A habitual western estimation of China charts its uninterrupted ascent
to global hegemony. It will soon overtake the US as the world’s largest
economy. Fast forward a few decades and it will assume the mantle of the
pre-eminent power. Some time in between, its political system will make
the transition to something resembling democracy.
It is a
beguilingly simple thesis, one particularly attractive to the western
business executives who have joined the China gold rush. Yet what
strikes me whenever I visit Beijing is that the more strident China’s
leaders sound on the global stage, the more insecure they seem at home.
China
is certainly making its presence felt internationally. The
hide-your-strength strategy of Deng Xiaoping has made way for an
unabashed assertiveness that unsettles neighbours and worries the US.
Long-standing maritime disputes in the East and South China seas have
become military flashpoints. The Chinese blogosphere overflows with
calls for the country’s leaders to teach old enemies a lesson.
Policy
makers in Beijing insist that China has no interest in global dominion.
The idea of empire, they say, runs against all historic tradition. The
ruling elite also protests that it acts as a restraint on the
nationalist fervour in cyberspace. But, yes, officials say, the Middle
Kingdom has reached a point when it expects to get its way on issues of
national interest. And, no, it is not about to take lectures from
western powers that exploited and invaded China over more than a
century.
In part, the new assertiveness is a straightforward
reflection of commercial ties. Politics follows economics: China’s
expanding geopolitical interests are a consequence of multiplying trade
and investment relationships. There has also been, however, a
discernible change of mindset. Much as officials still say that, as a
“developing” country, China cannot carry the burden of international
governance, they are dismissive of the idea that it should sign up as a
stakeholder in a set of rules made in Washington.
Talk among
officials about Xi Jinping, the incoming president, emphasises
continuity over change. The guiding principles were laid down at last
year’s Communist party congress. Westerners curious about strategic
direction are offered exhaustive (and exhausting) accounts of the
proceedings. There is one thing, however, on which everyone seems to
agree. Mr Xi will be stronger than Hu Jintao. The new president, it is
said, has a tighter grip on the levers of power.
Beijing insists
it does not want clashes abroad to disrupt economic progress. Logic says
that must be right. Yet it is hard to miss the sharper edge to the
rhetoric when conversation turns to disputes with Japan in the East
China Sea and with Vietnam, the Philippines and others in the South
China Sea. The risk of a military clash, particularly with Japan in the
waters around the Senkaku (or, in Chinese, Diaoyu) islands is far from
negligible. Alongside it lies the danger of a collision between the
Chinese navy and the US Pacific fleet.
Mr Xi is right to worry
about stability at home. China’s economic challenge is clear enough. A
slowing global economy will soon collide with his country’s ageing
demographic profile. The labour force has peaked; the country is about
to grow older. Fast. So the new leadership has promised to accelerate as
yet fairly vague economic reforms.
Mindful of popular
discontent, Mr Xi has pledged to scrap bureaucratic pomp and excess and
to crack down on corruption. Party officials are these days careful
about wearing expensive watches. The plan is to press on with a
rebalancing of the economy towards domestic demand. So far the party has
not done a bad job. The next stage will be harder. Corruption is
embedded in the fabric of the economy. Freeing up capital for investment
in dynamic sectors risks confrontation with the bosses of big
state-owned enterprises. All the while, China’s great fear is of falling
into the middle-income trap.
Turn to politics and it is hard to
find any hint of significant reform. Rising incomes and the explosion of
social media have rewritten the terms of China’s social and political
discourse. The censors struggle to keep up with the more than 300m users
of the weibo microblogging sites. Google is blocked but everyone seems
to have a way of accessing their Gmail.
The response to recent
popular protests – whether about corruption, heavy handed censorship or
lethal levels of pollution in Beijing – has been calibrated to avoid
confrontation. There have been hints that the party could reform the
arbitrary detention system known as “re-education through labour”. But
suggest a redistribution of power between state and citizens and the
response of officials is stony-faced, The modernisation programme
promoted by Wen Jiabao, the outgoing prime minister, looks unlikely to
survive his departure.
What’s missing is a recognition that the
power shift between state and individual is already under way. The party
thinks the answer to social and political unrest is economic growth.
But prosperity generates its own dynamic – as the source of, rather than
an antidote to, rising pressure for political change.
There is
no great clamour in China for western democracy. The party remains the
nation’s guardian. But the simple fact of joining the middle class leads
ordinary citizens to demand transparent, accountable government.
Prosperity gives them a vital stake in the rule of law; and the digital
revolution provides a means to press their case. For now, the party
thinks otherwise. The consequence is a China that looks at once stronger
and more fragile.
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