Zhu Rongji: China’s Reformer, Bangladesh’s Friend
“I will be sure to work conscientiously and diligently until I take my last breath.” These words, spoken with the trademark grit that defined his career, were more than a politician’s promise; they were the personal creed of Zhu Rongji. Following the death of the former Chinese Premier at the age of 98, the world reflects on a man described in his official obituary as a “time-tested and loyal communist fighter” and a “towering economic reformer” who steered the world’s most populous nation from the shadow of a planned economy into the blinding light of global modernity.
Zhu’s journey was inextricably entwined with the story of China’s own rejuvenation. To understand the statesman who stood firm against the 1997 Asian Financial Crisis and negotiated China’s entry into the World Trade Organisation (WTO), one must look back to the red soil of Hunan and the halls of Tsinghua University.
Born in Changsha, capital of Hunan, in 1928, Zhu’s early life was marked by the rigorous intellectual environment of Hunan’s premier schools. However, it was his time as an Electrical Engineering student at Tsinghua University (1947–1951) that provided the moral compass for his life. He was deeply influenced by Professor Zhang Mingtao, the Dean of the Electrical Engineering Department, who famously told his students that before learning to be a scholar, one must first learn to be a person. Professor Zhang called on them to be “Chinese with backbone”—individuals who were upright, aboveboard, and rigorously painstaking in their pursuit of truth.
This backbone would be tested during the tribulations of the Cultural Revolution (1966-1976). Zhu spent five years on a collective farm, planting wheat and raising cattle. Rather than becoming embittered, he later called this period a “very great education,” noting that it taught him the reality of village life and the value of hard labour. He returned to Beijing in 1975, training apprentices by climbing utility poles, an experience that grounded his high-level economic thinking in the practicalities of the “grass roots”.
Zhu Rongji’s love for China was often expressed as a filial bond; an orphan who lost his parents young, he famously stated, “I consider the Party my mother,” which drove his fearless, “backbone” style of service. His official obituary extolled him as a “loyal communist fighter” with “deep affection for the people”. He took letters and petitions from ordinary citizens very seriously, viewing them as a “natural bridge” to stay in touch with the people. In Shanghai, he personally ensured a widow’s clogged sewer was unblocked after she approached him in a vegetable market.
The global stage first took notice of Zhu during his tenure as Mayor of Shanghai (1987–1991). He inherited a city burdened by debt, snarled traffic, and a housing shortage where the average per capita living area was a mere six square meters. Zhu realised that “many problems cannot be resolved through preferential policies alone—solutions depend on our ability to work efficiently”.
He launched the ambitious development of Pudong, intending to turn it into a world-class financial and trade hub to relieve the pressure on “Old Shanghai”. To attract the foreign investment necessary for this transformation, he targeted the city’s legendary bureaucracy. He established the Foreign Investment Commission, which reduced the required “126 approvals” for a single project to a single efficient window. This earned him the nickname “One-Chop Zhu”, a reputation for cutting through bureaucratic red tape with a single decision. Under his watch, the Nanpu Bridge and Metro Line-1 became symbols of a city that was moving faster than any other in China.
In 1991, Zhu was appointed Vice Premier, taking charge of the State Council’s day-to-day work at a time when the national economy was overheating. He achieved what many economists thought impossible: an economic “soft landing”. By reining in inflation and re-centralising the banking system, he cleared the complex “triangular debts”—a chain of inter-enterprise arrears that threatened to paralyse the industrial sector.
His leadership during the 1997 Asian Financial Crisis was perhaps his most profound contribution to global stability. While neighbouring economies devalued their currencies to save themselves, Zhu’s resolute refusal to devalue the renminbi provided a bulwark for the region. He famously oversaw the arduous negotiations for China’s accession to the World Trade Organisation in 2001, a milestone that anchored China in the international architecture and forced domestic industries to become globally competitive.
Zhu was a man of action who detested “empty talk”. His famous warning against corruption captured his uncompromising approach to public service: “I have prepared 100 coffins; 99 for corrupt officials and one for myself.” He condemned substandard construction as “tofu dregs”, urged planners not to create “villages that look like cities and cities that look like villages”, and called on officials to remain frugal during inspection tours. Facing resistance to reform, he told colleagues, “You must be determined to jump into the abyss with me!”, demanding an administration that was “clean, diligent, pragmatic, and efficient”.
Yet behind this formidable reformer was a leader deeply conscious of China’s historical continuity. He spoke of the “great blessing” of the leadership of Mao Zedong and Deng Xiaoping and often praised Jiang Zemin for his work in Shanghai, particularly in infrastructure and clean government. After retiring in 2003, Zhu supported the succeeding leadership under Hu Jintao and later Xi Jinping, embracing generational renewal with the observation that “the back waves of the Yangtze push the front waves”.
His vision was not confined to economic reform. In a poetic reflection after returning to Jishou in Hunan, he expressed his hope for “green hills and blue water” and a future in which people’s dreams could be realised. He believed that “from fairness comes light, and from incorruptibility comes authority”, and placed importance on cultivating young people through classical Chinese literature and poetry. His concern for ordinary people was equally evident in his emphasis on respect for the elderly when discussing medical insurance for retired citizens. These reflections reveal a Zhu Rongji beyond the stern reformer: a statesman who believed that national progress ultimately had to be measured by the integrity of government, the cultivation of its people and the wellbeing of its citizens.
Zhu Rongji’s regional thinking was founded on the belief that a rising China should be a stabilising force for its neighbours. He famously advocated that “a close neighbour means more than a distant relative”. His historic visit to Dhaka in January 2002 was a watershed moment for Bangladesh-China relations.
Arriving as the first foreign head of government welcomed by the new Bangladeshi administration, Zhu was received with “grand reception” and warmth. During his talks with then Prime Minister Khaleda Zia, he praised a friendship that had withstood the test of time since diplomatic ties were established in 1975. Zhu was explicit: “China has always regarded Bangladesh as our sincere and trusted friend and brother”.
Perhaps the most significant aspect of the visit was Zhu’s focus on concrete economic equity. Admitting that the trade balance was tilted heavily toward China, he promised to narrow the trade gap with Bangladesh. He oversaw the signing of seven agreements on economic and technical cooperation, which included grants for bridge construction and assistance in the power and water sectors. The Bangladesh-China Friendship Conference Centre in Dhaka, built with Chinese assistance, remains a permanent manifestation of the “warm friendship and cordial relations” he nurtured.
Zhu’s engagement came at a critical moment when Bangladesh was pursuing greater strategic engagement with East Asia. He assured his hosts that China hoped for stability in South Asia and was ready to work with Bangladesh to promote peace in the new century. He taught that regional diplomacy was not a zero-sum game; China’s prosperity should be “a great encouragement to the Bangladeshi people” rather than a threat.
Zhu Rongji leaves behind a legacy of a man who saw “the entire country as one single chessboard,” always prioritising the big picture of national survival and regional harmony. He proved that a leader with backbone could challenge the chaos of the world, transform a civilisation into a modern powerhouse, and still maintain the humble heart of a “public servant” who cared deeply about the woes of the ordinary person. Eternal glory to the statesman who transformed China and extended the hand of friendship to Bangladesh in a spirit of true brotherhood.
[The Writer is the Diplomatic Correspondent of the New Nation.]
