For over a century, tumultuous events thousands of miles away in Russia have impacted China profoundly. Mao Zedong (毛澤東) famously said that the cannon sound of the October Revolution brought Marxism-Leninism to China. Now Xi Jinping (習近平) fears that last month’s Wagner revolt may provide a model for the Chinese Communist Party’s undoing.
The revolt, initiated by the Wagner private military group and its recalcitrant chief, Yevgeny Prigozhin, was as short-lived as it was shocking. It nonetheless represented the biggest threat to Vladimir Putin’s rule in over 20 years in the Kremlin. The rebels captured the headquarters of Russia’s Southern Military District and halted their charge a mere 200 kilometers from Moscow.
Yet the fears and forces the rebellion unleashed were also felt in Beijing. CCP elites lose sleep over the precedent of a mercenary army with limited loyalty to a regime, establishing an alternative power center that could win popular support. In an era of joint proclamations of “no-limits partnership” between China and Russia, Xi Jinping and his ruling cadre realize these concerns acutely. Xi is likely to draw two important lessons from Prigozhin’s aborted putsch.
The first lesson Xi will likely derive from this month’s mutiny is the importance of centralized political control over the military. The relationship between Moscow and Wagner’s fighters was merely contractual, rooted neither in ideological commonality nor in mutual understanding. Months before the Wagner revolt, Chinese military analysts publicly noted the danger of Putin’s mercenary bargain. According to some CCP analysts, the root cause of Russia’s struggles in Ukraine has been its military leaders’ failure to install political commissars at all levels of command to ensure the lower ranks’ loyalty to the regime.
Xi has been working for years to build a system without this vulnerability. During his ten-plus years in power, he has mercilessly purged nearly one hundred senior general officers of the CCP, unprecedented in the history of the party. Virtually the entire senior leadership of the People’s Liberation Army under Xi’s predecessor has been wiped out. Many of these men are either dead or languishing in China’s prisons for life, including the PLA’s two highest-ranking uniformed officers, Generals Xu Caihou (徐才厚) and Guo Boxiong (郭伯雄). Xi has also arbitrarily removed or shuffled around theater commanders, reflecting his growing paranoia over dissent within the ranks. While carrying out large-scale military purges, he has sacrificed professional competence for ideological trustworthiness. He follows the CCP’s political playbook for regime survival, striving to avoid coups, military revolts, and civil uprisings at all costs.
The Wagner revolt has only deepened Xi’s belief in the Leninist and Maoist diktat that the Party must command the guns. After Prigozhin’s march on Moscow, the possibility of a military mutiny has been a hot topic in the inner circles of the CCP, and among ordinary people in the streets. Therefore, Xi is likely to further strengthen the political commissar system and enhance the PLA’s program of ideological indoctrination, viewing any depreciation in warfighting skills as a worthy trade-off for the reassurance of ideological purity.
The second lesson that Russia’s predicament is likely to reinforce for Xi is the necessity of inhibiting the growth of alternative power centers before they are strong enough to challenge his rule. Putin realized the threat from the Wagner juggernaut only after it had grown strong. Worried that its mercenaries would join hostile foreign forces to establish a more popular anti-Kremlin alternative on Russian soil, he dispatched his junior partner, Alexander Lukashenko of Belarus, to forestall Prigozhin’s coalescence with potential outside actors. Despite this eleventh-hour intervention the Wagner rebels came close to establishing a potentially viable political alternative to the Putin regime.
This stirred Beijing to alarm. It knows all too well that the emergence of an appealing alternative to its rule could precipitate revolt and defections on a large scale. This possibility, unlikely as it may seem, is not without precedent in the annals of the communist Chinese armed forces. PLA officers and soldiers alike, once given an alternative, have historically seized the opportunity to defect to an enemy’s camp. During the Korean War, many front-line combat officers quickly fled the battle for refuge behind American or UN lines. After the cessation of hostilities, two-thirds of all those Chinese POWs — 14,000 of 21,300 — refused to return to communist China and instead defected to freedom. It is therefore no surprise that preventing defections has always been one of the CCP’s primary concerns. It has invested significant manpower and financial resources in this endeavor.
After the Wagner revolt, there is no doubt those investments will deepen. Even more draconian measures are likely. Xi Jinping has recently dialed up his warnings of insidious foreign forces operating within China to carry out a “color revolution.” The CCP could, like Putin, curtail professional contacts between all senior military personnel in the PLA and their foreign counterparts, and could go even further. Senior PLA leaders have certainly been purged before on suspicion of international collusion: In 1959, Mao’s defense minister Marshal Peng Dehuai (彭德懷) was suspected of close contacts with Soviet military leadership and given a slow and tragic death, with thousands of Peng’s subordinates receiving similar punishment. Washington must understand this deadly Chinese military ethos and cease harboring romantic illusions about the prospect of establishing a US-China military hotline.
Political earthquakes in Moscow will always make waves in Beijing. Time will tell whether Xi Jinping has prepared well enough for the moment those waves arrive.
Miles Yu is a senior fellow and director of the China Center at the Hudson Institute. He is also a visiting fellow at the Hoover Institution and a senior fellow at the Institute of Project 2049. Mr. Yu served as the senior China policy and planning advisor to Secretary of State Mike Pompeo during the Trump Administration.
US president-elect Donald Trump continues to make nominations for his Cabinet and US agencies, with most of his picks being staunchly against Beijing. For US ambassador to China, Trump has tapped former US senator David Perdue. This appointment makes it crystal clear that Trump has no intention of letting China continue to steal from the US while infiltrating it in a surreptitious quasi-war, harming world peace and stability. Originally earning a name for himself in the business world, Perdue made his start with Chinese supply chains as a manager for several US firms. He later served as the CEO of Reebok and
US$18.278 billion is a simple dollar figure; one that’s illustrative of the first Trump administration’s defense commitment to Taiwan. But what does Donald Trump care for money? During President Trump’s first term, the US defense department approved gross sales of “defense articles and services” to Taiwan of over US$18 billion. In September, the US-Taiwan Business Council compared Trump’s figure to the other four presidential administrations since 1993: President Clinton approved a total of US$8.702 billion from 1993 through 2000. President George W. Bush approved US$15.614 billion in eight years. This total would have been significantly greater had Taiwan’s Kuomintang-controlled Legislative Yuan been cooperative. During
US president-elect Donald Trump in an interview with NBC News on Monday said he would “never say” if the US is committed to defending Taiwan against China. Trump said he would “prefer” that China does not attempt to invade Taiwan, and that he has a “very good relationship” with Chinese President Xi Jinping (習近平). Before committing US troops to defending Taiwan he would “have to negotiate things,” he said. This is a departure from the stance of incumbent US President Joe Biden, who on several occasions expressed resolutely that he would commit US troops in the event of a conflict in
Former president Ma Ying-jeou (馬英九) in recent days was the focus of the media due to his role in arranging a Chinese “student” group to visit Taiwan. While his team defends the visit as friendly, civilized and apolitical, the general impression is that it was a political stunt orchestrated as part of Chinese Communist Party (CCP) propaganda, as its members were mainly young communists or university graduates who speak of a future of a unified country. While Ma lived in Taiwan almost his entire life — except during his early childhood in Hong Kong and student years in the US —