By Eric Vandenbroeck
and co-workers
Xi Jinping’s Third Term
Chinese President Xi Jinping’s unprecedented third term as general
secretary will drag the CCP back to the pathologies of the Mao era and
simultaneously push it toward a future of
low growth,
heightened geopolitical tension, and profound
uncertainty.
Xi’s first big public
move after the National People’s Congress his
effective coronation was to travel
to Yan’an, in northwest China, arguably the most critical site
in the CCP’s history. This is where Mao Zedong led his retreating forces at the
end of the Long March,
rebasing his movement there after a series of military routs at the hands of
the Nationalists and plotting what would become the eventual triumph of his
revolution. Yan’an is also where all doubts
disappeared about Mao’s utter preeminence among the Chinese communists.
In 1978, Chinese
leader Deng Xiaoping announced that his country
would break with the past. After decades of political purges, economic
autarky, and suffocating social control under Mao Zedong, Deng
began stabilizing Chinese politics, removing bans on private
enterprise and foreign investment, and giving individuals greater freedom
in their daily lives. This switch, termed “reform and opening,” led
to pragmatic policies that improved Beijing’s relations with the
West and lifted hundreds of millions of Chinese people from
poverty. Although China remained authoritarian, Deng shared power with other
senior party leaders—unlike Mao. And when Deng left office, his successors
continued down the same path.
Until now. During the
Chinese Communist Party (CCP)’s 20th National Congress last month, Chinese
leader Xi Jinping brought the Deng era of Chinese politics to a
definitive close. In many respects, it was clear that “reform and opening”
were on their way out at the 19th National Congress in 2017, when Xi proclaimed
“a new era” in which the party would rectify the ideological, political, and
policy “imbalances” left over from his predecessors. But the 20th party
congress gave Xi an unprecedented third term as leader
and removed pro-market officials from the CCP’s leadership. It even
removed Xi’s predecessor from the proceedings. After nearly 44 years,
history will record that this congress administered the last rites to Deng’s
reformist era. The brave new statist world of Xi Jinping is now in full force.
That
means foreigners must set aside the comfortable analytical
frameworks many of them have used to analyze China for the last
two generations. Most countries, including many in the West, are predisposed to
think that when China’s leaders speak in ideological terms, it is not to be
taken seriously (or that if it is, the ideology purely applies to the party’s
domestic politics). But that is no longer the case.
“Under Xi, ideology
drives policy more often than the other way around.” He is a true believer in
Marxism-Leninism; his rise represents the return to the world stage of
Ideological Man. This Marxist-Nationalist ideological framework drives
Beijing’s return to party control over politics and society with contracting
space for private dissent and personal freedoms. It also drives Beijing’s
born-again statist approach to economic management and its increasingly
assertive foreign and security policies to change the international status quo.
Xi has used the 20th
Congress “work report” (a speech the CCP’s top leader delivers at each congress
outlining the ideological and policy rules of the road for the next five years)
to demonstrate to the party and the world that China now has an integrated
national and international vision of what he calls “Chinese-style
modernization.” This vision calls for decoupling economic modernity from
Western political and social norms and underlying cultural beliefs. It
offers a new international order anchored in Chinese rather than U.S.
geopolitical power. And it involves creating a set of institutions and norms
compatible with China’s interests and values rather than those of the West. It
is a Manichaean worldview, pitting China’s blend of Confucian and
Marxist-Leninist values against the liberal democracy and liberal
internationalism of the West and some (but not all) of the rest of the world.
As this congress made clear, Xi wants to demonstrate that the CCP under his
leadership has the audacity and the capacity to translate this bold new vision
into reality.
The Pen And The Sword
In the Chinese
Communist Party, words matter. The frequency with which various terms and
phrases appear in significant reports and speeches is a critical
interpretive mechanism both party members and outside observers use to
discern the leadership’s changing directions. For example, Mao’s famous attack
on “capitalist roaders” went along with the party’s overwhelming
nationalization campaigns and its opposition to small-scale private
enterprises. Jiang Zemin’s ideological writings on the “three represents”—which
included a need to harness the Chinese economy’s “productive forces”—was a
clear signal to party leaders to bring private entrepreneurs into the party’s
ranks (which they then did).
Xi’s phrases and word
choices have similar real-world consequences. And the 20th Congress’s work
report, delivered by Xi, is replete with a
range of new and continuing ideological banner terms. They
indicate that the CCP is now weighing the economy, national security, and the
country's nationalist identity differently. In the report from the 14th
Congress in 1992, when Deng still ruled, the term “economy” was used 195 times. This year’s report cites
the “economy” on only 60 occasions. Deng’s mantra of “reform and opening” was
mentioned 54 times in 1992; at the 20th Congress, the phrase was invoked only
nine times. In 1992, the term “national
security” appeared once and
was used just four times in 2012. But at the 19th Congress in 2017, Xi’s first
as a leader, the term had 18 appearances. This year, it has been mentioned 27
times.
Meanwhile, the
Chinese term for the powerful state, qiangguo, appears 23 times
this year, compared with 19 in 2017 and only two in
2002. These changes indicate that the party is now focused on Chinese nationalism and national security. This is a
sharp break from previous regimes, which were almost exclusively preoccupied
with economic development.
The term “Marxism”
also makes multiple appearances in the 2022 report, and it is
surrounded by other language suggesting that Xi is girding for conflict. The
Marxist-Leninist concept of “struggle”—striving through violent or non-violent
means to resolve what Marxist-Leninists deem to be “contradictions”
in domestic and international society, is mentioned 22
times. By ideological definition, the concept authorizes Xi to engage in
various forms of confrontation to advance his revolutionary cause. And the
leader’s report was followed by an intensive propaganda
campaign, for both public and internal party consumption, on the need
for China to prepare for the difficult times by toughening its “spirit of
struggle.” This struggle is not limited to the party’s challenges
on the home front (including potentially within the
party itself). It is also directed to China’s global challenges, including
with the United States.
The growing advocacy
for “struggle” was underscored by Xi’s decision to take the newly elected
Politburo standing committee—China’s highest political body—on a visit to Yan’an after the congress ended. Yan’an
was where Mao was based for part of the first civil
war against the Chinese Nationalists and most of the war against Japan. It
is also where he convened the Party’s Seventh National Congress
in 1945, which confirmed his absolute leadership of the CCP
after his political struggle against internal party opponents over the previous
decade. That meeting was also the precursor to the party’s second civil
war against China’s Nationalist government, which ended when the anti-Communist
Nationalist leader Chiang Kai-shek fled to Taiwan
with the remnants of his regime. Then, the political resonances of Xi’s Yan’an visit are relatively clear. Like Mao, Xi has emerged
triumphant after his decade of relentless power consolidation, often through
violent internal conflict. And now he is preparing for China’s renewed
long-term struggle against the old enemy: the separatists in Taiwan.
The CCP was
previously hesitant to embrace any public timetable or deadline for retaking
Taiwan. Xi, by contrast, has stated that retaking
Taiwan is critical to China’s “national rejuvenation” and that he aims to
complete that rejuvenation by 2049. Xi’s predecessors, during the period
of reform and opening, believed that if China wanted to develop economically,
the country needed good relations with the rest of the world, so they never
entertained the idea of fighting to take the island. Previous party congress reports
contained a standard reference to “peace and development” as the major underlying trend
of modern times, signaling that China did not face any threat of major war and
could therefore make economic development its central
priority. In 2002 reports also routinely declared that China was
experiencing a “period of strategic opportunity,” or zhanlue jiyuqi: a
phrase indicating that the United States' military distractions in the
Middle East provided China with even less international pressure and, therefore,
more space to focus entirely on rapid development.
Neither of these
standard expressions appears in the 2022 report. Instead, the
document describes a “severe and complex international situation” in which
the party must be “prepared for dangers in peacetime.” It also says that
China should prepare for “the dangerous storm,” or jingtaohailang.
It calls “national security” the “foundation of national rejuvenation.” And Xi used the
report to ingrain his earlier statements about the need for a “total
security” agenda to ensure that the country has ideological, political,
economic, and strategic security. Indeed, it calls for the
“securitization” of virtually every aspect of
society. He also directed the party to apply this total
security concept across all of the party’s internal processes. Xi, it seems, is signaling that
the CCP and China’s People’s Liberation Army must now be ready to
fight a major war. And domestically, that means keeping the
Chinese people under even tighter surveillance and control.
Seriously And Literally
In addition
to these broad ideological shifts, the 20th National
Congress rubber-stamped several significant political and
personnel changes. The party constitutionally entrenched Xi as
“the core leader of the Central Committee” and declared “Xi Jinping
Thought on Socialism with Chinese Characteristics for a New Era” to be
“the new Marxism of the 21st century.” It removed more reform-minded party
officials who had sometimes disagreed with Xi, such as Premier Li
Keqiang and Wang Yang, from the Politburo Standing Committee,
and it removed the reformist Hu Chunhua from
the wider Politburo—even though none of them had reached the
retirement age of 68. Meanwhile, congress allowed other political loyalists
over the retirement age to stay. (One of them, Zhang Youxia,
the vice chairman of the Central Military Commission, is already 72.) And while
it is still unclear exactly why Hu Jintao, Xi’s immediate predecessor, was
unceremoniously ejected from the proceedings—an incident captured on
video that has been endlessly dissected in recent weeks—it is clear that Hu was
unhappy with his reformist protégés being summarily dismissed from the
country’s central leadership. Given the precise dynamics of that day,
Hu being marched off the stage was rich with symbolism. China under Xi
is now very much a one-man show.
Political consolidation
isn’t the only way Xi reproduces parts of the Maoist playbook. He also intends
to push China’s economy away from market-based capitalism
and back toward statism by rehabilitating state-owned
enterprises and designating the state as the primary driver of
technological innovation. He has followed through on that designation by
pumping billions of dollars into already vast state “guidance funds”
for specific technologies such as semiconductors. (The United States
has followed suit by enacting its industrial policy through the CHIPS
and Science Act.) Xi’s Marxist economic turn is underscored in his work
report’s emphasis on the need for “common prosperity” and
its directive for China to find ways of “regulating the mechanisms of
wealth accumulation.”
The work
report states that party members are now required to “grasp both the worldview and the methodology of
Marxism-Leninism” and apply the “analytical tools of dialectical and historical
materialism” to understand “the great challenges of the time.” In
reinforcing this traditional Marxist ontological and
epistemological framework for understanding and responding to the
world, Xi has also called on the party to “develop a
new form of human civilization.” This now extends to Chinese
foreign policy, where Beijing is increasingly comfortable using pressure,
leverage, and force. At the congress, Xi promised “an increased capacity for the army to win,” an “increased proportion of new combat forces,” and
more “actual combat training.” In a new and particularly
disturbing formulation, he declared in his work report that
his administration had “acted with resolve to focus the entire military's attention
on preparing for war.” He said Beijing had “coordinated efforts to strengthen
military struggle in all directions and domains.”
These ideological
shifts, the accompanying political rhetoric, and the resulting new policy
directions make it clear that China is now breaking from decades of political,
economic, and foreign policy pragmatism and accommodationism.
Xi’s China is assertive. He is less subtle than his predecessors, and his
ideological blueprint for the future is hiding in plain sight. The question for
all is whether his plans will prevail or generate their political antibodies,
both at home and abroad, that begin to resist Xi’s vision for China and the
world actively. But then again, as a practicing Marxist dialectician, Xi
Jinping is probably already anticipating that response- and preparing whatever
countermeasures may be warranted.
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