The press is heavily censored and the Internet is blocked. Top leaders are unconstrained by the rule of law. Even more worrisome, repression has been ramped up since Xi Jinping took power in , suggesting that the regime is increasingly worried about its legitimacy. Some China experts—most recently David Shambaugh of George Washington University—interpret these ominous signs as evidence that the Chinese political system is on the verge of collapse.
But such an outcome is highly unlikely in the near future. The Communist Party is firmly in power, its top leader is popular, and no political alternative currently claims widespread support. The new ruler might seek to buttress his legitimacy by launching military adventures abroad. President Xi would look tame by comparison. A more realistic and, arguably, desirable outcome would involve political change that builds on the advantages of the current system.
But what exactly are the good parts of the Chinese political model? And how can they be advanced without repression? I believe the model can be improved in a more open political environment and, eventually, put before the people in a popular referendum. Chinese authorities have thus far shown no interest in instituting electoral democracy for top leaders. In China, such change over the past three decades has been informed by three principles: the lower the level of government, the more democratic the political system; the optimal space for experimentation with new practices and institutions is in between the lowest and highest levels of government; and the higher the level of government, the more meritocratic the political system.
The Chinese government introduced village elections in the late s to maintain social order and combat corruption among local leaders; by , more than million Chinese villagers had exercised the right to vote. Turnout has generally been high , and the conduct of elections has improved over time. The Chinese government has good reason to favor democratic elections at the local level. In small communities, people are more knowledgeable about the ability and virtue of the leaders they choose.
At the local level relative to the national level, policy issues are more straightforward, generating a sense of community is easier, and mistakes are less costly. In cities and provinces, the Chinese government tinkers with economic and social reform and then applies successes to the rest of the country, while detecting problems and making adjustments to policies before they spread elsewhere.
This experimentation takes several forms, the most high-profile of which is the Shenzhen Special Economic Zone, which tested controversial market-oriented policies that were then extended across China. More recently, the government has tested initiatives that defy common assumptions about authoritarian rule, including recruiting non-state groups to provide healthcare for the elderly and protect the rights of workers.
Political stability at the national level ensures that successful trials can be replicated elsewhere in China. In a democratic system with parties that alternate in power, there is no assurance that promising new ventures will be maintained or expanded, which in turn means less incentive to experiment and innovate in the policy arena. The top of the China model is characterized by political meritocracy—the idea that high-level officials should be selected and promoted on the basis of ability and virtue.
The ideal was institutionalized in imperial China by means of an elaborate examination system that dates to the Sui dynasty in the sixth and seventh centuries. These examinations were abolished in —precipitating the end of the imperial system as a whole—but they have been reestablished over the last three decades. Aspiring government officials normally must pass public-service examinations—IQ-like tests with some ideological content—with thousands of applicants competing for each entry-level spot.
They must perform well at lower levels of government, with more rigorous evaluations at every step, to move further up the chain of political command. Top leaders must also accumulate decades of diverse administrative experience, with only a tiny proportion reaching the commanding heights of government. Arguably, the Chinese political system is the most competitive in the world today. Once leaders reach the pinnacle of political power, they can plan for the long term and make decisions that take into account the interests of all relevant stakeholders, including future generations and people living outside the country; leaders serve year terms and assume and do their best to guarantee that the same party will be in power decades into the future.
In a multiparty system, there is no assurance that strong performance at lower levels of government will be rewarded at higher levels. Leaders who need to worry about the next election are more likely to make decisions influenced by short-term political considerations than their counterparts in China.
Democratically elected leaders are more vulnerable to the lobbying of powerful special interests, and the interests of non-voters affected by government policies—future generations, for instance—are likely to be sacrificed if they conflict with the interests of voters and campaign funders.
Such leaders spend a lot of their time raising money and giving the same campaign speech again and again. In contrast, meritocratically selected leaders are judged by what they do, not what they say.
Of course, there remains a large gap between the China model as an ideal and the political reality. Even when village-level elections are free and fair, for instance, access to power does not always or even usually translate into the exercise of power; the authority of elected representatives is checked by village Party secretaries and township governments.
Public pressure can neutralize this challenge; pilot programs for rural healthcare reforms beginning in the s were only scaled up nationally after the SARS epidemic in triggered widespread criticism. Xi's relatives have reaped fortunes in business from their connection to his ever rising political power, according to a Bloomberg report last year.
For now, Zhang sees no sign that Xi will empower the NPC to fulfill its proper role of providing oversight to the government. As for the handpicked NPC deputies who approve China's laws, there are too few lawyers, said Zhang, while any outspoken ones, such as female lawyer Chi Susheng, dropped this year, are excluded for disobedience. Most NPC members work their way up the party ladder. But "moral models" such as the young Tie Feiyan can jump from nowhere.
A road toll collector from southwest Yunnan province, Tie pricked the public consciousness by helping to rescue people from a river two years ago. She got a phone call last month telling her to pack for Beijing to become a member of the NPC.
Farmer Shen Jilan, 83, was picked as a "model worker" deputy in the early s and has never missed a session since — or voted against any party proposal. Such obedience has been the subject of online criticism this month, an unusual event in China politics. Despite public skepticism, some deputies insist their proposals for changing China can make a difference, especially if allied with Internet campaigns. This year He Youlin, a high-school master from southern Guangdong province, repeated his popular proposal to allow couples to have a second child without being punished by China's "one child"' policy in which enforcers have been known to treat couples brutally, sometimes forcing abortions.
Facebook Twitter Email. In China, it's an election in name only.
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