As the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) prepares to convene the Fifth Plenum of its 20th Central Committee, rumors about personnel changes at the top are once again sweeping through overseas Chinese-language circles. One of the most outlandish claims is that Premier Li Qiang, the formal second-in-command, has already been designated as Xi Jinping’s successor and will even replace him as party general secretary at the upcoming meeting. Before last year’s Fourth Plenum, it was Cai Qi, another member of the Politburo Standing Committee, who was rumored to be Xi’s successor.
Neither claim is credible. Yet taken together, these rumors inadvertently reveal something fundamental about the workings of Chinese elite politics: Xi relies heavily on Li and Cai, his two most important lieutenants, to sustain his rule.
Understanding Chinese elite politics requires identifying the relationships that determine how power operates, rather than obsessing over supposed clues in every meeting or photograph. One reason outside observers have repeatedly misjudged Xi’s rule is that they have become lost in the fog of power struggles, imagining Zhongnanhai, the Chinese leadership compound, as a place perpetually on the verge of a palace coup while overlooking how the system functions on a daily basis.
However much power Xi has concentrated in his own hands, he cannot personally manage the enormous machinery of the Chinese state, or the vast CCP itself. He needs lieutenants. Within the 20th Politburo, Li and Cai are his two most indispensable aides—one overseeing government affairs, the other party affairs. Together, they constitute what I call the “central gang of three” that defines elite politics in the Xi era.
By “gang of three,” I don’t mean to suggest that the three constitute a faction akin to the notorious Gang of Four of the Cultural Revolution (1966-76), the gaggle of revolutionary leaders who were later blamed for the disasters of the period. Rather, this is a framework for understanding power. Zhou Enlai, the first premier of the People’s Republic of China, once advised senior military commanders newly entering the highest levels of politics that understanding the political situation required grasping and navigating what he called “central politics”—the relationships among Mao Zedong, military leader Lin Biao, and Mao’s wife, Jiang Qing, the three-most powerful figures at the time.
Zhou’s observation captured the essence of elite politics during the Cultural Revolution. Mao occupied the center, while Lin and Jiang drew on different sources of political power to secure their exceptional positions. Both depended on Mao, yet they also competed with each other. Lin would lose out in 1971, when a still mysterious set of events resulted in his death. Jiang would fall in 1976, when the Gang of Four, which she headed, was toppled by Mao’s successor, Hua Guofeng.
Today, Xi, Li, and Cai form a similarly unequal triangle: Xi is the supreme authority over both men, while Li and Cai perform distinct functions, share common interests, and remain potential competitors.
But the historical similarities should not obscure the more important differences. Lin was not only Mao’s officially designated successor but also a military commander with wartime achievements, considerable prestige, and long-standing connections within the armed forces. Jiang enjoyed the unique status of being Mao’s wife, along with the political network she built during the Cultural Revolution. Neither could have exercised power without Mao, but neither depended entirely on his day-to-day authorization—particularly Lin.
Li and Cai are different. Both owe their political ascent to the trust they established with Xi during their careers in provincial and central government. Neither possesses the independent political capital that Lin commanded, much less the familial connection that gave Jiang her special standing. As a result, the interests binding Xi, Li, and Cai are more closely aligned than those that bound Mao, Lin, and Jiang, and neither man can establish independent centers of power outside Xi’s authority.
Xi has clearly divided responsibilities between Li and Cai while preventing either from monopolizing power within his respective domain. Xi relies on both without publicly showing a pronounced preference for either. At least so far, there is no visible evidence of the kind of acute, overt conflict that characterized relations between Lin and Jiang.
The division of responsibilities between Li and Cai since the 20th Party Congress in 2022 appears straightforward. Li serves as premier of the State Council and ranks second in the party hierarchy. Cai, meanwhile, is the highest-ranking secretary of the Secretariat, the Politburo’s executive arm. Although he ranks fifth in the party hierarchy, Cai oversees the Secretariat’s daily work and simultaneously heads the powerful General Office of the CCP Central Committee. This year, he also took charge of the Central Party School in Beijing. These positions place him almost constantly at Xi’s side.
Yet while some have seen Cai as more powerful than Li as a result, this is wrong. Frequent access to the supreme leader undoubtedly confers considerable influence over his schedule and the information reaching him. But proximity is not all in a system such as the CCP’s.
In Xi’s hierarchy of priorities, the party unquestionably takes precedence over the government. The party’s organizational apparatus, personnel system, disciplinary machinery, ideology, and security institutions directly determine whether Xi can sustain his hold on power. The economy may fluctuate, but political control over the party cannot be allowed to weaken. That is precisely why Xi entrusted the Secretariat and the General Office to Cai, whom he trusts deeply.
Yet this arrangement contains an easily overlooked paradox: It is precisely because party affairs are so important that Xi cannot fully delegate their core powers to Cai.
Cai coordinates, communicates, and supervises the implementation of central party affairs. But party affairs do not constitute a single domain that he can monopolize. Discipline inspection and anti-corruption work, personnel and organizational affairs, propaganda and ideology, political and legal affairs, and security are all overseen by other Xi loyalists, who report to the leader directly.
Moreover, last year Xi transferred Shi Taifeng, who had previously overseen united front work, to head the Central Committee Organization Department, which is responsible for evaluating and selecting party officials. Whether or not Xi intended the appointment to constrain Cai, it objectively limits Cai’s ability to turn the party apparatus into his own personal power base. The military, of course, remains under Xi’s direct control.
Nor does Cai’s responsibility for party affairs mean that Xi refrains from intervening directly. How far anti-corruption campaigns should go, what political standards officials must meet, and what ideological education campaigns the party should undertake are ultimately decided by Xi himself. Cai’s role is to translate Xi’s will into the party center’s daily operations.
Li, of course, operates under numerous constraints of his own. Xi has brought many major economic decisions under the direct authority of the party center through bodies such as the Central Financial and Economic Affairs Commission and the Central Financial Commission. Within the State Council, Vice Premiers Ding Xuexiang and He Lifeng, among others, oversee important portfolios and play major roles. These arrangements have dispersed some of the premier’s authority.
But the State Council differs fundamentally from the Secretariat and the General Office. It is a state institution with its own administrative system, legally defined powers, and vast implementing apparatus. The administration of the country—including economic, social, and cultural affairs, as well as foreign affairs and certain aspects of national defense—requires coordination and organization by the State Council.
Public administration, particularly economic management, involves an enormous number of concrete decisions. It requires reconciling conflicting interests among ministries and local governments and making choices as circumstances constantly change. Xi can determine broad policies and the overall direction of development, but he cannot personally run the government for Li every day. This gives Li a degree of discretion over day-to-day policy within the framework established by Xi.
With China confronting a lingering real estate crisis, local government debt, weak domestic demand, and sustained strategic pressure from the United States, Xi’s long-term ambitions cannot be realized without a functioning economy. An economic stagnation could also intensify social tensions and threaten stability. At certain stages, therefore, economic management may be no less important than political rectification. Party discipline and political loyalty can be reinforced through organizational measures, but economic growth cannot be restored by political declarations alone. Xi entrusted the State Council to Li, a longtime associate with extensive experience managing provincial economies because he needs someone who is both politically reliable and capable of getting things done.
Both men operate under Xi’s authority, but Li’s position as premier and the State Council’s distinct administrative machinery give him responsibilities for governing the country that Cai does not possess. Cai is unquestionably important to maintaining Xi’s personal grip on power, but he functions more as the chief manager of the party apparatus surrounding the supreme leader. His influence depends to a greater extent on Xi himself. Both lieutenants matter enormously, but proximity to Xi alone is no reason to reverse their relative positions.
Next year’s 21st Party Congress will provide a crucial test of whether this structure can endure. Both Li and Cai will have passed the customary retirement threshold of 68 by October 2027, but Li will be only three months beyond it, while Cai will be nearly four years over the limit. Under the long-standing informal retirement convention known as “seven up, eight down,” both would normally be expected to retire. Yet this convention is not an unbreakable rule.
Keeping both men on the Standing Committee, however, appears unlikely, since Xi must also make room for other loyalists to move up. My assessment is that Li has a stronger prospect of remaining on the Standing Committee—not simply because Cai is older but because the two men perform different political functions.
Cai, however, is unlikely to retire completely. He could follow the example of Chen Xi, who remained president of the Central Party School after leaving the Politburo. Cai might even simultaneously assume the largely ceremonial position of state vice president.
The question is whether Xi needs an aide who can help him govern the country or one who can help him control the party. As the challenges of governing the country grow more complex, his dependence on a lieutenant such as Li, who can actually manage those challenges, may only deepen. Next year’s party congress may be when this difference becomes clearest.