The Diary: Lionel Barber

Premier Li Keqiang greets me in the Hong Kong room of the Great Hall of the People like an old friend. As he whispers a few words in English, two dozen press cameras flash in unison. So much for the coveted private interview with China's number two. My off-the-record encounter will make the number three item on CCTV's prime time news programme, watched by 135m people every day.

Li is a confident performer, a pomaded black-haired protege of former president Hu Jintao. He made his reputation in the late 1990s as governor of Henan, a backwater province of 94m people in central China. Hank Paulson, former US Treasury secretary, recalls in his forthcoming book Dealing with China: An Insider Unmasks the New Economic Superpower that Li was dogged by a series of crises ranging from a tainted blood plasma scandal, a related HIV outbreak and a rash of deadly fires that killed hundreds of people. This briefly earned him the nickname Three Fires Li. In the UK, thanks to his promises of generous Chinese investment in our creaking infrastructure, he has been dubbed Li Ka-Ching (mimicking the sound of a ringing cash till).

Today, Li finds himself in the vanguard of economic reform, seeking to rebalance an export- and investment-dependent economy towards greater domestic consumption while maintaining the high levels of growth needed to create jobs and tackle social inequality. A Chinese official likens the challenge to a fisherman seeking to keep a catch of cod alive on the long voyage home. The most effective method is to throw a catfish in the crowded tank: 15 to 20 per cent of the cod will die but the rest will be forced to swim around, creating the oxygen necessary to survive.

Although Chinese leaders instinctively prefer the ancient proverb to the western sound bite, their answers no longer match the interminable monologues of a decade ago. But detecting what is new or important demands serious sleuthing. Li struck me as tough, well-informed and capable of improvisation. He can talk fluently about US interest rates, unconventional monetary policy and relations with Japan (better, but still fragile). His central message, however, is that reform is on track and the official growth target of around seven per cent is hard but manageable. Call it the catfish school of economic management.

. . .

Almost all of my official meetings in Beijing are deemed private, partly a reflection of the tight party discipline imposed by President Xi Jinping. His relentless anti-corruption campaign intrudes on every conversation. The crackdown is a means of consolidating power but it is also about the survival of the Communist party, whose every layer has been tainted by backhanders, skimming and illicit money-making on a colossal scale.

Xi has pledged to bag tigers as well as flies. And, sure enough, my visit coincides with the indictment of one of the biggest predators of them all: Zhou Yongkang, former head of public security and member of the politburo standing committee. Who could be next? No one dares speculate, but Xi's campaign has marked him out as the most authoritarian Chinese leader since Mao. The big giveaway is how frequently party officials mention his name, published works or public utterances. No wonder Xi is now known as the "new emperor".

. . .

And so to Hanergy Group, the solar energy company whose shares have risen astronomically on the Hong Kong stock exchange, making its founder Li Hejun China's richest man (on paper). Hanergy has taken issue with the FT's reporting on its financing and unusual share price movement in late-day trading but I am encouraged by the company's willingness to open its doors to our delegation.

Hanergy is based in a public park in the north of Beijing, near the "Bird's Nest" Olympic stadium. We are escorted into an imposing auditorium, liberally furnished with rosewood chairs and tables - a jarring feature, since rosewood is endangered and Hanergy, unlike many Chinese companies, makes much of its respect for the environment. At the end of the room is a huge screen showing a slickly produced promo, delivered in a rich American baritone, about Hanergy's history and its advanced thin-film solar technology. Attention is drawn to Li Hejun's first big business breakthrough: building the giant Jinanqiao hydroelectric dam in Yunnan province bordering Laos, Myanmar and Vietnam. This is a rare feat for a private entrepreneur engaged in public infrastructure projects in China.

After being whisked around exhibits of Hanergy's solar technology, I finally meet Li. In another life he might have been a character in an Austin Powers movie. Twitching and laughing nervously, he delivers a heavily accented English monologue that is part charm, part menace. My pointed questions are batted back firmly but politely. Suddenly the meeting is declared over. But there is still time for a photo-opportunity capturing my receipt of Li's book on the clean energy revolution and a handshake almost as awkward as the one famously photographed last year between President Xi and Prime Minister Shinzo Abe of Japan.

. . .

China never ceases to surprise. En route to see a party official responsible for the internet, I decide I will raise the thorny matter of censorship. Two days into my Beijing visit, my Gmail account has intermittent service only, and my Twitter account is blocked. How can this be justified in modern China?

Instinctively, I double-check my Twitter account and discover, to my astonishment, that it has been miraculously unblocked. My Gmail is also running smoothly. Now all this could be coincidence, or simply proof that China's micromanagement of the political economy is far more effective than anyone might have imagined. Premier Li, I think we should be told.

Lionel Barber is editor of the FT

Illustration by Luke Waller

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