October 21, 2015
For years, he was the subject of online ridicule. People poked fun at his large rectangular glasses and his high-waisted trousers. They mocked his clumsy language and sometimes uncouth behavior at official functions. They even gave him a nickname based on his purportedly amphibious features: hama (蛤蟆), or “toad.”
But in recent months, the social media tide has turned in favor of Jiang Zemin, 89, China’s former president and secretary general of the Communist Party. After years of mockery, he has emerged as something of a cult figure, the idol at the center of a tongue-in-cheek subculture known as moha wenhua (膜蛤文化) — “toad worship culture.”
References to zhangzhe (长者) or “elder,” as Mr. Jiang is called by his acolytes, are popping up on WeChat, the popular messaging app; Weibo, the microblog platform; and Zhihu, a question-and-answer site similar to Quora. Hasi (蛤丝), or “fans of the toad,” who once ridiculed Mr. Jiang’s crotchety ways and sartorial choices avidly discuss what they now see as endearing idiosyncrasies.
As with many online jokes in China, look for the wordplay. Post a joke online and instead of writing haha (哈哈) to express laughter, a hasi may respond with different characters with the same sound: haha (蛤蛤), for “toad.”
Like most political memes in China, “toad worship culture” is rich with irony.
“ ‘Toad worship culture’ is not just a kind of worship, it’s also satire,” said Magasa, a Chinese film critic and a self-described hasi. “But the feelings behind it are complex. It’s half-real and half-fake. It’s sarcasm, but it’s also a reflection of people’s nostalgia for the past and dissatisfaction with the current situation.”
It has become increasingly risky to talk openly about the “current situation” — a phrase the Chinese sometimes use to refer to the era of President Xi Jinping. Putting a positive spin on Mr. Jiang’s qualities, some say, is a subtle way of drawing a contrast that can be interpreted as a critique of Mr. Xi.
“Xi Jinping has been so strong particularly with this online crackdown,” said Xiao Qiang, adjunct professor at the University of California, Berkeley, and founder of China Digital Times, which monitors Chinese websites. “Any negative comments about him are dangerous, so critiques have to be roundabout. Becoming a fan of a toad is one way to do that.”
“Toad worship culture” emerged late last year with the creation of a public WeChat channel titled “Seminar on the Selected Essays of Jiang.” The essays were written in academic-sounding language and appeared well researched, delving into topics like Mr. Jiang’s rumored mistress and his love for playing musical instruments. The anonymous author also wrote about more serious issues, drawing a connection, for example, between leaders’ education levels and China’s overall cultural climate.
The account quickly became a hit and many, mostly liberal-minded, Chinese began discussing the essays on social media.
“The essays were very subtle,” Mr. Xiao said. “On the surface, they were funny and had a lot of details, but the author also took a lot of negative rhetoric about Jiang Zemin and spun it in a way that was very respectful toward Jiang.”
In written answers to questions, the author behind the account, who spoke on the condition of anonymity because of the delicacy of the subject, said the essays were not meant to mock Mr. Jiang.
“You could even say that it’s turning around some of society’s negative impressions of Mr. Jiang,” the author wrote.
“Jiang is a normal person, a fascinating person, someone who has a human touch,” he wrote, when asked how Mr. Jiang differed from his successors. “Even if he was ridiculous at times.”Although the WeChat account has since been shut down by censors, the popularity of “toad worship culture” persists. It is based more on Mr. Jiang’s relatively cosmopolitan background and unscripted demeanor than on his politics. Fans love to recall the moment in 1996 when Mr. Jiang whipped out a comb to fix his hair during an official reception in Madrid, as King Juan Carlos of Spain looked on.
In an essay titled “Dear Elder, Wishing You a Happy Birthday” that was widely circulated on WeChat, a user posted photos of Mr. Jiang, in swim trunks, goggles and a blue swimming cap, enjoying a dip in the Dead Sea during a visit to Israel in 2000.
“This look is similar to the high-waisted pants look,” the fan wrote. “I am utterly moved by the Elder’s openness and confidence.”
That spontaneous aspect is rarely seen among China’s leaders now — despite Mr. Xi’s best efforts to cultivate an accessible image as Xi Dada, or “Papa Xi,” with seemingly ad hoc visits to steamed bun shops and bubbly music videos:
“At the time, we’d see Jiang Zemin talk or laugh loudly or take out his comb or say a few phrases of English, and we thought it was normal,” said Magasa, the film critic. “But you don’t see any other Chinese leaders doing this. It’s only after Hu Jintao, who’s like a wooden board, and Xi Jinping, who’s very serious, that Jiang Zemin is suddenly remembered as having a lot of personality.”
