THE RISE OF A CULT HERO

Strategist Zeng Qinghong, political guru

Heir Smooth operator Hu Jintao may be China's next chief

FORGET TITANIC, that ship has sailed. These days, one of the most sought-after entertainment titles in Beijing comes from a most unlikely artist - Premier Zhu Rongji. Zhu's boffo speech and press conference last March, in which he accepted the central government's top post, is out on videocassette and videodisk. And Beijingers are snapping up copies faster than anything by Steven Spielberg or John Woo.

Perhaps the enthusiasm is a manifestation of a nation's need to believe in its leaders during a time of social dislocation. But Zhu, the economic guru from Hunan province, has become something of a cult hero to millions of Chinese. His stern visage appears on the pages of countless tabloids. Books chronicle his life and lay out in detail his agenda to remake China's bureaucracy and companies along virtually capitalist lines. In tea rooms and noodle shops, gossip gives way to Zhu's reformist polemic. "He is a great man, someone who does things with daring and vigor," says Jiang Wei, a private stall-keeper in Beijing. "Why can't more officials speak the truth like him?"

That seems a curious reaction to a man who, perhaps more than any other, is responsible for the considerable hardship confronting both workers and cadres. His purge of failing state-owned enterprises has eliminated millions of jobs, just as he is snatching away the security of guaranteed income and housing. And while Zhu has an impressive intellect and is a compelling public speaker, colleagues complain he can also be hot-tempered and self-righteous. The personal mythology that accompanied his rise consists almost entirely of incidents in which Zhu scolds - or summarily fires - incompetent underlings and those who fail to live up to his strict ethical code.

But to the ordinary Chinese, bone-tired of government corruption, Zhu's aggressive rectitude is part of the charm. As mayor and Communist Party chief in Shanghai from 1988 to 1991, he launched anti-corruption drives that earned comparisons to Judge Bao Qingtian, the Song Dynasty paragon of justice. Better still, Zhu has distinguished himself as the nation's macro-economic manager. After being named vice premier in 1993, he tamed 25% inflation and brought the economy to a soft-landing. That earned Zhu the support of top leaders, including President Jiang Zemin.

Zhu's grassroots popularity is a blessing for the party's propagandists, who are now trying to highlight a compassionate side of the man nicknamed "Iron Face." In one recent broadcast, Zhu is seen chatting with a laid-off worker who has opened a food stall at a Beijing factory. "Listening to you, I am deeply moved," Zhu tells the man, who has been complaining about his loss of station. "You made greater contributions to society after you became unemployed. I must learn from you."

There is danger in exposure. If Zhu sometimes seems uncomfortable in the spotlight, it is partly because he must be careful not to upstage his boss, Jiang. Zhu's excellent English and commanding presence play well with international leaders. On a recent trip to Europe, receptions were notably warmer than the mixed treatment Jiang garnered during his groundbreaking U.S. visit last year. Zhu has criticized China's official media for giving him too much coverage.

Workers and intellectuals alike wonder whether his popularity will last. Though Zhu has repeatedly pledged not to devalue the yuan, Japan's plunging yen threatens to undercut China's export competitiveness and slow economic growth, just when the country needs to create millions of new jobs to absorb redundant workers. And Zhu's ambitious program to downsize the bureaucracy will meet heavy opposition from entrenched cadres. Feng Jianying, a researcher, was once a fan of the premier. But that was before Zhu announced his housing reforms, which eliminate state-provided accommodation, obliging people to buy or rent. The initiative spoiled Feng's dream of a decent-sized apartment after years of loyal service. "This is intolerable," he fumes. "It looks like Zhu wants everyone to sacrifice their interests." Feng says he is hoping for street protests: "Even if only 10,000 people go out, Zhu will have second thoughts."

The daunting hurdles ahead lead some to draw comparisons between Zhu and tragic folk heroes. Fan Cunyu, a member of the new nuclear energy corporation, notes that many reformers in Chinese history have met sad fates. Shang Yang, who undermined regional warlords to make way for the rise of the First Emperor two millennia ago, was pulled apart by horsecarts. Before the final collapse of the Qing Dynasty in more modern times, the reformer Tan Sitong was beheaded. "In every transition there are winners and losers," Fan says. "While history presses forward, individuals often meet tragedy."

Zhu clearly understands that the fickle public may find reason for scorn rather than adulation, should his programs fail. In his famous acceptance speech, he intimated no less. "No matter what awaits me, whether it's land mines or an abyss, I will blaze my trail without hesitation or misgivings," he said, in a partial quotation from Zhuge Liang, the legendary strategist and prime minister who loyally served his emperor during the Three Kingdoms period. If there is a fall from grace, Zhu has hinted he may retreat to a quiet life in academia. It beats being torn apart by horsecarts.