How Much Power Does Xi Jinping Still Have? Intensive Foreign Trips Before the Fifth Plenum, Cai Qi Along the Way, Beijing Personnel Still Undergo Massive Turnover; Shi Taifeng Holds the "Book of Life and Death", Two Centrals Grab the Steering Wheel! [Jiang Feng's Vision 20260916 Issue 489]

This article analyzes the subtle shifts in power among the top leadership of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) and the major personnel shake-ups at the local level on the eve of the Fifth Plenary Session. It points out that the intensive foreign visits by the top leadership and the frequent personnel changes within local organizational systems indicate that their power is being gradually divided and hollowed out. At the same time, the article explores the dual political logic formed between policy-level actions to curb "distant-water fishing" (extortionate law enforcement) and regulate outstanding payments to reduce burdens and stop financial bleeding, and the continued tightening of national security and exit management.

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Hello friends, welcome to Jiang Feng Horizon. Today I will put my conclusion on the table first: the person at the very peak is gradually being isolated from China's true decision-making center. Please note I am not saying he will be dismissed tomorrow, nor that he will no longer be seen on CCTV. He is still General Secretary, he is still State President, he still rides the special plane, the red carpet is still rolled out, and Xinhua News Agency still hails him as the core every day. However, whether that person truly holds power cannot be judged solely by how many hats he still wears; what truly matters is who is promoted and who is demoted, who controls the localities, how the Fifth Plenary Session will be arranged, and whether he is still the one making the final call on which path China will take next. When Shi Taifeng took charge of the Organization Department of the CCP Central Committee last year, we made a very heavy judgment: the era of the big boss's absolute power has already ended. After the Fourth Plenary Session, this process of losing power began to accelerate, and now, in this final period before the Fifth Plenary Session, several seemingly unrelated events have suddenly pieced themselves together into a very complete picture. Fujian replaced its provincial head of the organization department who holds the official hat, and the organization departments in Jiangsu and Shanxi changed hands back-to-back. Within just three months in Fujian, both the discipline inspection commission and the organization department—the two most critical keys—changed their gatekeepers. Yet precisely at a time when various factions are busiest positioning themselves for the Fifth Plenary Session, the person in Zhongnanhai and Cai Qi suddenly started running abroad trip after trip. What is most worth watching is not how many times they went abroad, but the fact that while they were abroad, Beijing did not stop and wait for them; personnel changes continued, the organization system was reshuffled, and the regional power map pushed forward anyway. Even more interesting is that just as Fujian's organization department changed hands, the person in Zhongnanhai immediately used a letter of reply to the Zhangzhou 110 police to high-profile re-claim the political legacy he left behind in Fujian. This forces one to ask: if Fujian were still firmly in his hands, why the sudden rush to plant a flag at the doorstep precisely when personnel locks are being changed? If personnel appointments before the Fifth Plenary Session were still decided by the big boss with a single stroke, then one year after Shi Taifeng took charge of the Organization Department of the CCP Central Committee, why has the chief ledger of life and death in Beijing changed hands, and why are the sub-ledgers of life and death in places like Fujian, Jiangsu, and Shanxi beginning to change hands densely? What is even more abnormal is that, precisely at a time when it is most necessary to stay in Beijing and watch the market, the person in Zhongnanhai and Cai Qi keep running abroad trip after trip. So, who exactly is Shi Taifeng busy arranging personnel for through these successive rounds? On July 10 this year, the Leading Group for Inspection Work of the Party Group of the Chinese People's Political Consultative Conference held a meeting; the group leader was Shi Taifeng, and the deputy group leader was none other than Hu Chunhua. Just a couple of days ago we discussed that Hu Chunhua might enter the Central Military Commission. If this line ultimately solidifies, then looking back today, it is hard not to associate Shi Taifeng's continuous rounds of personnel replacement from the center to the localities with whether this is in advance arranging troops and positions for Hu Chunhua. Therefore, what we need to examine today is no longer whether he has lost power, but how far this loss of power has progressed, into whose hands this power is transferring, and what direction the person taking it over is preparing to lead China.

Let us begin with the most abnormal phenomenon right in front of us: at the moment when personnel maneuvering before the Fifth Plenary Session was at its most intense, why did the highest figure instead suddenly travel abroad intensively, and just how abnormal is this matter? Comparing his visiting pace before and after the epidemic makes it very clear. During the seven years before the epidemic, from 2013 to 2019, that was when the person at the very peak was most glorious and loved to travel abroad, flying out five to six times a year on average, setting foot in more than a dozen countries annually. However, since the resumption of foreign visits in September 2022, his pace of foreign visits experienced a cliff-like drop. Throughout 2023, he only visited four countries, and by the first half of 2026, for a full six months, he only made a trip to North Korea in June, staying for two days before returning home. Yet when the pointer of time advanced to late August and September, with only a few dozen days left until the Fifth Plenary Session in October, his special plane suddenly started spinning wildly in the air like a wound-up clockwork. From August 30 to September 3, he first flew to Kyrgyzstan to attend the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation summit, and then rushed without stopping to Cairo to visit Egypt, running through more than 20 events in five days and four nights. Having just returned to Beijing to catch his breath for a few days, on September 12 he arrived in New Delhi, India, leaving at noon on the 13th and returning to Beijing that very night. No sooner had he landed in Beijing from India than another trip was lined up for late September: a scheduled visit to Washington, D.C., in the United States. Let everyone take a closer look at his entourage list: on these long-haul flights, who is following him every step of the way? Cai Qi, director of the General Office of the CCP Central Committee. This is very interesting. On the eve of the Fifth Plenary Session, at the moment when the entire political nerve of the Chinese Communist Party was most tense, the two people in Beijing who most needed to sit in the center of power, control government decrees, and guard the network—one being the nominal top leader, and the other the grand chamberlain in charge of the General Office of the CCP Central Committee and the imperial guards—were unexpectedly and repeatedly sent aboard a special plane and pushed thousands of kilometers away to a foreign land. Some might say, what is there to make a big fuss about? The head of state represents the country in summit diplomacy, and multilateral summits are routine business in the first place; one cannot simply say someone is being marginalized just because of a meeting. This official narrative sounds flawless, but were these foreign visits really indispensable for him? Looking back at the past few years, whether it is the BRICS summit or the G20 summit, it has long been commonplace for the Chinese side to be absent or for Premier of the State Council Li Qiang to play substitute. Since substitutes could be used before, why must he personally run to every single venue precisely on the eve of the Fifth Plenary Session, during the peak period of personnel maneuvering, and when his own physical condition is already extremely exhausted? Judging from the short videos of the scene, the boss's gait is obviously sluggish, his expression somewhat detached, and the whole person does not look to be in good shape. An even harder detail is that Modi stopped twice during his speech, turned to the side, and asked him, Is it okay? The boss did not even attend the official banquet that evening, and Indian sources said he went back to the hotel to rest. Of course, based solely on these images, one cannot make a medical diagnosis for him, but at least one point is very clear: this does not look like someone who is energetic and actively asking to add intensive, long-distance itineraries for himself. Piecing these fragments together, a very bold yet extremely official-logic-compliant truth emerges. Aside from the function of diplomacy itself, these intensive diplomatic courtesies produced a fatal effect in domestic politics: under the pretext of the most honorable and grandiose fanfare, he and Cai Qi were grandly and continuously transferred away from the decision-making core of Beijing. Because when the special plane roared across an altitude of 10,000 meters, the Beijing center did not stop to wait for him at all; the official seals for personnel transfers were being stamped one after another, and the power map of key provinces across the country was quietly and thoroughly being redrawn.

While the special plane shuttles between continents overseas, what exactly is the power center in Beijing doing? Let us look at the timeline of the past few days to see how the organizational machine in Beijing is operating. On September 12, it was officially announced that Hu Lijie, formerly a member of the Standing Committee of the Shanxi Provincial Party Committee and head of the Organization Department, had been transferred south to serve as a member of the Standing Committee of the Jiangsu Provincial Party Committee and head of the Organization Department. No sooner had Hu Lijie left Shanxi than Zhao Hongyan, a member of the Standing Committee of the Shanxi Provincial Party Committee and head of the United Front Work Department, immediately took over the position of head of the Shanxi Organization Department. Just forty-eight hours later, on September 14, a thunderbolt struck the Fujian political scene: Xu Qingsen, Vice Minister of Education, was suddenly parachuted into Fujian to serve as a member of the Standing Committee of the Fujian Provincial Party Committee and head of the Organization Department. In less than a week, the heads of the Organization Departments in three important provinces—Jiangsu, Shanxi, and Fujian—were changed in a chain reaction. If we look at Fujian alone, the situation is even more pungent. Do you remember that just three months ago, in June 2026, the Secretary of the Fujian Provincial Commission for Discipline Inspection was replaced by Wei Xiaokui, and by September 14, the head of the Organization Department was replaced by Xu Qingsen? In the CCP's personnel meat grinder, the Secretary of the Commission for Discipline Inspection controls who gets investigated and loses their official position, while the head of the Organization Department controls who gets promoted and receives an official position. One manages who goes down, and the other manages who comes up. Within just three months, the lock cores of the two keys that control the political life and death of officials in Fujian, the most critical province, have been completely replaced. What does Fujian mean to the man in Zhongnanhai? It is the birthplace where he deeply cultivated his influence for seventeen years, from 1985 to 2002, serving as Vice Mayor of Xiamen, Secretary of the Ningde Prefectural Party Committee, and Secretary of the Fuzhou Municipal Party Committee, all the way to Governor of Fujian. The Minjiang New Army, on which he relied to rule the country later, has its roots entirely in this land of western and southern Fujian. If even the power to control official appointments in his home province of Fujian is being uprooted by Beijing, can this really be covered up with a light remark about 'normal cadre exchanges'?

The more core question is: who is wielding the knife in this series of swift and ruthless personnel surgeries? Here we must look back at the archives of 'Jiang Feng Moment' from May 2, 2025. At that time, a massive earthquake shook the system within the Organization Department of the Central Committee: Shi Taifeng suddenly took charge of the Central Organization Department, while simultaneously serving as Deputy Head of the Central Inspection Work Leading Group and Deputy Head of the Central Party Building Work Leading Group. At that time, I made a very heavy assertion on the program: the era of absolute power for the man at the top had completely ended. Why did I dare to draw such a heavy conclusion at that time? Because in the CCP system, one never looks at the 'anchor' mentioned tens of thousands of times on television news, nor at how high the banners are hung. There is only one true core of power: who holds the 'Book of Life and Death'—that is, who can decide the promotion and demotion of cadres, who can draft the lists for the Central Committee and the Politburo, and who can plant their own protégés and subordinates in key positions in various provinces. Shi Taifeng's rise in 2025 marked the takeover of the general 'Book of Life and Death' at the Beijing headquarters by others, and the systematic dismantling of supreme power. By the eve of the Fifth Plenary Session in 2026, what we are seeing is this dismantling process entering the execution phase, with the managers of local provincial branches being replaced one after another in batches. On June 30 last year, the Politburo actually did something that many people did not pay much attention to at the time, but which caused a great stir in overseas political circles: it deliberated on the 'Regulations on the Work of the Decision-making and Coordination Organs of the CPC Central Committee.' Such organs did not suddenly appear; the CCP has always had various central decision-making and coordination mechanisms. Therefore, at that time, I did not follow the outside world in immediately declaring that the 'boss' had been sidelined, but we did not treat this matter as meaningless either. Because looking back today, what is truly worth noting is not which sign is hanging at the door, but that the operation of Beijing's decision-making is indeed increasingly resembling a shift from one-man rule back to a model of collective coordination and checks and balances. As for those who further interpret this mechanism as being presided over by elders like Hu Jintao and Wen Jiabao, we have no documents to verify this claim, but the power of the elders led by Hu and Wen is gradually sharing power with the 'boss,' taking back the power he once monopolized, piece by piece. This is precisely the line we have been tracking since the Fourth Plenary Session, and this is the most intriguing political reality. He still sits on the special plane, and the honor guard still salutes him, but in the city of Beijing behind him, someone has already begun to rearrange the seating order of the world according to a different list.

Facing the loss of control over personnel appointments in his power base, are those caught in the situation truly willing to sit and wait for their demise? Of course not. Counterattacks in the officialdom never require tearing off masks and shouting; they are often hidden within seemingly routine official documents and press releases. Let us review a brilliant shadow war that took place in Fujian on September 14 and 15. On September 14, Xu Qingsen was parachuted into Fujian to serve as a member of the Provincial Party Standing Committee and Head of the Organization Department. One must understand the common sense of how the system operates: personnel changes at the level of a Provincial Party Standing Committee member are arrangements made at the central level. It is impossible that the person in Zhongnanhai only learned of this a second before the Xinhua News Agency press release; he had long known this order was to be issued, but he clearly failed to block the final procedural implementation of this appointment. Since the personnel change could not be forcibly stopped, what else could be done? On that same day, September 14, a letter signed by him was sent from Beijing to Fujian with the highest protocol: he wrote a reply to all comrades of the Zhangzhou 110, a benchmark unit of the Fujian public security system. On September 15, Xinhua News Agency and Qiushi.cn published this communication in a prominent position, covering the media landscape. The party media tirelessly emphasized to readers nationwide that during his time working in Fujian, he had personally visited and provided guidance to the Zhangzhou 110 three times, and had personally inscribed the golden signboard, 'Protector of the People.' If one looks at this event only on the surface, it is nothing more than a routine piece of propaganda for a model police unit. However, when placed on the same day and in the same location as Xu Qingsen taking charge of the Fujian Organization Department, the tension of this drama is instantly maximized. To use a vivid analogy, it is like an old landlord watching helplessly as a new tenant brings in locksmiths to force their way into the house and change the locks. Knowing he can no longer kick the locksmiths out the door, the landlord hurriedly instructs Cai Qi to carry a bucket of bright red paint to the courtyard gate, repaint the outer wall fiercely, and write a line of large characters: 'This is the historical former residence of the Emperor; it is a key protected cultural relic, and demolition is strictly prohibited.' This is no ordinary expression of concern; this is the most naked form of political flag-planting. He intends to use this letter to call out to the entire Fujian officialdom from afar: even if your Provincial Organization Department head has changed, the deity enshrined in this Fujian temple remains the one I left behind. Yet, if we flip this signboard over, a deeper metaphor emerges. Fujian is the place where he spent seventeen years. If he truly wanted to manifest his political legitimacy and achievements, why did he not write a letter to the Xiamen Special Economic Zone to review its economic takeoff? Why did he not write a reply to the private entrepreneurs in Jinjiang, Quanzhou, to talk at length about reform and opening up? Why did he not write to a global new energy giant like CATL to discuss 'new quality productive forces'? Why did he specifically choose the Zhangzhou 110? Go and look at the content of that reply; what are the most frequent keywords throughout? Public security officers, cracking down on crime, maintaining public order, loyalty to the Party, and loyal guards. This is an extremely bleak yet incredibly real slice of power. When the organizational power that dictates the fate of cadres is being stripped from his hands bit by bit, the only political symbol he instinctively dares to trust, the only one he is desperate to hold onto, remains the unconditional loyalty of the public security dictatorship's 'knife handle.' This precisely exposes the essence of the ruling philosophy of the past decade: when the economy, society, and people's livelihoods have all reached a dead end, the only tools left in his hands to maintain control are the high-pressure batons of the dictatorial apparatus.

However, the transfer of power has never been limited to a mere reshuffle of personnel. If the new decision-making collective merely changes a few official hats, it is nothing more than palace infighting disguised in new wrapping. The truly critical event that will determine China's future trajectory is whether, behind the personnel loosening, anyone dares to challenge the political and economic route that has choked the entire country over the past decade. In yesterday's program, we spent a considerable amount of time discussing how Wen Jiabao publicly spoke about political structural reform on several occasions. Some friends might think that while digging up words from over a decade ago is certainly interesting, the rumors outside the Great Firewall about Wen Jiabao pushing for political reform anew still lack the endorsement of any central document. Therefore, today let's temporarily put this rumor aside and look at what has already happened in reality. Because whether a policy route has truly begun to turn around will ultimately manifest in concrete areas: how people are governed, how enterprises survive, and how local authorities handle matters. Over the past two years, there has been a term in China's private enterprise circle that everyone should have heard of: "distant-water fishing." While the name sounds like going out to sea to catch fish, what is actually being reeled in is the money in corporate accounts. With local finances becoming increasingly tight, some local police and administrative law enforcement departments have begun handling cases across provinces. Business disputes are treated as criminal cases; individuals are detained first, accounts are frozen first, and assets are seized first. Whether the company can survive and whether employees can be paid sometimes end up taking a backseat. For a business person, the scariest thing is not paying a few percentage points more in tax, but not knowing when a law enforcement team from thousands of kilometers away might suddenly appear downstairs at the company. Yet now, this hand is being pulled back. Work data released by the Supreme People's Procuratorate this year shows that in 2025, targeting irregular extra-territorial law enforcement and profit-driven law enforcement, nearly 20,000 related supervision cases were handled throughout the year, 2,471 cases were supervised for withdrawal by investigative organs, 3,539 people were decided not to be prosecuted, and the illegal seizure, confiscation, and freezing of property amounting to 2.63 billion RMB were supervised, released, or returned. The scale on the side of the Ministry of Justice is even larger. From last March to the end of this March, a special action to standardize enterprise-related administrative law enforcement investigated and corrected more than 66,000 problem clues, recovered 30.7 billion RMB in economic losses for enterprises, and saw the total volume of national administrative inspections drop by 34% year-on-year. None of these figures is small on its own, and when viewed together, the meaning is very clear: localities using law enforcement power as a tool to generate revenue has reached a point where the center itself must step in to clean up the mess. What is truly worth watching in this matter is that over the past two years, this direction has not stopped; instead, it has become more specific. Withdrawing cases, returning money, and reducing inspections have begun to touch upon the most practical interests of local authorities. In the past, some localities relied on fines, arrests, and frozen accounts to fill financial holes, but now Beijing has begun telling them that this path can no longer be taken. As to who is pushing behind the scenes and who is leveraging the momentum to pull things back, we will continue to observe later, but the policy itself has indeed shifted. On September 14, the State Council Information Office specially held a policy briefing addressing something that sounds not at all grandiose, yet for many small and medium-sized enterprises (SMEs), it may be more useful than shouting ten times about supporting the private economy: large enterprises owing money to small enterprises can no longer drag out payments indefinitely. A new notice just issued by the General Office of the State Council requires various industries to re-establish payment rules, guiding large enterprises to compress the maximum payment period for SMEs to within 60 days. At the level of centrally-administered state-owned enterprises (state-owned enterprises directly under the central government), the State-owned Assets Supervision and Administration Commission (SASAC) spoke even more directly: contract defaults and arrears must be dynamically cleared to zero, and cash payments by central enterprises to SMEs will henceforth be treated as a hard rule. There should be fewer bills issued and more cash paid; even bills and documents that enterprises previously loved to use to stall for time are now explicitly required not to have new terms exceeding 6 months. If a central enterprise defaults, SMEs can even go directly to the complaint platforms of the central enterprise and the SASAC; once verified, the debt must be cleared and accountability pursued in a single instance. For anyone who has done business, this matter is understood at a glance. The most painful thing for many SMEs is not necessarily a lack of orders, but finishing the work without being able to collect the money—especially when dealing with central enterprises, state-owned enterprises, and large leading enterprises. With their strong upstream position, does a small supplier dare to urge them? No, they dare not. They have to leave the accounts hanging for half a year to a year, and on top of that, advance funds for raw materials, wages, and taxes themselves. To put it bluntly, small enterprises end up using their own cash flow to provide free financing for large enterprises. Now Beijing has begun to reverse this, requiring central enterprises to pay money when it is due and to pay in cash as much as possible. Putting this action together with the earlier crackdown on distant-water fishing makes it interesting: the former tells localities to stop treating enterprises as ATMs, while the latter tells central enterprises not to treat SMEs as free banks. Of course, this cannot yet be called a retreat of the state and an advance of the private sector, nor can it be declared that the pattern of state-owned economic priority has been overturned just because central enterprises are beginning to pay bills on time. However, the focal point of the policy has indeed become very practical: first save the cash flow of enterprises, and first ensure that SMEs do not die at the hurdle of payment collection. Why is this happening? The investment data for January to August just released by the National Bureau of Statistics on September 15 actually spells out the answer very bluntly: national fixed-asset investment fell by 7.2% year-on-year, private investment dropped by 10.1%, state-held holding investment also decreased by 3.6%, and infrastructure investment dropped by 4.0%.

Looking further down, water conservancy management dropped by 12%, public facilities management dropped by 11.2%, education investment dropped by 15.6%, and health and social work dropped by 14%. The real trouble here is that it is no longer just private enterprises refusing to invest; even the national team's infrastructure and public service investments are heading downward together. In the past, when the treasury was flush, local governments could afford to be a bit willful. Now, the water in the pool is getting shallower and shallower. If they scare away the last people still willing to do business, where will next year's taxes come from, and what will local governments use to pay salaries? These are all very realistic problems. Therefore, the recent crackdown on "pelagic fishing" ultimately stems from intense survival pressure. Business owners may not have suddenly waited for a new era that deeply respects property rights, but at least this system is beginning to realize that if things keep going like this and enterprises run away, in the end there will be nothing left for even themselves to collect. For private entrepreneurs, whether the policy line has really changed does not require first looking at which buzzwords were swapped out in the Great Hall of the People; whether someone will still arbitrarily cross provinces to arrest you tomorrow, and whether corporate accounts can be frozen on a whim—these are the most direct physical feelings. From this perspective, at least a portion of the things that have been tightening over the past decade or so are indeed starting to pull back now.

Looking at the grassroots level, people within the system have been very familiar with a certain way of playing the game over the past few years: power is increasingly centralized upward, while responsibilities are pushed downward layer by layer. A single word from Beijing turns into a formal document at the provincial level, becomes a performance assessment at the municipal level, and is further intensified at the county level. By the time it reaches townships and streets, it manifests as various reports, app screenshots, check-ins, and rankings. The higher-ups demand "high attention," and the lower levels, in order to prove they are even more attentive, often end up overdoing things. In recent years, the central government has repeatedly talked about reducing the burden on the grassroots, rectifying formalism, and limiting the practice of adding layers of pressure. Recently, even old problems like excessive inspections for political achievements and the arbitrary dumping of responsibilities onto the grassroots have begun to be singled out and addressed one by one. This is, of course, still far from local autonomy, let alone any sudden transition of China into a democratic political system, but the flavor of governance is indeed changing. In the past, the lower levels feared most that they were not being "tough" enough; now, some are beginning to remind them not to overdo it. In the past, those who were most active in adding layers of pressure were often the easiest to show loyalty; now, the act of adding pressure itself is beginning to be treated as a problem. This is actually a feeling that many Chinese people are most familiar with and miss the most, re-emerging: stop the tossing and turning, leave a path for those doing business, and leave some space for those doing the work below. So, looking back today, with Shi Taifeng in charge of the Organization Department of the CCP Central Committee, and successive adjustments in the organizational sectors of Fujian, Jiangsu, and Shanxi before the Fifth Plenary Session, along with the easing of enterprise law enforcement on the policy side and the decompression of grassroots governance, the economic policies are also increasingly unable to bear the arbitrary ways of the past. While these lines cannot simply be equated, they are moving in the same direction. A part of the governance style of the past decade—the tighter the control and the harsher the management—has already begun to be pushed back by reality.

However, things are not that simple. On September 15, another completely different political logic was officially implemented. On one hand, there is an effort to let enterprises catch their breath and let local areas stop the chaos; on the other hand, the door involving national security, technology, and personnel exit is still continuing to tighten. The most interesting thing about Beijing right now is exactly this: some are pulling the steering wheel back, but the security machine left behind by the leader is still running along its original track. Watching this grand chess game in Zhongnanhai, the power struggle makes one's nerves tense. But returning to real life, the responsibilities on us ordinary people are even heavier. Being over forty, physical stamina is depleted and recovery is slow, plus staring at mobile screens all day often makes eyes dry and tired. Only by taking good care of our bodies can we have the confidence to continue accompanying our families to witness history. Jiang Feng Youpin has selected two good products for daily maintenance for everyone. One is WiseQuest Black Paste Nourishing Capsules, which, based on ancient formulas like American ginseng and astragalus, combined with modern concentration technology, gently replenishes Qi without causing internal heat. It is convenient to carry and helps the body continuously replenish physical strength and vitality. The other is WiseQuest Eye-Brightening Cold Compress Eye Masks, which extract natural herbal essences such as chrysanthemum and mint. Applying them for a quarter of an hour provides a cool and soothing sensation, effectively relieving the dryness and fatigue caused by long-term eye use. Just in time for the holidays, a Mid-Autumn Festival promotion is currently underway with a 45% discount. Please support Jiang Feng, click the link below or scan the QR code on the screen to purchase, and take advantage of the special offer to add a healthy protection for yourself and your family.

Alright, let's get back to the point. On September 15, another completely different set of things was officially launched: the Regulations of the State Council on Exit and Entry Administration, promulgated by State Council Order No. 841, officially came into effect from this day. This regulation itself is not a total ban on exit for all citizens, nor does it mean that ordinary Chinese people will not be able to leave with their passports in the future—that interpretation is an overstatement. What is truly worth our attention is that it has further connected several control interfaces that were previously scattered across different laws and departments. For example, immigration management agencies and visa authorities can require the parties concerned to provide relevant documents, materials, and electronic data when verifying identities and reasons for exit and entry. If a Chinese citizen violates regulations on export control or technology import and export, potentially endangering industrial security or technical security, the competent departments of the State Council, such as the Ministry of Commerce, may decide to prohibit them from leaving the country. In addition, for certain decisions to prohibit exit, the reasons, basis, and channels for relief should in principle be notified to the parties in writing. However, once it involves national security or the investigation of criminal cases, the law leaves a loophole: they do not have to notify you in advance. As for obtaining documents by fraud, illegal exit and entry, or engaging in illegal and criminal activities that endanger national security and interests while abroad, in some cases, the period of exit restriction can range from six months up to three years.

Therefore, what is truly worth looking at in this regulation is not what some people on the internet are saying—that customs can now casually search everyone's mobile phones; the original text does not say that. Its more important aspect is that it connects technical security, industrial security, national security, and an individual's freedom of exit into the same administrative chain, which is interesting. The previous logic is telling local areas: stop arresting enterprises at will, stop freezing accounts randomly, and stop adding layers of pressure to toss people around. But when it comes to cross-border personnel flow, technology, and data, the hand of national security has not followed suit by pulling back; instead, it has made the procedures even more detailed.

I call the current situation the "two Beijings." This, of course, does not mean there are literally two central governments, but rather that within the same red walls, two very different political logics are running simultaneously. One logic is very pragmatic: it seeks to stop the bleeding and loosen the grip on society and the economy, even if just by a little, so that people dare to do business and invest again, and local officials can at least get some real work done. The other logic is the security state apparatus that the person at the very top has spent the last decade or more building with immense effort. Therefore, the real contest before the Fifth Plenum is no longer just about who enters the central leadership or who gets a title; once personnel power changes hands, it will inevitably encounter the question of the political line, and if that line moves forward, it will inevitably collide with this security apparatus. Who does the police (Public Security) really listen to? Where are the boundaries of the state security (MSS) drawn? Will the wall of the Cyberspace Administration of China be loosened? When courts encounter political cases, do they still wait for the word from the Party committee? How much space can local governments actually have in economic and social governance? Once these questions are truly placed on the table, those today who all want the boss to step down may no longer be able to sit on the same bench, because it is easy to form a common interest in driving one person away, but limiting the power of the chair itself will touch upon everyone's interests. Some may only want to return to the old collective leadership where everyone divides the cake again and one person doesn't overturn all the rules; others, if they truly want to cage power within institutions and genuinely open up space for the judiciary, local governance, society, and private enterprises, then that goes much further. Yesterday we discussed the line associated with Wen Jiabao, and that is exactly where it is truly worth continuing to follow. If he is only helping to replace one person, this play will end very quickly; but if someone wants to shave a few legs off that dragon chair, the real play has only just begun. Moreover, there is a particularly realistic problem here: although the boss is currently being gradually isolated from the true decision-making center of the country, he is not someone with nothing. He still holds titles, possesses the massive inertia left behind by the propaganda system, and has a whole set of institutional legacies centered on national security and political loyalty. Once these things feel that someone is truly going to touch them, the backlash will be much greater than replacing a few organization department heads. Alright, let's stop here for today. Friends who haven't subscribed yet, please remember to click follow, and please also give us a like; this is very important for the program's recommendations on YouTube. At the same time, please share the program with your friends. See you next time.