Foreign Affairs: China's Governance Crisis (Part One of Two Part Series)

By Minxin Pei

September/October 2002 Issue

(Clearwisdom.net) This article was published in biweekly journal, Foreign Affairs. The author, Minxin Pei, Senior Associate at the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, is completing a book titled China's Trapped Transition: The Limits of Developmental Autocracy.

MORE THAN MUSICAL CHAIRS

Predicting the outcome of China's upcoming leadership succession has become a popular parlor game in certain Washington circles. The curiosity aroused by the transition is understandable, given the huge stakes involved for the world's largest country. If all goes well, the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) is scheduled to select a new and younger leadership at its Sixteenth Party Congress this fall. The incumbent CCP general secretary, 76-year-old Jiang Zemin, may step down and be replaced by China's Vice President Hu Jintao, who is 59. The all-powerful Politburo Standing Committee will see most of its members retire, as will the important Central Committee. In addition, Chinese Premier Zhu Rongji is to step down in March, and Li Peng, the leader of the National People's Congress (the country's legislature), may be heading for the exit as well.

In a country ruled largely by man, not law, succession creates rare opportunities for political intrigue and policy change. Thus, speculation is rife about the composition, internal rivalries, and policy implications of a post-Jiang leadership. The backgrounds of those expected to ascend to the top unfortunately reveal little. By and large, the majority of new faces are technocrats. Some have stellar resumes but thin records; other front-runners boast solid experience as provincial party bosses but carry little national clout.

In any case, conjectures about the immediate policy impact of the pending leadership change are an exercise in futility, because Jiang will likely wield considerable influence even after his semiretirement. A truly dominant new leader may not emerge in Beijing for another three to five years. And regardless of the drama that the succession process might provide, a single-minded focus on power plays in Beijing misses the real story: China is facing a hidden crisis of governance. This fact ought to preoccupy those who believe that much more is at stake in Beijing than a game of musical chairs.

The idea of an impending governance crisis in Beijing may sound unduly alarmist. To the outside world, China is a picture of dynamism and promise. Its potential market size, consistently high growth rates, and recent accession to the World Trade Organization have made the Middle Kingdom a top destination of foreign direct investment ($46 billion in 2001), and multinational corporations salivate at the thought of its future growth. But beneath this giddy image of progress and prosperity lies a different reality -- one that is concealed by the glitzy skylines of Shanghai, Beijing, and other coastal cities. The future of China, and the West's interests there, depends critically on how Beijing's new leaders deal with this somber reality.

DOT COMMUNISM AND ITS DISCONTENTS

China's current crisis results from fundamental contradictions in the reforms that it has pursued over the past two decades -- a period that has seen the amazing transformation of the communist regime from one that was infatuated with class struggle to one obsessed by growth rates. This "dot communism," characterized by the marriage of a Leninist party to bureaucratic capitalism with a globalist gloss, has merely disguised, rather than eliminated, these contradictions. But they are growing ever harder to ignore. The previously hidden costs of transition have begun to surface: Further change implies not simply a deepening of market liberalization but also the implementation of political reforms that could endanger the CCP's monopoly on power.

These emerging contradictions are embedded in the very nature of the Chinese regime. For example, the government's market-oriented economic policies, pursued in a context of autocratic and predatory politics, make the CCP look like a self-serving, capitalistic ruling elite, and not a "proletarian party" championing the interests of working people. The party's professed determination to maintain political supremacy also runs counter to its declared goals of developing a "socialist market economy" and "ruling the country according to law," because the minimum requirements of a market economy and the rule of law are institutionalized curbs on political power. The CCP's ambition to modernize Chinese society leaves unanswered the question of how increasing social autonomy will be protected from government caprice. And the party's perennial fear of independently organized interest groups does not prepare it for the inevitable emergence of such groups in an industrialized economy. These unresolved contradictions, inherent in the country's transition away from communism, are the source of rising tensions in China's polity, economy, and society.

During the go-go 1990s, the irreconcilable nature of these contradictions was obscured by rising prosperity and relative political tranquility. Economically, accelerating liberalization and deepening integration with the world marketplace produced unprecedented prosperity, even though some tough reforms (especially those affecting the financial sector and state-owned enterprises, or SOEs) lagged behind. Politically, the ruling elite drew its own lesson from the collapse of Soviet communism ("It's the economy, stupid") and closed ranks behind a strategy that prioritized economic growth and left the political system untouched.

This strategy worked for a decade. Within the regime, conservatives who opposed market reforms were marginalized. China's pro-democracy movement, which peaked with the Tiananmen Square protest in 1989, also waned after its leadership was decapitated through exile or imprisonment. The resulting tranquility ended the polarized debate between liberals and conservatives of the 1980s. But ironically, this shift also silenced those at both ends of the ideological spectrum who would have cried that the emperor had no clothes. Thus, the regime escaped pressure to adopt deeper political reforms to relieve the tensions produced by the contradictions of dot communism. With rising wealth and loose talk of a "China century," even some skeptics thought the CCP had managed to square the circle.

The incompatibilities between China's current political system, however, and the essential requirements of the rule of law, a market economy, and an open society have not been washed away by waves of foreign investment. Pragmatists might view these contradictions as inconsequential cognitive nuisances. Unfortunately, their effects are real: they foreclose reform options that otherwise could be adopted for the regime's own long-term good. To be sure, China's pragmatic leaders have made a series of tactical adjustments to weather many new socioeconomic challenges, such as the CCP's recent outreach to entrepreneurs. But these moves are no substitute for genuine institutional reforms that would reinvigorate and relegitimize the ruling party.

THE BUBBLE BURSTS

In retrospect, the 1990s ought to be viewed as a decade of missed opportunities. The CCP leadership could have taken advantage of a booming economy to renew itself through a program of gradual political reform built on the rudimentary steps of the 1980s. But it did not, and now the cumulative costs of a decade of foot-dragging are becoming more visible. In many crucial respects, China's hybrid neo-authoritarian order eerily exhibits the pathologies of both the political stagnation of Leonid Brezhnev's Soviet Union and the crony capitalism of Suharto's Indonesia.

These pathologies -- such as pervasive corruption, a collusive local officialdom, elite cynicism, and mass disenchantment -- are the classic symptoms of degenerating governing capacity. In most political systems, a regime's capacity to govern is measured by how it performs three key tasks: mobilizing political support, providing public goods, and managing internal tensions. These three functions of governance -- legitimation, performance, and conflict resolution -- are, in reality, intertwined. A regime capable of providing adequate public goods (education, public health, law and order) is more likely to gain popular support and keep internal tensions low. In a Leninist party-state however, effective governance critically hinges on the health of the ruling party. Strong organizational discipline, accountability, and a set of core values with broad appeal are essential to governing effectively. Deterioration of the ruling party's strength, on the other hand, sets in motion a downward cycle that can severely impair the party-state's capacity to govern.

Numerous signs within China indicate that precisely such a process is producing huge governance deficits. The resulting strains are making the political and economic choices of China's rulers increasingly untenable. They may soon be forced to undertake risky reforms to stop the rot. If they do not, dot communism could be no more durable than the dot coms.

THE PARTY'S OVER

The decline of the CCP began during the rule of Mao Zedong, as the late leader's political radicalism, culminating in the madness of the Cultural Revolution (1966-76), deeply damaged the ruling party. The ascent of Deng Xiaoping and his progressive reforms slowed this process, as economic gains, the end of mass repression, and the expansion of personal freedoms partially repaired the CCP's tarnished image.

But Deng's pro-market reforms produced a different set of dynamics that began to corrode the CCP's support. As economic reform deepened, large segments of Chinese society became poorer (such as grain-producing farmers and workers in SOEs). The revenue-starved state was unable to compensate these losers from reform. Consequently, the CCP had little means to secure the political support of these disaffected groups beyond exhorting self-sacrifice and making empty promises of better times ahead.

Some members of the ruling elite also converted their political power into economic gains, building and profiting from patronage machines. In one survey, about two-thirds of the officials being trained at a municipal party school said their promotion depended solely on the favors of their superiors; only five percent thought their own efforts could advance their careers. A ruling party fractured from within by such personalized patronage systems is hardly capable of building broad-based support within society.

It is worth noting that mass political campaigns, a previous hallmark of the CCP's prowess, have virtually vanished from the Chinese political scene. An obvious explanation is that such campaigns tend to be disruptive and lead to political excesses, as they did during the Mao years. A more likely cause, however, is that the CCP no longer possesses the political appeal or the organizational capacity required to launch such campaigns even when it desires them (as was the case during Beijing's efforts to contain pro-democracy dissidents in the late 1980s and the Falun Gong spiritual movement in the late 1990s). Increasingly, when faced with direct challenges to its authority, the CCP can rely only on repression rather than public mobilization to counter its opponents.

IMMOBILIZED

The extent of the CCP's decline can be measured in three areas: the shrinkage of its organizational penetration, the erosion of its authority and appeal among the masses, and the breakdown of its internal discipline. The organizational decline of the CCP is, in retrospect, almost predetermined. Historically, Leninist parties have thrived only in economies dominated by the state. Such an economy provides the economic institutions (SOEs and collective farms) that form the organizational basis for the ruling party. By pursuing market reforms that have eliminated rural communes and most SOEs, the CCP has fallen victim to its own success. The new economic infrastructure, based on household farming, private business, and individual labor mobility, is inhospitable to a large party apparatus. For instance, an internal CCP report characterized half of the party's rural cells as "weak" or "paralyzed" in recent years. In urban areas, the CCP has been unable to penetrate the emerging private sector, while its old organizational base has collapsed along with the SOEs. In 2000, the CCP did not have a single member in 86 percent of the country's 1.5 million private firms and could establish cells in only one percent of private companies.

The CCP's organizational decay is paralleled by the decline of its authority and image among the public. A survey of 818 migrant laborers in Beijing in 1997-98 revealed that the prevailing image of the ruling party was that of a self-serving elite. Only 5 percent of the interviewees thought their local party cadres "work for the interests of the villagers," and 60 percent said their local officials "use their power only for private gains." Other surveys have revealed similar negative public perceptions of the CCP. A 1998 study of 12,000 urban and rural residents across 10 provinces conducted by the CCP's antigraft agency found that only 43 percent of respondents agreed that "the majority of party and government officials are clean," and that fully one-third said "only a minority of party and government officials are clean."

At the same time as public officials are losing respect, the party's ideological appeal has all but evaporated. Polls conducted by the official national trade union in 1996 showed that only 15 percent of the workers surveyed regarded communism as "their highest ideal," while 70 percent said that their top priority was to pursue individual happiness. Even members of the ruling elite are beginning, albeit reluctantly, to admit this reality. A poll conducted in 1998 among 673 CCP officials in the northeastern province of Jilin found that 35 percent thought the status and authority of government officials had declined.

At the heart of the CCP's organizational and reputational decline is the breakdown of its members' ideological beliefs and internal discipline. Cynicism and corruption abound. The sale of government offices by local CCP bosses was unheard of in the 1980s but became widespread in the 1990s. A 1998 survey of 2,000 provincial officials, conducted by the official antigraft agency, found that 45 percent of respondents thought such practices were continuing unabated.

Even more worrying, the CCP appears unable to enforce internal discipline despite the mortal threat posed by corruption, which has surpassed unemployment as the most serious cause of social instability. Recent official actions, especially the prosecution and execution of several senior officials, create the impression that the CCP leadership is committed to combating corruption. But a comprehensive look at the data tells a different story. Most corrupt officials caught in the government's dragnet seem to have gotten off with no more than a slap on the wrist. For example, of the 670,000 party members disciplined for wrongdoing from 1992 to 1997, only 37,500, or six percent, were punished by criminal prosecution. Indeed, self-policing may be impossible for a ruling party accountable to no one. According to a top CCP official, the party has in recent years expelled only about one percent of its members.

Perhaps the greatest contributing factor to the CCP's political decline is, ironically, the absence of competition. Competition would have forced the party to redefine its mission and recruit members with genuine public appeal. But like monopoly firms, the CCP has devoted its energies to preventing the emergence of competition. Without external pressures, monopolies such as the CCP inevitably develop a full range of pathologies such as patronage systems, organizational dystrophy, and unresponsiveness. Moreover, one-party regimes can rarely take on the new competitors that emerge when the political environment changes suddenly. The fall of the Soviet bloc regimes and the defeat of similar monopolistic parties in the developing world (such as Mexico's Institutional Revolutionary Party) show that an eroding capacity for political mobilization poses a long-term threat to the CCP.

(To be continued)

Source:http://www.foreignaffairs.org/Search/printable_fulltext.asp?i=20020901FAEssay9735.xml
Chinese version available at http://minghui.cc/mh/articles/2002/9/6/36150.html

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