Pak PM complains to US vice-prez against Trump’s desire for India’s role in Afghan

Wuhan, Feb 9: President Xi Jinping strode onstage before an adoring audience in the Great Hall of the People in Beijing less than three weeks ago, trumpeting his successes in steering China through a tumultuous year and promising "landmark" progress in 2020.

"Every single Chinese person, every member of the Chinese nation, should feel proud to live in this great era," he declared to applause on the day before the Lunar New Year holiday. "Our progress will not be halted by any storms and tempests."

Xi made no mention of a dangerous new coronavirus that had already taken tenacious hold in the country. As he spoke, the government was locking down Wuhan, a city of 11 million people, in a frantic attempt to stop the virus spreading from its epicenter.

The coronavirus epidemic, which has killed more than 800 people in China as of Sunday and sickened tens of thousands, comes as Xi has struggled with a host of other challenges: a slowing economy, huge protests in Hong Kong, an election in Taiwan that rebuffed Beijing and a protracted trade war with the United States.

Now Xi faces an accelerating health crisis that is also a political one: a profound test of the authoritarian system he has built around himself over the past seven years. As the Chinese government struggles to contain the virus amid rising public discontent with its performance, the changes that Xi has ushered in could make it difficult for him to escape blame.

"It’s a big shock to the legitimacy of the ruling party. I think it could be only second to the June 4 incident of 1989. It’s that big," said Rong Jian, a writer about politics in Beijing, referring to the armed crackdown on Tiananmen Square protesters that year.

"There’s no doubt about his control over power," he added, "but the manner of control and its consequences have hurt his legitimacy and reputation."

Xi himself has recognized what is at stake, calling the outbreak "a major test of China’s system and capacity for governance."

Yet as China’s battle with the coronavirus intensified, Xi put the country’s No. 2 leader, Li Keqiang, in charge of a leadership group handling the emergency, effectively turning him into the public face of the government’s response. It was Li Keqiang who traveled to Wuhan to visit doctors.

Xi, by contrast, receded from public view for several days. That was not without precedent, though it stood out in this crisis, after previous Chinese leaders had used times of disaster to try to show a more common touch. State television and newspapers almost always lead with fawning coverage of Xi’s every move.

That retreat from the spotlight, some analysts said, signaled an effort by Xi to insulate himself from a campaign that may falter and draw public ire. Yet Xi has consolidated power, sidelining or eliminating rivals, so there are few people left to blame when something goes wrong.

"Politically, I think he is discovering that having total dictatorial power has a downside, which is that when things go wrong or have a high risk of going wrong, then you also have to bear all the responsibility," said Victor Shih, an associate professor at the University of California San Diego who studies Chinese politics.

Much of the country’s population has been told to stay at home, factories remain closed, and airlines have cut service. Experts warn that the coronavirus could slam the economy if not swiftly contained.

The government is also having trouble controlling the narrative. Xi now faces unusually sharp public discontent that even China’s rigorous censorship apparatus has been unable to stifle entirely.

The death of an ophthalmologist in Wuhan, Dr. Li Wenliang, who was censured for warning his medical school classmates of the spread of a dangerous new disease in December, has unleashed a torrent of pent-up public grief and rage over the government’s handling of the crisis. Chinese academics have launched at least two petitions in the wake of Li’s death, each calling for freedom of speech.

State media still portray Xi as ultimately in control, and there’s no sign that he faces a serious challenge from within the party leadership. The crisis, though, has already tainted China’s image as an emerging superpower — efficient, stable and strong — that could eventually rival the United States.

How much the crisis might erode Xi’s political standing remains to be seen, but it could weaken his position in the long run as he prepares to take a likely third term as Communist Party general secretary in 2022.

In 2018, Xi won approval to remove the constitutional limits on his term as the country’s president, making his plan for another five-year term seem all but certain.

If Xi comes out of this crisis politically insecure, the consequences are unpredictable. He may become more open to compromise within the party elite. Or he may double down on the imperious ways that have made him China’s most powerful leader in generations.

"Xi’s grip on power is not light," said Jude Blanchette, the Freeman Chair in China Studies at the Center for Strategic and International Studies.

"While the ham-fisted response to this crisis undoubtedly adds a further blemish to Xi’s tenure in office," Blanchette added, "the logistics of organizing a leadership challenge against him remain formidable."

In recent days, despite a dearth of public appearances, state media have portrayed Xi as a tireless commander-in-chief. This week they began calling the government’s fight against the virus the "people’s war," a phrase used in the official readout of Xi’s telephone call with President Donald Trump on Friday.

There are increasing signs that the propaganda this time is proving less than persuasive.

The Lunar New Year reception in Beijing where Xi spoke became a source of popular anger, a symbol of a government slow to respond to the suffering in Wuhan. Xi and other leaders appear to have been caught off guard by the ferocity of the epidemic.

Senior officials would almost certainly have been informed of the emerging crisis by the time national health authorities told the World Health Organization on Dec. 31, but neither Xi nor other officials in Beijing informed the public.

Xi’s first acknowledgment of the epidemic came Jan. 20, when brief instructions were issued under his name. His first public appearance after the lockdown of Wuhan on Jan. 23 came two days later, when he presided over a meeting of the Communist Party’s top body, the Politburo Standing Committee, which was shown at length on Chinese television. "We’re sure to be able to win in this battle," he proclaimed.

Back then, the death toll was 106. As it rose, Xi allowed other officials to take on more visible roles. Xi’s only appearances have been meeting foreign visitors in the Great Hall of the People or presiding over Communist Party meetings.

On Jan. 28, Xi met with the executive director of the World Health Organization, Dr. Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus, and told Tedros that he "personally directed" the government’s response. Later reports in state media omitted the phrase, saying instead that Xi’s government was "collectively directing" the response.

Since nothing about how Xi is portrayed in state media happens by accident, the tweak suggested a deliberate effort to emphasize shared responsibility.

Xi did not appear on official broadcasts again for a week — until a highly scripted meeting Wednesday with the authoritarian leader of Cambodia, Hun Sen.

There is little evidence that Xi has given up power behind the scenes. Li Keqiang, the premier in formal charge of the leadership group for the crisis, and other officials have said that they take their orders from Xi. The group is filled with officials who work closely under Xi, and its directives emphasize his authority.

"The way the epidemic is being handled now from the top just doesn’t fit with the argument that there’s been a clear shift toward more collective, consultative leadership," said Holly Snape, a British Academy Fellow at the University of Glasgow who studies Chinese politics.

The scale of discontent and the potential challenges for Xi could be measured by repeated references online to the nuclear accident at Chernobyl. Many of them came under the guise of viewer reviews of the popular television miniseries of the same name, which is still available for streaming inside China.

"In any era, any country, it’s the same. Cover everything up," one reviewer wrote.

The Soviet Union of 1986, however, was a different country than China in 2020.

The Soviet state was foundering when Chernobyl happened, said Sergey Radchenko, a professor of international relations at Cardiff University in Wales who has written extensively on Soviet and Chinese politics.

"The Chinese authorities, by contrast, are demonstrating an ability to cope, a willingness to take unprecedented measures — logistical feats that may actually increase the regime’s legitimacy," he added.

Radchenko compared Xi’s actions to those of previous leaders in moments of crisis: Mao Zedong after the Cultural Revolution or Deng Xiaoping after the Tiananmen Square crackdown.

"He’s doing what Mao and Deng would have done in similar circumstances: stepping back into the shadows while remaining firmly in charge."

New Delhi, Jun 11: The death toll due to COVID-19 rose to 8,102 and the number of cases climbed to 2,86,579 in the country after it registered the highest single-day spike of 357 fatalities and 9,996 cases till Thursday 8 AM, according to the Union Health Ministry data.

The number of recoveries remained more than the active novel coronavirus cases for the second consecutive day.

The number of active cases stands at 1,37,448 while 1,41,028 people have recovered and one patient has migrated to another country, as per the data.   

"Thus, around 49.21 per cent patients have recovered so far," an official said.

The total number of confirmed cases include foreigners.

Of the 357 new deaths reported till Thursday morning, 149 were in Maharashtra, 79 in Delhi, 34 in Gujarat, 20 in Uttar Pradesh, 19 in Tamil Nadu, 17 in West Bengal, eight in Telangana, seven each in Madhya Pradesh and Haryana, four in Rajasthan, three each in Jammu and Kashmir and Karnataka, two each in Kerala and Uttarakhand, one each in Andhra Pradesh, Bihar and Himachal Pradesh.

Out of the total 8,102 fatalities, Maharashtra tops the tally with 3,438 deaths followed by Gujarat with 1,347 deaths, Delhi with 984, Madhya Pradesh with 427, West Bengal with 432, Tamil Nadu with 326, Uttar Pradesh with 321, Rajasthan with 259 and Telangana with 156 deaths.

The death toll reached 78 in Andhra Pradesh, 69 in Karnataka and 55 in Punjab. Jammu and Kashmir has reported 51 fatalities due to the coronavirus disease, while 52 deaths have been reported from Haryana, 33 from Bihar, 18 from Kerala, 15 from Uttarakhand, nine from Odisha and eight from Jharkhand.

Chhattisgarh and Himachal Pradesh have registered six COVID-19 fatalities each, Chandigarh has five while Assam has recorded four deaths so far. Meghalaya, Tripura and Ladakh have reported one COVID-19 fatality each, according to the ministry's data.

More than 70 per cent of the deaths are due to comorbidities, the ministry's website stated.

Jan 13: For the first time in years, the government of India’s Prime Minister Narendra Modi is playing defense. Protests have sprung up across the country against an amendment to India’s laws — which came into effect on Friday — that makes it easier for members of some religions to become citizens of India. The government claims this is simply an attempt to protect religious minorities in the Muslim-majority countries that border India; but protesters see it as the first step toward a formal repudiation of India’s constitutionally guaranteed secularism — and one that must be resisted.

Modi was re-elected prime minister last year with an enhanced majority; his hold over the country’s politics is absolute. The formal opposition is weak, discredited and disorganized. Yet, somehow, the anti-Citizenship Act protests have taken hold. No political party is behind them; they are generally arranged by student unions, neighborhood associations and the like.

Yet this aspect of their character is precisely what will worry Modi and his right-hand man, Home Minister Amit Shah. They know how to mock and delegitimize opposition parties with ruthless efficiency. Yet creating a narrative that paints large, flag-waving crowds as traitors is not quite that easy.

For that is how these protests look: large groups of young people, many carrying witty signs and the national flag. They meet and read the preamble to India’s Constitution, into which the promise of secularism was written in the 1970’s.

They carry photographs of the Constitution’s drafter, the Columbia University-trained economist and lawyer B. R. Ambedkar. These are not the mobs the government wanted. They hoped for angry Muslims rampaging through the streets of India’s cities, whom they could point to and say: “See? We must protect you from them.” But, in spite of sometimes brutal repression, the protests have largely been nonviolent.

One, in Shaheen Bagh in a Muslim-dominated sector of New Delhi, began simply as a set of local women in a square, armed with hot tea and blankets against the chill Delhi winter. It has now become the focal point of a very different sort of resistance than what the government expected. Nothing could cure the delusions of India’s Hindu middle class, trained to see India’s Muslims as dangerous threats, as effectively as a group of otherwise clearly apolitical women sipping sweet tea and sharing their fears and food with anyone who will listen.

Modi was re-elected less than a year ago; what could have changed in India since then? Not much, I suspect, in most places that voted for him and his party — particularly the vast rural hinterland of northern India. But urban India was also possibly never quite as content as electoral results suggested. India’s growth dipped below 5% in recent quarters; demand has crashed, and uncertainty about the future is widespread. Worse, the government’s response to the protests was clearly ill-judged. University campuses were attacked, in one case by the police and later by masked men almost certainly connected to the ruling party.

Protesters were harassed and detained with little cause. The courts seemed uninterested. And, slowly, anger began to grow on social media — not just on Twitter, but also on Instagram, previously the preserve of pretty bowls of salad. Instagram is the one social medium over which Modi’s party does not have a stranglehold; and it is where these protests, with their photogenic signs and flags, have found a natural home. As a result, people across urban India who would never previously have gone to a demonstration or a political rally have been slowly politicized.

India is, in fact, becoming more like a normal democracy. “Normal,” that is, for the 2020’s. Liberal democracies across the world are politically divided, often between more liberal urban centers and coasts, and angrier, “left-behind” hinterlands. Modi’s political secret was that he was that rare populist who could unite both the hopeful cities and the resentful countryside. Yet this once magic formula seems to have become ineffective. Five of India’s six largest cities are not ruled by Modi’s Bharatiya Janata Party in any case — the financial hub of Mumbai changed hands recently. The BJP has set its sights on winning state elections in Delhi in a few weeks. Which way the capital’s voters will go is uncertain. But that itself is revealing — last year, Modi swept all seven parliamentary seats in Delhi.

In the end, the Citizenship Amendment Act is now law, the BJP might manage to win Delhi, and the protests might die down as the days get unmanageably hot and state repression increases. But urban India has put Modi on notice. His days of being India’s unifier are over: From now on, like all the other populists, he will have to keep one eye on the streets of his country’s cities.