In the tightly choreographed world of Chinese politics, where every appearance is a symbol and every absence a statement, the unexplained vanishing of President Xi Jinping from public view in May and June 2025 has unleashed a storm of speculation. For over two weeks, Xi was missing from the front pages of
state-run newspapers, CCTV broadcasts, and the diplomatic corridors of Zhongnanhai- an unusual silence from a leader known for micromanaging both his image and his party.
When he finally resurfaced to host Belarus President Lukashenko, the optics were strangely subdued. No grand ceremony, no elaborate red carpet. Instead, the event was held in a modest setting, with scaled-back security and awkward body language. Observers noted that the state media even referred to Xi without his customary titles during the televised meeting- an error swiftly corrected, but not before it fueled already swirling theories.
The most prevalent speculation revolves around Xi’s health. At 72, Xi has led China with an iron grip for over a decade. But according to Intelligence Online, party elders and military insiders believe he may soon step down from one or more of his top roles due to deteriorating health. Some reports suggest he appeared frail and distracted during recent closed-door meetings. A few even claim he required assistance walking- though such footage, if it exists, has never surfaced publicly.
Yet the theories go well beyond mere illness. Whispers inside Zhongnanhai suggest that Xi’s absence and recent signs of political instability point to something far more seismic: a power struggle. For the first time since he ascended to the pinnacle of the Communist Party, the specter of a factional coup, or at least a soft transition engineered by rivals, has begun to take shape.
At the heart of this supposed challenge is the re-emergence of the once-diminished Tuanpai, or Communist Youth League faction- loyalists to former President Hu Jintao. Xi had ruthlessly purged this faction in his early years, removing Hu’s allies like Li Keqiang and Wang Yang from the Politburo’s inner circle. But now, Hu’s camp seems to be regrouping. According to a report in The Economic Times, real power behind the scenes has shifted to General Zhang Youxia and retired party elders tied to Hu. Some even claim that Wang Yang and Hu Chunhua are being considered as potential successors, hinting at a coordinated effort to edge Xi toward the exit.
China’s elite politics is notoriously opaque, but subtle signals abound. For instance, in mid-May, Xi reportedly convened a secret meeting with former Politburo Standing Committee members, including his critics. Analysts suggest this could have been either a gesture of concession- or a forced negotiation under pressure. The context is key: over the past year, Xi has presided over a chaotic anti-corruption drive targeting senior military officials, some of whom were his own appointees. A handful of generals disappeared or “retired” without notice, raising further doubts about internal stability.
Even more bizarrely, rumors have surfaced that the version of Xi seen during the Lukashenko meeting might not have been him at all. Some fringe Chinese and Hong Kong outlets, including Vision Times, floated theories that the leader on screen was a body double or even a digitally altered avatar, citing the absence of live audio and a heavily edited broadcast. While these claims are likely baseless, they reflect the degree of suspicion and opacity surrounding Xi’s condition.
The irony is that just three years ago, Xi cemented himself as China’s most powerful leader since Mao, having removed term limits and sidelined virtually every rival. Yet the very centralization of power has now created a paradox: there is no obvious successor. If Xi’s health genuinely fails, or if he is quietly pushed aside, the transition could be far more chaotic than the Party would ever publicly admit.
Some analysts are drawing historical parallels. Xi’s public humiliation of Hu Jintao during the 2022 Party Congress- when the former president was escorted off the stage before international cameras- was widely seen as a final nail in the coffin of intra-party pluralism. But history, it seems, has a habit of doubling back. Today, Hu’s allies are slowly reappearing. Xi’s allies are disappearing. And Beijing’s silence is deafening.
The Financial Times recently warned that the absence of a visible line of succession could trigger a crisis if Xi exits abruptly. That concern feels increasingly real. Every vanished general, every state visit Xi skips, every unusually edited television broadcast now feeds a hunger for answers.
For now, Beijing maintains its poker face. Officially, nothing is wrong. Xi is firmly in charge. But unofficially, the machine is humming with signs of recalibration. Whether this marks the beginning of a transition, a quiet correction of autocracy, or just a temporary health break remains to be seen. But one thing is certain: the myth of invincibility that Xi built so meticulously is beginning to crack.
And in a system that thrives on myth, that crack may prove fatal.
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