China's prime minister doesn't play traditional role of officials

CHENGDU, China — He is widely known as "the crying prime minister," although he prefers to be called "Grandpa Wen."

Over the past week, as Wen Jiabo toured earthquake-shattered northern Sichuan, he has hollered words of encouragement to those trapped beneath fallen buildings and shared tearful moments with orphans.

Since ascending to the post of prime minister in 2003, Wen, 65, has cultivated an image as a man of the people, a rarity in the pantheon of Chinese leaders, who are often seen as placing the authority of the Communist Party above the wants of individuals.

Now, as the nation grapples with its greatest natural disaster in three decades, Wen's persona as an empathetic, benevolent official has been cemented in popular lore.

He has become the public and inescapable face of a nation's grief since he arrived in the Sichuan Province less than two hours after the quake struck.

His high-profile humanitarian gestures, played again and again on television, have stood in stark contrast to the response of the rulers of Myanmar, who have been widely denounced for inaction toward the cyclone victims.

"He really loves the common people, and we can see this is not an act," said Wang Liangen, 72, a retired math teacher from Dujiangyan, who watched last week as the prime minister climbed over the wreckage of a school where hundreds of children were buried. "He has brought the people closer together, and brought the people closer to the government."

Some analysts say Wen's unusually public role may signal at least a modest shift in the way the Communist Party interacts with the citizenry.

"His quick response and immediate appearance will set a precedent for other officials," said Fang Ning, a political scientist at the China Academy of Social Science in Beijing.

Wen and his boss, President Hu Jintao, do seem inclined to show the world a kindler, gentler side of official China in advance of the Olympic Games.

After the international backlash over China's crackdown on ethnic Tibetans, the leaders have used the quake to show their authoritarian government can be responsive, even populist, at crucial moments.

"I think the earthquake really has the potential to change things," said Cheng Li, a senior fellow of the Brookings Institution, who argues that Wen — whose second appointed term expires in 2012 — is one of China's brightest and most pragmatic modern leaders.

Even before his performance in Sichuan, he said Wen was a champion for China's have-nots, an advocate of broadening the use of legal norms to help govern the country, and a bulwark against conservatives.

"A lot of Chinese have been overwhelmed by Wen and his sincerity, honesty and humanity," Li said. "Not many leaders have his qualities."

Wen often talks about democracy but is not a proponent of Western-style reforms. He remains an unwavering advocate of single-party rule, and he has taken a hard line on Tibet, blaming the Dalai Lama for instigating ethnic Tibetan unrest in March.

In public statements, he has said China is not afraid to use its military might to prevent Taiwan from declaring independence.

Despite Wen's well-tended image as an apolitical pragmatist, cynics note he did not earn his lofty post by playing nice.

"It takes a considerable amount of political skill and cunning to become premier of China," said Fred Teiwes, a professor of Chinese politics at the University of Sydney in Australia.

Wen is nothing if not the consummate survivor. A lifelong technocrat, he made his way to the top by pleasing his superiors, hewing to the party line and making few enemies.

A trained geologist who comes from a family of teachers, he served as a top aide to successive party bosses, Hu Yaobang and Zhao Ziyang in the 1980s. Both leaders were purged after opposing harsh crackdowns on liberals, but Wen went on to serve in senior posts under more conservative successors.

As with most Chinese leaders, much about him remains a mystery. But he presents himself as self-effacing and penurious.

In contrast to Hu, an opaque and aloof statesman, Wen favors a colloquial speaking style, even if his comments always hew closely to the party script. Unlike his predecessor, Zhu Rongji, who was known for his jocular manner and snap decisions, Wen, when faced with tough economic-policy choices, will often spend days ruminating and consulting before deferring to fellow members of the ruling Politburo Standing Committee for a collective decision, party officials have said.

"He may not be a good leader," said Li, of Brookings, "but the perception out there is that he's a good person."