the appeal of military service, the PLA has approved additional incentives, especially for college students, and has also set standards for the compensation provided to families of those who join the military. The reality of an aging populace that is increasingly supported by a generation of only children has prompted the reduction of the service term to two years for all forces. The reform effort has gone a long way toward accomplishing some of its goals. The most perceptible change has occurred on campuses designated for pilot programs. Students swarm to recruiting booths, intrigued by what they could get in return for two years of service: possible exemption from exams before they join, the guarantee of returning and resuming their studies after service, possible transfer to better majors and an upgrade from community colleges to four-year colleges, possible exemption from graduate school admission exams, reimbursement of tuition and fees, partial or complete tuition waivers for award recipients, higher compensation to their families, and better placement should they decide not to resume their studies.13 The harsh reality of limited employment opportunities made military service more appealing for college students with less marketable skills. The Ministry of Education reported that in 2001, only 70 percent of the 1.15 million graduates were placed by June, a rate that further declined to 64.7 percent in 2002 for the 1.45 million graduates that year, and to 50 percent for the 2.12 million graduates in 2003.14 These measures, which work in tandem with the decision to expand the ranks of NCOs, are a compromise between complete professionalization of the military, which is too costly to institute right away, and continuation of traditional conscription. As NCOs now account for half of enlisted personnel (and over 60 percent in certain technical units), and can be recruited directly from the civilian population, the need for new conscripts may decrease over time. A fair and comprehensive assessment of the new conscription system, in other words, must take into account NCO reforms and the time it will take for the newly adopted measures to have their full effect. Challenges to the New Law Lingering Problems While new conscription policies marketed the military as a fine career choice, they failed to address some of the problems plaguing the old conscription practices; in fact, in some cases they have exacerbated certain pre-existing issues. The military, after all, cannot account for factors beyond its control. The forces unleashed by

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market reforms, often unaccompanied by concomitant institutional and political reforms, constrain the extent to which the military can appeal to society. Quotas. The military continues to rely on a system of specific quotas for new conscripts, a hierarchy of figures determined by the demographic makeup of the national and local population as well as its need for better-educated conscripts. In 2002, the quota of recruiting 26.5 percent conscripts from urban areas and 73.5 percent from rural areas was changed to 33.2 percent and 66.8 percent respectively to recognize the increasing rate of urbanization in China. The use of these quotas, while perhaps necessary for assigning tasks, simply complicates the problem. The burden placed on local governments is exceptionally high, and the shortfall of one or two slots, or a few rejections by the military, can jeopardize the political future of the local officials involved. With the stakes so high, it is not surprising that when the best intentions cannot make up for the real difficulties in meeting the military’s demand, even the most scrupulous officials or the harshest punishments cannot prevent fraud and record tampering. It should be noted that in “areas with real difficulties,” the minimum education level for conscripts can be lowered to elementary school for rural youth and middle school for urban youth, but the exemption is allowed for only a tiny percentage of total conscripts; for example, it is 5 percent in Youyan County in Liaoning Province.15 The rural-urban divide. The widening income and prosperity gap between rural and urban areas, on the other hand, continues to draw millions of rural youth into cities and away from the military. Although many of them might be discouraged by the insecurity of jobs in the cities and return home to enter the military, in more affluent villages or those closer to booming cities, the meager allowance for conscripts is far less attractive. What used to appeal to rural youth was the upward mobility offered by the military. However, since the new Military Service Law specifies that rural conscripts must return to their home villages and that lowerranking NCOs do not enjoy the resettlement services offered to demobilized officers, joining the military carries an opportunity cost too high for rural families already stretched to their limits. In contrast, urban youth, the majority of whom will enter colleges, receive the bulk of preferential treatments under the new law—often in the form of educational benefits. The overall percentage of conscripts recruited from colleges, however, remains relatively small. Many coastal cities with more developed economies have resorted to raising compensation levels to families at the discretion of local governments.16 The amount the local government can afford to offer to each conscript, of course, depends on the prosperity of the locale. In comparison to rural areas, cities tend to have much greater funds at their disposal. The result is a gap in resources available for attracting conscripts, a worrisome factor in the context of the already inequitable distribution of wealth in Chinese society. Rising unemployment levels, on the other hand, have forced the PLA to reform its demobilization resettlement policy even for urban residents. It can no longer order local workplaces to hire military personnel, in part because private enterprises,

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more impervious to state demands, are becoming dominant in the cities. Now conscripts leaving the military are encouraged to apply for jobs on their own, and cash compensation has in some cases replaced job offers.17 This change, of course, puts conscripts in a difficult position. Although many may have acquired useful skills in the military, the majority of the enlisted have not made themselves more marketable over the span of two years. What they find, rather, is that they are now entering an increasingly crowded workplace teeming with growing numbers of college graduates, and that their chances of getting a job are increasingly slim. An aging population and the one-child policy. The broad shifts taking place in China’s population, moreover, are working against the PLA. The total number of males of military age in a province in eastern China18 has dwindled from 2 million in 1990 to less than 1 million in 2001, a decrease of over 70 percent.19 The trend is continuing: each year there are 80,000 fewer males in this particular province. This does not bode well for conscription over the long term. Since families serve as the primary social safety net in the absence of a comprehensive social security system, the potential loss of two years of work is of grave concern. This, of course, is assuming that China remains at peace. In the case of war, the risk of losing an only child (and the only caregiver in a family) may be too much, even though a war could also spur nationalism and voluntary enlistment. The reduction of the term of service to two years, while allaying the concern of some parents that the original three to four years was too long and disruptive, in fact exacerbates the pressure on conscription each year. Since conscripts are predominantly male, the combined result of the one-child policy and the shorter term of service is an increase of over 60 percent in male conscription quotas each year.20 The paradox is evident: to make the service more palatable to a smaller group of candidates, the term of service had to be shortened; the shortened term, on the other hand, created a requirement for a greater number of conscripts to be drawn each year from an ever-shrinking pool. Is there any way out of this conundrum? New Challenges to the System One can certainly argue that the reform, while failing to address some of the broader issues that afflicted the old system, should be judged on the basis of its success in achieving its professed goal, which is to raise the education level and the competence level of the military. Has the new conscription system succeeded in attracting better-educated conscripts? Is the change significant enough to have an impact on the makeup of the entire military? In the long run, is the PLA more capable of fighting a limited war under high-technology conditions using a smaller but more competent force? Is the PLA attracting the conscripts it wishes to? By offering market incentives to college-educated candidates, the PLA has indeed attracted conscripts who would have otherwise never considered the military. Students are guaranteed the rest of

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their education after returning from the military even if they do not gain admission to military academies or receive promotions. Moreover, the prospect of receiving better scholarships, tuition waivers, and placement in better college majors certainly sweetens the deal. But are the students who are responding to these offers the people the military wants to recruit? The PLA, for its part, has conducted research and has polled student conscripts, investigating their motivations for joining the military. Aside from those who vow that they have always wanted to serve the country, the rest choose the military either to escape mounting college tuition or to seek a way out of dead-end majors or dismal employment prospects.21 Of all applicants from Heilongjiang University, 84 percent cited economic difficulties as the primary reason for their application, 76 percent come from rural areas, and 92 percent wish to enter military academies once they are enlisted.22 Some also apply for jobs at the same time, treating the military as a last resort before they have to return to their home villages. These personal motives pose a challenge to the PLA because conscripts now enter the military with distinct purposes in mind: to be promoted to an NCO, to apply to military academies and become officers, or to get official recognition for their service so that they can qualify for tuition waivers and change college majors. This certainly changes the dynamics between enlisted personnel and officers, and high expectations only make failures all the more poignant. What is more, these student conscripts are not as easy to manage as the typical middle school– educated kid from a small village. They are more mindful of their rights, more individualistic, less receptive to orders, and less attached to their units.23 In other words, they do not conform to the predictable pattern of behavior NCOs and officers have relied on for management. As the PLA continues to professionalize and personnel sources diversify, this phenomenon may not be a problem in the near future. For the time being, however, the military, still ideologically charged, is hard-pressed to come up with an appropriate system of political education for student conscripts. Trips to war memorials and passionate speeches by model soldiers do not inspire these conscripts as much, and the emphasis on sacrifice and serving the country falls on much less receptive ears. Another interesting question is: What does college admission really represent? Clearly, the assumption is that college admission demonstrates a much higher level of competence, and one certainly hopes that best and the brightest students in engineering programs would join the military and fill the gaps. According to some reports, however, those intent on joining the military tend to be in fields less compatible with its needs. At one university in Nanjing, of the 27 applicants, 15 were male students studying office administration.24 It is probably safe to speculate that a considerable amount of training would be needed before these applicants could perform more technical or advanced tasks. The rapidly expanding number of college-level institutions, on the other hand, also means that many students enrolled in colleges today probably would not have been admitted based on older admission standards.

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The difference is, however, that college students entering the military today enjoy many more benefits than a high school graduate did five years ago, even though the former’s admission is as much attributable to the expansion of college education as to his or her own merit. As mentioned earlier, the new conscription guidelines have not significantly changed the incentive structure for regular, middle school, or high school–level candidates. Adding college-educated conscripts to the mix might improve the makeup of the military, but without also applying stricter standards to the noncollege-educated conscripts, the impact of that positive infusion of knowledge may be unduly limited. Can the PLA benefit from a pool of better-educated recruits? Assuming that the military keeps raising the quota of conscripts drawn from colleges, how much can the PLA benefit from them? Carrying out sophisticated exercises or fighting in joint operations in actual battles, after all, depends just as much, if not more, on the quality of the officers, the quality of the hardware, and corresponding changes in strategy. Observers have noted that officers with advanced degrees from civilian universities, on the fast track to promotion, are still seen commanding training sessions in sandboxes and basing their maneuvers on World War II–era tank maneuvers. A significant improvement in battle readiness and skills will depend on the success of the PLA’s overall reform effort, and on the success of reforms taking place in Chinese society. Favorable economic conditions, the will of the political leadership, and the interplay of bureaucratic politics will all determine how much the PLA will benefit from the new conscription guidelines. Training, readiness, and morale. Many argue that the reduction of the term of service to two years will place immense stress on the conscript training system. Whereas previously one-quarter or one-third of conscripts had to go through initial training each year, now half of them do, which means that at any given time half of the conscripts are unfamiliar with basic military skills.25 This concern is echoed by some PLA officers in charge of receiving new conscripts from local People’s Armed Forces Departments. Zhao Xia, a deputy company commissar in the Beijing Garrison Command, expressed her objection to the newer, shortened conscription period. Two years is simply too short for conscripts—especially in technical units—to be fully trained, she claims, and in the long run a shorter service period will hurt the performance of the military.26 On the other hand, Zhang Wannian, vice chairman of the Central Military Commission, argues that a shorter term will enable the military to train more citizens and expand the reserves in case of war.27 After all, NCOs, who now comprise 50 to 60 percent of all troops, are handling all technical and key posts in training, including communications, radar, missile, and aviation units.28 Conscripts in technical units also go through separate, longer training processes in independent training regiments, some of which have been converted into technical schools. Regular conscripts are mostly manning positions requiring less technological savvy, such as infantry, guard, and logistical support.

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Interestingly, conscripts may feel that two years is too short a period of service as well. In a letter to the PLA Daily, a second-year conscript expressed his deep anxiety that he had failed to either join the party, become an NCO, or receive distinctions for outstanding achievement. It took him the first year to get familiar with his surroundings. The second year was simply too short, he felt, to achieve anything significant.29 Numerous articles discussing conscripts at the end of their service also allude to the same concern. If not alleviated, this distress may well lead to lower performance and morale. Evaluating the PLA’s Reactions The PLA has taken note of these problems and developed institutional, legal, and individual solutions to address them. How successful is the PLA in remedying these problems, some of which, as we stated, are clearly beyond its control? Better Management of the Actual Conscription Process The obvious approach to conscription problems is to improve the conscription process itself. The success of the two-month conscription drive depends on yearround investigation into the whereabouts and background information of all potential candidates; some counties in Zhejiang begin registering candidates as early as February and keep records of the destination and contact information of local youth leaving for cities.30 Many People’s Armed Forces Departments especially emphasize the need to screen candidates more carefully, no doubt shocked by a few instances of conscripts with criminal records slipping through the cracks and committing felonies during their term of service.31 There is also much effort to insulate and control each link in the conscription process to prevent corruption and fraud. Records, including birth certificates, residence cards, medical reports, and certificates of education, can be falsified, sometimes passing multiple rounds of examinations. Under the current individual responsibility system, each official is made accountable for all of the candidates that he or she has approved. Many towns and villages also publish the list of qualified candidates and officials in charge of the process, and set up anonymous hotlines for reporting bribes. In some areas, military officers in charge of receiving the new conscripts must visit families of candidates in groups; private visits were banned for fear of bribery. Article 374 of the revised Criminal Law considers the crime of serious fraud in conscription punishable by up to three years in prison. Yet these measures cannot eliminate the powerful incentives for qualified candidates to evade conscription and for the unqualified to want to join the military. In rural, economically depressed areas, hundreds or thousands still compete for a few dozen spots. In some cases, people will actually pay to get into the military: the average fee is RMB 10,000 (RMB 20,000–30,000 for female soldiers, or about US$2,400–3,600). In contrast, potential candidates in other, often more prosper-

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ous areas fake illnesses in order to be exempted. Institutional reforms can at best reduce fraud and corruption in individual cases. Harsh Penalties Evasion of military service is now also punishable by national law and by local regulations. According to the newly revised Criminal Law, serious cases of conscription evasion are punishable by up to two years of imprisonment. Cities and villages have rushed to tack on various fines and punitive measures. In Suzhou’s case, those evading conscription are banned from starting businesses, applying for jobs, entering schools, and getting raises and promotions for three years. Contracted employees can be fired, business owners’ licenses revoked, and cadres stripped of their rank.32 In Sichuan, evasion entails a fine of up to RMB 10,000.33 Political Education Political education, which used to ensure the cohesiveness and loyalty of the PLA, faces grave challenges. The problem goes deeper than educating the more apathetic and unruly only children and college students. Chinese society as a whole has become more commercially minded and individualistic, and the military as a whole suffers from a loss of prestige and respect. It is difficult in this context to instill a sense of pride and devotion into potential and enlisted soldiers. The PLA, however, has explored other ways to increase its appeal. Aside from the traditional emphasis on personal sacrifice, the military seeks to impress the public with its competence and the security it offers. The successful launch of China’s first manned spacecraft no doubt gave a powerful boost to national pride, and the PLA Air Force received unprecedented attention for weeks. In periods of heightened tension between the mainland and Taiwan, the media are also quick to engage in hypothetical war games, depicting an overwhelming victory for the PLA. If the PLA can indeed regain the sustained respect of the people, it will probably have a much easier time recruiting and retaining troops. Future Prospects The political and military leadership seems united in advancing military reform, and the next few years might witness a spate of new organizational and personnel reforms, such as expanding the NCO corps, diversifying conscription, and combining service with degree programs. As noted earlier, these reforms are interactive and must be assessed in their entirety to fully evaluate the changes taking place in the military. Having said that, what are some of the ramifications of the new conscription law for the PLA and Chinese society in the short term? Will the PLA achieve the goals it has set for itself, and does its success hinge upon other reforms? If so, what are these reforms and how likely are they to succeed?

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Military Effectiveness The new measures, by placing a premium on higher education, will probably supply the military in the long run with better-educated conscripts. The effect is limited by several factors: the military is still experimenting with its program of recruiting college students, and NCOs are gradually making up the bulk of the PLA’s enlisted force. The Rural-Urban Divide As the most direct link between society and the military, the conscription system is powerfully shaped by the pace of the economic and social reforms that have taken place. These reforms have created a more affluent society on aggregate, but also a society sharply divided between the haves and the have-nots. These social cleavages define the context in which the military has to operate. The Eleventh FiveYear Plan, introduced in 2006, seeks to reduce inequality and develop rural areas, but the effects of the old system will long be felt. The government has yet to make inroads in correcting the inequality created by the market and also by deliberate government policies that favor cities, often at the expense of rural areas. By reflecting these differential policies in its quota system, the current conscription process is inherently flawed. The household registration system has created two distinct classes of citizens in China. The rural population is excluded from employment at state-owned enterprises and party and state institutions. It is in effect shut out of the decision-making process of the state. Urban residents enjoy varying degrees of unemployment benefits, health insurance, and social welfare, curtailed perhaps by market reform, but still vastly superior to the negligible protection offered to peasants. The rural population is also responsible for funding a large portion of its local government, conscription and compensation, and its own education. Before 2006, peasants also paid agricultural taxes.34 Although some villages have experienced astonishing prosperity as a direct result of economic reforms, and the rate of urbanization will potentially help many in rural areas enter the urban sector of the economy, the remaining systemic division of society will undoubtedly slow down the spread of prosperity at the national level. The rural population will continue to pour into cities, as land has become a liability in many areas with few cash crops or industrial opportunities. The system also breeds corruption, as so much depends on a single residence certificate. By using the rough makeup of the national population as the basis for its quota system, requiring that conscription be carried out at the location of registration, and by offering different policies to rural and nonrural conscripts, the new Military Service Law in effect ignores the realities of a changing society and invites attempts at fraud as well as obstacles to fulfilling its own needs. The rationale is certainly understandable: by recruiting heavily from the rural areas, the military

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incurs the least cost in incentives and settlement. At the same time, yet the intangible cost of not attracting the right conscripts is self-defeating. Until government policies, backed by fiscal allocation and political will, begin to break down the barrier between the city and the village in real terms, the PLA will be able to overcome this most fundamental challenge to its quest for more competent soldiers. The Challenge of Primary Education in China Since the new conscription measures target individual competence—measured by level of education—the state of China’s education, especially primary education in rural areas, affects the soundness of the assumption that formal education equals competence. The requirement of a middle school diploma for all rural conscripts is in principle a minimum requirement; the state, after all, pushes for universal nine-year education for all children. In practice, however, China’s primary education, especially in rural areas, has been shortchanged during the reform. The government, which used to provide free universal education to all rural children, has since the mid-1980s shifted the bulk of funding responsibility for rural education to townships, while guaranteeing urban funding for urban education through fiscal allocation. The central government only supplied 2 percent of total funding for rural education, with townships picking up 78 percent of the tab.35 Townships in turn collected fees from peasants directly, creating the paradox of asking the poorest segment of the society to fund its own education. The result is a wide disparity between the education levels of rural and urban areas: in rural areas, only 39 percent of the population has received a middle school education or above; the figure for urban residents is 65 percent.36 The Hunan Statistics Bureau reported a dropout rate in less developed rural areas of the province of more than 30 percent.37 Although the central government continues to pour funding into higher education, the polarization of educational opportunities between urban and rural areas severely limits the degree to which rural children can benefit fully from better higher education. In this context, the difficulty of the PLA in recruiting suitably educated soldiers is much more understandable. The population in the poorest areas, which would consider the military as a highly desirable career, does not meet the PLA’s minimum education requirement. In contrast, 60 percent of high school graduates in cities will enter colleges, which will thus exempt them from immediate conscription. In 2001, the government decided to shift the burden of funding rural primary education up to the county level and banned the practice of collecting fees from peasants. In practice, however, counties are often no better off than townships, and this well-intended policy has ironically resulted in even less funding for schools.38 It is encouraging that the current Hu Jintao–Wen Jiabao government has pledged to reinstate free primary education for rural children, but the effects of the previous policy, which have affected an entire generation, will take time to redress.

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Vulnerability to Economic Upturns and Downturns In the end, the willingness of young males at the height of their productivity to enlist in the military depends vastly on the state of the economy. Stagnant economic development and a high unemployment rate will force many into the military for reason of job security. As long as pockets of underdevelopment remain—and given the expanse of China and that economic reforms are still relatively new, these pockets will persist for a long time—the military will remain a favorable option for many. The implication, of course, is that the military is at a disadvantage compared with other career choices in times of prosperity. The military is, after all, fundamentally different from private corporations, and its budget limits its competitiveness in a robust job market. It is essential for the PLA to provide intangible benefits for joining the military that could make it attractive in such times. Conclusion Conscription reform represents the PLA’s organizational response to the pressing need of military modernization. The impact of these changes has yet to show in military performance, because the PLA is undergoing a comprehensive transformation; it has relinquished outlandish doctrines, embraced modern technology, and conceived a new body of enlisted personnel and officers. These reforms will take time to gain traction. The synergy or tension between them will determine the future of the PLA. Conscription, furthermore, must be understood in the context of changes in society at large. The market reform of the last twenty years has been many things to many people: it has offered prosperity, liberalization, and choices to many, but denied the same to many others. These same forces, in addition, may have divergent effects on the PLA. While the PLA can finally afford to fund its ambitious modernization plan, it has to compete harder to attract the right candidates for the right tasks. The rural-urban divide guarantees the military a ready flow of conscripts, but also makes more precise recruiting difficult. The effectiveness of the new conscription process, or future reforms, depends on the success and particular course of China’s reform at large; in fact, a lot more than just conscription is at stake. Notes 1. Reported by China Youth Daily, quoted in Zhang Yi, Lun Zhongguo tese de junshi rencai de chengzhang zhilu (On the cultivation of military talent with Chinese characteristics) (Beijing: National Defense University Press, 2001), p. 141. 2. Ren Weifang, “Zhengbingnan heyi biancheng canjunre?” (How did a difficulty in conscription turn into a craze to join the military?), Chinese Militia, no. 12, 2002, at www.pladaily.com.cn/item/zgmb/200012/txt/txt08.htm. 3. Zhang Yi, On the Cultivation of Military Talent, p. 141.

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4. Zhang Zhaozhong, Huashuo guofang: Zhang Zhaozhong jiaoshou yanjiang shilu (On national defense: Lectures by Professor Zhang Zhaozhong) (Beijing: National Defense University Press, 2000), p. 16. 5. “Guanyu ‘Beijingshi zhengbing gongzuo tiaoli (caoan)’ de shuoming” (Clarifications on the “Beijing conscription work guidelines [draft]”), at www.law-lib.com/law/lfbj/ lfbj_view.asp?id=10241, April 17, 2003. 6. Wang Qingkun, “Xiaohuangdimen jinjun junying, mingtian sheilai kangqiang” (Little emperors enter the barracks: Who will bear the gun tomorrow?), at www.54youth.com.cn/ gb/paper4/8/class000400001/hwz33542.htm, August 17, 2001. 7. “Clarifications on the ‘Beijing Conscription Work Guidelines (Draft)’”; Kezheng bingyuan: buke xiaoshi de shuliang jianshao” (Personnel available for conscription: A reduction in number that must be taken seriously), PLA Daily, January 10, 2002. 8. Zhang Deyuan, “Nongcun zhengbingnan yu xuesheng jiuyenan” (The difficulty of conscription in the rural areas and the difficulty of students finding employment), at www.china-village.net, August 18, 2003. 9. Zhang, On the Cultivation of Military Talent, p. 147. 10. Ibid. 11. Ibid., p. 148. 12. “Rongli liangci sandenggong mianjiao xuefei” (Tuition waiver for two third-degree honors), Jinyang Web, Yangcheng Evening News, at www.ycwb.com/gb/content/2002-10/ 31/content_444267.htm, October 31, 2002. 13. “2003 nian dongji zhengbing youguan wenti de jizhewen” (Questions and answers on the 2003 winter conscription), at www.qianhuaweb.com/20031029/ca117260.htm, October 29, 2003. 14. “Guanyu muqian biyesheng jiuye xingshi de xuanjiang tigang” (A brief outline on the employment situation of current graduates), at http://cace.cumt.edu.cn/xs/xsgz01/jygz/ xs/xjtg.htm. 15. Questions and Answers on the 2003 Winter Conscription. 16. “Clarifications on the ‘Beijing Conscription Work Guidelines (Draft)’”; Personnel Available for Conscription.” 17. “Xue Zheng buzhang zai zhengbing huiyi shangde jianghua” (Speech of Minister Xue Zheng at the conference on conscription), at http://test.yangzhong.net.cn/yzrwb/zbgz/ zzld/zzld1152.html, September 25, 2003. 18. The PLA Daily article did not specify which province. 19. “Clarifications on the ‘Beijing Conscription Work Guidelines (Draft)’”; Personnel Available for Conscription.” 20. Ibid. 21. Zhao Bibo, “Zaixiao daxuesheng ruwu zhanshi sixiang zhengzhi gongzuo chutan” (An initial probe in the political education of college students turned soldiers), at http:// sjzzwys.myrice.com/0101/wys684.htm. 22. Cong Min, “Congjunre qiandong sanqian xuezixin” (Three thousand students swept up in the craze to join the military), Heilongjiang Daily, at www.hljnews.com.cn/gb/content/2002-11/01/content_73613.htm. 23. Zhao, “An Initial Probe in the Political Education of College Students Turned Soldiers.” 24. “Fansi zaixiao daxuesheng congjunre” (Reflections on the enthusiasm of college students to join the military), at http://exin99.myrice.com/jiaoyu88/JIAOYU4/new_ page_30.htm, November 28, 2001. 25. David Shambaugh, Modernizing China’s Military: Progress, Problems, and Prospects (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2002), p. 96. 26. Wang, “Little Emperors Enter the Barracks.” 27. Zhang Wannian, ed., Dangdai shijie junshi yu Zhongguo guofang (Contemporary world military affairs and Chinese national defense) (Beijing: Military Science Press, 1999), p. 250.

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28. “Zhongguo Renmin Jiefangjun shiguan zhidu shixing zhongda gaige” (People’s Liberation Army undergoes significant reform in the noncommissioned officer corps), at http://news.21cn.com/junshi/guonei/2003/12/22/1390156.shtml, December 22, 2003. 29. PLA Daily, February 25, 2004, p. 8. 30. Ren, “How Did a Difficulty in Conscription Turn into a Craze?.” 31. The most astonishing case was perhaps the murder of Li Peiyao, the vice chairman of the Standing Committee of the National People’s Congress in 1996. The murderer was Zhang Jinlong, a soldier in the Beijing Armed Police Headquarters, who had a record of thefts and burglaries but went undetected because his residence card was registered in a different city. 32. Suzhoushi guanche “Jiangsusheng guanyu jujue, taobi bingyi dengji he fuxianyi de chufa guiding” shishi xize (Application guidelines of Suzhou city in carrying out the “Regulations on punishing those who refuse to register for conscription and evade conscription by Jiangsu Province”), at http://61.132.118.167/www/junqu/zcfg-08.htm, June 19, 2001. 33. “Gaozhongsheng yingzheng shili biaozhun fangkuan” (Eyesight standard for conscription lowered for high school graduates), at www.newssc.org/gb/Newssc/zfzx/zcxx/ userobject1ai108557.html, October 31, 2003. 34. Zhang Yinghong. “Hongguan shiye zhongde nongmin fudan” (Peasants’ burdens in the grand perspective), at www.ccrs.org.cn/big/hgsyzdnmfd.htm. 35. Zhang Fenqin, “Nongcun shuifei gaige xuzhuyi de jige wenti” (Several issues in the tax reform of rural areas), at www.whtj.gov.cn/whnycww/ny/sfgg.htm, April 25, 2002. 36. Han Jun, “You chengxiang fenge zouxiang chengxiang xietiao fazhan” (From the urban-rural divide to a balanced urban-rural development), China Economic Times, March 19, 2004. 37. Hunnan Census Bureau. “Pinkun jiating jixu jiaoyu yuanzhu: dui 265hu chengxiang pinkun jiating jiaoyu fudan qingkuang diaocha” (Poor families in urgent need for education assistance: Investigation into the education burden of 265 poor families in rural and urban areas), at www.hntj.gov.cn/fxbg/2002fxbg/2002jczx/200207240263.htm, July 11, 2002. 38. Han, “From the Urban-Rural Divide.”

Bibliography Beijing Mentougou District. Office of Conscription, www.bjmtg.gov.cn/jgxx1/zb/more/ changshi.htm. “Caifang zhengbing gongzuo youguan wenti” (Interview on conscription). www.fm996.com .cn/newsfiles/134/20031030/14003.html. October 30, 2003. Chen Qilin. “Yi gongkai cu gongzheng yi jiandu cu lianjie: Chengdu zhengbing shixing gongshizhi” (Encourage fairness through transparency and cleanness through supervision: Chengdu adopts public disclosure for conscription). www.scol.com.cn/nsichuan/ cdxw/20021124/2002112422551.htm. Cong Min. “Congjunre qiandong sanqian xuezi xin” (3,000 students swept up in the craze to join the military). Heilongjiang Daily. www.hljnews.com.cn/gb/content/2002–11/01/ content_73613.htm. Dreyer, June Teufel. “State of the Field Report: Research on the Chinese Military.” www.nbr.org/publications/review/v011n01/essay1.html. “Fansi zaixiao daxuesheng congjunre” (Reflections on the enthusiasm of college students to join the military). http://exin99.myrice.com/jiaoyu88/JIAOYU4/new_page_30.htm. November 28, 2001. “Fengshanxian qingnian canjun reqing; gaixian lianxu 34 nian wu tuibing” (Fengshan youth join the military; no rejects from this county for 34 consecutive years). Guangxi Daily. www.newgx.com.cn/200208/ca81000.htm. October 18, 2002.

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Finkelstein, David M. “Looking for the People in the People’s Liberation Army: Who Is G.I. Zhou?” www.ndu.edu/inss/China_Center/CMA_Conf_Oct00/paper2.htm. “15 wan qingnian jieshou tiaoxuan, quansheng dongji zhengbing gongzuo jinri kaishi” (150,000 youth in the selection process; winter conscription in the province begins today). http://hwx.rednet.com.cn/articles/2002/11/370847.htm. November 1, 2002. Flanagan, Stephen J., and Michael E. Marti, eds. The People’s Liberation Army and China in Transition. Center for the Study of Chinese Military Affairs, Institute for National Strategic Studies, National Defense University, 2003. “Gaozhongsheng yingzheng shili biaozhun fangkuan” (Eyesight standard for conscription lowered for high school graduates). www.newssc.org/gb/Newssc/zfzx/zcxx/ userobject1ai108557.html. October 31, 2003. Godwin, Paul H.B. “From Continent to Periphery: PLA Doctrine, Strategy and Capabilities Towards 2000.” China Quarterly, no. 146 (June 1996). Greenberg, Maurice R. “Chinese Military Power.” Report of an Independent Task Force, Center for Geoeconomic Studies, Council on Foreign Relations Press, 2003. “Guanyu ‘Beijingshi zhengbing gongzuo tiaoli (caoan) de shuoming’” (Clarifications on the “Beijing Conscription Work Guidelines [draft]”). www.law-lib.com/law/lfbj/ lfbj_view.asp?id=10241. April 17, 2003. “Guanyu muqian biyesheng jiuye xingshi de xuanjiang tigang” (A brief outline on the employment situation of current graduates). http://cace.cumt.edu.cn/xs/xsgz01/jygz/xs/ xjtg.htm. Guo Zhenyou. “Jixu zhuahao ‘pujiu’ cujin quanmian xiaokang” (Continue to work on nineyear compulsory education and improve overall prosperity). China Education News. December 23, 2002. “Guofang xuyao ‘youzhizhuan’: Jinnianlai Xi’an diqu canjun qingkuang toushi” (National defense needs “high-quality bricks”: A look at conscription in Xi’an in recent years). Xi’an Evening News. November 14, 2003. Han Jun. “You chengxiang fenge zouxiang chengxiang xietiao fazhan” (From the urban-rural divide to a balanced urban-rural development). China Economic Times. March 19, 2004. “Jundui zhengxie weiyuan wei jianshe gaosuzhi shiguan duiwu chumouhuace” (Political Consultation Committee members from the military seek new ways to build a highquality noncommissioned officer corps). PLA Daily. March 10, 2004. “Junfenqu canmouzhang, shizhengbing lingdao xiaozu fuzuzhang Li Chao jiu jindong zhengbing gongzuo dajizhewen” (Li Chao, chief of staff of the Military Sub-District and vice chairman of the Municipal Conscription Leadership Group, answers questions on this winter’s conscription work). www.china-orange.com/news/display.asp?id=383. October 10, 2003. “Kezheng bingyuan: Buke xiaoshi de shuliang jianshao” (Personnel available for conscription: A reduction in number that must be taken seriously). PLA Daily. January 10, 2002. Lilley, James R., and David Shambaugh, eds. China’s Military Faces the Future. Armonk, NY: M.E. Sharpe, 1999. “Linxing weiyuan: Yiwu jiaoyu tiaojian jiben chengshu, gai mianfei le!” (Committee member Lin Xing: The conditions for free compulsory education are now met!). Xinhua News Agency. March 11, 2004. Mulvenon, James C., and Andrew N.D. Yang, eds. A Poverty of Riches: New Challenges and Opportunities in PLA Research. Washington, DC: Rand Corporation, 2003. ———. “The People’s Liberation Army in the Information Age.” Washington, DC: Rand Corporation, 1999. ———. Seeking Truth from Facts: A Retrospective on Chinese Military Studies in the PostMao Era. Washington, DC: Rand Corporation, 2001. ———. The People’s Liberation Army as Organization: Reference Volume 1.0. Washington, DC: Rand Corporation, 2002.

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PLA Daily. January 11, 2004; January 21, 2004; February 25, 2004. “Pinkun jiating jixu jiaoyu yuanzhu: Dui 265 hu chengxiang pinkun jiating jiaoyu fudan qingkuang diaocha” (Poor families in urgent need of education assistance: Investigation in the education burden of 265 poor families in rural and urban areas). Hunan Census Bureau. www.hntj.gov.cn/fxbg/2002fxbg/2002jczx/200207240263.htm. July 11, 2002. “Qianghua zeren, tisheng biaogan: Yuanman wancheng jindong zhengbing gongzuo renwu” (Strengthen responsibilities and raise the bar: Achieve the conscription goals of this winter). http://test.yangzhong.net.cn/yzrwb/zbgz/zzld/zzld1153.html. September 25, 2003. “Qiantan xinxingshixia zuohao zhengbing gongzuo de kanfa” (On how to carry out conscription under the new circumstances). www.yhgf.net/mingbing/mingbing05.htm. Ren Weifang. “Zhengbing nan heyi biancheng canjunre?” (How did a difficulty in conscription turn into a craze to join the military?) Chinese Militia, no. 12, 2002. www.pladaily.com.cn/item/zgmb/200012/txt/txt08.htm. “Rongli liangci sandenggong mianjiao xuefei” (Tuition waiver for two third-degree honors). Jinyang Web-Yangcheng Evening News. www.ycwb.com/gb/content/2002–10/31/ content_444267.htm. October 31, 2002. Shambaugh, David. Modernizing China’s Military: Progress, Problems, and Prospects. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2002. “Shizhang hua zhengbing” (The mayor talks about conscription). Fujian Daily. November 19, 2001. Suzhoushi guanche “Jiangsusheng guanyu jujue, taobi bingyi dengji he fuxianyi de chufa guiding” shishi xize (Application guidelines of Suzhou City in carrying out the “Regulations on punishing those who refuse to register for conscription and evade conscription by Jiangsu Province”). http://61.132.118.167/www/junqu/zcfg-08.htm. June 19, 2001. 2000 nian Zhongguo de guofang (Chinese national defense in 2000). News Office of the State Council of the People’s Republic of China. www.china.org.cn/ch-book/2000guo/ 2000guo.htm. “2003 nian dongji zhengbing youguan wenti de jizhewen” (Questions and answers on the 2003 winter conscription). www.qianhuaweb.com/20031029/ca117260.htm. October 29, 2003. Wang Qingkun. “Xiaohuangdimen jinjun junying, mingtian shei lai kangqiang?” (Little emperors enter the barracks: Who will bear the gun tomorrow?). www.54youth.com.cn/ gb/paper4/8/class000400001/hwz33542.htm. August 17, 2001. Wang Shujun. “Rang nongmin de haizi shanghao xue” (Let peasants’ children get a good education). People’s Daily. August 7, 2001. “Wo neng zai yidi dangbing ma?” (Can I join the military in another city?). Nanchang City Conscription Office. www.nc.jx.cn/~zbb/ques/32.htm. Wortzel, Larry M. “Challenges as China’s Communist Leaders Ride the Tiger of Liberalization.” www.heritage.org/Research/AsiaandthePacific/h1669.cfm. June 13, 2000. Wortzel, Larry M., ed. The Chinese Armed Forces in the 21st Century. Carlisle, PA: Strategic Studies Institute, U.S. Army War College, 1999. Xinbing zhengji (New Soldiers’ Conscription). www.gulousky.com/zhenwudaohang/ new_page_9.htm. “Xue Zheng Buzhang zai Zhengbing Huiyishang de jianghua” (Speech of Minister Xue Zheng at the Conference on Conscription). http://test.yangzhong.net.cn/yzrwb/zbgz/zzld/ zzld1152.html. September 25, 2003. You Ji. The Armed Forces of China. London: I.B. Tauris, 1999. Zhang Deyuan. “Nongcun zhengbing nan yu xuesheng jiuye nan” (The difficulty of conscription in the rural areas and the difficulty of students finding employment). www.chinavillage.net. August 18, 2003. Zhang Fenqin. “Nongcun shuifei gaige xuzhuyi de jige wenti” (Several issues in the tax reform of rural areas). www.whtj.gov.cn/whnycww/ny/sfgg.htm. April 25, 2002.

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Zhang Wannian, ed. Dangdai shijie junshi yu Zhongguo guofang (Contemporary world military affairs and Chinese national defense). Beijing: Military Science Press, 1999. Zhang Yi. Lun Zhongguo tese de junshi rencai de chengzhang zhilu (On the cultivation of military talent with Chinese characteristics). Beijing: National Defense University Press, 2001. Zhang Yinghong. “Hongguan shiye zhong de nongmin fudan” (Peasants’ burdens in the grand perspective). www.ccrs.org.cn/big/hgsyzdnmfd.htm. Zhang Zhaozhong. Huashuo guofang: Zhang Zhaozhong Jiaoshou yanjiang shilu (On national defense: Lectures by Professor Zhang Zhaozhong). Beijing: National Defense University Press, 2000. Zhao Bibo. “Zaixiao daxuesheng ruwu zhanshi sixiang zhengzhi gongzuo chutan” (An initial probe in the political education of college students turned soldiers). http:// sjzzwys.myrice.com/0101/wys684.htm. “Zhengbing gongzuo yao baozheng zhiliang diyi” (Conscription must make quality its first priority). http://sy.sina.com.cn/2003-10-22/new_4.shtml. November 23, 2003. “Zhongguo Renmin Jiefangjun shiguan zhidu shixing zhongda gaige” (People’s Liberation Army undergoes significant reform in the noncommissioned officer corps). http:// news.21cn.com/junshi/guonei/2003/12/22/1390156.shtml. December 22, 2003. Zhu Liujia. “Shanghaishi shoubu bingyifagui danshengji” (The origin of the first conscription guideline of Shanghai). http://www.interoutstandingthesis.com/2002/shkx/fz/ 0001.htm. “Zuzhi jianshe 100 wen: Zhengbing pian” (100 questions and answers on organization building: Chapter on conscription). www.caq.wuxi.gov.cn/rwb/bkzl/renwu/zz14.htm.

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13 Demobilization and Resettlement The Challenge of Downsizing the People’s Liberation Army Maryanne Kivlehan-Wise

Introduction In September 2003, the Chinese People’s Liberation Army (PLA) announced plans to demobilize 200,000 troops in over a period of three years. This announcement marked the third major downsizing of the PLA since 1985. Upon completion in 2005, the number of PLA personnel had shrunk by almost 1.7 million within two decades. These numbers are even more striking when one considers the extent to which Chinese society has been undergoing its own transformation, and withstanding a multitude of stresses while absorbing these troops. As the PLA continues to trim its number of active-duty personnel, China’s military and the society that supports it have been forced to address a broad range of challenges—chief among them being developing a resettlement plan that is acceptable to both demobilized military personnel and civilian officials. There has been ample evidence of dissatisfaction from both. Servicemen complain that they and their families are not being given appropriate employment opportunities and provincial governments complain that recently released servicemen and their families suffer from obsolete ideas, do not exercise enough initiative, and are often only interested in “easy” jobs that do not meet the needs of China’s new market economy. Such concerns have caught the attention of China’s central leaders. Together, the State Council and the Central Military Commission (CMC) have attempted to systematize the processes by which PLA personnel are demobilized and reabsorbed into Chinese society. Governed by the principles of “a balanced burden for the entire society” and “encouraging advancement, spurring those lagging behind, and deferential treatment,” these two institutions are striving to maintain a balance 255

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between the PLA’s objectives for reform and modernization, and economic and social reform goals in Chinese society. This chapter examines the processes by which PLA military personnel are returned to the civilian world upon completion or fulfillment of military service obligations. • It will discuss the variety of circumstances that could cause a military serviceman to leave the PLA: fulfillment of mandatory military obligation, voluntary (early) release from active duty, and mandatory retirement. • Where possible, it will examine the incentives currently available to encourage certain groups in the PLA to retire or remain in service. • It will examine the respective obligations and responsibilities of the military and the civilian government to place these individuals and their families in jobs, housing, and provide for their social welfare. • It will review the history of how such policy was made, highlighting critical meetings, documents, and decisions. • Finally, it will offer some concluding observations about the implications of recent PLA downsizing efforts for China’s civil-military relationship. It will look at how downsizing can be both a potential opportunity and a pitfall in this evolving relationship. Demobilization as a Civil-Military Challenge Demobilization is a critical issue in PRC civil-military relations. To foreign observers, it may simply be a topic of passing interest, but to PRC policymakers, PLA demobilization is not an academic issue. Demobilization is important because it touches on two topics that would be of high interest to the central leadership of any nation: military modernization and political stability. Military Modernization As Kristen Gunness has described in her chapter in this volume, since the 1990s, the Chinese People’s Liberation Army has been engaged in a concerted program of reform and modernization known as the “Two Transformations.” According to official Chinese statements, this effort entailed changing the PLA (1) from an army preparing to fight local wars under ordinary conditions to an army prepared to fight and win Local Wars Under Modern High-Tech Conditions; and (2) from an army based on quantity to an army based on quality, or from an army that is personnel intensive to one that is science and technology intensive. It is the second of the two transformations that is relevant to this discussion. This modernization program entails significant institutional reforms. Among these has been a decision that in order to achieve its vision of becoming an army based on quality, the PLA will need to become a smaller, leaner, and more professionalized

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military force. To achieve these ends and become a more capable combat force, China’s leaders decided that the PLA needed to significantly trim its numbers and become more technologically savvy. This has meant that the PLA has had to downsize, and also has had to deal with all of the resettlement challenges that are associated with such a decision. The PLA’s development of demobilization and resettlement plans that address PLA concerns without imposing an unacceptable burden on Chinese society can support or limit its ability to carry out strategic downsizing for its reform and modernization program. For the People’s Republic of China (PRC), devising and implementing a successful demobilization policy that properly balances the needs of its military with the resources available within China’s larger society is a critical step in the PLA’s long march toward modernization. Political Stability Even more important, demobilization policies are a relevant civil-military issue because the PRC’s success or failure at managing resettlement issues can have a direct impact on political stability within China. At a minimum, demobilization issues are important to PRC leaders. Quite simply, leaders with any sense of self-preservation will seek to avoid any policies that create large numbers of dissatisfied and disgruntled constituents with military training. The PRC civilian leadership therefore has a vested interest in keeping discharged veterans content—or at least as content as possible. As such, they take veterans’ issues seriously. There is abundant evidence to indicate that the PRC leadership is sensitive to signs of discontent among its veterans. One commonly cited example of this is the acceptance by the PRC leadership of the scholarship of PRC sociologist Dr. Yu Jianrong from the Institute of Rural Development under the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences. In May 2003, Yu published a study in the occasionally controversial journal Zhanlue yu guanli (Strategy and management) examining the root causes of peasant uprisings during the 1990s in rural China. One of Yu’s key findings was that the majority of peasant leaders were demobilized PLA servicemen with at least some military experience.1 Dr. Yu’s report appears to have been well received within the PRC central government. He is rumored to have been asked to brief PRC president Hu Jintao on his findings. Within months of publishing his research, Yu was also permitted to travel to the United States to publicize what he had learned. In recent years, the State Council and the CMC have attempted to systematize the processes by which PLA personnel are demobilized and reabsorbed into Chinese society. The rest of this chapter will provide a preliminary look at the current collection of resettlement policies and examine how some of these changes have evolved over time.

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Active Duty and Retirement In order to examine PLA demobilization practices, it is necessary first to clarify a few key concepts and basic terms. There are four basic approaches to releasing PLA servicemen from active duty. These are summarized in Table 13.1. Demobilization PLA servicemen can be simply demobilized. For enlisted personnel this is generally referred to as tuiwu; depending on context other terms such as fuyuan or tuiyi can refer to the demobilization of an officer, or more generally to any active duty member of the PLA. Conscripts who are released from active duty through this mechanism are not necessarily entitled to much in return for their service. Moreover, they often do not receive the little that they have been promised. Conscripts and junior noncommissioned officers (NCOs) released from active duty depart the PLA with military training that should make them more marketable.2 In some, but not all cases, they are ensured some sort of job placement. And in some, but not all cases, they are provided with some sort of resettlement allowance. Accurate data on who is entitled to what is hard to come by, and the unconfirmed data vary widely. Transfer to Assigned State Sector Jobs The second mechanism for departing active duty is to transfer to a civilian position. This is referred to as zhuanye. These individuals are ensured a civilian job in the state sector with benefits and a compensation package that should be comparable to their current military position. This process will be discussed in greater detail later in this chapter. However, readers should note that this option is not available to everyone. All who participate need to apply and get approval from their superiors. Private Enterprise Employment The third option is for an individual to accept an allowance that could be equated to a partial pension, and to personally seek employment in the private sector. Individuals who choose the partial pension option are ensured at least 80 percent of their current wages and other benefits, and are allowed to take in additional income in a private enterprise (i.e., not part of the state sector). Retirement Finally, there is retirement (tuixiu). This option is fairly well understood. Retirement is an option for officers and senior NCOs. Traditionally, a PLA serviceman is

Conscripts and junior NCOs Intermediate and senior NCOs with at least 10 years of service

Officers serving at or below the battalion level (usually majors or lieutenant colonels) who have served for less than 20 years Officers or NCOs who have completed a minimum of 30 years’ service

tuiwu also sometimes fuyuan or tuiyi zhuanye

zimou zhiye zizhu zeye also sometimes tuiyi tuixiu

Demobilization

Transfer to assigned state sector jobs

Individual seeking employment in pivate sector

Retirement

Officers ineligible for full retirement

Applicable to

Chinese term

Mechanism for release from active duty

Possible Paths for Release from PLA Active Duty

Table 13.1

Full pension (includes salary, housing, and other benefits)

Ability to seek second salary in private sector enterprise

Partial pension

Time in service applied to retirement benefits in new civilan position

Very few; some preferential treatment in job placement and selection of college majors

Associated benefits

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eligible for retirement upon completing a minimum of thirty years of active duty service. Depending on the awards and citations that a serviceman earns over the course of his or her career, retirees are granted benefits that include a pension of 95–100 percent of their annual salary at the time of retirement as well as housing, healthcare, and other benefits.3 Three Stories of Demobilization In discussing changes to PLA demobilization policies, one really needs to tell three separate stories: one for conscripts, one for NCOs, and one for officers. Conscripts PLA conscripts are not career servicemen. They serve for a short period of time, after which they are simply demobilized. Each year the State Council and the PLA Central Military Commission jointly issue a “Demobilization Circular” (Tuiwu tongzhi) governing the release from active duty of conscripts who have fulfilled their military obligations. This usually happens in conjunction with the annual selection of a new batch of conscripts. As previously stated, in return for their service, conscripts are granted very little. Traditionally, the vast majority of conscripts came from rural areas, and upon completion of their period of obligatory service, they returned home and resumed their old way of life. Article 49 of the 1999 PLA Regulations on Military Service of Active Duty Soldiers states, “Those conscripts who are assigned a job must be compensated in a manner that would not be lower than the standard pay for most existing workers of comparable age doing similar work.”4 In essence, resettled conscripts return to their communities with new skills, and in some cases are placed in a job or granted some sort of modest resettlement allowance. However, but as Sijin Cheng points out in her chapter in this volume, these policies are implemented unevenly throughout China. Recent changes in Chinese society and PLA personnel policies have brought to light new challenges in the PRC’s management of conscript resettlement. The first story concerns the period of obligatory service for PLA conscripts. Prior to December 1998, the period of obligatory service for PLA conscripts was from three to four years and varied among the services. PLA ground force conscripts served for periods of three years, and conscripts serving in the more technically advanced PLA Air Force and PLA Navy served for periods of four years. Furthermore, if a conscript so desired, and his or her unit approved, the conscript had the option of voluntarily extending his or her time of service—sometimes for up to twelve years. Changes to this system were codified in the PRC’s December 1998 Military Service Law (Bingyi fa) and the July 1999 PLA Regulations on Military Service of Active Duty Soldiers. Under this new system, the period of obligatory service for

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conscripts in all branches and services of the PLA was curtailed to twenty-four months. This set in motion an important development. Suddenly, PLA conscripts experienced an annual turnover rate of 50 percent each year. Although exact statistics are not available, this change in the obligatory service period had the potential to significantly increase the number of conscripts being demobilized each year.5 The 1997 and 2003 downsizing decisions added to the numbers of conscripts in need of resettlement allowances, housing, and jobs. Furthermore, this change was taking place during a period of rising unemployment—finding jobs for resettling conscripts was not as easy as it once had been. The result has been a stressed resettlement program with the potential to be a source of significant discontent among the PLA enlisted corps and the communities tasked with resettling them. Problems include the following: • Conscript family members complained of not being granted their promised preferential treatment. • Conscripts complained that their living allowances (shenghuo buzhufei) were not issued while they awaited job placement. • Newly released conscripts complained of being forced to wait longer periods of time for job assignments. • In some cases, work units would refuse to provide jobs for demobilized conscripts who had been assigned to them. In an effort to manage these difficulties, in 2002 the State Council Ministry of Civil Affairs issued a document entitled the “Circular on Conscientiously Implementing the ‘Conscription Order’ and the ‘Demobilization Order’ of the State Council and the Central Military Commission and Further Strengthening and Standardizing the Work of Preferential Resettlement.” The Circular laid the groundwork for standardizing local governments’ approaches to conscript resettlement throughout the PRC. It called upon all local governments to take more initiative in effectively resettling demobilized conscripts.6 At the same time, beginning in the winter of 2002, the Ministry of Civil Affairs began issuing a “preferential resettlement card” (youdai anzhi zheng) to all resettling conscripts. The purpose of the card is to serve as lawful proof of entitlement to all of the preferential treatment offered to resettled servicemen in hopes of standardizing the system by which these preferences are exercised.7 In another shift in policy, the State Council and the CMC have also implemented a new system in which demobilized conscripts residing in cities and towns are encouraged to individually seek employment rather than waiting for an assignment.8 Localities were tasked to provide resettling conscripts a job-seeking allowance (zimou zhiye buzhujin), and work with them to provide training in marketable skills. According to articles describing these policies, such assistance should include providing free advice and employment consultation services to resettling conscripts.9

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Whether these policy shifts mark the beginning or the end of the PRC’s effort to reexamine its approach to reforming its management of conscript personnel issues remains to be seen. At a minimum, one can state that continued PLA downsizing and shortened periods of service will guarantee a steady flow of conscripts in search of jobs and expecting preferential treatment in a society not quite ready to absorb them. Noncommissioned Officers The second story has to do with noncommissioned officers. Discussing NCO demobilization is challenging because this category of PLA serviceman is comparatively new (1999). Although a fair amount of information is available about the regulations that govern the NCO career path, very few NCOs have been in the PLA long enough to be demobilized, and those who have were demobilized under the atypical situation of PLA downsizing. The PLA noncommissioned officer corps is made up of career enlisted personnel. Their careers are divided into six periods of service, based on number of years of active duty. Initially, NCOs serve two years as a conscript. Periods one and two last for three years each. Periods three and four last for four years each, period five lasts for five years, and period six lasts for nine years. NCOs following this career path can serve the thirty years required for retirement benefits. NCOs in periods one and two of their careers are referred to as “junior NCOs” (chuji shiguan). NCOs in periods three and four of their career paths are referred to as “mid-level NCOs” (zhongji shiguan). NCOs in periods five and six of their careers are referred to as “senior NCOs” (gaoji shiguan). The mechanisms through which these NCOs may be released from active duty were spelled out in the 1999 PLA Regulations on Military Service of Active Duty Officers. Article 48 of these regulations states that after separating from active service: • Junior NCOs are eligible for demobilization (tuiwu); • Intermediate and senior NCOs who have completed at least ten years of active service are eligible for assigned civilian work (zhuanye); and • Senior NCOs who have completed thirty years of active service or reached the age of fifty-five are eligible for retirement.10 More information about PLA demobilization procedures can be found in the January 2001 PLA Regulations for Managing Noncommissioned Officers.11 Article 42 of these regulations explains that when released from active duty, noncommissioned officers are granted a discharge or resettlement allowance. The amount and type of allowance provided varies depending on whether the NCO is retiring, transferring to civilian work, or simply being demobilized. Article 42 also explains that if an officer is released from active duty in the middle of a period of service—rather

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than at the end—the NCO is eligible for a portion of his or her discharge allowance. In short, NCOs at early phases in their careers are provided slightly more guarantees than enlisted conscripts. But there is a real incentive for officers to remain in the PLA long enough to be granted a better resettlement package. Officers The last story has to do with PLA officers, also known as cadre (gan bu). In the PLA today, officers seeking to leave active duty prior to retirement appear to have two main options: • They can request to be transferred to a state sector position that is similar in grade to their current billet. This is referred to as zhuanye. • They can request to be released from active duty and seek their own employment.12 One should note that regardless of which option is pursued, an officer must apply to be released from active duty prior to retirement. Although official statistics are not available, anecdotal evidence suggests that not all applications are accepted. This is relevant to discussions of PLA retention difficulties. Civilian Transfers Traditionally, the most common mechanism by which officers were released from active duty prior to retirement was that of a lateral transfer to a state sector post. Officers leaving active duty in this manner become civilian employees, entitled to all of the pay and benefits granted to other employees of their grade. These former military officers would not be granted retirement pay from the military, but their years of military service would be counted toward retirement from their new civilian positions. Recent economic and social changes have taxed this system. In the past, China’s civil service and its military followed personnel systems similar enough to allow for rational personnel transfers from one system to the other. Today, the two have evolved into significantly dissimilar systems with incongruent compensation and retirement plans.13 Furthermore, the introduction of private enterprises into China made it more difficult to define appropriate lateral transfers to civilian positions. As one article notes: In the past, the placements of military cadres to be transferred to civilian posts were made according to mandatory plans when they were assigned to work in enterprises, and they were paid the same salaries and given the same benefits as those still in active service at the same ranks. With the reform of the cadre and personnel system in the party and state institutions, the reform of the labor and employment system in enterprises, and the in-depth reforms in state-owned en-

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terprises, people in enterprises will no longer be paid according to the same pay system for cadres and functionaries in party and government organs, and the salaries of enterprise management personnel are no longer linked to any ranks in party and government institutions. Therefore, the previous method is no longer valid under the current conditions.14

The second change burdening the traditional zhuanye system has to do with numbers. The last decade has simply witnessed many more officers in need of transfer to civilian work than in the past. The 1997 decision to demobilize 500,000 servicemen within three years proved to be challenging for both the PLA and local governments. Unlike previous instances of PLA downsizing, which were at least partially accomplished through a transfer of military personnel assets to civilian control—such as the transfer of security and defense units to the People’s Armed Police or the creation of a civilian cadre system (wenzhi ganbu), the 1997 downsizing did not include a ready mechanism for mass placement of demobilized officers. From the perspective of a local government, officers who choose, or were commanded, to zhuanye pose a burden on society. Local governments are required to assign military personnel to positions of a similar grade to their active duty billet. Finding an appropriate position can be a challenge, particularly in the case of higher-ranking military officers. Furthermore, because the expectation is that officers transferred to civilian employment are being given a suitable government job in which they are gainfully employed, local governments do not appear to be given central government subsidies to offset the salary, housing, and other benefits it provides to these resettled officers. Anecdotal evidence suggests that, where there is an opening for an appropriate position for a military officer, local government officials have often earmarked it for a civilian who has spent years working in hopes of such a promotion. In some cases, it is rumored, it is not uncommon for a local government to simply provide salary and other benefits to military officers who have pursued the zhuanye option without actually providing them with a job. Articles in the Chinese press indicate that the placement of officers seeking to transfer to civilian work was problematic even before the 1997 downsizing announcement. For example, a September 1996 article from Guofang zazhi (National defense magazine) details complaints about the placement of demobilized officers made by PLA delegates at the Eighth National People’s Congress. Some of the concerns described by the local delegates included: (1) local governments and work units with little understanding of the political significance of properly placing demobilized officers; (2) work units using a variety of delaying tactics in order to avoid accepting demobilized officers, and refusing to take back conscripts released from active duty; and (3) lax enforcement of preferential treatment for servicemen’s dependents.15 Implementing the 1997 500,000-man reduction was clearly viewed by the Chi-

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nese press as a civil-military challenge and a potential source of tension. Xinhua reported on various meetings convened specifically to discuss progress in resettling demobilized service members and mentioned concerns about troop morale.16 The Hong Kong media reported that concern over the challenges of resettling demobilized officers and the impact of PLA downsizing on troop morale became the subject of a 1998 special enlarged meeting of the Central Military Commission. At this meeting, then General Political Department (GPD) director Yu Yongbo was reported to have referred to the resettlement of officers as the key point of difficulty in PLA demobilization.17 In an effort to address these challenges, in 1999 the State Council established a special task force, or working group, to study possible mechanisms for reforming the PLA’s approach to resettling demobilized personnel. It was called the State Council Working Group for the Resettlement of Military Officers (Guowuyuan junzhuan anzhi gongzuo xiaozu). Little information is available on the membership of this working group. However, likely members are representatives of institutions commonly listed as issuing joint circulars on demobilization and resettlement issues or having representatives sent to meetings discussing such issues. These include:18 • • • • • •

CCP Central Committee Organization Department (Zhongyang zuzhibu) CCP Central Committee Organization Office (Zhongyang bianban) State Council Ministry of Personnel (Renshibu) State Council Ministry of Civil Affairs (Minzhengbu) State Council Ministry of Finance (Caizhengbu) State Council Ministry of Labor and Social Security (Laodong he shehui baozhangbu) • PLA General Political Department (Zongzhengzhibu) • PLA General Logistics Department (Zonghouqinbu)

At the end of 1999, the State Council and the CMC issued a circular on the placement of military personnel released from service. It called on all agencies, enterprises, and institutions, regardless of nature, ownership, or organizational mode—that is, not just state-owned enterprises and governmental organizations—to take part in resettlement work. Each province was called upon to assign resettlement quotas in agencies and organizations throughout its province. No unit was allowed to refuse to accept the placement tasks allocated to them by local governments. By the May 2000 National Conference on Resettling Demobilized Military Cadres, it was clear that China’s political and military leadership had determined that major changes in it’s approach to resettling demobilized officers were required. At this meeting, then Vice President Hu Jintao, acting on behalf of the CCP Central Committee, made a speech in which he is quoted as saying: “The current methods of arranging jobs for demobilized military cadres have become more and more out of keeping with the current conditions in society. Reforms in the field of job placements for demobilized military cadres have become inevitable.”19

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After years of deliberation and consensus building, the CCP Central Committee, the State Council, and the Central Military Commission jointly released a new series of measures governing the release from active duty and resettlement of demobilized officers. Independent Job-Seekers On February 15, 2001, the CCP Central Committee, the State Council, and the Central Military Commission jointly issued the “Interim Measures for the Placement of Military Cadres Transferred to Civilian Work” (Jundui zhuanye ganbu anzhi zanxing banfa).20 The “Interim Measures” attempted to address some of the asymmetries between the demands and realities of China’s civilian economic sector and the PLA’s officer resettlement policy. Under the new system, officers who meet certain criteria are given the option of receiving a demobilization allowance and seeking out their own private sector employment.21 In essence, officers were divided into two groups. One group would continue to be assigned jobs in the state sector through the zhuanye system, and the other group was eligible to participate in a new program that provided officers with a partial pension or demobilization allowance, in return for seeking employment in the private sector. Those who were required to depart from active duty through assignment to civilian jobs were:22 • Officers serving at the division level (usually major generals or senior colonels) who have served less than thirty years and thus are not eligible for full retirement;23 and • Officers serving at or below the battalion level (usually majors or lieutenant colonels) who have served for less than twenty years. Those who were eligible for participation in this new program were • Battalion- and regiment-level officers (usually majors, lieutenant colonels, or colonels) who have served for more than twenty years, but less than the thirty years required to be eligible for retirement The demobilization allowance granted to officers seeking their own employment is calculated as 80 percent of the monthly salary and allowances of active service military officers of the same grade serving in the locality where the demobilized officer is being resettled. For each year of active duty service above the base of twenty years that an officer has served, the officer will be granted a 1 percent increase in his salary and allowances. So, a colonel who has served for twenty-five years and is resettling in Beijing will receive a demobilization allowance this is equal to 85 percent of the salary and other allowances granted to an active duty colonel currently serving in Beijing.

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Thus, the demobilization pay is not static, but rather is set to systematically increase as the PLA adjusts active duty salaries and allowances to make up for inflation and changes in the cost of living. One should note that “double dipping” appears to be prohibited. If officers who choose to independently seek employment accept a party or state position, they forfeit their claims to a demobilization allowance.24 Anecdotal evidence suggests that the policies put in place through the Interim Measures are widely popular among the officers eligible for participation. Less information is available, however, on how this program is received among the officers unable to receive a demobilization allowance in return for agreeing to seek private employment. Whether they would view themselves as “winners” for being assigned civilian positions with appropriate compensation packages or “losers” for being denied a partial pension as they sought individual employment remains uncertain.25 Implications and Conclusions Since the changes described above have come into effect, the PLA has begun to downsize by an additional 200,000 troops. Although, in terms of organizational structure, this downsizing has been significant, implementation of this policy decision has not yet resulted in significant changes in PLA demobilization and resettlement policies. As units downsize, are disbanded, or are transformed into reserve units, certain officers, NCOs, and conscripts have been granted early release from active duty. The PLA appears to have made an effort to err on the side of compensating these individuals. Those granted an early release appear to be given the same rights and privileges as those who have completed their current periods of obligatory service. Conscripts granted an early release are treated the same as those who have fulfilled their two-year requirement. NCOs are treated as though they have completed their current period of service, and so forth.26 Who are the winners and losers in PLA demobilization? The answer is not simple. At first glance, it would be difficult to place conscripts in the “winners” category, but as Sijin Cheng mentions in Chapter 12, for certain groups, conscription into the armed forces remains an enviable fate. If people are fighting to get in, it is difficult to classify the group as “losers.” Furthermore, as conscripts are now being asked to contribute less in terms of time, they might have lower expectations for preferential treatment upon release. Anecdotal evidence suggests that the new opportunities available to officers who have served for at least twenty years are widely popular. This is a group that sees itself as winners. However, one cannot overlook the contingent of officers applying for release from active duty that are not approved—there is no data available on the size of this cohort. The placement of division-level and regimental officers who are not eligible for

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these new programs remains a demobilization challenge. Although not left out in the cold, when comparing their fate to that of some of their colleagues that are picking up a substantial pension and working in a private enterprise, this is certainly a group that might have cause for discontent.27 In conclusion, as the PLA continues to downsize, China as a whole is going to be challenged to effectively manage the resettlement of its officers, NCOs, and enlisted personnel in such a way that they become productive members of a changing society. All evidence suggests that Beijing—from the general department directors to the party chiefs—has begun to grapple with the demobilization problem. It would be difficult for any society to absorb an influx of hundreds of thousands of discontented and militarily experienced young men, and China is most certainly not immune to this possibility of unrest and instability. For this reason, one can expect to see continued efforts to support resettling servicemen—even at the expense of local government budgets. The Chinese government appears to be addressing the realties of these challenges though a series of policy shifts. However, rearranging social burdens will only take the PRC so far in its efforts to transform its military from an army based on quantity to an army based on quality. In the end, downsizing the PLA means incurring a growing number of short-term expenses. For the moment, the PRC seems to have been able to keep up with a changing society and maintain a delicate balance. However, this balance appears to be tenuous. How long China will be able to continue this balancing act remains to be seen. Notes 1. Yu Jianrong, “Organized Struggles of the Peasants and Political Risks Involved— An Investigation in County H of Hunan County,” Zhanlue yu guanli (Strategy and management), May 1, 2003, pp. 1–16. 2. For example, anecdotal evidence suggests that conscripts who obtain a driver’s license during military training benefit from the experience. 3. Often, military retirees continue to reside in military housing; however, if they choose to live in private housing, they receive a housing allowance to compensate them for this expenditure. Both the pension and the housing allowance can be adjusted for changes in the cost of living. Interviews. 4. “Text of the State Council and the Central Military Commission’s Decision on Revising the Regulations on Military Service of Active-Duty Soldiers in the Chinese People’s Liberation Army,” Xinhua, July 11, 1999. 5. Exact statistics are not available because the PLA rarely reports on the personnel breakdown of its forces in terms of officers, enlisted personnel, and NCOs. Rough calculations are difficult because at the same time that this change was occurring, the PLA was decreasing its total number of conscripts, developing an enlarged NCO corps, and reducing the overall number of servicemen in the PLA. 6. “Director Sun Shaocheng of the Resettlement Department Under the Ministry of Civil Affairs Interviewed,” PLA Daily, November 27, 2002. 7. Ibid. 8. This policy move was further reinforced by the “Opinion on Policies that Support Demobilized Soldiers in Urban Areas to Find Jobs by Themselves,” issued by the General

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Office of the State Council in early 2004. “Important Measures to Promote Reform of Settlement of Demobilized Soldiers,” PLA Daily, February 21, 2004. 9. Ibid. 10. Retirement is arranged for NCOs who have lost their productive capacity. 11. “PLA Regulations for Managing Noncommissioned Officers—Promulgated on 20 January 2001 by the General Staff Department, General Political Department, General Logistics Department, and General Armament Department,” PLA Daily, May 23, 2001, p. 2. 12. Independently seeking employment is referred to as zimou zhiye or zizhu zeye. 13. For a detailed discussion of this trend from the PLA perspective, see Yuan Mingquan and Zhou Yanming, “The Reform of Military Pay and Allowances,” Zhongguo junshi kexue (China military science), November 1, 2001, pp. 117–125. 14. “PLA Officers Interviewed on Interim Provisions Governing Relocation of Demobilized Officers,” PLA Daily, March 2, 2001, p. 3. Emphasis added. 15. Jin Youfa, “Some Military NPC Delegates Discuss the Protection of Servicemen Rights and Interests,” Guofang zazhi (National defense magazine), September 15, 1996. 16. For example, Cao Zhi, “Army Holds Meeting on Demobilization Work,” Xinhua, November 10, 1998. 17. “Central Military Commission Holds Meeting to Steady Army Morale,” Hong Kong ming pao (Hong Kong daily news), July 4, 1998. 18. For an example of one such report, see Hua Bingxian and Gu Bochong, “Nine Central Departments, Including the State Council Working Group for the Resettlement of Military Servicemen, Recently Issue a Joint Circular on Relevant Policies Guiding This Year’s Placement of Demobilized Servicemen Policy,” PLA Daily, June 30, 2003. 19. Wu Weizheng, Zhai Qiyun, and Cao Zhi, “Hu Jintao on Jobs for Military Cadres,” Xinhua, May 9, 2000. 20. The complete Chinese-language text of the Interim Measures is available online at www.law-lib.com/law/law_view.asp?id=15819, last accessed March 21, 2004. Note: zanxing banfa can also be translated as provisional procedures or interim procedures. For a more detailed discussion of the Interim Measures, see “PLA Officers Interviewed on Interim Provisions Governing Relocation of Demobilized Officers,” PLA Daily, March 2, 2001. 21. “PLA Officers Interviewed on Interim Provisions Governing Relocation of Demobilized Officers.” 22. Ibid. 23. The reported logic behind this policy decision is that the instances in which an officer has reached this rank prior to serving the minimum number of years required to be eligible for retirement are low enough to make assigning appropriate civilian posts for these individuals a manageable task. 24. “PLA Officers Interviewed on Interim Provisions Governing Relocation of Demobilized Officers.” 25. PLA articles explaining this policy indicate that if demobilized officers do not wish to accept the civilian position to which they are assigned, they have the option of individually seeking employment. However, little is known about what financial and social support they receive in this effort. 26. Leng Degui, Ni Juping, and Su Rushou, “Leader of General Staff Department’s Military Affairs Department Answers Questions on Policy Provisions for This Winter’s Discharge and NCO Selection Effort,” PLA Daily, November 4, 2003. 27. Chinese media editorials continue to discuss, and remind readers of, the importance of making the resettlement of demobilized division-level and regiment-level officers a priority —encouraging local governments and enterprises to seek ways to better utilize this personnel resource. See, for example, “Do Good Job of Transfer of Military Officers to Civilian Work in New Situations,” PLA Daily, May 25, 2002.

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14 People’s War in the Twenty-First Century The Militia and the Reserves Dennis J. Blasko

We must uphold the thinking of People’s War, implement the principle of “combining military and civilian needs and peacetime and wartime needs and making soldiers do civilian work in times of peace,” improve the system of national defense mobilization, and strengthen the building of the militia and reserve forces. —Defense Minister Cao Gangchuan, July 31, 20031

In celebration of the twentieth anniversary of the formation of the modern reserve forces in the People’s Liberation Army (PLA), a July 2003 article in Zhongguo guofang bao (China national defense news) stated that the PLA’s reserve forces “were reorganized and revamped in 1998.” 2 Changes in the missions and structure of PLA reserve units and the militia have been largely overlooked as foreign observers have examined other elements of Chinese military modernization. In fact, the development of these two distinct organizations is an integral part of national defense mobilization, and there is mounting evidence of increased military, reserve, militia, police, and civilian coordination. In addition to its traditional mission of supporting active PLA units, numerous reserve and militia units have been reorganized to support information operations and other hightechnology missions. Many militia units have also been created to restore civilian infrastructure damaged by expected enemy attacks on the Chinese mainland. At the same time, reserve and militia logistics units, along with other forms of civilian mobilization, have become vital to any PLA operation that lasts more than a few days. 270

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While these developments have not been tested in war, reserve and militia forces have been exercised frequently and have participated with the PLA in countless disaster relief missions in recent years. The role of China’s citizen soldiers in potential future campaigns is essential to the continuing viability of “People’s War Under Modern Conditions” as it supports the concept of local war in the twentyfirst century.3 “The Naming of Cats Is a Difficult Matter . . .” In order to appreciate the current role of the militia and the reserves in Chinese society, a basic understanding of the relationships among the various police, security, and military forces is necessary. A variety of Chinese government entities are tasked with domestic (internal) security and external defense. An overarching term for the entire spectrum of civilian police, security forces, and the Chinese armed forces is the Chinese security apparatus.4 While some of the functions of these organizations overlap, their primary and secondary missions and chains of command are not the same. For the purpose of categorization, identifying these entities as civilian, paramilitary, or military may be useful.5 Civilian police and security organizations responsible to the State Council are the Ministry of Public Security (MPS, or Gong’an bu) and the Ministry of State Security (MSS, or Guojia anquan bu). The MPS, as its name implies, is “in charge of public security in the country and [is] the highest leading and commanding organ of the Armed Police.” A main function of the MPS is to “coordinate the action against serious cases of turmoil and major public security incidences.” The MSS is responsible for “counter-espionage work, preventing, holding in check, and combating illegal criminal activities endangering China’s state security and interests in accordance with the law, defending state security, maintaining social and political stability, guaranteeing socialist construction, publicizing and educating Chinese citizens to be loyal to the motherland, maintaining state secrets, state security and interests.”6 While most MPS officers wear uniforms, MSS officers routinely do not. According to the PRC Law on National Defense adopted on March 14, 1997, the Chinese armed forces are defined as the: • Active and reserve units of the Chinese People’s Liberation Army; • Chinese People’s Armed Police force (PAP); • People’s militia. The PLA is considered a “military” force, while the PAP and militia are paramilitary organizations. Each element of the Chinese armed forces has an organizational structure that follows general military patterns, and each wears a uniform that is distinct from the others (to a trained observer; they may ap-

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pear the same to outsiders). However, there is a nuance to their operational missions that is often unnoticed or misunderstood by some Chinese and many foreigners. The missions for the three components of the Chinese armed forces are defined as follows: • The active units of the Chinese People’s Liberation Army are a standing army, which is mainly charged with the defensive fighting mission. The standing army, when necessary, may assist in maintaining public order in accordance with the law. Reserve units shall take training according to regulations in peacetime, may assist in maintaining public order according to the law when necessary, and shall change to active units in wartime according to mobilization orders issued by the state. • Under the leadership and command of the State Council and the Central Military Commission, the Chinese People’s Armed Police force is charged by the state with the mission of safeguarding security and maintaining public order. • Under the command of military organs, militia units shall perform combatreadiness duty, carry out defensive fighting tasks, and assist in maintaining the public order.7 In summary, the PLA’s active and reserve units are primarily responsible for the external defense of China, but have a secondary mission of domestic security, in accordance with the law. In contrast, the primary mission of the PAP is domestic security, but it has a secondary mission of local defense in wartime. The militia, like the PLA, also has the primary duty of external defense, but it, too, can assist in maintaining domestic security. In December 2003, the Central Committee for Comprehensive Management of Public Security and the Mobilization Department of the General Staff Department issued a joint circular on the militia’s role in “safeguarding the public order.” In accordance with the law, and under the command of the People’s Armed Forces Departments (PAFD), the militia is tasked to: • Organize and carry out joint defense and protection of roads; safeguard factories, mines, villages, waterways, and power facilities; and handle regional guard duties; • Help the public security departments strike at all kinds of criminal offenses, restore peace and order in chaotic areas and places, and maintain public order; and • Guard important targets, defend the country, and protect the people’s life and property; participate in dealing with sudden group incidents; and coordinate with the troops and public security departments to strengthen administration of the border regions and protect the security of the frontiers.8

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The PLA is directly responsible to the Central Military Commission (CMC),9 while the paramilitary PAP and militia have the State Council (through local government bodies) in their chains of command with regard to their domestic stability functions.10 It is possible at various times and locations, depending on local circumstances, to see civilian police forces operating in conjunction with PLA, PAP, or militia forces. In such instances of domestic law enforcement activity, local police forces have primary responsibility for arrests and detainment, with the PLA, PAP, or militia acting in support. A summary of the missions and command for the Chinese security apparatus is found in Table 14.1. The formation of the National Defense Mobilization Committee (NDMC) system in 1994 effectively established a forum for the military chain of command to link directly with government and Communist Party structures from the State Council down to the county level. Among its duties, the NDMC system coordinates the development of civilian and military requirements, makes decisions on the employment of forces, and may act as a joint command organ in times of emergency. Another important function of the NMDC system and local military headquarters is the survey and cataloguing of civilian assets—such as trucks, boats, and ships—that could be used in times of emergency to augment the Chinese armed forces. Before moving on, it might be useful to clarify the term reserve, which can be translated into Chinese as yubei or houbei. PLA reserve units are called yubeiyi budui. The addition of the final character yi to yubei is the key to distinguishing reserve units from other uses of the term. In other contexts, yubei or houbei has multiple meanings. At the macro level, yubei or houbei liliang (force) is often used to describe China’s entire part-time, uniformed civilian force of both reserve units and militia units. At the tactical or operational level, the terms yubei or houbei might also be used as adjectives to describe “reserve” or “emergency” forces, locations, or equipment that are not committed to the current battle, but are being held by the commander for use when necessary. In this case, active PLA units can be “tactical” or “operational” reserves, as could reserve units or militia units.11 People’s War in the Twenty-First Century People’s War is a magic weapon for our army in conquering the enemy.12 —PLA Daily, August 27, 2002

Mao Zedong’s concept of “People’s War” has undergone a series of transformations over the decades in order to maintain its relevance to changing conditions. 13 Despite its old connotations, People’s War is still the underlying principle (military thought) for future Chinese military operations in the twentyfirst century. Every senior PLA leader continues to uphold the importance of

Type Military Paramilitary Paramilitary Civilian Civilian

Force

PLA PAP Militia MPS MSS

China’s Security Apparatus

Table 14.1

External defense Domestic security External defense Domestic security Counter-espionage

Primary mission Domestic security External defense Domestic security N/A Domestic security

Secondary mission

CMC CMC and State Council CMC and State Council State Council State Council

Chain of command

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People’s War. For Chinese military planners, the most likely form of combat, local wars on China’s periphery, will be fought with the principles of People’s War in mind. Initially, People’s War was envisioned as defense of the Chinese mainland (continental defense) from a more advanced enemy that takes advantage of China’s inherent strengths (a large population and vast land mass), while employing traditional Chinese fighting skills of speed, surprise, deception, and stratagem. In particular, Mao emphasized the role of man over weapons, mobilization of the population, and use of guerrilla tactics until enough combat power could be accumulated for a transition to conventional operations. After the development of nuclear weapons, China expected to be a target of nuclear attack. As China’s actual and potential enemies changed and its technological base improved, People’s War was modified to adapt to the new conditions. This process began in the 1950s and continued into the 1960s. As China developed industrially, modern weapons, including air, naval, missile, and nuclear forces, were incorporated into the concept of People’s War in defense of the mainland and the name changed to “People’s War Under Modern Conditions.” Proponents of these changes included Ye Jianying, Luo Ruiqing, Su Yu, and Nie Rongzhen. Even in 1985, after Deng Xiaoping declared that the likelihood of a major war was remote and that local war was the most likely form of future combat, the principles of People’s War lived on and continued to be adapted for use in the twenty-first century. There is no contradiction in the Chinese mind today about employing advanced weapons developed as part of the Revolution in Military Affairs to prosecute local war using the principles of People’s War. Table 14.2 is a simplification of the process of transformation of the concept of People’s War from its beginnings into the twenty-first century. In themselves, China’s population, size, and military strategy (People’s War and active defense) are considered major deterrents to a land invasion of China by any potential enemy. The latent potential of China’s population and industrial base are believed to be a “reserve” with which active duty forces can be augmented. The roles of China’s reserve forces (reserve units and militia units) and the mobilization of the civilian population to support PLA forces in campaigns of local war have received great emphasis in recent Chinese military writings and exercises. Reserve units and militia assets, applied particularly to logistics and local security operations, will be incorporated with traditional methods of speed, surprise, deception, and stratagem to assist the PLA in any future operations that last longer than a few days. The missions the reserves and militia will undertake in supporting future PLA campaigns of local war demonstrate the continuing relevance of People’s War in modern times. The priority given to the restructuring, re-equipping, and training of reserve and militia forces over the past six years is, nevertheless, a topic that has largely gone unexamined by foreign observers.

People’s war under modern conditions Objective: Defeat invasion of Chinese mainland • Total war • “Lure in Deep” with defense at borders and protect cities • Deter major land invasion of China (after 1985 when local war was declared the most likely form of future war) Most dangerous likely adversaries: USSR, USA Assumption: China is weaker than technologically advanced enemy • Requires use of speed, surprise, deception, and stratagem • Guerrilla tactics to augment conventional operations • Eventually accepted use of modern weapons (nuclear, air, and naval forces) • Use of nuclear weapons expected

Traditional People’s war

Objective: Defeat invasion of Chinese mainland • Total war • Initial concept of “Lure in Deep” modified to • Defend at borders

Adversaries: Japan, then the USA, then the USSR

Assumption: China is weaker than technologically advanced enemy • Requires use of speed, surprise, deception, and stratagem • Guerrilla war followed by conventional phase • In 1950s and 1960s, nuclear weapons expected to be used against China

Evolution of People’s War

Table 14.2

Assumption: China is weaker than technologically advanced enemy • Requires use of speed, surprise, deception, and stratagem • Guerrilla-style tactics may be used to support conventional operations • Long-range, precision strike expected against Chinese mainland

Most dangerous likely adversary: USA

Objective: Protect China’s sovereignty from “terrorists, extremists, and separatists” • Deter major land invasion of China • Support local war under modern high-technology conditions on borders • Deter Taiwan independence • Reunify through use of force if necessary

People’s war in the 21st century

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Importance of “Man” over “Weapons” Importance of “Man” over “Weapons” • “Man and Weapons” are both important • “Man and Weapons” are both important • Debate over “Red” versus “Expert” • Technology must be exploited • Emphasis on education and training • PLA must be both “red” and “expert”

Importance of “Man” over “Weapons” • Shift to “Man and Weapons” are both important • Politics in command • “Red” usually triumphs over “expert”

Role of militia: • Support conventional forces (logistics, transportation) • Air defense and anti-chemical defense • High-technology units • Renewed emphasis on “Urban Militia”

Role of militia: • Conduct guerrilla operations • Support conventional forces • Air defense and anti-chemical defense • Operations primarily in countryside, but urban militia defends cities after Soviet penetration

Role of militia: • Conduct guerrilla operations • Support conventional forces • Air defense and anti-chemical defense • Operations primarily in countryside

Mobilization of population is key for: • Political work (fighting spirit) • Logistics support • Air defense • Repair damaged infrastructure

Mobilization of population is key for: • Political work (fighting spirit) • Logistics support • Intelligence support

Mobilization of population is key for: • Political work (fighting spirit) • Logistics support • Intelligence support

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Priority to Building “the Reserve Force” In a long article in Beijing guofang (Beijing national defense) in March 2003, General Qian Shugen, secretary general of the National Defense Mobilization Committee and PLA deputy chief of the General Staff, reviewed the progress of “the reserve force,” including both PLA reserve units and militia units, in the past few years and outlined the work yet to be done.14 Qian’s remarks indicate that the transformation of the reserve force is a priority among the many elements of the PLA’s multifaceted modernization program. Consistent with other aspects of PLA modernization, Qian emphasizes that the building of the reserves is a cost-effective way to increase China’s military strength—the importance of saving money and getting “more bang for the buck” is a common theme for all of the PLA as it seeks to modernize in a relatively budget-constrained environment. Qian notes “the building of the militia and reserve units in the past few years has been in the stage of laying a foundation.” So far, the efforts in this area have: • • • • •

improved their organizations (i.e., the reserve and militia); reduced their scales; adjusted their overall arrangements; improved their facilities; and established and improved rules and regulations mainly through a series of adjustments and reforms.

The work of the past has created momentum for further developments. Qian calls for innovative methods to rapidly solve problems. Among the tasks identified are to: • Guide ourselves with Mao Zedong Thought, Deng Xiaoping Theory, and Jiang Zemin’s important thinking of the “Three Represents”; implement the basic principle of the party’s control of the armed forces and the dual leadership system; adhere to the thinking on People’s War; develop the strategy and tactics of People’s War Under Modern Conditions; and ensure the correct orientation for the building of the militia and reserve units and the party’s absolute leadership over these forces. • Push forward the integrated building of the reserve units and active military units and tilt in favor of the reserves in personnel, equipment, military training, funding, materials, and work guidance so that they can quickly become a fighting force. • Do a good job in building specialized and technical militia detachments of various arms and services of the armed forces (with particular emphasis on anti-aircraft artillery units). • Do a good job in organizing the reserve personnel of the Navy, the Air Force,

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• • • •

and the Second Artillery Corps in order to lay a solid foundation for replenishing troops in wartime. Deepen the training of troops through science and technology. Improve the weapons and equipment of the militia and reserve units. Conduct joint training of active- and reserve-duty troops. Organize and manage the militia and reserve units well and enable them to report for duty at short notice.

These objectives parallel modernization efforts under way in the active duty PLA. Qian notes that the militia and reserves, like the active forces, are in the process of moving from a manpower-intensive force to a technology-intensive force composed of high-quality personnel. The reserves, like the active forces, must accomplish the “dual historical tasks” of mechanization and application of information technology. It should come as no surprise that “political reliability” and the “absolute leadership” of the Chinese Communist Party head the “to do” list for both the active and reserve forces. Qian’s article expands to the entire country, and confirms a statement made a year earlier in the work report delivered at the Tenth Congress of the Nanjing Military Region Party Committee in 2002, that the “reserve forces are now being built and developed at the same pace as active forces.”15 In fact, Qian’s statement that unit building should “tilt in favor” of the reserves indicates that in some cases reserve force needs may have higher priority than active duty units. Another article published a few months before Qian’s remarks reveals that as a result of changes in the reserve force since 1998, the average age of reserve officers has decreased by two to three years, 76 percent of reserve officers had university education, and over 80 percent had received military training. Military training intensity has increased and a new reserve officer management system has been adopted.16 The remaining sections of this chapter will examine developments in the reserve and militia forces since 1998. The evidence from Chinese sources demonstrates the accuracy of Qian’s words and points to a continuation of the trends he outlined. Changes in PLA Reserve Units The PLA reserve unit force as it is known today was established in 1983. It is organized into divisions, brigades, and regiments, each with their own designators. The majority of reserve unit personnel are civilians, many of whom have been demobilized from military service, but, in particular, technical specialists who have not previously served on active duty are recruited into the reserves. All reserve units also have a backbone of active duty military officers. In peacetime, reserve units come under the command of provincial military district (MD) headquarters or the garrison commands found in Beijing, Tianjin, Shanghai, and

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Chongqing. In war, reserve units might be commanded by active units, or they could operate independently.17 The Military Balance estimates the size of the force to be “some 500–600,000,” a figure which, as we shall see, is supported by its known order of battle.18 In the 1990s, the reserve force (both reserve units and the militia) underwent a series of adjustments and reforms.19 In 1991, “size control” was identified as a major topic with the goal of making the reserves “more scientific and rational in scale and more commensurate with quality building as well.” After 1996 (at the same time as the 500,000-man reduction of the active duty PLA), military ranks were given to reserve officers for the first time, more officers were recruited from active service, and “support units” were formed. By 1998, the reserve force had begun a large reorganization, encompassing the consolidation and restructuring of many old units and the creation of new units with the province or garrison command as a basis. As can be seen from Appendix 14.1, from 1998 to 2003, four major trends were apparent:20 • Where more than one reserve infantry division was present in a province, those units were consolidated so that (for the most part) only one infantry division (or brigade) is now found in a single province (see examples in Hebei, Shanxi, Guizhou, Shandong, Jilin, and Heilongjiang provinces).21 Reserve infantry divisions have not been identified in the Beijing, Tianjin, Shanghai, and Chongqing Garrison Commands. • Units were formed in provinces where previously reserve units had not been identified (see examples in Inner Mongolia and Yunnan and Qinghai provinces). • Units were transformed into artillery or anti-aircraft artillery (AAA) divisions, thus increasing the number of these kinds of units and the firepower available to support the active force. • Logistics Support Brigades were formed either by transforming existing infantry divisions or by creating them anew. Since 1998, the reserve force has grown from approximately 43 divisions and 2 regiments to 40 divisions, 6 regiments, and 10 brigades in 2003. Assuming a division size of 10,000–12,000 personnel, a brigade of up to 5,000, and a regiment of about 1,500, the size of the force would range from about 450,000 to well over 500,000, roughly consistent with the estimate found in the Military Balance (see Appendix 14.1). It now appears, with few exceptions, that each province has one reserve infantry division (or brigade) that probably incorporated smaller existing units and/or created new subordinate units in locations where there had been none. These formations are likely to be combined arms units with infantry, armor, artillery, AAA, reconnaissance, engineer, anti-chemical, communications, and logistics units. The one reserve infantry brigade identified without a specific location in the Chengdu Military Region is likely located in Tibet, where so far

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no reserve units have been identified. With only one infantry division per province, more resources, equipment, and training can be focused on that unit to make it more effective and compatible with active PLA forces. In the future, it would not be surprising to find the presence of more than one reserve infantry division in provinces that have had a large reduction in active forces.22 In addition to reserve infantry divisions, many provinces also have artillery, AAA, or other specialized reserve units. The Hunan Daily described how in 1999 the former Zhuzhou Army Reserve Infantry Division was ordered by the General Staff Department to move its headquarters to Changsha, upgrading it from prefectural to provincial status. As the only provincial-level reserve division in Hunan, it was then tasked to experiment with rapid mobilization for six months. As a result of some 120 drills, on September 15, 2000, the division was able to assemble its personnel and equipment within twelve hours of the order being given.23 Adding a level of detail not found in Appendix 14.1, an article in the Beijing Military Region newspaper described how reserve divisions are organized.24 Previous practice had been to form reserve divisions in prefectures. Now divisions are formed in provinces, with regiments centered on prefectures (cities), battalions in counties (districts), and companies in townships and villages (towns). (Appendix 14.1 shows how in 1998 many reserve divisions carried city names, but by 2003 they had been consolidated into provinces.) In the three provinces of the Beijing Military Region (Hebei, Shanxi, and Inner Mongolia), reserve units have been formed in 22 prefectures (cities) and 162 counties and districts. All divisions, brigades, and regiments have built operations rooms, combat duty rooms, readiness data rooms, and readiness material depots. Most units have computers and have set up local area networks. Battalions and companies have been issued anti-riot and disaster relief equipment. Among the Beijing Military Region’s reserve personnel, 80 percent are party or Communist Youth League members, 55 percent are demobilized servicemen, and 83 percent of specialists are in positions matching their specialties. Similarly, the elements of the 12,000-strong Hunan Army Reserve Infantry Division are reportedly distributed among 5 cities, 31 counties, and 399 townships and villages.25 Newly formed artillery divisions are available to augment PLA firepower, and additional AAA divisions, found specifically in the four centrally administered cities, could be used to defend urban areas or units in the field. The artillery and AAA pieces used to equip these units probably became available from active duty units that had been demobilized. The Jiangsu Reserve AAA division was reported to have been organized “three years ago,” with its four regiments converted from infantry units, and few of the cadre having any AAA experience.26 Since 1998, the percentage of artillery and AAA divisions in the force has increased substantially, from 6 divisions out of 43 (14 percent) to 17 divisions out of 40 (43 percent). Other specialized units, such as communications and chemical defense regiments, have been formed when equipment and expertise became available.

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Each military region has a Logistics Support Brigade that can support either reserve or active duty units. The creation of these units is consistent with the PLA’s recent emphasis on logistics support and armament modernization. As will be seen later, reserve units have begun training with active duty forces. Appendix 14.1 implies that reserve AAA divisions from the Air Force and Navy that existed in 1998 in Xi’an and Dalian, respectively, changed uniforms to become army reserve AAA divisions by 2003. Though Appendix 14.1 does not identify any reserve units from services other than the army in 2003, Qian Shugen called for reserves in the PLA Navy, Air Force, and the Second Artillery Corps to be built in order to “replenish troops in wartime.” Qian’s statement suggests these service reserve units will be composed of individuals who will augment specific active duty units as required. It also suggests, however, that the entire units do not necessarily need to be deployed at one time. The formation of new Navy, Air Force, and Second Artillery reserve units is just beginning. In December 2002, China National Defense News called for building a reserve force for the PLA Air Force. The newspaper noted that, as of 2000, China’s civilian aviation enterprises had 866 transport aircraft and approximately 100,000 personnel, 10,000 of whom are pilots. Moreover, it recommended that these assets be organized and trained for wartime mobilization.27 In August 2003, the “first” Air Force “pre-organized” reserve unit was established in Wuhan. This company-size unit, consisting of 139 members, all of whom are demobilized servicemen, is intended to provide replacements for a local Guangzhou Military Region Air Force Anti-Aircraft Missile Brigade. In addition to this unit, the Wuhan garrison was reported to have called up another 250 “pre-organized” reservists to support an airborne unit, a Second Artillery unit, and a naval unit in Wuhan.28 A few other PLA Air Force reserve units appear to have been established, such as a Reserve Air Station Support Group in Yan’an, composed of several hundred personnel.29 Only a limited number of references to PLA Navy and Second Artillery reserve units have been noted. In July 2000, the training ship Shichang took part in a mobilization exercise in which “Navy reservists” from Donggang in Liaoning performed crew duties.30 In September 2003, the Second Artillery held a work forum to discuss the formation of a Second Artillery reserve force of “suitable scale, logical distribution, and sound structure” to serve as a “reliable operational support force.”31 A few years earlier, the Second Artillery Base 51 in Shenyang, along with the local People’s Armed Forces Departments, was reported to maintain the files of demobilized personnel for the previous five years. As a result, these personnel were able to receive training on simulators of new models of missiles.32 This was likely an experimental project, which may or may not be suitable for use in other units. Reserve Forces Logistics Support In January 2000, the Guangzhou Military Region newspaper announced that, based on “an important policy of the Party Center, the State Council, and the CMC,” seven reserve logistics brigades had been formed with the mission of “wartime

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and armament technical support.”33 The first brigades of this type were established in 1999, and integrate both logistics and armament system functions into a single unit. The brigades appear to have their subordinate units all located in a single province and are organized according to specialty: motor transport; supply; petroleum, oil, and lubricants (POL) resupply; medical; and repair. Like active duty logistics units, when required they can form temporary “mobile logistics support units.” Details of specific reserve logistics support brigades include: • The Langfang Army Reserve Logistics Support Brigade was previously the Langfang Reserve Division. The division was ordered to transform into a logistics support brigade in early 1999 and completed the task in four months.34 In late February 2000, the new brigade conducted an online exercise in which over 200 transport, repair, refueling, first aid, and supply vehicles arrived at an assembly area “from all directions.” The unit’s deployment was described as follows: “[D]iscarding the practice of confining battalions to counties, the brigade took a city as its center, and organized its elements according to profession. Battalions were formed at the bureau level; companies were set up in city districts, counties, and work units in the relevant professions.”35 Over a period of two years, the brigade set up a “battlefield network” of computers at the battalion and company level, along with a paging network to notify individual reservists.36 • The Hunan Hengyang Army Reserve Logistics Support Brigade was formed on January 18, 2000, with over 2,000 officers and men.37 Of that number, more than 500 are considered “science and technology” personnel (i.e., technicians).38 • The Shaanxi Baoji Army Reserve Logistics Support Brigade became operational on March 28, 2000, at a ceremony attended by over 1,000 of the unit’s officers and men.39 The brigade was reported to have conducted resupply and refueling drills in northwest China during the fall of 2001 and winter of 2002.40 • The Fujian Zhangzhou Reserve Logistics Support Brigade was formed in September 1999 and holds tactical drills every quarter year.41 It is organized into a “coastal defense support network” with systems for rescue and medical aid, land and sea transport, armament maintenance and repair, material storage and supply, and POL supply.42 The unit is reported to have 129 “specializations” among its personnel and in 24 hours can set up two field hospitals with 300 stretchers and 27 repair facilities. In 72 hours it can assemble 450 vehicles and boats that weigh a total of 30,000 tons. In a week it can call up several hundred tons of POL and war material.43 The brigade has also formed a “ship transport unit” composed of assets from the Xiamen Shipping Corporation and the Xiamen Maritime Industry and Petroleum Company.44 Elements of the unit have exercised with civilian “support-the-front” dock workers and a PLA Navy unit stationed in Fujian to perform repairs and replenish warships with POL.45 • The Liaoning Jinzhou Reserve Logistics Support Brigade was first identified after having conducted a demonstration in September 1999. Capabilities dis-

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played at the drill included field medical treatment, vehicle repair, and vehicle refueling operations.46 A subsequent report noted that the unit “is set up in a city with well developed economic, cultural, and communications facilities, and abundant human resources. It relies on large enterprises and administrative units rich in technology, equipment, and material.”47 Nonlogistics reserve units also will use civilian vehicles to support their operations. For example, a reserve AAA division in the Beijing Military Region had to requisition 36 special vehicles and train local drivers to tow guns for an exercise. These 36 vehicles formed over one-third of the nearly 100 vehicles in the entire division.48 In the Shenyang Military Region, a Liaoning reserve division maintains a “Battlefield Resources Dynamic Tracking System,” which contains data on pre-organized units and some 1,200 vehicles available for military and civilian use.49 These examples suggest that, like the active PLA, many reserve units will likely have to mobilize civilian assets to augment organic vehicles and equipment to support, and sustain, future operations. The Militia in the Twenty-First Century “The militia is an armed mass organization not released from production. It is a reserve force of the PLA and the basis for the prosecution of a People’s War under modern conditions.”50 According to the 1998 Military Service Law (Bingyi fa), “male citizens from 18 to 35 years of age who are fit for military service, excluding those enlisted for active service, shall be regimented into militia units to perform reserve service.” The militia is divided into two categories, the primary and the ordinary: • The primary militia is defined as “a selected group of militiamen under the age of 28, including soldiers discharged from active service and other persons who have received or are selected for military training.” The primary militia receives training “in militia military training bases of administrative areas at the county level.” Members are organized into “emergency detachments, and such specialized technical detachments as anti-aircraft artillery, anti-aircraft machine guns, portable air defense missiles, ground artillery, communications, chemical defense, engineering and reconnaissance detachments.” Additionally, “the primary militia may recruit female citizens when necessary.” • The ordinary militia is composed of “other male citizens in the age group of eighteen to thirty-five who are qualified for reserve service.” Militia units are found in “rural towns and townships, administrative villages, urban subdistricts, and enterprises and institutions of a certain scale.” The cost of militia forces is borne by local governments. From the description above, any able-bodied male from eighteen to thirty-five must be registered and could be called up to perform militia duties in times of

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emergency. This provision makes the ordinary militia into a force of unwieldy size and likely to exist only on paper roll sheets, if at all. The focus of militia building under current circumstances, then, has to be on the primary militia, which is also a force of substantial size, but by definition much smaller than the ordinary militia. In the course of research for this chapter, no estimates were seen for the size of either the primary or ordinary militia. In response to a national emergency, the Chinese government has the legal authority to draw on a nearly unlimited pool of manpower, albeit only a portion of which has received military training, to support military operations. While this vast sea of manpower could be of use on the mainland itself or on boats and ships close to home, it would be of minimal value in projecting force much beyond the islands China claims as its own. The chain of command for militia units runs from the provincial Military District (MD) headquarters through the Military Subdistricts (MSD) and down to the People’s Armed Forces Departments. Personnel to man militia units are drawn from the entire universe of Chinese factories, research institutes, and commercial enterprises; MD, MSD, and PAFD officials look closely at these kinds of work units to enlist personnel with the technical qualifications necessary for local requirements. For example, a city with a large chemical industry may set up several militia units with an anti–chemical warfare mission at its chemical plants.51 Not only might Chinese workers in foreign-owned enterprises in China be members of the militia, but entire militia units are found in some foreign-owned companies.52 In addition to the reforms identified earlier undertaken by the overall “reserve forces,” the militia also began specific transformations in the 1990s. After 1993, Jiang Zemin recognized that “militia building remained incompatible with both the ‘battlefield’ and the ‘market,’” and ordered a focus on “the militia’s irrational organizational structures, insufficient scientific and technological training, low-standard military training . . . [in order to enhance] accomplishing various missions in a local war waged under modern conditions, high-tech conditions in particular.”53 In August 2002, the role of People’s War as a “magic weapon” to defeat the enemy was reiterated as the Party Central Committee, State Council, and CMC issued a circular entitled “Opinions on Strengthening and Improving Urban Militia Work.” This document called for shifting the focus of People’s War from the countryside to the cities and border areas. The urban militia was tasked to adhere to the principle of “restricting quantity, enhancing quality, strengthening focus, and laying a solid foundation” to improve “combat quality and rapid response capability to meet the needs of modern warfare.”54 The urban militia would assume roles well beyond the traditional labor-intensive missions of the past.55 Because of the importance of cities in modern war, the urban militia must assume several tasks and meet new demands.56 It must be capable of rapid mobilization, be flexible in conducting both regular and independent operations, and make decisions rapidly in an integrated command system. It must have a structure that

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can be rapidly organized and reconstituted after suffering losses. Specifically, the urban militia must play a bigger role in joint operations. While counter-air-raid (air defense) operations are its principal task, the urban militia must also: • repair damage from air raids; • render logistical support to combat units by providing battlefield service and support to the front; • replenish combat troops with technicians and soldiers; and • cooperate with the PLA and the PAP in defending important targets and maintaining public order. Several years earlier, Chinese analysis of the Kosovo war had concluded that in future high-technology war, the militia’s main task will be to “restore damaged economic facilities, ensure production and livelihood.”57 In addition to its traditional local defense role, in recent years many new militia units have been formed with high-technology and logistics support functions. Specific functions include: • • • •

railroad and highway repair, including bridge repair; reestablishing communications, especially repair of fiber-optic cables; medical evacuation and first aid; and restoration of electric power and water supply.

Other militia units will attempt to break into enemy computer networks to either gather intelligence or conduct attacks and interference.58 Though the details mentioned above were attributed to analysis and developments in the Lanzhou MSD, similar changes in the militia force structure are reported to be taking place throughout China. No order of battle listings such as are available for active and reserve PLA units is available for the militia. The number and type of militia units varies according to the size of the areas they support and local needs. Emergency hightechnology and logistics militia units (of battalion size and smaller) are numerous. Traditional militia units for local defense continue to be prevalent throughout the country; for instance, more than 1,400 counties in China have established “People’s Air Defense” organizations.59 Representative examples of new militia units, numbering in the thousands, derived from Chinese newspaper reports, are found in Appendix 14.2. A major role of the militia is to provide local defense, especially in rear areas where logistics forces are located. A sample PLA infantry division logistics defense plan shows militia units integrated into the rear area defense scheme of a typical division deployed in the field.60 By performing rear area security duties, militia units would free active PLA units to conduct other operations in a local war scenario. Militia units also have been given the responsibility for some guard duties dur-

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ing peacetime. According to China Militia, “following the retrenchment of the military in 1997, this duty [guarding a strategic material cave depot in Sichuan near the Chengdu-Chongqing expressway] was taken over by the militia from a regular PLA unit.”61 Militia units are also used to guard railway stations, docks, airfields, and other important locations, many of which are vital to logistics networks, in both peace and war.62 In 2001, “some 10,000 militiamen” were reported to have been given the responsibility to guard bridges, oil depots, and other major targets at all times.63 No discussion of the militia can be complete without mention of the Xinjiang Production and Construction Corps, first created in 1954 when most PLA units in the region were ordered to transfer to civilian work.64 According to the Chinese White Paper on Xinjiang, the mission of the Corps (abbreviated in Chinese as the Bingtuan) is “cultivating and guarding the frontier areas entrusted to it by the state.”65 It is a “special social organization,” under the dual leadership of the central government and the Xinjiang Uygur Autonomous Region. The total number of personnel assigned to the Corps amounts to 2,453,600, including 933,000 workers organized into 14 divisions and 174 regimental farms, which have established an unknown number of militia units. The total number of personnel in the Xinjiang Production and Construction Corps cannot be considered as part of China’s armed forces, though the individual elements of the Corps are known by their military designations (for example, the “No. 102 Regiment” of the Corps) and their leaders are addressed as “commanders.” Some unknown number of the nearly one million workers in the Corps, however, are part of the militia. James Seymour of Columbia University estimates that about 100,000 workers have undergone military training.66 Along with the PLA, PAP, and local citizens, the Corps has established a “fourin-one” joint defense system aimed at “resisting internal and external separatists’ attempts at sabotage and infiltration, and in maintaining the stability and safety of the borders of the motherland.”67 Militia units from the Corps routinely work with PLA and PAP forces on a variety of missions including border defense, internal security (including anti-riot training), and disaster relief. While elements of the Xinjiang Production and Construction Corps are involved in domestic and external security, as a whole, the corps is primarily engaged in economic and production work. Reserve and Militia Training As with the active duty PLA, training for reserve units is guided by the new “Military Training and Evaluation Program” (MTEP) that became effective on January 1, 2002.68 As could be expected of a reserve force, a major focus of many training exercises is rapid mobilization and deployment to the field. Units all over the country have experimented with many methods of notifying and assembling reservists. The proliferation of computers, mobile telephones, and

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pagers in the past fifteen years has greatly enhanced notification procedures. Reserve and militia training areas, separate from active PLA training areas, have been established throughout China. Efforts are under way to integrate missions for reserve units into the operations conducted by active forces, and combined exercises between active and reserve units have been conducted. Specific emphasis has been placed on ensuring that active and reserve headquarters can communicate effectively (aided significantly by the relatively recent appearance of computers in units, personnel trained to use them, and local area network connections). Indicators of the trend in joint training include the following: • In January 2002, reserve forces in the Nanjing Military Region were instructed to establish ties with active PLA units and train with them. Every reserve division and regiment was tasked to hold rapid mobilization drills and live fire exercises.69 Later that same month, apparently in compliance with the Military Region directive, the Zhejiang Reserve Infantry Division was reported to have established permanent links with active PLA units and trained with them during “mass training periods.” The reserve unit invited active duty instructors to give demonstrations and lectures, and sent its personnel to active units for full-time training.70 • In February 2002, the Lanzhou Military Region issued a provisional set of regulations on linking reserve and active units in training in order to improve the quality of reserve training.71 • In May 2002, the Sichuan Army Reserve Infantry Division and the Yunnan Army Reserve Division were reported to have achieved “outstanding results” in training with active units. Under the joint training arrangement, active units are primarily responsible for organizing and managing the training, teaching, and provision of instructors and equipment, while the reserve units organize the personnel to be trained and provide funds, material, and POL supplies.72 The first-ever exercise teaming a reserve unit with an active duty unit in the Beijing Military Region occurred during the summer of 2002. According to Xinhua News Agency, a Beijing Military Region reserve regiment assembled its 1,500 officers and enlisted men, conducted pre-deployment training, and traveled across three provinces to join forces with an active unit in a force-on-force exercise. This drill, which lasted more than twenty days, was hailed as a “major breakthrough” in reserve training and capabilities.73 Perhaps the most significant aspect of this exercise is that it took place nearly twenty years after the founding of the modern PLA reserve force. A year later, the Jiangsu Reserve Army Infantry Division conducted its first-ever amphibious training in the Yellow Sea. In addition to its own landing operations, the division also worked with an active PLA unit to load and unload artillery pieces, move from one ship to another at sea, and conduct joint obstacleclearing operations.74

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Reserve units also conduct unit training on their own according to the MTEP and use many techniques the active duty PLA has adopted, such as the establishment of a “blue force” in force-on-force exercises.75 Reserve exercises are also growing in scale. In September 2003, the first mobilization of an entire reserve division in the Guangzhou War Zone was reported by the Guangxi Army Reserve Infantry Division. The five-day exercise included setting up a “wartime rapid mobilization military-civilian joint committee” to oversee and command operations.76 Exercises integrating militia with PLA active and reserve units are held routinely throughout the country. In addition to their rear area and border security roles, militia forces are often used to control traffic in an area where PLA units are deployed.77 Many exercises involve logistics and armament support; another frequent training subject is amphibious landing operations with militia units acting as the landing forces themselves, as well as in support of active duty or reserve landing forces. Civilian vessels are commonly used for transport, and many coastal regions have prepared mobilization plans for civilian ships. Like they do for the active duty PLA, militia units and civilian ships support reserve training. For example: • In the summer of 2001, thirty-five fifty-ton-class vessels were requisitioned in Jiangsu to transport nearly 1,000 militia and reserve personnel and their equipment to an exercise area in Shandong.78 Though the two provinces are adjacent to each other, this exercise required crossing military region boundaries. • In September 2002, a regiment of the Zhejiang Reserve Infantry Division was transported by a militia “support the front” unit in a joint amphibious operation that included air force and naval gunfire support.79 • “Several thousand troops” of the same Zhejiang Reserve Infantry Division once more conducted joint amphibious operations supported by militia “support the front” units in March 2003.80 Using militia units to support PLA exercises and deployments saves the central government funds, as much of the cost is borne by local governments. For example, Donggang City and Kuandian County appropriated RMB 650,000 (approximately US$79,000) for the Dandong Militia Regiment to support a local PLA exercise. Over 600 militia members, 70 vehicles, and 4 vessels participated in delivering ammunition and providing medical support to the PLA unit.81 Less prominent, but fairly extensive, are joint active duty PLA, reserve, and militia air defense and coastal defense exercises. A few examples include: • In May 2001, PLA coastal defense, reserve, and militia units in the Zhangzhou MSD of Fujian were reported to have “often” held coordination exercises to defeat enemy invading forces.82 • In August 2001, a reserve AAA regiment from the Zhoushan Garrison con-

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ducted air defense drills with Army and Navy AAA units in the area. They trained in defense against stealth aircraft, cruise missiles, and aircraft coming from multiple directions.83 • In August 2003, the Lianyungang Garrison conducted a joint militia and coastal defense units exercise emphasizing reconnaissance and communications techniques.84 • Shanghai Garrison militia and reserve AAA units conducted training with active duty PLA units, including live-fire exercises, from August to October 2003 in northern Jiangsu.85 Also like the active duty PLA and the PAP, anti-terrorist training is an important new element in the training schedule for both reserve and militia units. An “All-Army Seminar on Anti-Terror Training” was held in Xinjiang in August 2003, which defined “a new starting point” for anti-terror training. At the seminar, 200 PLA and PAP commanders were given guidance and shown demonstrations in coordination with local public security authorities and militia units.86 Joint PLAPublic Security/PAP-militia anti-terror exercises were held on multiple occasions in 2003 (starting at about the same time as the All-Army Seminar on Anti-Terror Training). These included: • Six small units, totaling some 800 PLA, police, and militia personnel, conducted a live-fire exercise in Bayingolin Mongolian Autonomous Prefecture in Xinjiang in August 2003. Drills included anti-bomb (explosion), anti–air raid, hostage rescue, and the evacuation of civilians.87 • “Highland 03A,” conducted by the 37th Division, 13th Group Army, in Chongqing, consisted of “experimental” anti-terrorist training for sixty days in western Sichuan in late summer 2003. The final campaign against the terrorists was carried out in coordination with PAP and militia units and included the use of tanks, helicopters, armored vehicles, artillery, and infantry. 88 • “Huchenghe (City Moat) Number 1” in September 2003 consisted of approximately 3,000 personnel from the Inner Mongolian PAP and Military District, including militia forces. Drills included anti-infiltration, anti-bomb (explosion), resisting attacks, anti-hijacking, anti-chemical and biological, and hostage rescue.89 Disaster Relief and Peacekeeping Operations Before concluding, it is necessary to briefly mention the role of the reserves and militia in disaster relief and economic development missions. With the demobilization of many PLA units, militia units in some regions of China may be in a position to respond more quickly as “shock teams” to emergencies than active duty units or the PAP can. The citizen-soldiers are organized, equipped, and trained

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to assist in emergency operations, which are often labor-intensive actions, like those of the PLA and PAP. In addition to providing needed help to the civilian population, these deployments also give the units involved excellent training in leadership, command and control, and logistics operations. The flexibility and decision-making skills necessary for success in emergency operations are also needed in combat. Like so many Chinese statistics, numbers of reserve and militia troops taking part in such activities cannot be verified. Furthermore, details of exactly what was done by these troops are often also left undefined. For example, in 2001, “an average of nearly 6 million militiamen” were reported to have been “mobilized each year to participate in the construction of key projects and to carry out urgent, difficult, dangerous, and heavy tasks.”90 As indicated by this statement, that work would also include economic duties that the militia could be called upon to undertake, such as infrastructure construction, as well as disaster relief (i.e., “urgent, difficult, dangerous, and heavy tasks”). An implied objective of this work would be to improve the image of the Chinese armed forces in the eyes of the Chinese people. Finally, one last similarity with active duty forces can be seen in the participation of forty personnel from a Reserve Water Supply Engineer Regiment in the Shenyang Military Region in the PLA peacekeeping force in Liberia. Prior to their departure in February 2004, they received three months of peacekeeping training before becoming part of the transportation, engineer, and medical contingents deployed. Their mission in Liberia will be to construct water supply systems and perform water supply duties.91 Conclusions Since 1998, the reform of the PLA reserves and militia has arguably become as important a priority as modernization of the active duty PLA force. Nearly every element of PLA transformation—emphasis on quality not quantity, improving the technological level of the force, reduction in size, organizational reform, enhanced logistics support, increased training, and so forth—is also being seen in the reserve force. While the ordinary militia, for what it was worth, has decreased in size, there has been an expansion of the primary militia’s role in high-technology missions. And despite a reduction of over 500,000 personnel from the active duty roster since 1997, the actual number of reserve units and personnel has increased only modestly (certainly less than this observer would have predicted). The relatively moderate growth in the size of the reserve numbers suggests that much of the “deadwood” that existed in the system has been eliminated and betterqualified personnel (mostly from demobilized units, but also including technicians who have not had military experience) have replaced them. In the end, the Chinese reserve force has developed some attributes of a professional organization that would have been unimaginable in its previous iterations. These efforts will

292 DENNIS J. BLASKO

have to be continued in order to maintain the momentum of recent years and truly improve overall capabilities. The “fun part” (the new equipment, new uniforms, and such) is just the beginning of many long days, weeks, and years of training and, often, tedious practice. This examination of the structure and missions of the reserves and militia confirms that Chinese military and civilian planners assume the mainland will be attacked even in a local war. The main mission of the reserve force is to support and sustain PLA operations, particularly in local defense and logistics operations. By themselves, they add only marginal offensive capabilities to the PLA. Though some elements of the reserves and militia incorporate high technologies associated with the Revolution in Military Affairs, the majority of units are focused on providing support to campaigns of local war or conducting People’s War tactics on the mainland or in adjacent waters. If PLA reserve units or militia were used as organic units in offensive operations (other than in a supporting role, i.e., fire support, logistics, or rear-area security), their battlefield mission would likely not be the main effort. Instead, the book The Science of Campaigns (Zhanyi xue) repeatedly calls for use of the “best” or “elite” forces and best weapons in the main effort. The reserves and militia do not meet that requirement. Chinese military planners will most likely use the reserves in an “economy of force” role in order to avoid diverting scarce resources from the main effort. The large number of reserve and militia units present on the battlefield also provides Chinese planners with a large manpower and vehicle pool with which to perform deception and concealment operations to confuse the enemy and disguise the main effort. As seen in all elements of the Chinese security apparatus, great emphasis is placed on maintaining the loyalty of the reserve force to the Chinese Communist Party. While the possibility exists that alternate regional power bases could be built by local government officials and reserve or militia commanders in opposition to central government policies, little evidence was seen that such a development is under way. 92 So far, the requirements placed on local governments to support the reserves and militia financially and to keep the forces manned with skilled people do not appear so burdensome as to have evoked negative reactions from the provinces, leading to noncompliance with obligations. An unspoken contract between the people, the government, the PLA, and reserves and militia seems to be operative and is generally satisfactory to all parties involved. As the PLA continues to modernize, the reserves and militia are expected to contribute more to future operations than perhaps was envisioned even in the mid1990s. These part-time soldiers, and increasing numbers of airmen and sailors, should not be overlooked in comprehensive studies and calculations of Chinese military capabilities. Their mission to implement functions associated with People’s War in support of future local wars remains a potentially viable, though untested, element of Chinese military modernization.

• • • •

• • • • •

Guangzhou

(continued)

Guangdong Reserve AAA Division Shenzhen Reserve Anti-Chemical Warfare Regiment95 Hunan Army Reserve Infantry Division, Changsha Hunan Hengyang Army Reserve Logistics Support Brigade • Guangxi Army Reserve Infantry Division, Nanning • Hainan Army Reserve Division • Hubei Army Reserve Infantry Division, Yichang

Sichuan Army Reserve Infantry Division, Chengdu Guizhou Army Reserve Infantry Division Chongqing Reserve AAA Division Sichuan Chongqing Army Reserve Logistics Support Brigade • Yunnan Army Reserve Division • Reserve Infantry Brigade

1st Infantry Reserve Division, Guangdong Zhuzhou Infantry Reserve Division, Hunan Liuzhou Infantry Reserve Division, Guangxi 1st Army Infantry Reserve Division, Hainan Xiangfan Reserve Division, Hubei

• • • •

Beijing Garrison Reserve AAA Division Tianjin Army Reserve AAA Division Hebei Army Reserve Infantry Division, Shijiazhuang Langfang Army Reserve Logistics Support Brigade Hebei Army Reserve Artillery 72nd Division, Tangshan 94 Shanxi Army Reserve Infantry 83rd Division, Xinzhou Inner Mongolian Army Reserve Division, Hohhot

2003

• Dachuan Army Reserve Division, Sichuan • Duyun Army Reserve Division, Guizhou • Xingyi Reserve Division, Guizhou

• • • • • • • •

Chengdu

Anti-Chemical Reserve Regiment, Beijing Garrison93 Reserve Division, Beijing Garrison 1st Army Reserve Division, Tianjin Garrison 2nd Army Reserve Division, Tianjin Garrison (probable) Chengde Reserve Division, Hebei Langfang Reserve Division, Hebei Tangshan Army Reserve Division, Hebei Xinzhou Reserve Division, Shanxi Yanbei Reserve Division, Shanxi

1998 • • • • • • • • •

Beijing

Military region

Changes in Reserve Force Structure

Appendix 14.1

PEOPLE’S WAR IN THE TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY 293

Dezhou Reserve Division, Shandong Jining Artillery Reserve Division, Shandong Yantai Reserve Division, Shandong Kaifeng Reserve Division, Henan

Xianyang Infantry Reserve Division, Shaanxi Xi’an Air Force Reserve AAA Division, Shaanxi Lanzhou Army AAA Reserve Division, Gansu Tianshui Reserve Division, Gansu Shihezi Reserve Division, Xinjiang

Yangzhou Reserve Division, Jiangsu 1st Infantry Reserve Division, Zhejiang Chuzhou Reserve Division, Anhui 1st Infantry Reserve Division, Fujian Nanchang Reserve Division, Jiangxi Army Reserve AAA Division, Shanghai Garrison

• • • • •

• • • • • •

Lanzhou

Nanjing

1998 • • • •

Jinan

Military region

Appendix 14.1 (continued)

• • • • • • • • •

• • • • • • • •

• • • • • •

Jiangsu Army Reserve Infantry Division Jiangsu Reserve AAA Division, Nanjing Zhejiang Reserve Infantry Division Zhejiang Anti-Chemical Warfare Regiment96 Anhui Army Reserve Infantry Division, Hefei Fujian Army Reserve AAA Division, Fuzhou Fujian Zhangzhou Reserve Logistics Support Brigade Jiangxi Army Reserve Infantry Division, Nanchang Shanghai Army Reserve AAA Division

Shaanxi Army Reserve Infantry Division Shaanxi Army Reserve AAA Division, Xi’an Shaanxi Baoji Army Reserve Logistics Support Brigade Gansu Army Reserve AAA Division, Lanzhou Gansu Army Reserve Infantry Brigade, Tianshui Xinjiang Army Reserve Infantry Division Qinghai Army Reserve Infantry Division Qinghai Army Reserve Brigade

Shandong Reserve AAA Division (probably in Qingdao) Shandong Reserve Artillery Division, Jining Shandong Army Reserve 76th Infantry Division, Yantai Shandong Reserve Army Logistics Support Brigade Henan Army Reserve 136th Infantry Division, Kaifeng Henan Army Reserve AAA Division, Zhengzhou

2003

294 DENNIS J. BLASKO

• • • • • • • • • • • • Benxi Reserve Division, Liaoning Shenyang Army AAA Reserve Division, Liaoning Dalian Naval Reserve AAA Division, Liaoning Jinzhou Reserve Division, Liaoning Siping Army Reserve Division, Jilin Baicheng Reserve Division, Jilin Changchun Reserve Division, Jilin Yanbian Infantry Reserve Division, Jilin Reserve Engineer Regiment, Jilin Qiqihar Reserve Division, Heilongjiang Mudanjiang Reserve Division, Heilongjiang Suihua Reserve Division, Heilongjiang

• • • • • • • • • • • • •

Liaoning Army Reserve Infantry Division, Shenyang Liaoning Army Reserve 1st AAA Division, Shenyang Liaoning Army Reserve 2nd AAA Division, Dalian Liaoning Jinzhou Reserve Logistics Support Brigade Liaoning Army Reserve Communications Regiment, Anshan Jilin Army Reserve 47th Infantry Division, Jilin City Jilin Reserve Artillery Division, Changchun Jilin Reserve Division, Yanbian Reserve Water Supply Engineering Regiment97 Jilin Army Reserve Communications Regiment, Tonghua Heilongjiang Army Reserve AAA Division, Daqing Heilongjiang Army Reserve Infantry Division Heilongjiang Army Reserve Anti-Chemical Warfare Regiment, Harbin

Sources: Directory of PRC Military Personalities June 1998 and Directory of PRC Military Personalities October 2003 (except where noted).

Shenyang

PEOPLE’S WAR IN THE TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY 295

High-technology and logistics militia units

• Nine specialized technical militia units in Lhasa account for 54 percent of the total militia strength in the city; the specialties are postal communications, anti-chemical warfare, meteorology, anti-aircraft artillery, medical and rescue services, motor transportation, power supply repair, engineering repair, and vehicle maintenance.102

• The Inner Mongolia MD formed more than 200 emergency militia units, some 300 specialized units, and approximately 100 specialized technical units from approximately 1997 to 2001.100 • The Hongshan District of Chifeng in Inner Mongolia has formed a high-tech militia unit consisting of about 1,000 personnel from 15 industries and trades.101

• Baoding MSD has formed 11 high-tech militia units, including electric power control, pipeline detection, and information technology, in the High-Technology Development Zone and 18 units in the Hebei and Hebei Agricultural Universities for cyber warfare, biological and chemical defense.99

• Nearly 100 specialized militia units have been formed in Beijing with skills in automated command, electronic warfare, reconnaissance, and early warning.98

Jinan

• Zhengzhou MSD has built “three urban militia forces” with missions of (1) air defense operations; (2) support to PLA operations consisting ofroad and bridge repair, railway repair, air services, POL support, river-crossing support, and engineering equipment maintenance units; (3) maintaining social stability; 88 specialized technical units have been formed in the city.105

• Hainan MD has created an “emergency ship transport unit” composed of some 300 vessels equipped with satellite positioning and navigation instruments, which make it “capable of long-distance transport missions.”104

Guangzhou • The Guangzhou Garrison has formed 134 high-tech units including information technology, electronics, computer networks, camouflage, air observation, and sea transport.103 Other militia units in the city of Guangzhou include air defense artillery logistics, anti-chemical reconnaissance, radar and armaments, and vehicle repair.

Chengdu

Beijing

Military region

Selected High-Technology and Logistics Militia Units

Appendix 14.2

296 DENNIS J. BLASKO

Nanjing

Lanzhou

• Nanjing has also formed an anti-terrorist militia detachment.117

(continued)

• Nanjing has set up the first computer network specialty militia unit composed of only females; total authorized strength is 86 personnel in three platoons with specialties in electronics, opto-electrical instrument repair, and aviation simulators; all members of the unit have university educations and 89 percent are computer specialists.116

• Nanjing MSD has established 33 militia units in the power supply and telecommunications systems and formed approximately 60 high-tech units of 17 types, including guided missile units (probably surface-to-air missiles), during 2000 and 2001 while reducing the number of ordinary militia units.115

• A Zhejiang air defense militia unit fired an air defense missile (likely a shoulder-fired, man-portable surface-to-air missile) from a fishing vessel in June 2002.114

• The Zhejiang Petroleum Company Ltd. has established a militia unit composed of approximately 100 personnel who operate refueling points at ports and along highways, as well as mobile refueling teams.113

• The Lianyungang Garrison in Jiangsu has militia maritime transport units and seaborne militia maintenance and repair units.112

• In Jiangsu MD, 67 specialized militia support units in 20 separate categories provide support for ground, naval, and air operations; in total, militia organizations can be found in approximately 2,000 enterprises and institutions.111

• Lanzhou MSD has formed 24 emergency high-tech units.109 • Turpan prefecture has established a militia special operations unit, necessitated by the “security situation.”110

• New militia units responsible for engineering equipment repair; machinery maintenance; camouflage; and long-distance, urban, digital, mobile, and satellite communications have been established throughout Gansu.108

• Puyang MSD in Henan has 28 anti-chemical warfare units.107

• The “first” militia air defense guided missile battalion was founded in Luoyang, Henan in June 2002.106

PEOPLE’S WAR IN THE TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY 297

• Ganzhou MSD in Jiangxi Province has organized 45 high-tech militia units in specialties that include electronic countermeasures, communications support, road and bridge emergency repair, and aerial obstacle installation.123

• Fuzhou MSD has 17 high-technology units.121 • Wuhu MSD has established 11 types of high-tech militia units to support PLAAF operations, including aircraft repair, camouflage and protection, medical service, fire fighting, and equipment transport.122

• Shanghai formed China’s “first” militia air defense unit (squad to battalion size) equipped with man-portable surface-to-air missiles in September 2000.120

• In Shanghai, over 680 high-technology militia units comprise about one-quarter of the total of the city’s primary militia strength.118 After readjusting militia structure, more units have been located in the city, fewer in rural and noncoastal areas, and more along the coast. In Pudong, emphasis has been placed on developing electronic, communications, and network units; in Changning and Jinshan districts, emphasis is on building anti-chemical warfare units; and along the coast, emphasis is on ship units.119

High-technology and logistics militia units

• Dalian MSD has formed over 100 maritime militia units.125

Shenyang • “During the past several years,” Shenyang MR has formed approximately 900 militia and reserve high-technology and specialized units with 50,000 assigned personnel (the majority of whom would likely be militia) in 50 specialties.124

Military region

Appendix 14.2 (continued)

298 DENNIS J. BLASKO

PEOPLE’S WAR IN THE TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY 299

Notes 1. “Cao Gangchuan Addresses PLA Anniversary Reception, Comments on Taiwan,” Xinhua Domestic Service in Chinese, July 31, 2003. 2. “PRC: Coordinated Building of Reserve, Active Military Units Outlined,” Zhongguo guofang bao (China national defense news), July 3, 2003, p. 6. 3. This chapter draws on, and expands upon, research from the author’s People’s War Lives On: Chinese Military Logistics in the War Zone (RAND Corporation, DRR(L)-3170, September 2003). 4. The U.S. State Department uses this term in its annual report on human rights in China. Most members of the Chinese government security apparatus wear military-appearing uniforms that can be confusing to outside observers. 5. In U.S. terminology, “paramilitary forces” are defined as “forces or groups distinct from the regular armed forces of any country, but resembling them in organization, equipment, training, or mission.” See Joint Publication 1–02, Department of Defense Dictionary of Military and Associated Terms, at www.dtic.mil/doctrine/jel/new_pubs/jp1_02.pdf, p. 400. 6. The responsibilities of the Ministry of Public Security and the Ministry of State Security are taken from “The Organizational Structure of the State Council,” www.china.org.cn/english/kuaixun/64784.htm. 7. “Law of the People’s Republic of China on National Defense, Adopted at the Fifth Session of the Eighth National People’s Congress [NPC] on March 14, 1997,” Xinhua. 8. “CPC, PLA Issue Circular on Improving Militia’s Role in Maintaining Public Order,” PLA Daily, December 16, 2003, p. 1. 9. Command of the PLA does not officially pass through the State Council’s Ministry of National Defense. The Minister of Defense is likely to be a member of the CMC, but senior Communist Party leaders have traditionally outranked the minister on this body. 10. Management of the militia’s role in maintaining the public order must be “guided by the policies and principles of the party Central Committee, the State Council and the Central Military Commission,” see “CPC, PLA Issue Circular on Improving Militia’s Role in Maintaining Public Order,” p. 1. According to a Chinese government website, “The General Staff Headquarters administers the building of the militia under the leadership of the State Council and the CMC.” See www.chinadaily.com.cn. The close scrutiny local governments give to all reserve forces is represented by comments of Zhang Zhongwei, Sichuan deputy party secretary: “No government, at whatever level it may be, is allowed to regard the work of militia and reserve forces as a matter only within the duties of military organs.” See “PRC Sichuan Holds Meeting on Party’s Control Over Armed Forces,” Sichuan Ribao (Sichuan daily), December 20, 2000. 11. Thanks to Malia Du Mont for definitional assistance. 12. “Need to Shift Focus of People’s War from Rural Areas to Cities,” PLA Daily online version in Chinese, August 27, 2002. 13. Thanks to Paul H.B. Godwin and Dave Helvey for help in conceptualizing this section. 14. “PRC Deputy Chief of General Staff Stresses Improved Qualities of Reserve Units,” Guofang zazhi (National defense magazine) in Chinese, March 15, 2003, pp. 4–7. All of Qian’s quotes in this section are from this source. Qian’s comments should be read in the context of his position as secretary general of the State NDMC. 15. Renmin qianxian (People’s front), June 12, 14, and 15, 2002. 16. PLA Daily, November 30, 2002. 17. This general description of the PLA reserve force is taken from “The PLA’s Reserve Force,” www.chinadaily.com.cn.

300 DENNIS J. BLASKO

18. International Institute for Strategic Studies, The Military Balance, 2002–2003 (London: Oxford University Press, 2002), p. 145. 19. “Reserve Forces Building Under Jiang Zemin,” PLA Daily online version in Chinese, October 20, 2002. Reforms that affected only the militia will be discussed later. 20. Appendix 14.1 is based on information derived from the Directory of PRC Military Personalities June 1998 and Directory of PRC Military Personalities October 2003. 21. Jilin Province now appears to have two reserve infantry divisions, one in the city of Jilin and one in Yanbian. This is down from four such divisions in 1998. Interestingly, a reserve infantry division and brigade are identified in Qinghai, where no reserve units had been listed in 1998. The Qinghai Army Reserve Brigade was founded in April 2002 on the basis of the former Qinghai Army Reserve Infantry Regiment. It has “several thousand” officers and men from four prefectures and ten counties. See Renmin jundui (People’s armed forces), April 9, 2002. 22. An area to watch is Hebei Province, particularly Xincheng City just southwest of Beijing. In a development that surprised this observer, the 112th Mechanized Division of the 38th Group Army apparently was demobilized sometime after 1999. (It was dropped from the order of battle in the Directory of PRC Military Personalities October 2003.) This division had been equipped with old armored personnel carriers (Type 63), which military planners may have figured were too expensive to replace, and raises the question of what to do with the division’s old equipment. It could be melted down as scrap, put into permanent storage or distributed to existing reserve units, or it could be used as the basis for a new reserve unit. The PLA is likely to face this question often as thirty- to forty-year-old weapons finally leave the active order of battle. 23. Hunan Daily, July 24, 2001. 24. Zhanyou bao (Comrade-in-arms news), August 1, 2003. 25. China National Defense News, October 31, 2002. 26. Renmin qianxian (People’s front), February 23, 2002. 27. China National Defense News, December 5, 2002. 28. Hubei Daily, August 15, 2003. 29. PLA Daily, November 2, 2002. 30. Ibid., August 2, 2000. 31. Huojianbing bao (Rocket force news), September 20, 2003. 32. Ibid., September 15, 2000. 33. Zhanshi bao (Soldiers’ news), January 26, 2000. 34. China National Defense News, November 22, 1999. 35. Ibid., November 22, 1999, and February 28, 2000. 36. Ibid., August 25, 2000; May 9, 2002; PLA Daily, December 17, 2002. The brigade’s POL unit is reported to be of battalion size. 37. Hunan Daily, January 19, 2000. 38. PLA Daily, February 12, 2000. 39. Renmin jundui (People’s armed forces), April 4, 2000. 40. Ibid., September 18, 2001, and March 9, 2002. 41. Renmin qianxian (People’s front), September 28, 1999 and May 20, 2000. 42. China National Defense News, April 4, 2002; PLA Daily, November 22, 2002. 43. China National Defense News, May 15, 2000. 44. Renmin qianxian (People’s front), April 6, 2001; China National Defense News, July 12, 2001. 45. China National Defense News, October 30, 2000. 46. Qianjin bao (Advance news), October 13, 1999. 47. PLA Daily, January 9, 2000. 48. Ibid., May 13, 2001.

PEOPLE’S WAR IN THE TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY 301

49. China National Defense News, November 1, 2001. 50. PLA Daily webpage, “The Militia,” at www.chinadaily.com.cn. All quotes in this paragraph are from that source. 51. PLA Daily, June 17, 2000. 52. “HK Daily on PLA Circular Requiring Overseas-Funded Firms to Build Militia,” Hong Kong Ching chi jih pao, in Chinese, September 30, 2002, p. A17. Earlier, militia organizations were reported to be established in 1,020 foreign-funded enterprises. See PLA Daily, February 23, 2002. 53. “Reserve Forces Building Under Jiang Zemin,” in PLA Daily online version in Chinese, October 20, 2002, p. 1. 54. “Need to Shift Focus of People’s War from Rural Areas to Cities,” PLA Daily online version in Chinese, August 27, 2002. 55. From the earliest years of the PLA to the late 1970s, a main task of the militia was simply carrying supplies for the front on their backs and returning with the dead, wounded, and damaged equipment on their way back to the rear areas. 56. “Defense Paper on New Missions of Urban Militia in Future High-tech Operations,” China National Defense News, January 13, 2003, p. 3. The missions of the urban militia have been discussed in multiple newspaper articles with similar content. In a discussion of the Zhengzhou Urban Militia, the three main missions of (1) air defense, (2) support to PLA operations, and (3) maintaining social order were defined. See China National Defense News, March 25, 2003, and PLA Daily, March 28, 2003. 57. China National Defense News, July 21, 1999. 58. Ibid., July 21, 1999. 59. “PRC: Remarkable Achievements in Construction of People’s Air Defense Facilities,” Xinhua, September 26, 2003. 60. Houqin jiguan changyong wenshu xiezuo shili (Examples of writing common documents for logistic organs) (Jinan: Yellow River Publishing House, 2001), p. 279. 61. Zhongguo minbing (China militia), May 2001. 62. China National Defense News, January 24, 2002. 63. “China: CMC’s Fu Quanyou Addresses National Urban Militia Work Conference in Wuhan,” Hubei ribao (Hubei daily), in Chinese, December 15, 2001, pp. A1, A2. 64. The Corps was dissolved in 1975, but then reestablished in 1981. 65. Information Office of the State Council of the People’s Republic of China, “History and Development of Xinjiang,” May 2003, at www.china.org.cn/e-white/20030526/9.htm. Numbers for the total size of the Corps are from this source. 66. See Charles Hutzler, “From Corps to Corp., Chinese Paramilitary Seeks Money to Grow,” AP online, December 19, 1998. The 100,000 figure is repeated as the number of militia in the Corps in Matt Forney, “One Nation—Divided Since Sept. 11, Beijing Has Been Cracking Down in Xinjiang,” Time magazine, at www.time.com/time/asia/magazine/ article/0,13673,501020325–218371,00.html, March 25, 2002. 67. White Paper, “History and Development of Xinjiang.” 68. PLA Daily, December 6, 2001. 69. Renmin qianxian (People’s front), January 4, 2002. 70. Ibid., January 26, 2002. 71. Renmin jundui (People’s armed forces), February 23, 2002. 72. Guofang zazhi (National defense magazine), May 2002. In what may be a misprint, the reported joint training arrangement was to have occurred in March 2001. 73. “Beijing MR Holds First Drill with Reservists Joining Active Servicemen,” Xinhua, September 2, 2002. 74. Renmin qianxian (People’s front), August 22, 2003. 75. Ibid., February 22, 2002.

302 DENNIS J. BLASKO

76. Zhanshi bao (Soldiers’ news), September 23, 2003. 77. Qianwei bao (Vanguard news), November 12, 1999; Renmin qianxian (People’s front), May 17, 2002. 78. Renmin qianxian (People’s front), July 18, 2001. 79. Ibid., September 21, 2002. 80. PLA Daily, April 7, 2003. 81. Ibid., December 11, 1999. 82. China National Defense News, May 21, 2001. 83. PLA Daily, September 22, 2001. 84. Renmin qianxian (People’s front), September 26, 2003. 85. Ibid., October 23, 2003. 86. PLA Daily, August 26, 2003. 87. Renmin jundui (People’s armed forces), September 2, 2003. 88. Zhanqi bao (Battle flag news), October 1 and 10, 2003. 89. Inner Mongolia Daily, September 24 and 25, 2003. 90. “China: CMC’s Fu Quanyou Addresses National Urban Militia Work Conference in Wuhan,” Hubei ribao (Hubei daily), in Chinese, December 15, 2001, pp. A1, A2. 91. “Reserve Force Servicemen Go to Africa on Peace-Keeping Mission,” PLA Daily, March 1, 2004. In addition to Liberia, the PLA also has dispatched peacekeeping forces to the Middle East (the “United Nations Truce Supervision Organization” on the borders of Israel, Syria, Lebanon), the Iraq-Kuwait border, Western Sahara, Sierra Leone, Ethiopia and Eritrea, and the Congo in recent years. 92. The source of the majority of the data for this report, the official Chinese media, makes it unlikely that such evidence would be discovered in the course of this research. Other methods would need to be employed to test the validity of this conclusion. 93. This unit probably still exists, but was resubordinated to the Beijing Garrison Reserve AAA Division. 94. This unit probably has a subordinate anti-tank regiment identified in the PLA Daily, November 2, 2002. 95. Zhanshi bao (Soldiers’ news), August 12, 2003. This regiment was said to have been formed “less than four years ago.” 96. Renmin qianxian (People’s front), November 5, 2003. 97. “Reserve Force Servicemen Go to Africa on Peace-Keeping Mission.” Jilin appears to be the likely location of this regiment. 98. China National Defense News, June 20, 2002. 99. PLA Daily, September 1, 2003. 100. Zhanyou bao (Comrade-in-arms news), August 7, 2001. 101. Ibid., March 23, 2002. 102. PLA Daily, January 20, 2003. 103. Zhanshi bao (Soldiers’ news), October 20, 2001. 104. China National Defense News, August 23, 2001. 105. Ibid., March 25, 2003, and PLA Daily, March 28, 2003. 106. Henan Daily, June 20, 2002. The “first” in this case likely refers to the battalion size of the unit. 107. PLA Daily, June 10, 2000. 108. Renmin jundui (People’s armed forces), September 9, 1999. 109. China National Defense News, July 21, 1999. 110. Turpan News, March 24, 2003. 111. China National Defense News, December 19, 2002. 112. Ibid., April 3, 2003. 113. Ibid., April 26, 2001.

PEOPLE’S WAR IN THE TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY 303

114. Renmin qianxian (People’s front), June 22, 2002, and PLA Daily, June 29, 2002. 115. China National Defense News, May 24, 2000, and July 16, 2001; Renmin qianxian (People’s front), July 21, 2001; China National Defense News, January 24, 2002. 116. PLA Daily, March 26, 2001. 117. “Jiangsu Provincial Leaders Meet, Watch Nanjing City Militia Military Drills,” Xinhua ribao (Xinhua daily), June 18, 2002. 118. China National Defense News, April 7, 2003. 119. Renmin qianxian (People’s front), December 19, 2001, and China National Defense News, December 31, 2001. 120. Guofang zazhi (National defense magazine), April 2001. 121. Renmin qianxian (People’s front), August 14, 1999. 122. Ibid., August 30, 2000. 123. PLA Daily, November 19, 2003. 124. China National Defense News, April 23, 2001. 125. Ibid., June 14, 2000.

THE EDITORS AND CONTRIBUTORS 305

The Editors and Contributors

The Editors David M. Finkelstein is the director of Project Asia, the Asian studies center at The CNA Corporation. Dr. Finkelstein received his Ph.D. in Chinese history from Princeton University and studied Mandarin at Nankai University in Tianjin, China. A long-time student of Chinese and Asian affairs, he is widely published. His 1993 historical monograph, From Abandonment to Salvation: Washington’s Taiwan Dilemma, 1949–50, was hailed in Presidential Studies Quarterly as “blazing a new trail” and “will take an important place in the literature of U.S.–China relations in the mid-20th Century.” He is co-editor of two other M.E. Sharpe publications, China’s Leadership in the 21st Century: The Rise of the Fourth Generation (2002) and Chinese Warfighting: The PLA Experience Since 1949 (2003), and most recently co-editor of China’s Revolution in Doctrinal Affairs: Emerging Trends in the Operational Art of the Chinese People’s Liberation Army (2005). A retired U.S. Army officer, Finkelstein is a graduate of the United States Military Academy at West Point, the U.S. Army Command and General Staff College, the Army War College, and the U.S. Army Airborne School. In addition to command and staff positions in the field, he held significant China-related positions at the Pentagon and served on the faculty at West Point, where he taught Chinese history. Kristen Gunness is a senior analyst with Project Asia at The CNA Corporation. She has extensive experience studying, living, and working in China. She is a graduate of the Hopkins-Nanjing Center for Chinese and American Studies, and has studied Mandarin at Beijing Capital Normal University and the Harbin Institute of Technology. Ms. Gunness brings to bear first-hand insights into the commercial, economic, and social dynamics at work in today’s ever-changing China. In addition to her years of study on the mainland as a student, she worked as a business consultant in a wellestablished Shanghai firm. In that capacity she spent several years working and traveling in China, Taiwan, and Southeast Asia. Upon returning to the United States, Ms. Gunness worked as an Asia analyst for the Intellibridge Corporation and also served 305

306 THE EDITORS AND CONTRIBUTORS

as a trade analyst for China and East Asia at the U.S. Trade and Development Agency. Ms. Gunness has written extensively on Chinese security, foreign, and economic affairs. She holds an M.A. in security studies from Georgetown University’s Edmund A. Walsh School of Foreign Service. The Contributors Tony Saich is the Daewoo Professor of International Affairs at Harvard University’s Kennedy School of Government, director and faculty chair of Asia Programs at the Center for Business and Government, and director and faculty chair of the China Public Policy Program. From 1994 until July 1999, he was the representative for the China Office of the Ford Foundation. Prior to this, he was director of the Sinological Institute at Leiden University, the Netherlands. His teaching and research focus on the interplay between state and society in Asia and the respective roles they play in determining policy making and framing socioeconomic development. Dr. Saich has written several books on developments in China, including Governance and Politics of China (2001); Revolutionary Discourse in Mao’s China (1994, with David E. Apter); The Rise to Power of the Chinese Communist Party (1996); and China’s Science Policy in the ’80s (1989). He studied political science in the U.K. and has taught at universities in England, Holland, and the United States. Xiaobing Li is professor of history and associate director of the Western Pacific Institute at the University of Central Oklahoma. He is the editor of the journal American Review of China Studies, a past president of both the Association of Chinese Historians in the United States and Chinese Professors of Social Sciences in the United States, and has also worked at the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences in Beijing. Dr. Li, who served in the PLA, has authored and co-edited a number of books, including Peasant Soldiers; Chinese Military in the Changing World (2006), Voices from the Korean War (2004), Taiwan in the 21st Century (2003), Mao’s Generals Remember Korea (2001), Interpreting U.S.-China-Taiwan Relations (2000), Social Transition in China (1999), and China and the United States: A New Cold War History (1998). Cheng Li is the William R. Kenan Professor of Government at Hamilton College in Clinton, New York. He received his B.A. in English Language and Literature at East China Normal University. In 1985 he came to the United States where he later received an M.A. in Asian studies at the University of California, Berkeley, and a Ph.D. in political science at Princeton University. Dr. Li is the author of Rediscovering China: Dynamics and Dilemmas of Reform (1997). His latest book is China’s Leaders: The New Generation (2000). His academic writings have appeared in World Politics, Journal of Asian and African Studies, Asian Survey, Critical Asian Studies, China Quarterly, China Journal,

THE EDITORS AND CONTRIBUTORS 307

Modern China, China Economic Review, and elsewhere. He is a co-author (with Lynn White) of a large-scale quantitative study of the Chinese military elite (“The Army in the Succession to Deng Xiaoping: Familiar Fealties and Technocratic Trends,” Asian Survey 33, no. 8 [August 1993]). He is currently working on manuscripts on Chinese technocrats and urban subcultures in Shanghai. Yu Bin is an associate professor in the Political Science Department of Wittenberg University and advisor/senior research associate for the Shanghai Institute of American Studies. He earned his Ph.D. from Stanford University (1991) and M.A. from the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences (1982). He is also a faculty associate of the Mershon Center at Ohio State University (1991–present) and was a visiting fellow at the Center for Asia/Pacific Research of Stanford University (1998). In addition, he was a visiting fellow at the East-West Center in Hawaii (1994–95), president of the Association of Chinese Scholars of Political Science and International Studies (1992–94), MacArthur fellow at the Center for International Security and Arms Control of Stanford University (1985–89), and a research fellow at the China Center of International Studies, State Council, Beijing (1982–85). Professor Yu is the co-author or editor of several books, the most recent including Shunjian de liliang: 9–11 hou de Meiguo yu shijie (Power of the moment: America and the world after 9–11) (2002) and Mao’s Generals Remember Korea (2001). He has published articles in journals including World Politics, Strategic Review, Comparative Connections, Asian Survey, International Journal of Korean Studies, Harvard International Review, and Asian Thought and Society. Zhiyue Bo, a specialist on China’s provincial leaders, is assistant professor and chair of the Department of International Studies at St. John Fisher College in Rochester, New York. He received bachelor of law and master of law degrees in international politics from Beijing University and a Ph.D. in political science from the University of Chicago. He is widely published in the areas of local governance and provincial leadership in China, with articles appearing in such journals as Journal of Contemporary China, Issues & Studies, Provincial China, Asian Profile, Journal of Chinese Political Science, Chinese Social Sciences Review, and Chinese Law & Government. He has also served as a guest editor for both Chinese Law & Government and Journal of Contemporary China, and as a member of the Editorial Advisory Board for Journal of Chinese Political Science. His most recent book, Chinese Provincial Leaders: Economic Performance and Political Mobility Since 1949 (2002), is based on a complete and detailed dataset of Chinese provincial leaders in the past five decades. He is also the guest editor and translator of a three-volume series on cross-strait relations in Chinese Law and Government and the author of The History of Modern China (2006). He is currently working on a manuscript on the Sixteenth Central Committee of the Chinese Communist Party, tentatively entitled Chinese Politics in the 21st Century: Political Transition and the Balance of Political Forces.

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Lyman Miller is a historian. He is an associate professor in the Department of National Security Affairs at the U.S. Naval Postgraduate School in Monterey, California. Dr. Miller is also a research fellow at the Hoover Institution and general editor of its web-based quarterly China Leadership Monitor, and a visiting associate professor in the departments of History and Political Science, Stanford University. He previously taught at the Johns Hopkins University’s School of Advanced International Studies and at Georgetown University, and worked as a Chinese translator and as a China analyst at the Central Intelligence Agency. He is the author of Science and Dissent in Post-Mao China: The Politics of Knowledge (1996), and is currently researching a book on the evolution of Chinese grand strategy from 1550 to the present. You Ji is a senior lecturer at the School of Political Science, University of New South Wales. He has published widely on China’s political, economic, military, and foreign affairs, and is the author of three books: In Quest of High Tech Power: The Modernization of China’s Military in the 1990s (1998), China’s Enterprise Reform: Changing State/Society Relations After Mao (1998), and The Armed Forces of China (1999). He has also authored numerous articles on nationalism and the PLA, China’s RMA initiative, the information revolution in Asia, China’s role in the North Korean nuclear crisis, and Chinese politics. Thomas J. Bickford is a senior analyst with Project Asia at The CNA Corporation. Prior to joining CNA, Mr. Bickford was a political scientist and an associate professor in the Political Science Department at the University of WisconsinOshkosh, where he had taught since 1995. He was also a member of UW Oshkosh’s International Studies and Environmental Studies programs, and Associate Director of the Wisconsin Institute for Peace and Conflict Studies. He is the author of several articles and papers on the PLA and civil-military relations in China. His current research interests are in Chinese foreign policy and comparative civil-military relations in the Leninist and post-Leninist eras. Joseph Fewsmith is a professor of international relations and political science as well as the director of the East Asia Interdisciplinary Studies Program at Boston University. He is the author of four books: China Since Tiananmen: The Politics of Transition (2001), Elite Politics in Contemporary China (2001), The Dilemmas of Reform in China: Political Conflict and Economic Debate (1994), and Party, State, and Local Elites in Republican China: Merchant Organizations and Politics in Shanghai, 1880–1930 (1985). His articles have appeared in such journals as Asian Survey, Comparative Studies in Society and History, China Journal, China Quarterly, Current History, Journal of Contemporary China, and Modern China. He is also a research associate of the John King Fairbank Center for East Asian Studies at Harvard University.

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James Mulvenon is director, Advanced Studies and Analysis at Defense Group Inc.’s Center for Intelligence Research and Analysis. Previously, Dr. Mulvenon was a political scientist at the RAND Corporation in Washington, D.C., and deputy director of RAND’s Center for Asia-Pacific Policy. A specialist on the Chinese military, his current research focuses on Chinese C4ISR, defense research/development/acquisition organizations and policy, strategic weapons doctrines (computer network attack and nuclear warfare), patriotic hackers, and the military and civilian implications of the information revolution in China. His book Soldiers of Fortune (2001), examines the Chinese military’s multi-billion-dollar business empire. Dr. Mulvenon received his Ph.D. in political science from the University of California, Los Angeles. Sijin Cheng is a China analyst at the Eurasia Group. Prior to joining the Eurasia Group, she was a researcher at the International Security Program of the Center for Strategic and International Studies. She is Ph.D. candidate in political science from Boston University; her dissertation examines the role of China’s concern with its reputation in its deterrence behavior since 1949. She has published extensively on PLA reforms and Chinese foreign policy. Ms. Cheng also worked as editor-in-chief and conference co-chair of Harvard China Review, a Harvard student organization. She received a B.A. from the Foreign Affairs College in Beijing, China. Maryanne Kivlehan-Wise serves as deputy director of The CNA Corporation’s Project Asia. Her research interests include: PRC media reform, Chinese politics and foreign policy, South China Sea and ASEAN issues, Chinese maritime law, and China’s new generation of leaders. Her recent publications include a co-edited volume entitled China’s Leadership in the 21st Century: The Rise of the Fourth Generation (2003), and chapters in several edited volumes addressing Chinese security issues. She completed her undergraduate work at the State University of New York at Buffalo, holds an M.A. in Security Policy Studies from the Elliott School of Foreign Affairs at the George Washington University, and is a graduate of the Hopkins-Nanjing Center for Chinese and American Studies, as well as Capital Normal University in Beijing, where she studied Mandarin. Before joining The CNA Corporation, she worked for an international nonprofit organization directing projects on Chinese, Mongolian, and Russian affairs. She also spent time in Bosnia working with the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe in support of the 1997 municipal elections. Dennis J. Blasko served twenty-three years in the U.S. Army as a military intelligence officer and foreign area officer specializing in China. Mr. Blasko was an army attaché in Beijing from 1992 to 1995 and in Hong Kong from 1995 to 1996. He also served in infantry units in Germany, Italy, and Korea and in Wash-

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ington at the Defense Intelligence Agency, Headquarters Department of the Army (Office of Special Operations), and the National Defense University War Gaming and Simulation Center. Mr. Blasko is a graduate of the United States Military Academy and the Naval Postgraduate School. He has written numerous articles and chapters on the Chinese military and defense industries and is the author of The Chinese Army Today: Tradition and Transformation for the 21st Century (2005).

INDEX 311

Index

Page numbers with an f or t indicate a figure or table on that page. A Afghanistan war, 61, 133, 172 African HIV/AIDS cases, 15, 18–19 aging and elderly Chinese population, xi–xii, 4–8, 20, 31–32, 211, 242, 258 agricultural sector, 9, 38–39, 40–42, 215–16, 219, 221, 241 AIDS. See health issues Air Force. See PLA Air Force Anhui Province, 33, 102 Anhui Provincial Military District, 102 Animal Farm (Orwell), 83 Anti-Japanese War, 59 Anyang, China, 113 Asian Development Bank poverty statistics, 14 Asian financial crisis, 34–35 Australian army, 175 B Baita District People’s Armed Forces Department, 119 Bao Xuding, 105 Baoshan District People’s Armed Forces Department, 119 Bayingolin Mongol Autonomous Prefecture, 290 Beijing, China, 7, 12, 42, 122, 238 Beijing Aeronautics and Astronautics University, 193, 196 Beijing Garrison Command, 112, 238 Beijing Military Region civil-military relations, 113 civil-military research projects, 179 civilian assets mobilization, 284 family benefits, 180–81 Huabei Hotel divestiture, 227–28 officer education, 177, 178, 179 officer rotation, 56, 105 political commissars, 151 reserve units, 281, 288 training, 288 Beijing Municipal Party Committee, 113

Beijing University, 177, 190 Beijing University of Science and Technology, 56 Bi Huiyi, 160 Botswana, 15, 18 bureau of military service, 107–8 Bush, George W., 81 C C4I (Command, Control, Communications, Computers, and Intelligence) revolution, 214, 228–30 Cao Gangchuan, 156, 182, 224 Cao Gangchun, 57, 58 CCP. See Chinese Communist Party Central Foreign Affairs Leading Small Group, 79, 84, 86 Central Military Commission (CMC) age of military leaders, 57 civil leadership of, 138–39 commander responsibility systems, 149, 156–57 “Decision on Establishing a Military Cadre Cultivation System Relying on General High-Level Education,” 190, 191, 193, 195 demobilization process systemization, xiv, 255, 257, 261, 265–66 directors, 48 education issues, 55–56, 190, 191, 193, 195 ground force officers dominance of, 49, 61–64 Hu’s internship with, 86 Jiang era, 79, 88, 156, 172 “limited, local war” readiness, 36–37, 132–33, 136, 172, 188, 256, 275, 292 military composition of, 156–57 Military Service Law, 122, 235, 236, 238–45, 247–48, 260–61, 284 political affairs staff, 156–57 PRC relationship to, 139 retirements from, 48 transition from Jiang to Hu, 74 “two-down and one-up” order, 56–57 urban militia and, 285–87 Yang brothers era, 79, 157 See also PLA (People’s Liberation Army) Chang Wei, 119 311

312 INDEX Changsha, China, 228, 281 Chen Geng, 67 Chen Liangyu, 97–102, 105 Chen Shui-bian, 88 Chen Yi, 158 Cheng Andong, 105 Chengdu Medical Institute of the Third Military Medical University, 198 Chengdu Military Region, 105, 108, 111–12, 180, 193, 280–81 Chengdu Military Subdistrict, 113 Chi Haotian, 60, 156, 224 Chiang Kai-shek, 143 China. See People’s Republic of China China Aerospace Science and Technology Corporation, 60 China Air Force Aviation College, 193 China Institute for Strategic Studies (CISS), 40 China People’s Bank, 34 China Research Institute of Carrier Rocket Technology, 60 Chinese Academy of Sciences, 140–41, 177, 179 Chinese Academy of Social Sciences, xiv Chinese Association of Science and Technology, 141 Chinese civilian population, 36, 39, 43, 189, 191–95 See also civilian sector; demographic trends Chinese Communist Party (CCP) ad hoc committee requirements, 117 age of military leaders, 57–58, 59 bodyguards, 68–69 Central Foreign Affairs Leading Small Group, 79, 84, 86 CMC relationship, 139 communist ideology and, 76 county-level organizations, 106–7, 112–15, 118–19, 121, 124 defense mobilization commissions, 114, 115–16t, 117f, 124 democratic reforms, 82–84, 89 dissidents, 141 economic development priorities, 33–34 female party leaders, 119–20 first party secretaries, 97–102, 105, 106–14, 118–20, 151 Great Leap Forward, 216–17 ground force officers dominance of, 49, 61–64 history, 6, 50–55, 76–77, 138–40, 148, 163–65 Hu’s leadership, 82–86 Internal Monitoring Regulation, 83 Jiang’s domination of, 79–80 leaders’ military experience, 96–102, 131, 153 local leader responsibilities, 106–8 local-level party committees, 96–105, 107–8, 112, 114, 118, 152, 159 media and cultural liberalization, 83

Chinese Communist Party (CCP) (continued) membership by civilian college graduates, 182 military activities requirements, 114–17 military chain of command forum, 273 military leadership collaboration, 117–21 military standing members, 97, 111–13, 120–21, 124 municipal-level organizations, 106–7, 112–14, 118–19, 121, 124–25 organization levels, 106, 107f, 124 paramount leaders, 75–76, 78–79, 83–84, 89 party committee system, 106–17, 146, 148, 152, 159–63 party representative system, 147–51 PLA and “absolute loyalty” of, 76, 80, 88, 89, 118, 131, 135–38, 143, 153, 155, 163–65, 279, 292 civilian authority relationship, 131–45 depoliticization, 74, 77, 78–79, 85, 135–40 first party secretary duties, 107–11, 151–52 historical relationship to, 138–40 long-term relationship with, 163–65 party committee relationship, 107–8, 159 party-military splits, 135–38 politicization, 74, 75–79, 85, 132, 135–36, 162 professionalization, 74, 75–80, 85 policy changes, 82–84 Politburo, 14–15, 82–83, 89 power transitions, 74, 77–81, 84, 85–86, 87 professional groups and political interference, 140–44 regional-level party bureaus, 106 regional-level party committees, 106, 158 roles, 76, 82, 143, 163 rule of law focus, 82–83 separation of party and army views, 135–38 Taiwan Affairs Leading Small Group, 79, 86, 88 war preparation, 152–53 work reports, 114 See also Central Military Commission; Cultural Revolution; Fourteenth Central Committee; political commissars; provincial party leaders; Sixteenth Central Committee Chinese Constitution, 35, 82, 138–39 Chinese-Vietnamese War, 60, 172, 203, 236 Cho Namgi, 96–97 Chongqing, China, 10 Chongqing Province, 105 civilian cadre system, 264 Civilian College Non-Flying Officer Recruitment Program (PLAAF), 193 civilian colleges and universities, 187–201 academic community autonomy, 140–41 academic forums, 197–98 admissions growth, 238

INDEX 313 civilian colleges and universities (continued) advanced degrees, 191–92, 195 curricula, 175, 177, 179, 195 foreign exchange students, 175 foreign languages, 175, 179 instructors, 176–77, 196–97 military academies compared, 174–76, 189–90 military education participating institutions, 177, 190, 195–96 military recruitment at, 55–56, 176–77, 181, 187, 189–95, 240 military officer postgraduate education, 56, 175–76, 178, 179, 192–93, 196 military research partnering, 176, 178, 179, 187, 197 National Defense Scholarship program, xvi, 55–56, 176, 177–78, 194–95, 199 PLA officer education, xvi–xvii, 50–56, 134, 176–80, 187, 189–92, 195–96 regulations on joint education, 190–91 See also specific names civilian police and security organizations, 271 See also People’s Armed Police Force civilian sector assets mobilization by armed forces, 35–37, 273, 282, 284, 289 Chinese Constitution revisions legalizing privatization, 35 defense industry production in, 40–41 demobilized soldiers employment in, 122, 241–42 employment expansion in, 12 entrepreneurs, 38 geographic concentrations, 12 middle class workforce, 38 military competition for personnel, xi, 10, 171, 180, 194 PLA partnerships with, 34–36 PLA recruiting from, 191 private pensions/insurance policies, 32 salaries, 180 state bias against, 11 Cixi, Empress Dowager, 143 CMC. See Central Military Commission collectively-owned enterprises, 11 colleges. See civilian colleges and universities Command College of the Second Artillery, 179, 196–97 commanders age and tenure limits, 106, 123 civilian positions held by, 97, 111, 112, 113 on defense mobilization commissions, 114 dual leadership mechanism, 151, 155–58 education, 55 hierarchical status, 147–48, 158–63, 166 history, 147–52 numbers advantage, 159–60, 162, 163 on party committees, 106, 111, 159–63 party representative system, 149–53 personnel management, 161, 162–63 responsibility systems, 149, 155–59

commanders (continued) rotation, 102, 123 shuangzhangzhi, 155–59 war preparation mission, 162 yizhangzhi, 155–59 See also PLA officer corps; political commissars commercialization. See “PLA, Inc.” Communist party. See Chinese Communist Party (CCP) conscription, 235–54 aging population and one-child families, 242 corruption and evasion, ix, 237–39, 241, 245–46, 247 demobilization, xiv–xv, 258, 260–62 early release compensation, 267 education levels of conscripts, 239, 242–44, 247, 248 enlistee marital status, 31 enlistee motivations, 243 enlistee quality, xiii–xiv, 9–10, 242–44, 248 entry delays for education, 238–39, 248 family compensation, 240–41, 261 future outlook, 246–49 HIV/AIDS infection potential, 19 impetus for reform, 236–39 incentives, 235, 237–38, 240, 242–43 local government responsibilities, 118, 239, 241, 261 new regulations on military service, 239–45 noncommissioned officers, 235, 241 paying to get into the military, xiv, 245–46 political education, 243, 246 process, 239, 245–46 quota system, 239, 241, 247–48 reform, xii, 245–49 resettlement services, xiv–xv, 241–42, 247–48, 258, 260–61 rural-urban inequality, xii, 241–42, 247–48 terms of service, xii, 122, 235, 242, 244–45, 260–61 training, xii, 244 unemployment and, 249 corruption conscription evasion, ix, 237–39, 241, 245–46, 247 Hu’s agenda to fight, 82–83 as obstacle to economic growth, 34, 40 PLA commercialism and, xiii, 86, 134, 220, 221, 224–26, 228 county-level military organizations defense mobilization commissions, 117f military chain of command forum, 273 militia, 284 party leaders interaction with, 112, 119 People’s Armed Forces Departments, 106, 112–13, 117–18, 119–21 reserve force battalions, 281 Cuba, 9 Cultural Revolution (CR) CCP during, 75, 77 civil-military struggles, 150

314 INDEX Cultural Revolution (CR) (continued) civilian commissars during, 147–51 local military leaders as first party secretaries, 108 party bureau system abolition, 106 PLA commercialization, 216–17 PLA military leaders impact by, 58–59, 81–82 PLA politicization, 75–79, 132, 138 politics over military tasks, 155 senior officer protest against policies of, 154 D dadanwei, 157–58 Dai Changyou, 102 Dai Jianhua, 119 Dalian, China, 282 Dalian Ground Forces Academy, 189 Dandong Militia Regiment, 289 “Decision on Establishing a Military Cadre Cultivation System Relying on General High-Level Education,” 190, 191, 193, 195 Defense Law of the PRC, 118, 134, 139, 271 defense mobilization commissions, xiii, xv, 114, 115–16t, 117f, 124, 270, 273 demobilization, 255–69 allowances, 258, 260–63, 266–67 civilian sector employment, 122, 241–42, 258, 266–67 of conscripts, xiv–xv, 258, 260–62 local government responsibilities, xiv–xv, 118, 122, 264 military modernization and, 256–57 of officers, xiv–xv, 258, 262–67 political stability and, xiv, 257 process systemization, 255, 257, 261–63, 265–66 reserve duty following, 279, 282 resettlement services, xiv–xv, 241–42, 247–48, 258, 260–61, 265 retirement, 258–60, 262–63 transfers to state sector, xv, 258, 263–66 urban-rural inequality, xiv, 122, 241 Democratic Progressive Party (Taiwan), 88 demographic trends, 3–25 “4-2-1” households, xi, 31 aging population, xi–xii, 4–8, 20, 29–32, 242 birthrates, 5, 6f, 27 dependency ratios, 5, 7 divorce, 29, 30f ethnic minorities, 41–42 for females, 4, 5, 8–9, 15, 17, 27, 119–20 “floating” populations, 42 gender imbalance, xii, 4, 8–9, 29–31 income, 9, 12–13, 31–32, 40–41 for males, 4, 8–9, 15, 16 marriage, 29–31 middle class, 38 mortality rates, 5, 6f, 18, 27

demographic trends (continued) one-child families, xi, 4, 5, 8, 27–33, 238, 242 PLA implications, 4–9, 19–20 PLA perspectives on, 27, 29–31 population, 5, 6f, 9 poverty, 9, 13–14 urbanization, 4–5, 9, 19, 42, 238, 239, 241, 247 workforce, 7, 32, 38, 39f Deng Xiaoping on “bloated” PLA, 172, 203, 218 as CMC chairman, 139–40 commander responsibility systems, 156 economic reform plans, 164, 217–18, 221 “four modernizations,” 203, 218 on local war as likely next combat, 275 military budget, 164, 203 217–18 “peace and development” theme, 203 PLA reforms by age limits, 106 commercialization, 217 depoliticization, 138 downsizing, 203, 236 education, 49, 172, 236 expansion, 221 modernization, 3, 236 professionalization, 77–79 science and technology, 133, 140, 172 Politburo and, 82, 139–40, 158 political commissars and, 148, 149, 156, 158 political exile, 77–78 Ruilin as mishu to, 67–68 “Southern Tour,” 221 Soviet influences, 81 as “strongman,” 79, 81, 143 transition to power, 77–79, 81 Yang brothers and, 157 Dengzhou Municipal Party Committee, 120 “digital triangle,” xi, 214, 228–30 Ding Yiping, 64–67 Donggang, China, 282, 289 downsizing, 255–69 military academy programs, 174, 189–90 personnel reductions, 10, 80, 87, 122, 203, 236, 255, 261, 264–65, 267 state-owned enterprises, 10, 40, 211 Du Chunfu, 113 Du Tiehuan, 105 “dual-historical mission” of PLA, 37, 80, 89, 156, 279 Duan Duanwu, 102 Duan Luding, 112 E economic growth conscription and, 249 corruption and, 34, 40 demographic effects on, 5, 10, 12 as foreign invasion deterrent, 33 HIV epidemic impact on, 15

INDEX 315 economic growth (continued) military careers and, 237 military modernization ties to, xi, 48–49, 163, 203, 206, 211 social problem smoothing by, 19–20 economic reform budgetary issues, 8, 10, 134, 164, 226–27, 278 China’s budgetary shifts to, 203 commercialism and capitalist values, 39 corruption and, 40 Deng’s plan for, 164, 217–18, 221 globalization, 34–36 government loan failures, 34 healthcare changes as result of, 42–43 instability from, 33–35, 40 PLA implications, 19, 134–35 PLA perspective on, 33–37 PLA support of, 221 privatization, 35–36 special economic zones (SEZs), 221 economics Asian financial crisis, 34–35 bank loan defaults, 34 budgetary issues, 202–13, 215–19 credit access, 14 historical views, 215–17 imperial military economics, 215–17 pension funding, 7–8 poverty, 9, 13–14 savings rate of aging population, 5 savings rate of lower-fertility population, 5 socialist market economies, 35 special economic zones (SEZs), 221 state-military fiscal relationships, 217–19 wealth, 13, 33, 38, 40 See also “PLA, Inc.” education, civilian, 7, 189–90, 238–39, 248 See also civilian colleges and universities education, military assessment of quality of, 175, 182–83, 198–99 civilian- and PLA-educated officer tensions, 10, 55, 183, 199 correspondence courses, 174 credentials, 50–56, 60 doctorate students, 175, 196 expenses, 177–78, 180–81 historical context, 50–56 impetus for improvement, 172–73, 176, 187–92 PME System, 172, 174–76, 179–80, 190–91, 195–96 political implications, 181–82 postgraduate courses and degrees, 56, 175–76, 178, 179, 192–93, 196 promotion requirements, 174–75, 191, 195 science, engineering and technology, 61, 133, 171–73, 175, 177, 179, 182, 188–89, 197–98 social implications, 181–82

education, military (continued) See also civilian colleges and universities; military academies employment, 9–12, 122, 211, 241–42 See also unemployment Engineering College of the Air Force Engineering University, 197–98 F Falklands conflict, 172 Family Planning Law, 33 Fan Changlong, 56 Fan Duixiang, 114 Fang Guo’an, 111 Fang Lizhi, 141 Fei Xiaotong, 9 Feng Lanrui, 10 Fifteenth Party Congress, 156 Fifth Encirclement, 216 First Front Army, 149, 158 First Military Medical University, 198 first party secretaries county and PAFD, 112, 114–17, 119–20 history, 106–8, 124 municipal and military subdistrict, 112, 113–14, 118–19 as political commissars, 107–11, 151–52, 159 provincial level, 97–102, 105, 111–12, 114, 118, 123–24, 151 “Five Guarantees Program,” 32 foreign-owned enterprises, 285 “four modernizations,” 203, 218 “4-2-1” households, xi, 31 Fourteenth Central Committee, 57–59 Fourteenth Party Congress, 57–59 Fourth Field Army, 158 Fourth Front Army, 147, 149 fourth generation of leaders, 48, 49, 50–59, 78, 80–88 See also Hu Jintao; Wen Jiabao France, 6 Fu Quanyou, 60, 112, 224 Fu Tinggui, 105 Fujian, China, 283 Fujian Provincial Party Committee, 113 Fujian Zhangzhou Reserve Logistics Support Brigade, 283 G Gang of Four, 78, 151 Gao Boxiong, 156 Gao Shuchun, 112 GDP (gross domestic product), 8, 10, 202–13 gender imbalance, xii, 4–5, 8–9, 29–31 generational cohorts, 48–73 age of officers, 57–61 conflicts between, 60–69 fourth generation, 48, 49, 50–59, 78, 80–88 institutionalization, 57–60

316 INDEX generational cohorts (continued) leadership turnover, 48 nepotism and favoritism, 49, 61, 64–69 paradoxical trends, 49–50 professionalism, 57–60 third generation, 74, 81, 84, 87 upcoming generation, 55–56, 60 Germany, 142 Gini coefficient, 12–13, 23n61, 40 globalization, 34–36 Gongyi Municipal Party Committee, 120 Great Leap Forward, 216–17 gross domestic product (GDP), 8, 10, 202–13 Guan Xiangying, 148 Guangdong Province, 8, 12, 105, 113, 237 Guangxi Army Reserve Infantry Division, 289 Guangxi Military District, 111 Guangxi Military Region, 108 Guangxi Party Committee, 111 Guangxi Province, 17, 111, 197 Guangxi Zhuang Autonomous Region, 108 Guangzhou, China, 42 Guangzhou Military Region, 105, 177, 193, 225, 228, 282–83 Guangzhou War Zone, 289 Gui Wanzeng, 114 Guiyang Command School of the People’s Armed Police, 196 Guizhou, China, 7 Guizhou Normal University, 196 Guizhou Province, 41–42 Gulf War, ix, 133, 136, 172, 203, 236–37 Guo Linxiang, 112 H Haikou, China, 35 Hainan Military District, 35–36 Hainan Province, 35–36 Han Dynasty, 216 Han Yonglu, 33 Hangzhou, China, 238 Harbin Institute of Military Engineering, 49, 50 Harbin Polytechnic University, 177 He Bingyan, 112 health issues aging population, 43 collective medical system collapse, 13, 42 commercial sex workers, 9, 16–17 curative vs. preventive medicine, 17 hepatitis, 18 HIV/AIDS, 4, 9, 15–20 intravenous drug use, 16–17 medical insurance, 42 plasma donations, 17 services access and cost, 6, 13–15, 17, 20, 42–43 sexually transmitted diseases, 17 tuberculosis, 17–18 Hebei Military District survey, 31–32 Hebei Province, 105, 281

Heilongjiang Province, 7, 11, 29, 113, 119 Heilongjiang University, 243 Henan Province, 16, 17, 31, 113, 120 “Highland 03A” anti-terrorist training exercise, 290 HIME. See Harbin Institute of Military Engineering historical perspectives CCP, 6, 50–55, 76–77, 138–40, 148, 163–65 military, 158, 215–17, 279–80 People’s Armed Forces Department, 121 PLA, 50–56, 76–80, 112, 138–40, 147–49, 157, 163–65, 215–17, 236 political commissars, 143, 147–52 HIV/AIDS. See health issues Hong Hu, 117 Hong Xuezhi, 157, 221 Hong Yongshi, 113 Hongwei District People’s Armed Forces Department, 119 Hou Tongjing, 113 Hu Jintao budgetary issues, 209–10, 211–13 on CCP’s role, 82 Central Foreign Affairs Leading Small Group chairman, 84, 86 civil-military equilibrium, 74 confidants of, 68 on Constitution’s role, 82 on demobilization, 257, 265 democratic reforms, 82–84, 89 domestic policies, 7, 14, 82–84 education policies, 248 foreign affairs, 84–87, 88 fourth generation of government and, 76, 81–87 internships, 85–86 Jiang’s relationship with, 88, 89 military experience, 131, 153, 212 PLA decommercialization by, 86, 134, 224 PLA modernization project, 86 PLA’s acceptance of, 86, 153 on PLA’s technocratic mission, 50 Politburo’s role, 82 RMA involvement, 82, 89 rule of law focus, 82–83 rural education reinstatement, 248 SARS epidemic response by, 83, 87 Submarine No. 361 accident response, 87–88 Taiwan and, 86, 88–89, 212 on technological warfare, 36 on theory integrating with reality, 83 “Three People Principles,” 82 transition to power, 84, 85–86, 137, 153 Hu Yanlin, 159–60 Hu Yaobang, 137 Huabei Hotel, 227–28 Huang Huahua, 105 Huang Ju, 105 Huatian Hotel, 228 Hubei Province, 105 Hunan Army Reserve Infantry Division, 281

INDEX 317 Hunan Hengyang Army Reserve Logistics Support Brigade, 283 Hunan Province, 248, 281 Hunan Provincial Military District, 113 Hungary, 9 Huntingtonian model of civil-military relations, 74–75, 182, 187 I India, 14, 17 Indonesia, 14 industrial sector, 5, 38–40 inequality, xii, 4, 9, 12–15, 38, 40, 42–43, 241–42, 247–48 Inner Mongolia, 281 Inner Mongolia Military Region, 108 Inner Mongolia PAP Zongdui, Gong’an, and Military District, 290 Iraq war, 61, 84, 89, 133, 172 J J&A Securities, 225–26 Japan, 43, 59, 88, 133, 149 Ji Dengkui, 151 Ji Yunshi, 105 Jia Tingan, 68–69 Jia Zhibang, 105 Jiang Futang, 55, 105 Jiang Yanyong, 87 Jiang Zemin on CCP systems, 146 Central Committee candidates and, 49 as Central Foreign Affairs Leading Small Group chairman, 79 as CMC chairman, 79, 88, 139–40 domination of bureaucracy, 79 on “dual-historical mission” of PLA, 37, 80, 89, 156, 279 Hu’s relationship with, 88, 89, 140 institutional network, 74, 79–80, 86 leadership style, 81, 152–53, 156 military experience, 131, 153, 212 military spending, 203, 212–13, 223 “military thought,” 133, 273–74 PLA reforms by command-and-control, logistics and armament mechanisms, 80 decommercialization, 86, 222–24, 225 downsizing, 80, 87 education, 134, 172, 189, 190 “limited wars under high-tech conditions,” 50, 132–33, 156, 271, 273–77, 278, 284–85 mechanization and digitalization, 37, 80, 89, 156, 279 modernization, 136 politicization, 137 summary of, 133–34, 136 technology, 136, 189 PLA support of, 80

Jiang Zemin (continued) as PLA’s first civilian leader, 79, 203 PME importance, 172 Politburo appointments from military, 158 political commissars and, 146, 152–53, 156, 158 RMA and, 37–38, 80, 82, 89, 133, 136 SARS epidemic response by, 87 Submarine No. 361 accident response, 87–88 Taiwan and, 79, 88 “Three Represents,” 82–83, 136–37, 172, 278 transition from power, 74, 86, 152–53 transition to power, 79, 81, 85 You as bodyguard to, 68 Zeng as “hatchet man” to, 67 Jiang Zhuping, 105 Jiangsu Province, 12, 113, 289, 290 Jiangsu Reserve AAA Division, 281 Jiangsu Reserve Army Infantry Division, 288 Jiangxi Province, 8, 197 jianjun, 148–49, 165 Jilin, China, 11 Jilin Leading Small Group on SARS Prevention and Treatment, 117 Jilin Medical College of the Fourth Military Medical University, 198 Jilin Province, 96–97 Jilin Provincial Military District, 97, 117 Jilin Provincial Party Committee, 96 Jin Renqing, 209 Jinan, China, 36 Jinan Military Region, 105, 108, 154 Jing Mao, 160 K Kan Chengke, 160 KMT Army, 217 Korean nuclear crisis, 84 Korean War, 236 Korean War veterans, 60 Kosovo war, 61, 133, 172, 286 Kuandian County, 289 L Langfang Army Reserve Logistics Support Brigade, 283 Langfang Reserve Division, 283 Lanzhou Military Region, 105, 113, 288 Lanzhou Military Subdistrict, 286 Lawrence, Susan, 228 Lee Teng-hui, 206 Lei Feng, 59, 135, 136 Lei Mingqiu, 55, 57 Li Bingyan, 26–27 Li Chunting, 105 Li Haoquan, 36 Li Jin, 64 Li Jinan, 61, 64

318 INDEX Li Jingquan, 108 Li Ruihuan, 111 Li Xiannian, 64 Li Yusheng, 113 Liang Guanglie, 60 Lianyungang Garrison, 290 Liao Xilong, 60 Liaoning Jinzhou Reserve Logistics Support Brigade, 283–84 Liaoning Province, 11, 119, 151, 241, 282 Liaoning reserve division, 284 Liaoyang Municipality, 119 Liberation War, 59 Liberia, 291 Lin Biao, 132, 138, 151, 158 Lin Bocheng, 113 Ling Jihua, 68 Liu Bocheng, 67, 158 Liu Dongdong, 105 Liu Fengjun, 112–13 Liu Huaqing, 134, 156 Liu Shaoqi, 138 Liu Xiaochong, 160 Liu Yazhou, 64 Liu Yongzhi, 105 Liu Yuan, 64 Liu Yuejun, 57 Liu Zhenhua, 114 Liu Zhenwu, 105 local-level military organizations bureau of military service, 107–8 civilian interactions with, 96–105, 117–23 demilitarization in the 1970s, 112 first party secretaries and, 106–17, 119–20, 124 leadership, xvii, 97, 107–13, 117–21, 124, 151–52, 159 military subdistricts, 106–8, 112–14, 119–20, 121, 285 party committees, 118 provincial military districts, 96–102, 107–8, 111–14, 117f, 124, 279–82, 285 Long March, 76–77, 81, 216 Lu Bin, 228 Lu Dadong, 108 Lu Ruihua, 105 Lu Yunzhong, 117 Luo Ruiqing, 275 M Ma Tianshui, 151 Ma Xiaotian, 64 Malawi, 18 Mao Rubai, 105 Mao Yuanxin, 151 Mao Zedong “barrel of a gun” saying, 138 bureaucracy destruction by, 77, 79 CMC and, 138, 149 commander responsibility systems, 156 Cultural Revolution and, 151

Mao Zedong (continued) on Deng’s subordination to Liu, 158 foreign invasion fears, 217 “little red book,” 132 Long March and, 76–77, 81, 216 military commander appointments by, 158 military control by, 149 on party branches in the military, 107, 147 People’s War, xviii, 132, 270, 271, 273–77, 278, 284, 285, 292 PLA as power base, 149–52 PLA commercialization, 216 Politburo and, 149, 158 political commissars and, 148–49, 150–51, 156, 158 politics as counterattack when challenged, 150–51 as PRC Chairman, 138 Soviet influences, 81 as “strongman,” 143, 149 supervisor system, 151 Maoist era, 132, 140, 203, 216, 217 media transparency, 81, 83–84, 87, 88 Meng Jinxin, 112 Meng Xuenong, 87 Mianning County People’s Armed Forces Department, 119 military academies civilian institutions compared, 174–76, 189–90 classroom environment improvements, 174 downsizing of programs, 174, 189–90 enrollment, 174 foreign exchange students, 174–75 foreign languages, 175, 179 Harbin Institute of Military Engineering, 49, 50 impetus for improvement, 172–73, 176, 187–92 instructors, 175–76, 187, 191, 196–97 National Defense Scholarship program, xvi, 55–56, 176, 177–78, 194–95, 199 National Defense Science and Technology University, 49, 196 National Defense University, 49, 50, 134, 172, 174, 238 PME System, 172, 174–76, 179–80, 190–91, 195–96 research partnering with civilian colleges, 176, 178, 179, 187, 197 structural organization/reorganization, 174, 198 traditional officer paths through, 176 Western military theory studies, 137–38 See also civilian colleges and universities; specific name Military Economic Institute, 220 military history, 158, 215–17 Military Service Law, 122, 235, 236, 238–45, 247–48, 260–61, 284 military standing members, 97, 111–13, 120–21, 124

INDEX 319 military subdistricts, 106–8, 112–14, 119–20, 121, 285 military work departments, 107–8 militia chain of command, 117–18, 272–73, 285 disaster relief, 290–91 local government responsibilities, 117–18, 284, 289, 292 mission, 270–73, 275, 284–87 ordinary, 284–85, 291 PAFD and, 272 peacekeeping operations, 290–91 People’s War transformation, 284–87 personnel, 284–85, 287, 291 PLA modernization and, 278–79 primary, 284–85, 291 training, 284–85, 289–90, 291 urban, 285–87 Ming Dynasty, 149, 165, 216 Ministry of Public Security (MPS), 271 Ministry of State Security (MSS), 271 mishu, 64, 67–69 missile corps. See Second Artillery Corps missile technology, 37 mobilization, military of civilian assets, xv, 35–37, 273, 282, 284, 289 defense mobilization commissions, xiii, xv, 114, 115–16t, 117f, 124, 270, 273 training exercises, 281, 282, 283, 285–87, 289 urban, 35–37 urban militia, 285–87 modernization, military demobilization and, 256–57 economic growth and, xi, 48–49, 163, 203, 206, 211 educational aspects of, 171, 187–92 “four modernizations,” 203, 218 institutionalization, 74, 78–80 obstacles to, 49, 60–69 professionalization and, 3, 166 reserve forces, 270, 278–79 Soviet-assisted, 138 troop reductions and, 3 “Two Transformations,” 188–89, 198, 256 Moskos, Charles, 182 Mudanjiang, China, 12 municipal-level military organizations, 112, 117f municipal-level party organizations, 106–7, 112–14, 118–19, 121, 124–25 N Nanjing, China, 113, 243 Nanjing Military Region, 105, 279, 288 Nanjing University, 197 Nankai University, 12, 193 Nanyang, China, 113 National Defense Law, 118, 134, 139, 271 National Defense Mobilization Commission, xv, 114, 115–16t, 117f, 124, 270, 273

National Defense Scholarship program, xvi, 55–56, 176, 177–78, 194–95, 199 National Defense Science and Technology University, 49, 196 national defense students, 55, 178, 194 National Defense University, 49, 50, 134, 172, 174, 238 National People’s Congress (NPC), 37, 83, 86, 135 Nationalist army, 143, 148 NATO (North Atlantic Treaty Organization), 87 Navy. See PLA Navy NCOs. See noncommissioned officers (NCOs) NDU. See National Defense University Neijing, China, 113 Nie Rongzhen, 158, 275 Ningbo, China, 237 Ningxia Province, 105 Niu Maosheng, 105 Niu Renliang, 114 noncommissioned officers (NCOs), xvi, 134, 240, 244, 258, 262–63, 267 nonstate sector. See civilian sector North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), 87 North China Field Army, 158 North Korea, 9, 19 Northern Song Dynasty, 215 Northwest China Engineering University, 177 Northwest Polytechnical University, 197–98 O officers. See PLA officer corps one-child policy, xi, 4, 5, 8, 27–33, 238, 242 Ou Zhifu, 111 P PAFD. See People’s Armed Forces Departments paramilitary organizations. See militia; People’s Armed Police Force Peng Dehuai, 132, 138, 150 Peng Dehui, 158 Peng Xiaofeng, 64 pensions, 5, 7–8, 20, 32, 211, 258 People’s Armed Forces Departments (PAFD), 112, 113, 117–21, 235–36, 245, 272, 285 People’s Armed Police Force, 56, 135, 166, 174, 196, 224, 264, 271, 273 People’s Republic of China (PRC) agriculture investment, 211 armed forces organization, 271–73, 274t bond issues, 209–10 budget, xvii, 8, 10, 134, 164, 202–13, 215–19, 226–27, 278 CMC leadership and, 139 coastal regions, 9, 11–12, 14–15, 133, 238 Constitution of, 35, 82, 138–39

320 INDEX People’s Republic of China (PRC) (continued) consumer price index, 206 Defense Law of the PRC, 118, 134, 139, 271 defense spending, xvii, 10, 134, 164, 202–13, 215–19, 226–27, 278 Defense White Paper, 87, 182 development strategies, 133 domestic policies, 7, 14, 82–84, 210–11 domestic security, 271–73, 274t education, 7, 189–90, 238–39, 248 external security, 271–73, 274t foreign relations, 84–87, 88, 133 GDP, 8, 10, 202–13 interior regions, 12, 14–17 leadership military experience, xvii, 131, 153, 212 local governments, xii, xiii, xiv, xv, 114–18, 121–24, 247, 292 military regions map, 97f Ministry of Education, 190, 193 Ministry of Information Industry, 229 Ministry of Science and Technology, 229 Ministry of State Security, 225, 271 National Defense Law, 118, 134, 139, 271 NATO relationship, 87 population (See Chinese civilian population; demographic trends) provincial leaders, 99–101t rural areas conscription, xi, 38, 238, 239, 241–42, 245, 247–48 demographics, 4, 7–9, 11, 14, 247–48 employment/unemployment, 9, 11–12, 40, 241, 247 health issues, 7, 13, 15–17, 31–32, 42 income, 9, 12–13, 31–32, 41 pensions, 7, 32 urban inequality, 12–13, 238, 241–42, 247–48 security apparatus structure, 271–73, 274t social issues, 7, 14, 82–84, 210–11 (See also demographic trends; health issues) as socialist market economy, 35 State Auditing Administration, 225 State Council, 139, 152, 190, 271, 273, 285–87 State Economic and Trade Commission, 227–28 state-owned enterprises (SOEs), 7, 10–11, 14, 40, 161, 211, 247 taxation, 8, 14, 206–9, 247 “three-stage guarantee” policy, 211 “two guarantees” policy, 211 urban areas conscription, 238, 239, 241–42, 247–48 demographics, 7–9, 14, 31–32, 42, 247, 248 employment/unemployment, 10–12, 40–41, 122, 181, 247 health issues, 13–14, 16, 42–43 income, 9, 12–13, 31–32, 41

People’s Republic of China (PRC) urban areas (continued) reserve regiments and divisions, 281 rural inequality, 9, 12–14, 42–43, 238, 241–42, 247–48 technology sector use by military, 36–37 See also Hu Jintao; Jiang Zemin; Wen Jiabao People’s War, xviii, 132, 270, 271, 273–77, 278, 284, 285, 292 “PLA, Inc.”, 214–34 audit results, 221, 222 corruption, xiii, 86, 134, 220, 221, 225–26 “digital triangle,” 214, 228–30 discipline issues, 214, 220, 228 divestiture, 78, 80, 85–86, 134, 214, 223–28, 230 history, 215–17 post-Tiananmen commentary on, 135 process, 214, 220–21 properties, 224, 225–26, 227, 228 rectification, 214, 220–23 state-military fiscal relationship, 217–19 structure, 214, 219–20, 222, 226, 230 PLA Air Force (PLAAF) bonuses, 178, 193, 199 CCP and CMC representation, 61–63 conscription, 122, 260–61 education, 55, 56, 174, 194–98 nepotism in, 64 professionalization of, 132 recruitment plans, 178, 193 reserve forces, 278–79, 282 PLA Navy (PLAN) CCP and CMC representation, 61–63 civil-military research projects, 179 conscription, 122, 260–61 education, 55, 174, 176, 178, 194–95 Navy Equipment Research Institute, 179 personnel changes, 56 political commissar of, 159 professionalization of, 132 recruitment, 176, 178, 195 reserve forces, 278–79, 282, 283 Submarine No. 361 accident, 49, 56, 67, 87–88 PLA officer corps, 48–73, 171–86, 187–201 Active Duty Officers Law, 56–57, 106, 190–91, 195 age of, 57–60, 106, 123, 279 appointments, 56–57, 158 battalion-level, 266 biographical information, 49, 51–54t, 64–69 business elite tensions with, 10 civilian work experience, 59–60, 96–98 combat experience, 60, 67 commanders (See commanders) competition with business sector, xi, 10, 171, 180, 194 Cultural Revolution and, 58–59, 81–82, 154 demobilization, xiv–xv, 258, 262–67 deputy commanders, 159–60

INDEX 321 PLA officer corps (continued) division-level, 266, 267–68 early release compensation, 31–32, 267 education (See education, military) elite leaders and rising stars, 56 exchanges with other PLA branches, 63–64 family issues, 31–32, 180–81 favoritism, 49, 67–69, 135 “four understandings” requirement, 37 fourth generation, 58–59, 78, 80–82, 85–87 generational cohorts, 48–50, 55, 57–61, 67, 69 ground forces, 49, 55, 61–64 health issues, 4, 15–20 modernization (See modernization, military) nepotism, 49, 61, 64–69 noncommissioned officers (NCOs), xvi, 134, 240, 244, 258, 262–63, 267 postgraduate training, 194 professionalization (See professionalization, military) promotions, 49, 61, 67–68, 134, 149, 166, 174–75, 191, 195 recruitment, 55–56, 176–78, 181, 187, 189–95, 236, 240, 247–48 regiment-level, 266, 267–68 retirement, 58, 60–61, 105–6, 123 rotation of, 56–57, 60, 63–64 term limits, 56–57, 60–61 training (See training, military) PLA (People’s Liberation Army) active units, 271, 272 agricultural roles of, 215–16, 219, 221 battalion levels, 160, 266, 281 benefits and perks, 180–81 budgetary issues, xvii, 10, 134, 164, 202–13, 215–19, 226–27, 278 Central Military Commission and, 80, 132–33, 157–58, 191, 273 Chinese Communist Party and “absolute loyalty” to, 76, 80, 88, 89, 118, 131, 135–38, 143, 153, 155, 163–65, 279, 292 civilian authority relationship, 131–45 first party secretary duties, 107–11, 151–52 historical relationship to, 138–40 long-term relations consequences, 163–65 party committee relationship, 107–8, 159 party-military splits, 135–38 civilian cadres, 194 commercialization (See “PLA, Inc.”) company levels, 160 competition for personnel, xi, 10, 171, 180, 194 competition for resources, 35–36, 122, 164 conscripts (See conscription) conventional warfare, 61–63, 64 daily activities, 162 defense mobilization commissions, xiii, xv, 114, 115–16t, 117f, 124, 270, 273

PLA (People’s Liberation Army) (continued) demobilization (See demobilization) Deng’s reforms, 3, 49, 77–79, 106, 133, 138, 140, 172, 203, 217, 221, 236 depoliticization, 74, 77, 78–79, 85, 135–40 downsizing military academy programs, 174, 189–90 personnel reductions, 10, 80, 87, 122, 203, 236, 255, 261, 264–65, 267 “dual-historical mission,” 37, 80, 89, 156, 279 early release compensation, 267 early retirement benefits, 31–32 economic reform and, 19, 134–35, 221 elite leaders and rising stars, 60, 64–69 family compensation and salaries, 180–81, 238, 240–41, 261 garrison commands, 279 General Armament Department, 80, 157, 159–60, 191, 227–28 General Equipment Department, 194 General Logistics Department, 55, 80, 97, 157, 159–60, 191, 194, 198, 221, 226–27 General Political Department, 33, 80, 107, 111, 157, 159–60, 190–91, 193–94, 224, 228 General Staff Department, 80, 157, 159–60, 176, 191, 229, 272 ground forces, 61–64, 194, 260 Gulf War implications for, ix, 133, 136, 172, 203, 236–37 health issues, 4, 15–20 history, 50–56, 76–80, 112, 138–40, 147–49, 157, 163–65, 215–17, 236 institutionalization, 49–60, 75–80, 85–86, 96, 150 Jiang’s reforms, 79–80, 86, 89, 133, 134, 136, 137, 156 joint military operations focus, 61–64 Lei Feng campaign, 59, 135, 136 “limited, local war” readiness, 36–37, 132–33, 136, 172, 188, 256, 275, 292 local-level leadership, 97, 107–13, 117–21, 124, 151–52, 159 logistics and technology, 61–63, 64, 80, 191 mechanization, 37, 80, 89, 156, 279 mobilization (See mobilization, military) modernization (See modernization, military) morale, 244–45, 265 municipal-level organizations, 112, 117f National Defense Law on leadership of, 134, 139 “only-child” soldiers, xii, 26–33, 40, 238, 243 organizational structure, 106, 124, 160 pensions as source of potential unrest, 8 People’s Armed Forces Departments, 106, 112–13, 117–18, 119–21 People’s War, xviii, 132, 270, 271, 273–77, 278, 284, 285, 292 personnel costs, 10

322 INDEX PLA (People’s Liberation Army) (continued) personnel management, 161, 162–63 PME System, 172, 174–76, 179–80, 190–91, 195–96 political authority relationships, 131–45 political autonomy, 150–53 political sector, 63–64 politicization, 74, 75–79, 85, 132, 135–36, 162 power transitions, 74, 77–81, 84, 85–86, 87 PRC leadership of, 132–40 professionalization (See professionalization, military) provincial military districts, 96–102, 107–8, 111–14, 117f, 124, 279–82, 285 quantity to quality, 172, 188, 189, 256, 285 recruiting pools, 9–10, 19, 181, 238–39, 244 recruitment, 55–56, 176–78, 181, 187, 189–95, 236, 240, 247–48 regional military districts, 97f, 106–8, 114, 117f, 124, 150–52, 155–59, 282 “Regulation of the Red Army Political Work,” 148 “Regulations on Military Service of Active Duty Soldiers,” xvi, 260–61, 262 “Regulations on Political Work,” 160 “Regulations on Strengthening Development of Armament and Technical Support Cadres under Combat Units” (PLA), 191 reserves (See reserve units) retention issues, xii, 31–32, 180–81 roles, 48, 50, 155, 163, 165 salaries and family compensation, 180–81, 238, 240–41, 261 scientific community autonomy within, 140–41 shuangzhangzhi, 155–59 soldiers’ model behavior, 59, 135 subdistrict-level organizations, 106–8, 112–14, 119–20, 121, 285 technical posts, 177 Tiananmen Square demonstrations and, 19, 79, 135–39, 154, 164, 203, 220 training (See training, military) volunteerism, 31, 40 war preparations by, 152–53, 162, 166 war under high-tech conditions, 50, 132–33, 156, 271, 273–77, 278, 284–85 yizhangzhi, 155–60 See also Cultural Revolution PLA perspectives on social trends demographics, 27, 29–31 economic reform, 33–37 elderly family care by officers, 31–32 family-household structure changes, 29–31 gender imbalance, 29–31 globalization, 34–35 healthcare, 42–43 “one-child” society, xii, 26–33 privatization, 35–36 social mobility, 38–40 technology, 36–37 urban mobilization, 36–37

“Plan for On-The-Job Scientific and Cultural Education for PLA Personnel” (PLA), 191 PME (Professional Military Education) System, 172, 174–76, 179–80, 190–91, 195–96 police and security organizations. See reserve forces Polish Crisis (1980-1981), 139 Politburo, 14–15, 82–83, 89, 139–40, 152–53, 156–57, 162, 166 political affairs network systems, 146–47 political commissars, 146–70 CCP and, 146–49, 162 civil-military relationship, 147, 150, 151, 154–55, 163–65 civilians as, 146, 148–55, 165 disputes and power struggles, 148–49, 154–55, 160, 161 dual leadership mechanism, 151, 155–58 duties, 152, 159, 161, 162–63 first party secretaries as, 107–11, 151–52, 159 hierarchical status, 147–49, 155–63, 165–66 history, 147–52 institutional structure, 106–14 list, 97, 98t military, 150, 153–63, 165 military experience of, 96–97 military status of, 146–47, 150, 155–59 myths about, 147, 149, 155, 159 party committees, 106, 148, 159–63 party representatives system and, 147–51 PLA autonomy, 150–53 PLA loyalty issues, 163–65 political status, 146–47 reporting by, 152 responsibility systems, 148–49, 154–59 roles of, 147–48, 151–53, 159–60, 162 shuangzhangzhi and yizhangzhi, 155–59 in SOEs, 161 tenure limits and retirement, 123 Pollack, Jonathan, 217 “postmodern” model of civil-military relations, 182 “praetorian soldier” model of civil-military relations, 75 PRC. See People’s Republic of China pre-Liberation period, 217 private sector. See civilian sector professional groups and political interference, 140–44 Professionalism: The Third Logic (Freidson), 141–42 professionalization, military, 131–45 CCP and, 74, 75–80, 85 challenges to, 134–40 CMC and, 132–33, 191 depoliticization, 138 implementation, 132–34, 191 institutionalization, 49–60, 74, 75–80, 85–86, 96, 150 modernization and, 3

INDEX 323 professionalization, military (continued) officer corps, 133–34, 182 political implications of, 131–45 restoration of, 132–34 sociological perspectives, 141–42 state’s role in, 142 professionalization in nonmilitary groups, 131, 140–44 Professionalization of the Senior Chinese Officer Corps (Mulvenon), 3 Proposals on Improving the Quality of Staff Officers of the PLA, 171 protests. See social unrest provincial military districts, 96–102, 107–8, 111–14, 117f, 124, 279–82, 285 provincial military leaders age limits and retirement, 106 average tenure, 102–5, 106, 123 civilian leaders collaboration with, 102, 106 civilian work experience by, 96–102 commanders, 97–98, 106, 111, 114 commitment of, 106 defense mobilization commissions and, 114 deputy commanders, 106 deputy political commissars, 106 list of, 98t political commissars, 97, 98t, 106–14, 123 tenure limits and rotation, 102, 106 provincial party leaders commitment of, 106 committees and, 109–10t defense mobilization commissions and, 114 deputy secretaries, 102, 105, 123–24 evaluation procedures, 118 experience, 103t first party secretaries, 97–102, 105, 111–12, 114, 118, 123–24, 151 governors, 102, 105, 114, 123 list of, 99–101t military collaboration, 118 military experience, 96–102 military leader interaction with, 102, 105 municipal party leadership by, 113–14 provincial military leaders ranking compared, 106 retirement, 105 secretaries, 97–102, 105, 111, 114, 118, 123–24 tenure and rotation, 102 vice governors, 102, 105, 114, 123 provincial party organizations, 114 provincial party secretaries, 97–102, 105, 111, 114, 118, 123–24 Putin, Vladimir, 81 Q Qian Guoliang, 55 Qian Shugen, 278–79, 282 Qiao Qingchen, 67 Qin Chaoying, 31 Qin Dynasty, 215

Qing Dynasty, 149, 216 Qing reforms, 143 Qinghua University, 177, 190, 193, 196 Qinshihuangdi, Emperor, 215 Qiu Yanhan, 113 Quartermaster University, 198 Qufu Municipal Party Committee, 120 Quotations from Chairman Mao (Zedong), 132 R Red Army, 50, 76–77, 147, 148, 216, 217 Redian (Hot Spot) disco, 225 regional military districts, 97, 106–8, 114, 117f, 124, 150–52, 155–59, 282 regional military leaders age limits and retirement, 106, 123 civilian leaders interaction with, 105, 106, 124 commanders, 97–98, 106, 111, 112, 113, 114, 123, 157–58 political commissars, 97, 98t, 106–14, 123 tenure and rotation, 102–5, 106, 123 regional party committees, 106, 158 Ren Bishi, 148 reserve forces logistics support brigades, 282–84 modernization priority, 270, 278–79 People’s War transformation, 273–77 provincial military districts and, 279–82 reorganization, 280–81 structure and roles, 271–73, 275, 279–82 See also militia reserve units (PLA) Chinese terminology, 273 college recruit assignments, 177 local government responsibilities to, 117–18, 292 military leadership of, 117–18 mission, 270, 272, 275, 288 nonlogistics, 284 officer age, 279 officer education levels, 279 party committee leadership of, 118 as PLA modernization priority, 278–79 of Second Artillery Corps, 37 structure, 271, 273 training, 37, 279, 287–89, 287–90 Reserve Water Supply Engineer Regiment, 291 resettlement. See demobilization “Responsibility System” pensions, 32 retirement system. See pensions Revolution of Military Affairs (RMA), 37–38, 80, 82, 89, 133, 136, 275, 292 “revolutionary soldier” model of civil-military relations, 75 RMA. See Revolution of Military Affairs Russia, 9, 84, 212 See also Soviet Union

324 INDEX S Sanjiu pharmaceuticals, 224 Sanya, China, 35 SARS epidemic, 15, 83, 84, 87, 117 The Science of Campaigns (Zhanyi), 292 scientific community political autonomy, 140–41 Second Artillery Corps civil-military relations, 122–23 civil-military research projects, 179 education, 55–56, 174, 176, 179, 193–95, 196–97 modernization, 78 nepotism, 64 as nuclear forces, 174 recruitment costs, 177–78 reserve forces of, 37, 278–79, 282 upcoming generation, 60 urban reserve training, 37 Second Field Army, 158 service sector expansion, 9, 11–12 Seymour, James, 287 Shaanxi Baoji Army Reserve Logistics Support Brigade, 283 Shaanxi Province, 105 Shaanxi University of Science and Technology, 177 Shambaugh, David, 202 Shandong Military District, 36 Shandong Province, 105, 108, 120, 289 Shang, Lord, 215 Shanghai, China, 6–7, 12, 32, 42, 147, 148 Shanghai Garrison, 290 Shanghai Guard Command, 102 Shanghai Military Region, 108 Shanghai Province, 105 Shanxi Province, 102, 114, 281 Shanxi Provincial Defense Mobilization Commission, 114 Shanxi provincial education department, 180 Shanxi Provincial Military District, 102, 114 Shanxi Provincial Party Committee, 102 Shanxi University, 180 Shen Binyi, 160 Shen Jie, 16 Shenyang, China, 282 Shenyang Military Region, 28–29, 105, 284, 291 Shenzhen, China, 17, 221 Shenzhou manned space vehicle, 60 Shichang (training ship), 282 Shu Tong, 108 shuangzhangzhi, 155–59 Shuanyashan Municipality, 119 Sichuan, China, 287 Sichuan Army Reserve Infantry Division, 288 Sichuan Province, 14, 17, 113, 119, 193 Sichuan Provincial Military District, 108, 112 Sichuan Provincial Party Committee, 108, 111–12

Sixteenth Central Committee Air Force and Navy representation, 61–63 Jiang’s associates as candidates, 49 leaders’ generational profiles, 48–49, 57–60, 64, 68 rising stars, 56, 60, 64–69 Sixteenth National Party Congress Animal Farm showing, 83 cultural reforms, 83 generational turnover of leadership, 48 Hu’s Politburo report, 83 Jiang’s “dual-historical mission,” 80, 89 NATO military exercises during, 87 social trends. See PLA perspectives on social trends social unrest potential, 7–9, 11, 40, 141 social welfare programs. See health issues; pensions socialist market economies, 35 SOE sector. See state-owned enterprises South Africa, 15, 18 Soviet Union, 75, 81, 132–33, 137, 138, 142, 143, 147–48 See also Russia space program, 60 special economic zones (SEZs), 221 state-owned enterprises (SOEs), 7, 10–11, 14, 40, 161, 211, 247 Su Yu, 275 Submarine No. 361 accident, 49, 56, 67, 87–88 Sui-Tang period, 216 Suihua, China, 113 Sun Bensheng, 113 Sun Jianguo, 120 Suzhou, China, 246 Swaziland, 18 Sweden, 6 T Taiping rebellion, 143 Taiwan, 19–20, 34, 88–89, 152, 212, 223, 237 Taiwan Affairs Leading Small Group, 79, 86, 88 Taiwan Strait crisis (1995-96), 88–89, 203–6, 237 Taizhou, China, 12 taizi, 64–67, 69 Tan Desheng, 120–21 Tan Qilong, 108 Tan Shimian, 111 Tang Lihua, 119–20 taxation, 8, 14, 206–9, 247 technology challenges, 36–37, 50, 61–63, 64, 80, 89, 191 civilian workforce, 36 commercial IT companies, 229 computer warfare, 286 computers, 36–37 COTS (commercial-off-the-shelf), 229 Deng’s support of, 133, 140, 172

INDEX 325 technology (continued) “digital triangle,” xi, 214, 228–30 fabless integrated circuit production, 229 Hu on warfare using, 36 Jiang’s reforms, 136, 189 microelectronics, 229 missile, 37 PLA perspective on, 36–37 semiconductor industry, 229 training enhancement through, 287–88 universities, 49, 56, 177, 193, 196 Thailand, 17–18 theoretical models of civil-military relations, 74–76, 182 Third Field Army, 158 Third Front industrialization campaign, 217 third generation of leaders, 74, 81, 84, 87 See also Jiang Zemin “Three Represents,” 82–83, 136–37, 143, 172, 278 Tian Chengping, 114 Tiananmen Square demonstrations, 19, 79, 135–39, 154, 164, 203, 220 Tiancheng Group, 224 Tianjin, China, 42 Tianjin Garrison Headquarters, 36–37, 42 Tianjin Guard Command, 111, 117 Tianjin Municipal Flood Control Headquarters, 117 Tianjin Municipal Party Committee, 102 Tianjin University, 177 Tibet, 280–81 Tibetan Military District, 112 Tibetan Regional Party Committee, 112 training, military anti-terrorism, 290 conscripts, xii, 244 militia, 284–85, 289–90, 291 mobilization, 281, 282, 283, 285–87, 289 reserve units, 37, 279, 287–89, 287–90 technology support, 287–88 tuntian, 216 “Two Guarantees Program,” 211 “Two Transformations” modernization program, 188–89, 198, 256 U unemployment, 9–11, 40–42, 122, 211, 249 See also demobilization; employment United Kingdom, 142 United States Afghanistan war, 61, 133, 172 aging population, medical care, 6 aging population rates, 5 China’s Defense White Paper on, 87 China’s normalizing relations with, 133 Gulf War, ix, 133, 136, 172, 203, 236–37 as interventionist, 237 Iraq war, 61, 84, 89, 133, 172 Korean nuclear crisis, 84 Kosovo war, 61, 133, 172, 286

United States (continued) as likely enemy in China’s next war, 223, 237 military financing, 215 military officers with master’s degrees, 173 post-crisis curtailing of societal freedom, 84 as “reactive-coordinate” state, 142 ROTC model for Chinese military, 177 Social Security debt as percentage of GDP, 8 Taiwan and, 88, 212, 237 universities. See civilian colleges and universities; specific names University of Science and Technology of China, 193 urbanization, 4–5, 9, 19, 42, 238, 239, 241, 247 V Vajpayee, Atal Behari, 85 Vietnam People’s Army, 138 Vietnamese-Chinese War, 60, 172, 203, 236 W wages and benefits, 31–32, 38–39, 180–81, 238, 240, 260, 262–63 Wan Haifeng, 112 Wang Bingyang, 113 Wang Chenghan, 112 Wang Ganchang, 141 Wang Hongju, 105 Wang Hongwen, 151 Wang Hui, 189 Wang Jianmin, 105 Wang Ruilin, 67–68 Wang Shaoguang, 202 Wang Yucheng, 160 Wang Zhen, 216 Wei Guoqing, 108 Wei Jianxing, 225 Wen Jiabao civil-military equilibrium, 74 education policies, 248 as first mishu-turned premier of PRC, 67 foreign diplomacy, 84–85 Government Work Report, 211 internships, 85–86 populist disposition, 7, 14 rural education reinstatement, 248 SARS epidemic response by, 83, 87 Wenzhou, China, 12 Western civil-military relations theories, 74–76, 137–38 White Paper on China’s national defense, 87, 182 Who’s Who in China, 49 World Bank report on China, 13 World Health Report 2000, 17 World Trade Organization, 10, 83 Wu Guangzheng, 105 Wu Yiansheng, 60

326 INDEX Wuhan, China, 282 Wuhan garrison, 282 X Xi Qiliang, 64 Xiamen Garrison Command, 113 Xiamen Maritime Industry and Petroleum Company, 283 Xiamen Shipping Corporation, 283 Xi’an, China, 282 Xi’an Electronic Science and Technology University, 177 Xi’an Jiaotong University, 68 Xiang Huaicheng, 226 Xiao Ke, 157 Xinjiang, China, 290 Xinjiang Autonomous Region, 41 Xinjiang Autonomous Region Party Committee, 113 Xinjiang Military District, 113 Xinjiang Military Region, 108 Xinjiang Production and Construction Corps, 287 Xinjiang Province, 15, 17 Xinjiang Uygur Autonomous Region, 287 Xiong Guangkai, 33, 34–35, 37–38, 50 Xu Caihou, 156 Xu Changyou, 40 Xu Kuangdi, 105 Xu Liangying, 141 Xu Liqing, 108 Xuexi Shibao (journal), 83 Y Yan Min, 68 Yan’an, China, 282 Yan’an era, 76, 132, 134, 216 Yanbian Military Subdistrict, 97 Yang Baibin, 156, 157 Yang Baibing, 136, 221 Yang brothers era, 79, 157 Yang Chengwu, 67 Yang Dezhi, 157 Yang Jun, 225 Yang Rudai, 108 Yang Shangkun, 148, 221 Yangjiang, China, 113 Yao Ming, 85 Yao Xingyuan, 159–60 Ye Jianying, 275 Yili prefecture, 41 Yin Zuwen, 113 Ying Mingquan, 120 yizhangzhi, 155–60 You Taizhong, 112 You Xigui, 68 Youyan County, 241 Yu Jianrong, 257 Yu Jinrong, xiv

Yu Linxiang, 113 Yu Qiuli, 67 Yu Senhai, 117 Yu Yongbo, 224, 265 Yu Yuquan, 113 Yuan Dynasty, 216 Yuan Jiajun, 60 Yuan Shikai, 143, 149 Yunnan Army Reserve Division, 288 Yunnan Province, 8–9, 17, 18 Z Zambia, 18 Zeng Haisheng, 67 Zeng Qinghong, 67 Zeng Xisheng, 108 Zhang Aiping, 67 Zhang Chunqiao, 151 Zhang Dingfa, 159–60 Zhang Gaoli, 105 Zhang Guoqing, 225 Zhang Guotao, 147, 148, 149 Zhang Haiyang, 64 Zhang Haoruo, 34 Zhang Ping, 67 Zhang Qingwei, 60 Zhang Sheng, 67 Zhang Wannian, 156, 222, 224, 225, 244 Zhang Wenkang, 87 Zhang Xiang, 67 Zhang Yi, 239 Zhang Zhaozhong, 27, 238 Zhang Zhen, 36, 57, 67, 134, 156 Zhangzhou Military Subdistrict, 289 Zhanjiang, China, 113 Zhao Linsheng, 113 Zhao Wenjin, 112 Zhao Xia, 244 Zhao Xingfa, 160 Zhao Ziyang, 79, 108, 135–37 Zhaoqing, China, 113 Zhejiang Province, 12, 237, 245 Zhejiang Reserve Infantry Division, 288, 289 Zheng Chuanfu, 114 Zheng Lizhong, 113 Zhong Hanhua, 112 Zhongguo Minbing (journal), 119, 120 Zhou Enlai, 78, 147 Zhou Hanron, 160 Zhoushan Garrison, 289–90 Zhu Chunxiu, 119 Zhu De, 147 Zhu Qi, 105 Zhu Rongji, 74, 86, 224, 226–27 Zhu Wenquan, 105 zhuanye, xv, 258 zhuguan, 160–62 Zhuzhou Army Reserve Infantry Division, 281 Zimbabwe, 18 Zunyi conference, 149, 154