Analyzing Xi Jinping’s Cultural ComplexBy Bi Ruixie Since Xi Jinping assumed power, his doctorate in law and his reading list have been subject to much scrutiny, receiving more criticism than praise. As the head of state and a centralized, authoritative leader, Xi’s intellectual inclinations could influence major policy decisions, making such analysis imperative. The much-discussed “Xi-Ma meeting,” where Xi and Ma Ying-jeou addressed each other as “Mister,” was novel and cordial; theoretically, they could have called each other “Doctor”—“Doctor Xi Jinping Meets Doctor Ma Ying-jeou”—exuding elegance, erudition, and scholarly refinement, perfectly aligning with the contemporary cross-strait atmosphere. Yet Xi has consistently refused to use the honorific “Doctor” in domestic or international settings. Imagine if a headline read, “Chinese President Doctor Xi Jinping Meets U.S. President Doctor Obama”: it would have been spectacularly symbolic, given that Tsinghua University was originally designed to prepare students for study abroad in the United States. Unfortunately, Xi has never deployed this title, effectively ignoring it altogether. Among the seven members of the Politburo Standing Committee, only Xi and Li Keqiang hold doctoral degrees. Xi’s Ph.D. in law from Tsinghua University is ostensibly prestigious. However, Xi’s doctorate raises significant questions. According to his CV, he earned it from the School of Humanities and Social Sciences, majoring in Marxist theory and ideological-political education. How does that translate into a “Doctor of Law”? His dissertation, titled A Study of Rural Marketization in China, clearly has little to do with law; awarding a law doctorate for such a dissertation is as incongruous as apple trees producing pears or peonies blooming among chrysanthemums—an oddity, yet illogical. Xi’s dissertation advisor, Professor Liu Meixun of Tsinghua’s Marxist Theory and Ideological-Political Education Department, spent her life teaching Marxism-Leninism. In recent years, she also held the title of Director of the Institute of Economics. How, one wonders, could she supervise a law doctorate? Liu explained the distinction: “This law is not law in the usual sense. Our degrees are awarded according to broad categories. The Marxist Ideological-Political Education program falls under the law category.” In short, Xi’s law degree is not a traditional legal doctorate; it’s a classification nuance rather than a reflection of legal scholarship. Following the norms of the reform era, high-ranking officials were expected to hold high academic credentials. Xi, too, sought a prestigious doctoral degree, in part to obscure his prior experience as a worker-peasant-soldier student—a historical vulnerability. Ironically, once in power, the same doctorate that was meant to cover a past shortcoming has become a source of subtle embarrassment, especially under the relentless scrutiny of both domestic and foreign observers. One can easily imagine that anyone in Zhongnanhai who casually addressed him as “Doctor Xi” might find themselves in hot water. Despite holding this doctorate, Xi avoids comparing it with peers abroad. He refrains from equating his Tsinghua law doctorate with Ma Ying-jeou’s or Obama’s Harvard law doctorates—an acknowledgment of its limited prestige. It is, in essence, an unshowy credential. In contrast, Suharto and Sukarno of Indonesia famously displayed their degrees with pride. Sukarno, at 24, graduated from the Bandung Institute of Technology with a bachelor’s in engineering during Dutch colonial rule. He repeatedly emphasized his academic achievement, even labeling collections of his artwork with his full title, “President Sukarno, Bachelor of Engineering, Republic of Indonesia.” By comparison, Xi treats his Tsinghua law doctorate as disposable. There were even moments when Xi temporarily removed “Doctor” from his official CV, only to restore it later, likely realizing that omission drew more attention than inclusion. Critics often question the legitimacy of his doctorate, but the author views it differently: previous Chinese leaders, Jiang Zemin and Hu Jintao, held no doctoral degrees. Achieving one at a top university for a national leader is trivial; Xi’s effort to earn it demonstrates diligence and initiative. Examining Xi’s mindset, he seems aware that despite holding a Tsinghua law doctorate, he is not an erudite scholar. To compensate, he frequently lists foreign works and classics in his reading—perhaps to display sophistication—though the effect is often reminiscent of a traditional Chinese comedic routine called guankou, in which performers recite long strings of items or names, more to show fluency than to entertain. Xi’s reading lists and brief reflections, e.g., “This deepened my understanding of human progress,” follow the same pattern: a vast catalog of knowledge without resonant insight. Since World War II, the global intellectual landscape has transformed drastically. New theories, schools, writers, and masters emerge constantly. Xi’s reading list, by contrast, resembles what a young urban intellectual might have glimpsed from the confines of the Cultural Revolution, limited by circumstance and training. Yet Xi is intellectually ambitious and respects cultured individuals. He maintains private relationships with writers like Lu Yao and Jia Dashan. Having grown up in provincial bureaucracies and observed Jiang Zemin’s command of multiple languages—English, Russian, Romanian, Spanish, Japanese, French, German, even Urdu—Xi naturally feels overshadowed. Jiang famously recited Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address in English, performed Waltzes with foreign dignitaries, and conducted APEC meetings in English. For Xi, these are benchmarks of cultural sophistication, impossible to ignore. As a relatively modest provincial official married to a renowned singer, Xi cultivated distance from peers with ordinary spouses, avoiding the temptations of nightlife. Reading became a primary pastime, possibly also to balance marital dynamics. He appears to have pursued his doctorate in part as a structured intellectual outlet and personal counterweight. Xi’s reading habits continued into adulthood. During visits to the U.S., he claimed familiarity with The Federalist Papers, Thomas Paine’s Common Sense, and biographies of Washington, Lincoln, and Roosevelt. He also read Thoreau, Whitman, Twain, and Jack London—demonstrating broader engagement than his predecessor Hu Jintao, whose reading reportedly extended only to How the Steel Was Tempered. In summary, Xi’s intellectual life reveals a complex interplay of ambition, cultural insecurity, and strategic cultivation. He reads extensively to broaden his worldview, cultivate a shared language with his cultured spouse, and navigate the treacherous terrain of Chinese politics. Though his accomplishments do not rival Jiang Zemin’s cosmopolitanism, they reflect a pragmatic pursuit of knowledge within the constraints of his era and upbringing. |
