Five lesser-known facts about Jiang Zemin that Chinese internet users are fondly remembering him for

It is said that nostalgia is like rose-tinted glasses through which the past always looks better. Such is the case with former Chinese President Jiāng Zémín 江泽民, who died of leukemia and associated multiple organ failure on Wednesday in Shanghai. He was 96.

The political legacy of Jiang, who was president for a decade until 2003 and led the ruling Communist Party for 13 years until 2002, is extensive. During his time in power, Jiang stabilized the country, repaired its ties with the West, and oversaw the handover of Hong Kong after the army crushed the Tiananmen Square pro-democracy protests in 1989. Jiang also supported Beijing’s admission to the World Trade Organization and helmed an unprecedented economic boom, laying the foundation for China to become a global powerhouse. He did not, however, make any fundamental changes to China’s political system or the Communist Party’s way of ruling the country.

Jiang’s death marked the first time in history that a retired Chinese president has died after the advent of social media. Chinese internet users have analyzed and evaluated his legacy in an unprecedented way. On Weibo, there have been an outpouring of fond remembrances — not of Jiang’s political accomplishments, but of his casual confidence, flamboyant persona, and many talents.

The main wellspring of the nostalgia about Jiang seems to stem from the contrast between him and China’s sternly autocratic current leader, Xí Jìnpíng 习近平, who rarely mingles with the public or shows the more personal side of himself.

Below we’ve compiled a list of lesser-known facts about Jiang that Chinese internet users are talking about with a great deal of affection and admiration.

He loved music

Jiang was a man of multiple musical talents. Growing up, Jiang learned the Chinese flute and a traditional two-stringed bowed instrument called erhu. As a self taught musician, Jiang also played the piano, the ukulele, the organ, and the Hawaiian guitar.

With a penchant for music, Jiang was famous for regaling world leaders with impromptu song and dance performances on diplomatic occasions. During his days as Shanghai’s mayor, Jiang waltzed with San Francisco’s then-Mayor Dianne Feinstein and sang “When We Were Young” in 1982. He belted out a rendition of Elvis Presley’s “Love Me Tender” during a state visit to the Philippines in 1996. At a 2001 state banquet for then-U.S. president George W. Bush in Beijing’s Great Hall of the People, he performed an impromptu duet of “O Sole Mio” before twirling across the dance floor with first lady Laura Bush.

In a one-on-one interview in May 1997, Jiang told CNN, “I feel that no matter what one’s profession, if one can enjoy reading some literature, enjoy some music, that can be very helpful to the healthy growth of the person.”

He introduced Titanic to China

The 1997 film by James Cameron was one of the first foreign films to enter modern China and was a massive box-office hit thanks to a surprising endorsement from Jiang. Before Titanic officially opened in China, Jiang watched it in a private screening and surprised a group of legislators at the country’s annual National People’s Congress by saying that he was deeply
moved by the film.

“’Let us not assume that we can’t learn from capitalism. Titanic has a budget of $200 million. This is venture capitalism…I invite my comrades of the Politburo to see the movie — not to propagate capitalism but to better understand our opposition, the better to enable us to succeed,” he said to the officials.

On Weibo, fans of Jiang reminisced about the days when uncensored versions of foreign films and TV shows were regularly introduced to China under Jiang’s rule. Many commenters also remembered the historic moment of the Chinese national soccer team making its first and only appearance in the World Cup in 2002 when Jiang was still in power.

He had a passable grasp of several foreign languages

Jiang spoke several foreign languages including English, Russian, German, and Romanian, albeit with a notable accent. A video of Jiang that has been making the rounds on the Chinese internet shows him giving a speech in English at Harvard University in 2000. “The real display of cultural confidence is not feeling ashamed of speaking someone else’s language,” a Weibo user commented.

For a book titled Leading Cadres Must Make an Effort to Learn Foreign Languages, which was published by the central government in 2011, Jiang contributed a preface, in which he urges officials to learn languages so they can communicate with foreigners and give the world more understanding of China.

His passion for foreign languages and openness to Western culture stands in stark contrast to China’s growing rejection of English-language teaching in recent years as the government ratchets up its campaign against Western influence.

He was known for iconic moments in diplomatic meetings and interviews

Jiang’s unmatched charisma and confidence set him apart from traditional Chinese leaders who are notoriously restrained and scripted in public. Possessed of quick wit and a free-wheeling nature, Jiang produced a slew of memorable moments and quotes that were captured on camera.

When Jiang met with Spanish king Juan Carlos in 1996, he casually cracked out a comb to fix his hair at a reception as if no one was watching. During his 2000 interview with CBS correspondent Mike Wallace, which remains one of the longest and most candid conversations between a Chinese politician and an American reporter to date, Jiang broke into a Chinese folk song and recited part of the Gettysburg Address in between tough questions about the Beijing Massacre and the Falun Gong.

The most famous exchange Jiang had with a journalist was no doubt with Hong Kong journalist Sharon Cheung (陈宝华 Chén Bǎohuá). At a press conference in 2000, Jiang was aggressively grilled by Cheung on whether the Party had interfered in the re-election of Tung Chee-hwa (董建华 Dǒng Jiànhuá) as Hong Kong’s chief executive. Appearing infuriated, Jiang eventually lost his composure and belittled her: “You seem very familiar with Western media, but you are too young.”

“Mike Wallace from the U.S. is way above you all. I talked joyfully and comfortably with him,” he went on, switching smoothly between Mandarin and English, and then Cantonese. “Questions you asked are too simple. Sometimes naive! Do you understand?”

He had a cult-like legion of fans who call themselves “toad worshippers”

In the early 2000s, Chinese internet users started to notice the uncanny similarities between a toad and Jiang, who was famous for wearing absurdly high-waisted pants and supersize, black-rimmed glasses. The resemblance led to memes juxtaposing Jiang’s images with the amphibian’s and people calling Jiang “toad.”

But as time went on, the meme blossomed into “toad worshiping” (膜蛤 móhá), a humorous subculture of people who unironically admired Jiang and used the nickname affectionately. Calling themselves “fans of the toad” (蛤丝 hásī), Jinag’s followers celebrated his birthday every year by simply posting “+1s” on their social media accounts, which stood for their best wishes to add “one more second” to Jiang’s lifetime. To discuss the difference between Xi and Jiang, “toad worshippers” invented the phrase xíxíháhá 习习蛤蛤, a pun on the onomatopoeia for the sound of laughter xīxīhāhā 嘻嘻哈哈.