The most intellectually honest answer to the question of who will succeed Xi Jinping as China’s paramount leader is simply, “We don’t know.”

Xi’s succession is the ultimate “known unknown” of Chinese politics. We do not know when Xi will leave office. We do not know how Xi will leave office. We do not know whether Xi will handpick a political heir. We do not even know how a successor would be chosen if Xi does not designate one.

This opacity is concerning. China is arguably the world’s second most powerful country. Xi’s role as general secretary of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) gives him a central role in economic, diplomatic, and military decisions that reverberate across the globe.

Would a new leader embrace or reject Xi’s legacy? Governments and businesses everywhere have a stake in his replacement’s preferences on political control, market reform, U.S.-China relations, and territorial ambition regarding Taiwan and the South China Sea. But it is hard to speculate about the future of such issues without any insight into the nature of Xi’s departure or how his successor would be selected.

Still, the absence of clear foresight does not mean we should just throw up our hands and not think about Xi’s succession. Peering into a future largely devoid of information makes it even more important to identify and evaluate the evidence that does exist.

Such evidence does not tell us what will happen with Xi’s succession. But it does allow us to engage in informed conjecture about what might happen. The evidence includes Xi’s political behavior over his first 11 years in power, the history of succession politics in the CCP and other Leninist governing parties, and a handful of Party-state regulations.

This evidence leads to three conjectures: First, Xi is unlikely to anoint a successor, or at least not a strong successor, well in advance. Second, the ultimate outcome of Xi’s succession is unlikely to be orderly or predictable, because of contending political networks and manipulable Party regulations. Third, the policy outcomes of Xi’s succession will depend on China’s situation when he leaves office, although some continuities are probable regardless of Xi’s performance.

There are many ways Xi could leave office, including a voluntary resignation, an elite rebellion, a military coup, or a sudden illness — with huge potential for variation within each scenario. Several possibilities are discussed by Richard McGregor and Jude Blanchette in their stellar article After Xi: Future Scenarios for Leadership Succession in Post-Xi Jinping Era.

Xi will likely rule China until he “goes to meet Marx,” as the saying goes. Xi had acquired enough power to ignore the nascent precedent saying he should indicate a successor at the 19th Party Congress in 2017. The next year, he amended the state constitution to remove term limits on his concurrent role as head of state, allowing him to rule for life as president as well as head of the Party and the military. In 2022, at age 69, Xi ignored previous norms that said leaders aged 68 or older should retire from the Politburo.

Xi is unlikely to voluntarily name a successor, let alone hand over power, anytime soon. Doing so could weaken his authority, exacerbate divisions within his network of supporters, and eventually threaten his political legacy and personal safety. And right now, Xi’s power — especially his centralized control of personnel, ideology, security services, and the military — makes it very difficult for any rivals to organize against him, even if his policies become unpopular.

Elite rebellion is not impossible. Research conducted by Milan Svolik shows that two-thirds of deposed authoritarians fall to inside challengers. Yuhua Wang finds that almost 60% of Chinese emperors who did not exit office by natural death were murdered, deposed, forced to abdicate, or forced to commit suicide by regime elites. A conceivable trigger for Xi would be an economic depression or military misadventure, or if he began purging his closest allies.

Naming a successor could undermine Xi’s authority. Once Xi announces the next paramount leader, he could become a lame duck as the political elite begin to softly cultivate ties with and take more political cues from the successor. Even if that person did nothing but follow Xi’s orders, there would effectively be more than one power center in the Party. The successor would also provide a focal point that would make it somewhat less difficult for Party insiders to rally against Xi’s leadership in any moment of crisis.

Choosing a successor could also weaken Xi’s political support. Xi would probably choose a close political ally to advance his political project. But that choice would mean not choosing others, which could alienate top lieutenants who are overlooked. It could also empower lower-ranking officials with close ties to the designated heir, while disempowering those without such ties. Such fractures could weaken Xi’s ability to mobilize the Party elite to implement his decisions. If Xi were to try to overcome this problem by nominating an outside candidate, all his close allies might feel vulnerable, and together they could undermine the successor — and, by extension, Xi himself.

Finally, handing power to a successor could threaten Xi’s legacy. Xi could retain formidable informal influence after retirement, but he appears to prefer the security of formal office, having worked assiduously to institutionalize the powers of the general secretary and ban the informal “old person” politics practiced by Deng Xiaoping and Jiang Zemin. Leaving office would also render Xi vulnerable to the hidden preferences and political talents of his successor (indeed, few glimpsed Xi’s true colors before he became leader and began displaying the extent of his personal ambition and political skill). His anti-corruption campaign and ideological crackdowns have made him many enemies, and Xi may fear for his freedom and safety, or at least for the longevity of his policy priorities. More fundamentally, Xi seems to see himself as a man of destiny, a true believer in the Party’s mission of national rejuvenation and his own ability to achieve that goal. One look at U.S. politics is enough to see that politicians everywhere have egos and like to stick around.

But there are good reasons for Xi to have a plan, or multiple plans …

We cannot see into Xi’s mind, and any succession plan that currently exists would be one of his most closely guarded political secrets. In his excellent book Party of One: The Rise of Xi Jinping and China's Superpower Future, Chun Han Wong makes the most persuasive counterargument that an orderly succession is in the cards. Wong contends that “Xi’s ability to engineer a smooth succession could determine whether his vision of a rejuvenated China will survive him.” If Xi can install a strong successor who will continue his policy agenda and protect his family, that could avoid a power struggle that risks dividing the Party, harming the country, and undermining Xi’s legacy. Xi would surely like to do this, but the political price could be prohibitive.

Party history offers little precedent that would appeal to Xi in this regard. Mao Zedong launched the Cultural Revolution in part to attack his heir apparent, Liu Shaoqi, for undermining Maoist economic policy. Lin Biao, the next designated successor, died in a plane crash as he attempted to flee Beijing after his son hatched a plot to assassinate Mao. Deng Xiaoping purged his first two protégés, Hu Yaobang and Zhao Ziyang, for wavering in their commitment to Party dominance, and then he had to force Jiang Zemin to re-embrace economic reform with his 1992 “Southern Tour.” And Xi must surely see how Jiang’s support for his own rise ended up severely curtailing Jiang’s political influence.

The pitfalls outlined above will likely discourage Xi from naming a replacement anytime soon, even to the detriment of his longer-term legacy. The likeliest precedent for Xi’s succession would therefore be that of Mao to Hua Guofeng. Following Lin Biao’s death in 1971, Mao eyed Wang Hongwen as his successor, then changed his mind and eventually tapped Hua Guofeng five months before dying in September 1976. Hua was plucked from relative obscurity but barely lasted two years as paramount leader until Deng outmaneuvered him (although both sought to revise Maoist policies).

This history illuminates another confounding variable in succession prognostications: Xi might change his mind, perhaps even multiple times, about whether to appoint a successor and who it ought to be. As Xi ages, he could increasingly cultivate political heirs, and he will likely have to delegate more duties to subordinates. But the very hint of Xi’s retirement would be a seismic shock to elite politics, and the reaction of perceived allies and adversaries will influence his thinking. If he feels uneasy or threatened, he could cancel his plans. Likewise, even if a successor is decided, if Xi comes to doubt their loyalty or competence, that designation may not last.

Xi’s successor is unlikely to be as powerful, regardless of how the succession occurs. The later a successor is appointed prior to Xi’s departure, the weaker they are likely to be. If Xi appoints no successor, different networks of Xi followers are likely to struggle over the top job.

Much of this uncertainty stems from the Party’s lack of clear succession mechanisms. Mao tapped Hua, Deng ousted Hua, Deng elevated Jiang, Deng anointed Hu, and then Jiang supported Xi. It is backroom politics through and through.

Xi’s selection as Hu’s heir apparent after the 17th Party Congress in 2007 was reportedly helped by his victory over Li Keqiang in a straw poll of senior officials. But Xi ended intra-Party voting after 2012 in favor of choosing new leadership lineups through elite interviews.

If Xi picks a successor, he will likely go through the motions of an orchestrated but seemingly rigorous selection process to bolster the legitimacy of the chosen cadre. He could also embed the choice in authoritative Party documents and make other leaders declare their assent, making it more difficult (or at least more awkward) to turn on the successor.

If Xi experiences a sudden health incident, there is no way to know what would happen next. Article 23 of the Party charter simply states that the general secretary is elected by a plenum of the Central Committee and must be drawn from the ranks of the Politburo Standing Committee (PSC). Xi’s successor would likely, but not necessarily, be a current PSC member, because a plenum could technically add a new member and then make that person the general secretary.

But how would the Central Committee even convene a plenum without a general secretary? The Party Charter says that the Politburo is responsible for convening plenums, but it is the general secretary who is responsible for convening the Politburo. This legal conundrum lays bare the importance of informal power in determining political outcomes in Beijing.

History can be a guide to the future …

The best account of the transition from Mao to Hua to Deng is Joseph Torigian’s book Prestige, Manipulation, and Coercion, the title of which sets out the three key factors that matter for succession struggles in Leninist one-party regimes.

First, the importance of prestige means that victory often depends more on interpersonal authority than policy differences or economic interests. If we apply this theory to the case study of Xi’s succession, we can examine the different networks that connect senior leaders below Xi.

Two potential rival networks of Xi loyalists seem to be emerging. The first is a group of officials connected to Fujian Province who either got to know Xi when he was a local leader there from 1985 to 2002 or worked with him there afterward, including Xi's chief of staff Cai Qi and new economic czar He Lifeng. The second is a group of officials with similar ties through Zhejiang Province, where Xi was leader from 2002 to 2007. Atop this group is Li Qiang, who, as premier, leads the work of the ministries in the State Council. However, we know little of the personal relationships between top leaders or the possible coherence of such networks without Xi. And, the longer Xi rules, the more of his longtime associates will retire into “Party elder” status and vie for post-Xi political influence with emerging “seventh generation” leaders born in the 1970s.

Second, victory depends on coercion. That is, gaining the support or control of the military, police, intelligence services, and other security-related ministries to enforce the succession. For Xi’s succession, we might look at which networks of Xi followers appear well placed to leverage China’s centers of coercive power.

One could argue that the Fujian network is best placed to deploy coercion. It likely includes top security official Chen Wenqing and Minister of Public Security Wang Xiaohong, as well as newly empowered Central Military Commission (CMC) Vice Chairman He Weidong and his fellow CMC member Miao Hua. Cai Qi’s remit includes the Central Guard Bureau, which is responsible for the security of Party leaders. Chen Yixin, the minister of state security and a close colleague of Xi and Li Qiang in Zhejiang, could emerge as a rival powerbroker.

The third key factor, manipulation, means victory depends more on the ability to control the process of selection rather than playing to a defined “selectorate.” However, while rules can be bent or even ignored, the appearance of legality, legitimacy, and stability is still important.

If Xi were to depart suddenly, who could best manipulate the process of selection? The situation would be extremely fluid, but a case can be made that Cai Qi — or someone in his position in the future — would play a role. Cai has an unusually central role in managing internal Party affairs as a PSC member who leads both the Central Secretariat and the General Office of the Central Committee. He would likely be the first senior leader to learn of any developments regarding Xi’s health or decision-making.

The Party charter produces the legal conundrum discussed earlier, but Article 23 also establishes the Central Secretariat as the working body of the Politburo. In the absence of a general secretary, Cai could argue for a generous interpretation of this article that allows the Central Secretariat to call a Politburo meeting that then convenes a plenum.

An aspiring leader would not need universal support to pull this off. According to Article 25 of the Central Committee Work Regulations (which the General Office has the authority to interpret), only a majority of Politburo members must be present to hold a meeting. So, 13 Politburo members could convene a plenum. Article 24 says that a majority of Central Committee members then need to be present to hold a plenum. That is 103 members. Just half of those members are then needed to pass a decision. Thus, following the Party’s own rules, one would theoretically need the support of only 52 Central Committee members to appoint a new general secretary. (This minimum condition assumes that the 52 Central Committee members include 13 Politburo members.)

However, executing such a plan would require many other things to go one’s way, including control of the propaganda system, support from the military and security services, and rivals too weak or disorganized to challenge the move. Moreover, any new leader would prefer to come to power with the façade of unanimous support within the Party.

Another wildcard could be the vice president. Article 84 of the state constitution says that if the presidency becomes vacant, then the vice president becomes president. While the largely ceremonial presidency is easily the least important of Xi’s three main roles, the new officeholder would hold constitutional powers to promulgate laws, appoint state leaders, grant special pardons, declare a state of emergency, and even declare war and issue mobilization orders.

However, the constitution says that the president exercises these powers “pursuant to decisions of the National People’s Congress and the National People’s Congress Standing Committee [NPCSC].” Still, an accidental president could still try to affect the succession process by blocking government action. If they collaborated with a powerful NPCSC chairman, they could use lawfare, new appointments, or emergency decrees to gain more leverage.

These thought exercises are not concrete forecasts, however, and they are most valuable as illustrations of the uncertainty and unpredictability of succession politics within the Party, especially if there is a sudden succession crisis or a move to depose an anointed yet unpopular successor.

The history of succession politics in China points to the third major conjecture about Xi’s succession. That history suggests the Party is more likely to continue Xi’s policy agenda if China is on a positive trajectory when he leaves office, and more likely to depart from Xi’s legacy if China is experiencing significant difficulties.

For example, strong elite and popular support for change emerged following Mao’s passing in 1976 in a society traumatized by the chaos of the Cultural Revolution and the disaster of the Great Leap Forward. Hua Guofeng and then Deng Xiaoping embraced political loosening and economic reform.

Similarly, when Xi succeeded Hu in 2012, there was widespread social discontent with weak leadership, rampant corruption, and lax regulation, and Party insiders were alarmed by the disunity evident in the Bo Xilai scandal. A mood of crisis arguably helped Xi consolidate power.

It is impossible to say what China will look like by the time Xi’s successor is determined. While pessimism is rising, and the country’s growth trajectory will notably underperform its world-beating past, it is far from certain that China is destined for crisis or even for stagnation.

What is least likely to change after Xi is the continuation of CCP rule. The officials around Xi, whether they like him or not, have a vested interest in perpetuating the system that has defined their lives and careers. Not even the Cultural Revolution could convince cadres otherwise. Of course, Xi’s departure would open a window for social protests, but the Party could probably still deploy its forbidding internal security forces to suppress dissent.

A successor will almost certainly owe much to Xi. They may lean into Xi’s legacy to burnish their own legitimacy, at least at first, necessitating continued veneration for Xi Jinping Thought even if it is repurposed to advance different policy objectives, much as Deng did with Mao’s legacy.

A successor is unlikely to enjoy Xi’s same concentration of political authority, which would mean more power sharing, perhaps among different networks of Xi supporters. This could create a somewhat looser ideological environment with more room for policy debates and more decentralized governance. In that environment, Chinese society could become somewhat more open and tolerant.

An intriguing consideration that is leading some analysts to take a more optimistic view of China’s political future is generational change — that is, future leaders may have different values, and so may govern differently. Research by Wei Shan and Juan Chen finds that young Chinese are more individualistic, more desiring of self-expression, and less compliant with authority figures. But they are also less likely to prefer democracy as a form of governance, probably because of propaganda, patriotic education, and growing political dysfunction in many democracies. Fundamentally, however, the study of generations cannot fully explain how an individual will respond to their times. Many people assumed that Xi’s personal traumas during the Cultural Revolution and his professional experiences in the Reform and Opening era would make him a relatively liberal leader. They were wrong.

Economic policy is more fertile ground for anyone wishing to depart from Xi’s legacy. Even senior policymakers today know that China’s economy is facing unprecedented challenges, and Xi’s preferences for security and control are affecting its performance.

After Xi, an elite consensus could conceivably emerge around shifting course on the economy and moving toward more market-oriented policy settings, stronger support for the private sector, greater openness to foreign firms, and new approaches such as household stimulus packages.

Foreign policy is less likely to change than economic policy. U.S.-China strategic competition increasingly resembles something like a new Cold War, wherein both Beijing and Washington view competition with the other as a foreign policy priority. This strategic dynamic would make it politically and practically difficult for any new leader to engineer a structural rapprochement with the United States, although they may pursue détente while Beijing seeks to address domestic challenges (like the path that Xi is currently pursuing with the United States).

However, a new leader could also feel the need for a show of force to boost their political status and prove their control of the military. Torigian shows how Deng did this by invading Vietnam in 1979; Xi arguably did something similar by leading China’s response to the Diaoyu/Senkaku crisis in late 2012.

Xi’s succession is unlikely to precipitate an extreme scenario like an invasion or blockade of Taiwan. But it raises the possibility of Chinese military actions, such as Sino-Indian border incursions, island reclamation in the South China Sea, or massive military exercises around Taiwan.

Predicting the future is hard. Foreign Policy published an article in 2017 claiming that Xi had already chosen his successor: Chen Min’er. Seven years later, Chen is not even on the PSC. Likewise, there is little chance that we can guess the precise process and result of China’s next succession.

But analyzing the history, regulations, and structure of Chinese politics suggests we can have a higher degree of confidence in some more general projections. Xi is unlikely to anoint a successor anytime soon and may never settle on a durable plan. Whether a plan exists or not, the process will probably be influenced by personal rivalries, political machinations, and the security apparatus. Policy shifts will depend on China’s situation at the time.

And Xi could rule for a long time yet. He would be 84 years old at the 23rd Party Congress in 2037. If Joe Biden wins the U.S. presidential election in 2024, he would be 86 at the end of his second term. Deng was 87 when he embarked on his landmark Southern Tour in 1992.

What is the likely impact if Xi effectively rules for life? Politics would become progressively less stable, as other leaders maneuver against each other in case of a sudden succession crisis. Decision-making could become increasingly personalistic and volatile. Policy would probably continue to emphasize national security, adopt state-heavy solutions to economic problems, and play into strategic competition with the United States and its allies and partners.

That assessment sounds bleak, but we should also remember the possibility of change. Julian Gewirtz has written of the need to avoid “historical determinism” about China’s future. The uncertainties highlighted here underscore the dangers of assuming that China will always be like it is today.

After all, history is driven by a combination of individual leaders, institutional structures, economic constraints, social pressures, and international relations, all of which interact in ways that are fundamentally dynamic and difficult to foresee. Xi’s legacy may endure with minor tweaks. Or China could see even stronger militarism, instability, and repression under its next leader. But there is also a chance that a new general secretary will move the Party toward more tolerant politics and more open markets.

While a wide range of succession scenarios are possible, one thing is clear: all of them have enormous geopolitical implications. Given the stakes, and despite the many uncertainties, the imperative to monitor and assess Xi’s succession is more powerful than ever.

This article is adapted from an invited keynote address delivered by the author on September 26, 2023, at the inaugural Global Conference on New Sinology hosted by the Organisation for Research on China and Asia in New Delhi, India. A shorter summary of the address can be found in the GCNS Conference Report 2023. The author would like to thank Dominic Chiu, Christopher Johnson, Joseph Torigian, Chun Han Wong, and Guoguang Wu for their valuable comments and feedback. Any errors and conjectures remain the author’s own.