Why I Support Taiwan—and Why I Support Taiwan’s Independence
By Peng Xiaomei
Editor: Wang Mengmeng Executive Editor: Luo Zhifei Proofreader: Cheng Xiaoxiao Translator: Peng Xiaomei
Abstract: Taiwan represents the continuing possibility of freedom, accountability, and choice in the Chinese-speaking world. The collapse of Hong Kong made me understand that losing Taiwan would not merely mean a change of color on the map, but a regression of civilization and the disappearance of freedom itself. Supporting Taiwan and its right to choose is not anti-Chinese; it is a defense of human dignity and institutional diversity. As long as Taiwan lives, the light of freedom will not be completely extinguished.
I truly came to understand the value of Taiwan not from books or news reports, but through the Hong Kong fire—and through those moments when Hong Kong people reached out to their system again and again, only to grasp cold, empty air.
I stood before the mural Fallen at the Liberty Sculpture Park in Los Angeles, listening to friends from Hong Kong describe how they were gradually pushed by the tide of history toward a dead end, with no path of retreat. They told me that Hong Kong’s collapse was not an accident, but the result of deliberate institutional choices.
As I listened, I suddenly understood: if Taiwan were dragged down as well, the Chinese-speaking world would lose even the proof that “freedom once existed.”
I have witnessed too many suffocating realities: iron doors welded shut during lockdowns; young people taken away overnight during the White Paper Movement; a single ordinary complaint on WeChat turning into “incitement”; families and friends learning to remain silent out of fear of consequences. When people live in fear for too long, they forget what freedom originally looked like.
Then I look at Taiwan—radio hosts openly criticizing the government, legislators shouting so fiercely the desks nearly overturn, young people walking the streets at night without constantly looking over their shoulders—and I know this is not luck. It is the confidence of a functioning civilization. What Taiwan has preserved is not merely elections, but the last piece of land in the Chinese-speaking world that is free from fear.
Some say that Taiwan’s independence is “separatism.” I want to ask one simple question: if forced unification, the destruction of institutions, and the stripping away of freedom do not count as the fragmentation of human dignity, then what does? If Taiwan were annexed, it would not be a change of borders, but a change of fate for its people. Supporting Taiwan’s independence is not anti-Chinese. On the contrary, it protects the only social model in the Chinese-speaking world that still proves one essential truth: that Chinese people are not born to submit to authoritarian rule.
What does the Chinese Communist Party fear most? Not the United States. Not Japan. But Taiwan—a living, breathing control group. Taiwan proves that Chinese societies can have press freedom; that governments can be held accountable; that power can be restrained; and that people are not mere appendages of their rulers.
Taiwan is not provoking the CCP. Taiwan’s very existence is enough to invalidate all of the regime’s excuses. If a system is truly confident, why fear comparison? If it claims superiority, why deny people the right to choose? This is why Taiwan must be suppressed—not for the sake of “unification,” but because authoritarianism cannot tolerate a more successful example of freedom.
I have watched my parents’ generation live their entire lives in fear. I have seen friends threatened for speaking the truth. I myself am on the path of seeking asylum, running to escape darkness. Standing on American soil, I cannot tell Taiwan to “remain neutral.”
Neutrality is a privilege. Those who are under threat do not have the luxury of neutrality.
I hope Taiwan will live freely, live democratically, stand upright, and become a guiding light that people trapped behind the iron curtain can still see. As long as Taiwan lives, our generation of Chinese people will not be completely sentenced to death. If Taiwan falls, the Chinese-speaking world will be reduced to a single voice, a single history, a single so-called truth. That would not be unity—it would be suffocation.
Supporting Taiwan is the simplest and clearest choice of my time. Chinese people are not born slaves. Freedom is not a privilege exclusive to the West. We could have had another future—one that was taken from us by force.
If Taiwan one day declares independence, I will support it unconditionally.If Taiwan is threatened, I will stand on the side of human beings, not power.
Because that day will not be the day of division,but the day the Chinese-speaking world truly gains the right to choose for the first time.
I support Taiwan. I support Taiwan’s independence. Because I still hope that in this era consumed by darkness, the Chinese-speaking world can preserve at least one remaining beam of light.
那么，县城婆罗门阶层为何会阻断社会流动？我们可以大概分析一下。首先是，教育机会被体制化。县域教育财政中，目前80%以上用于人员支出，几乎没有空间进行真正的教育质量改善。而老师岗位是高度体制化的，优质岗位由关系网分配。这就造成了普通家庭的孩子无法获得优质教育，体制家庭的孩子却能享受教育资源的倾斜。教育成了阶层固化的关键环节。其次，所有的经济机会被压缩为“体制内 VS 体制外”。县城缺乏产业，但体制岗位十分稳定，这形成了极端结构。体制内：铁饭碗+地位+资源，体制外：低工资+无机会+无保障。在县城里，体制内平均工资是体制外的2-4倍，体制外劳动者的社保缴纳率远远低于大城市水平。县城私营经济一年比一年差，对本地就业的吸纳能力持续下滑。而这一切意味着：体制就是命运。
Zhou Min: County-Town Brahmins — The Solidification of China’s Grassroots Power Structure
Abstract:From the perspectives of the political–legal system, education, and employment, the author analyzes the rise of a “Brahmin class” within China’s county towns. By examining the development of small counties, the article reveals the nature of authoritarian rule under the Chinese Communist Party at the grassroots level.
Author: Zhou Min
Editor: Zhang Yu Managing Editor: Zhong Ran Proofreader: Wang Bin Translator:Lyu Feng
Over the past fifteen years, China’s county towns have undergone a profound transformation that has largely escaped public attention:
A local hierarchical structure centered on identity monopoly, power inheritance, and resource control has rapidly solidified.
We may call this structure the “county-town Brahmin class.”
This form of stratification is neither a cultural legacy nor the result of natural economic evolution. Rather, it is the cumulative product of long-term authoritarian governance at the grassroots level. The consequences are stark: social vitality in county towns has been drained, upward mobility channels have been blocked, young people are forced to leave, and local governance has sunk into a self-reinforcing conservatism. This structure has become a key driver of China’s broader social downward drift.
The phenomenon can be described as follows: county towns are hardening into “identity-based societies.” Surveys over the past decade by the Development Research Center of the State Council, the Department of Sociology at Peking University, and the School of Public Policy and Management at Tsinghua University indicate that around 70% of population growth and innovative resources are concentrating in large cities; county-level finances are highly dependent on upper-level transfer payments; and public employment systems (positions within the state apparatus) account for 30–50% of local employment—far higher than in cities.
In an environment lacking economic dynamism and rich opportunities, county towns naturally evolve toward a system in which identity determines class. Possessing an institutional position means stability; possessing power connections means dignity; possessing internal resources means access to upward mobility. Ordinary people are excluded from this system. Failing to enter the state establishment means no future; lacking personal connections means no fair opportunity. This cycle continually reinforces itself, giving rise to the county-town Brahmin class.
Why, then, is power able to be “inherited” within county towns?
Research on county-level governance in China shows that among roughly 2,100 county-level administrative units, a typical structure prevails:
The political–legal system (public security, courts, procuratorates) is highly localized;
Education, healthcare, housing, and urban development systems commonly exhibit “acquaintance-based recruitment” and internal absorption;
Public institutions, state-owned enterprises, and urban investment companies absorb the most stable and best-paid local jobs.
Within this structure, power takes on three defining characteristics.
First, a tendency toward familialization.A large body of local research indicates a pronounced “family concentration” in county-level public institutions and state positions. From townships to county governments, power networks often follow chains such as “section chief–bureau director–party secretary.” Marriage functions as an internal mechanism of class recombination; in other words, intermarriage rates within the system are high. County-town power is therefore not the result of open competition, but of inheritance, grafting, and bloodline consolidation.
Second, a high concentration of enforcement power.County towns revolve around three core powers: administrative authority, law-enforcement authority, and resource-allocation authority. These are often held by the same group of people within the same relational network. In the absence of effective oversight, this structure naturally forms a closed resource loop. As a result, no matter how much a county’s economic structure changes, its power structure remains largely unchanged.
Third, resource allocation governed by power logic rather than market logic.County-level resources include teaching posts, hospital positions, construction projects, state-owned enterprise recruitment, land quotas, and urban development budgets. Studies indicate that fewer than 10% of individuals control the allocation of these resources. This 10% constitutes the de facto county-town Brahmin class.
Why does this class block social mobility? Several mechanisms are evident. First, educational opportunity becomes institutionalized. Over 80% of county-level education budgets are currently spent on personnel costs, leaving little room for genuine improvements in educational quality. Teaching positions are highly institutionalized, and desirable posts are distributed through relational networks. As a result, children from ordinary families are unable to access quality education, while children from institutional families benefit from systematic advantages. Education thus becomes a key mechanism of class consolidation.
Second, economic opportunities are compressed into a binary of “inside the system versus outside the system.” County towns lack diversified industries, yet institutional positions remain highly stable, producing an extreme structural divide. Inside the system: iron rice bowl, social status, and access to resources. Outside the system: low wages, few opportunities, and weak social security. In county towns, average wages inside the system are two to four times those outside it, and social-security participation rates among non-institutional workers are far below those in large cities. The private economy in county towns deteriorates year by year, with declining capacity to absorb local labor. All of this sends a single message: the system determines destiny.
There is a Chinese saying: “Those who understand the times are heroes.” Young people from ordinary families see no future and therefore choose to leave for big cities. Over the past decade, net youth out-migration rates have exceeded 30%. In some county towns, the proportion of residents aged 18–35 has fallen below 15%. This is an alarming figure, and the reality may be even worse than official statistics suggest. Young people embody innovation, change, and the courage to reshape society. Once they leave, county towns sink deeper into conservatism and fear of external competition, further locking themselves into a cycle of aging, rigidity, and power consolidation—forming a distinctly East Asian hierarchical society.
What, then, is the root cause of this phenomenon? The answer is that an authoritarian system does not permit the existence of open county towns. The formation of the county-town Brahmin class is not the result of isolated local corruption, but of the institutional structure as a whole.
First and most fundamentally, power lacks transparency. In the absence of transparent budgets, local autonomy, and independent media, those in power naturally prioritize themselves and their networks. Ordinary people have no effective channels for redress or oversight. China’s institutional design ensures that resources flow upward and inward, rather than outward to society.
Second, social organizations are constrained, and citizens (in practice, merely “residents”) cannot meaningfully participate in governance. In healthy democracies, county towns are foundational units of local self-government, vibrant arenas for NGOs, civic organizations, and regular media oversight. In China, however, self-governance is administrative in nature, social organizations are tightly controlled through approval mechanisms, and civic participation and public scrutiny are reduced to a minimum. The result is that only power determines the direction of county towns.
Finally, authoritarian structures require county towns to prioritize “stability maintenance.” Local governments are accountable upward, not downward to the people. Officials’ primary objective is not development, but avoiding incidents, avoiding trouble for superiors, and preventing “political risks.” A paradox emerges: innovation is viewed with suspicion, vitality is suppressed, and society is downgraded. Power requires “stability” to justify itself, even though everyone knows this stability is merely a turbulent façade. This is the most fertile soil for the county-town Brahmin class.
The problem of the county-town Brahmin class is not a local issue, but a systemic one rooted in authoritarian governance. Its causes lie in unchecked power, opaque resource allocation, stunted social organizations, minimized civic participation, and the absence of independent media oversight. Escaping the trap of class solidification requires institutional change: genuine local self-government, transparent budgets and public resource allocation, independent media and auditing mechanisms, and the encouragement of civil society and public oversight—bringing power back under popular accountability. Openness, transparency, and democracy are the only remedies.
A nation’s modernization is not determined by skyscrapers and advanced technology in major cities, but by fairness and freedom in its county towns.
Only when county towns can breathe freely will China truly have a future.
(Contribution by the Journal’s Honorary Editor-in-Chief)
Editor: Feng Reng ExecutiveEditor: Luo Zhifei Proofreader: Cheng Xiaoxiao Translator: Liu Fang
The 23rd issue of Qiushi magazine, published on December 1, carried an important article by x titled “Advancing the Party’s Self-Revolution Must Achieve ‘Five Further Improvements in Place.’” All official media placed it on their front pages and headlines. I would like to share only a few of my own reflections on several points in the article.
Xi’s article emphasizes that self-revolution is the Party’s second answer to escaping the historical cycle of rise and decline, order and chaos.
Elder Cha’s reflections:
In July 1945, the well-known educator Huang Yanpei, visiting Yan’an as a member of the National Political Council, asked Mao Zedong in a cave dwelling how the Chinese Communist Party could escape the recurring historical cycle described as “its rise is sudden and vigorous, its fall equally sudden.” After brief reflection, Mao replied: “We have already found a new path. We can escape this cycle. This new path is democracy, following the mass line. Only by letting the people supervise the government will the government dare not slacken; only when everyone takes responsibility will governance not collapse with the death of one individual.”
In most countries today, the substance of democratic systems lies in multi-party competition, separation of powers, freedom of the press, the rule of law, the nationalization of the military, and the protection of civil rights—all mechanisms to restrain those in power. Mao opposed these. He relied instead on supreme personal authority and continuous, disorderly mass movements unconstrained by law. Clearly, m’s “cave dialogue” was the first proposed solution for escaping the historical cycle; the current proposal of “self-revolution” is presented as the second. X’s article calls for “turning the blade inward,” “scraping poison from the bone,” and insists that “thunderous measures must not be lacking.” The determination is immense and admirable. Yet Mao’s era also spoke of “self-revolution.” Mao famously warned against “sugar-coated bullets.” Soon after the founding of the PRC, the nationwide Three-Anti campaign was launched; revolutionary veterans and corrupt officials such as Liu Qingqing and Zhang Zishan in Tianjin were executed, and 238,000 Party dissidents and corrupt elements were subjected to criminal punishment. Before the Cultural Revolution, the “Four Cleanups” campaign was carried out again. Yet due to flaws in external institutional constraints, a privileged class detached from the masses still emerged.
Today, under a market economy, large-scale collusion between power and capital has appeared. Without changes to external institutional design, how can a new round of “self-revolution” ensure that the historical failure of Mao’s “self-revolution” will not be repeated?
Xi’s article states: “Party members and cadres must always remember that all our power is granted by the people…”
In most countries, power is granted through multi-party elections, with voters using ballots to authorize a party to govern—and also to strip a ruling party of power and give it to another. My question is this: when our Constitution stipulates that the Communist Party is the permanent ruling party, and voters have no right to choose another party to govern (nor do citizens have the right to form new parties), how exactly is this power “granted by the people”?
If the power of officials at every level is granted only by their superiors, then those in power will be accountable only upward, not downward to voters. In that case, how could the “interest groups, power blocs, and privileged strata” condemned in X’s article fail to emerge?
Xi’s article also states that Party members and cadres should be “willing to accept education from Party organizations and supervision from all sides,” that “Party supervision and public supervision should be combined,” and that “the prominent manifestation of corruption is the misuse of power for private gain… power must truly be locked into the cage of institutions through sustained effort.”
Elder Cha’s reflections:
These passages are well said! Public supervision must be protected by law. I call on the National People’s Congress to enact a Law on Freedom of Online Speech, to resolutely curb the chaos of arbitrary content deletions, account bans, group shutdowns, and being “summoned for tea.” A Law on Protecting Citizens’ Supervision of Government should be enacted to resolutely curb the abuse of charges such as “attacking XXX,” “picking quarrels and provoking trouble,” or “inciting subversion” to arbitrarily intercept petitioners, detain them, and sentence them.
A Press Law and a Law on Associations should be enacted to implement Article 35 of the Constitution, which guarantees citizens’ freedoms of publication and association. These political freedoms and human rights are precisely the means by which the people supervise power and serve as a “firewall” against corruption.
A Law on the Disclosure of Officials’ Assets should be enacted. Globally, more than thirty countries already require by law that officials’ assets be fully disclosed to society, providing transparent conditions for public oversight.
Article 7 of the Regulations on the Work of the Communist Party of China Discipline Inspection Committees stipulates that the Central Commission for Discipline Inspection and the National Supervisory Commission share offices, and that local Party discipline inspection commissions and government supervisory commissions operate as “one set of institutions with two names.” I propose revising this regulation to separate the discipline inspection commissions from the supervisory commissions, granting the latter independence to lawfully supervise corruption among ruling-party officials. The significance of this reform speaks for itself.
Zhang Yu: Speaking for Jimmy Lai, Bearing Witness to Freedom
Author: Zhang Yu Editor: Zhong Ran ExecutiveEditor: Liu Fang Proofreader: Wang Bin Translator: Liu Fang
Abstract:
Jimmy Lai has been held for an extended period under National Security Law proceedings conducted without a jury and lacking transparency, symbolizing the destruction of press freedom in Hong Kong. This case reveals how the Chinese Communist Party wraps political persecution in legal form; what is truly on trial is Hong Kong’s freedom and truth.
In the winter of 2025, Hong Kong once again enters the world’s view—not because of its glittering skyline, nor its once-proud status as an international financial center, but because of a trial that should belong only to totalitarian states: a seventy-seven-year-old media figure, Jimmy Lai, is once again escorted into a courtroom without a jury.
In a city once known as “Asia’s last free port,” a journalist, a media professional, and an entrepreneur has been placed under prolonged solitary detention in the name of “endangering national security,” with communications cut off, visits restricted, and hearings repeatedly postponed.
This is not justice, but justice dressed up as appearance;
not a legal procedure, but the continuation of political objectives.
Even more absurd is that the trial itself is scarcely allowed to be seen. News coverage is restricted, the courtroom is closed to the public, and the outside world can only piece together fragments of what is happening—so much so that even the legal community cannot obtain complete information. Justice is covered with a thick cloth, while dictators quietly decide a person’s fate behind the scenes.
Jimmy Lai’s case has shaken the world because he has become a symbol: when a dictatorship begins to fear a newspaper, to fear one person’s words, it means that society’s space for freedom has been compressed to the point where it can no longer breathe.
International organizations describe this as a “typical political trial”;
foreign governments point out that it is “the most direct blow to press freedom”;
human rights observers warn even more starkly: “This is fear carried out in the name of law.”
Yet what is most heartbreaking is the silence behind the trial.
There are no longer crowds shouting in Hong Kong’s streets, no reporters pressing for answers, no one able to publicly discuss the meaning of this prosecution. Silence is not a choice, but the result of suppression, the consequence of fear, and the success of dictatorship.
Thus, when Jimmy Lai is brought before the court, it is not him alone who is being tried, but Hong Kong’s once-proud freedom of expression, freedom of the press, and the public’s right to know.
An elderly man stands in the defendant’s dock, while the world watches from the side as a city gradually loses its soul.
(Image credit: The image shows a solidarity rally held on November 29 outside the Chinese Consulate General in Los Angeles.)
Jimmy Lai’s “crime” is not what he did, but what he refused to become—the kind of person the Chinese Communist Party wants him to be: silent, compliant, obedient, and unquestioning as a media professional.
In the CCP’s world, journalism is not meant to supervise power, but to praise it; media is not meant to expose truth, but to manufacture lies with a single approved narrative. A country may exist without independent media, but it must never allow free journalism to exist, because truth is the weapon most feared by CCP totalitarianism.
Before Apple Daily was shut down, what “heinous crimes” did it commit? Nothing more than exposing the CCP’s darkness, publishing the voices of protesters, reporting police violence, and questioning government decisions. In a normal society, this is called journalism; in a one-party dictatorship, it becomes “incitement,” “subversion,” and “endangering national security.”
Thus, the CCP sought to make Jimmy Lai disappear—not because he broke the law, but because he committed the “crime of refusing to remain silent.”
After the National Security Law was enacted, all of Hong Kong’s freedoms were rapidly purged: journalists arrested, activists sentenced, student leaders forced into exile, and public platforms shut down. In a city where the iron curtain descended at speed, Apple Daily was the last remaining light—so the CCP was determined to extinguish it with its own hands.
If there is one thing the CCP excels at, it is disguising persecution as law, packaging repression as “national security,” and draping political purges in judicial robes—making violence look like institution and dictatorship appear as “rule of law.” Jimmy Lai’s case is a brutal and textbook demonstration. From the very first day, this so-called “National Security Law trial” was never a trial, but a script written in advance.
No jury—because a jury might still retain a conscience; handpicked judges—because independent judges cannot be relied upon to endorse the regime; closed proceedings—because darkness fears light; indefinite delays—because delay itself is punishment.
These are not accidents, but precise designs. Totalitarian regimes never rely solely on knives; they prefer “law.” Knives are too obvious; law is more respectable. Knives invite condemnation; law breeds helplessness.
In such a system, no one is safe, because law is not there to protect you, but to be used against you. Jimmy Lai is not the first to be treated this way, nor will he be the last. This mechanism has already been applied to countless rights lawyers, journalists, and students—arrest, fabrication, secret trials, indefinite detention, coerced confessions. Hong Kong has simply imported the mainland’s dark system intact, closed the doors, and turned off the lights.
The true purpose of this trial has never been “conviction,” but intimidation—to show everyone that as long as you insist on truth, as long as you refuse to kneel, you will be next.
And Jimmy Lai did not keep silent—which, to a totalitarian regime, is the one “ultimate crime” that cannot be tolerated.
Today’s Hong Kong appears shrouded by an iron curtain, gagged by the National Security Law, and suffocated by censorship, but what is truly imprisoned is not the city—it is the Communist Party’s imagined vision of an “absolutely obedient Hong Kong.”
For more than seventy years, the Chinese Communist Party has relied not on justice, but on fear; not on public will, but on violence; not on the people’s choice, but on the people’s silence.
It fears the media, because the media speaks truth; it fears journalists, because journalists expose darkness; it fears Jimmy Lai, because he represents a Hong Kong spirit that cannot be rewritten, bought, or intimidated.
Perhaps the CCP can control the courts, the police, and the Hong Kong government, but it cannot control the human pursuit of truth, cannot control the world’s concern for and memory of Hong Kong, and cannot control how history will record its own actions.
The CCP may continue to try, to imprison, to delay, and to manufacture darkness, but it cannot prevent Jimmy Lai’s name from becoming a witness of this era, nor can it stop the world from seeing the true nature of this regime—a system that fears truth, fears journalism, and fears freedom.
It fears so deeply that it cannot tolerate even a single newspaper; it fears so deeply that it must hold a man in his seventies in long-term solitary confinement; it fears so deeply that even the words “Liberate Hong Kong” must be erased through punishment.
As long as someone remembers what Hong Kong once was, it is not truly dead; as long as someone continues to speak, freedom will not truly end.
What history will ultimately put on trial is the regime that wraps persecution in law, hides violence behind courtrooms, and uses the machinery of the state to strike at the media.
Jimmy Lai’s trial is not the fate of one man, but this era’s indictment of dictatorship.
Truth cannot be imprisoned. Freedom cannot be destroyed.
And the Chinese Communist Party, believing it can control everything, will ultimately discover that it cannot control history—nor the future.
Lu Chao: Economic Collapse under Autocracy — The Destructive Path from Reform and Opening to the Restoration of Imperial Power
Abstract:During the administrations of Jiang Zemin and Hu Jintao, although the political system itself remained unchanged, the core orientation of governance was temporarily focused on “development” and “stability.” Since Xi Jinping assumed office in 2012—particularly following the constitutional amendment that abolished term limits for the state presidency—the political line of the Chinese Communist Party has undergone a fundamental transformation.
Author: Lu Chao Editor: Cheng Wei Managing Editor: Hou Gaiying Proofreader: Wang Bin Translator: Lyu Feng
In contemporary China, economic activity has fallen into a prolonged state of stagnation and uncertainty. Domestic demand remains weak, foreign trade is under increasing pressure, youth unemployment is persistently high, and confidence among private enterprises has been seriously undermined. For ordinary citizens, daily life is marked by an unprecedented sense of strain and anxiety. Confronting this systemic economic predicament, this article seeks to analyze its deeper political roots and advances a central argument: economic prosperity or decline is ultimately a manifestation of political choice. The current economic difficulties arise precisely from a fundamental shift in political direction. Political orientation, like the anchor of an economic vessel, determines whether its course is open or constrained—and, ultimately, the well-being of the people.
“Keeping a Low Profile” and the “Golden Two Decades” of Economic Takeoff:During the administrations of Jiang Zemin and Hu Jintao, although the institutional framework remained unchanged, the political core temporarily concentrated on “development” and “stability.” The political orientation of this period can be summarized as decentralizing authority and invigorating the domestic economy while integrating into the global system externally, in accordance with Deng Xiaoping’s strategy of taoguang yanghui (“keeping a low profile and biding one’s time”).
Political Pragmatism:At the political level, the leadership adopted a system of collective leadership, and policy formulation tended to follow a technocratic, pragmatic approach, with economic growth (GDP) serving as the primary metric of performance. This temporary de-ideologization of governance substantially reduced uncertainty for private capital and foreign investors, providing the market with a stable and predictable legal and policy environment.
Comprehensive Economic Opening:China’s accession to the World Trade Organization (WTO) in 2001 constituted a pivotal step in its economic ascent, demonstrating a clear commitment to integration into the global division of labor. Liberal policies encouraged inflows of foreign capital, enabling China to attain its status as the “world’s factory.” At the same time, the space for private enterprises was protected and expanded, allowing them to become the principal drivers of job creation and technological innovation. This combination of political openness and stability formed the fundamental basis for sustained, broad-based economic growth.
Political Centralization and Economic Reorientation: The Shift from Collective Leadership to a “Neo-Imperial” Model
Since Xi Jinping assumed office in 2012—particularly following the constitutional amendment that abolished term limits for the state presidency—the political trajectory of the Chinese Communist Party has undergone a fundamental transformation. The core of this shift lies in the extreme centralization and personalization of power, dismantling the previously more balanced system of collective leadership and giving rise to a personal decision-making model akin to a “neo-imperial” order. Correspondingly, the focus of economic development has shifted from “efficiency first” to “ideology first” and “national security first.” This reorientation has fundamentally altered the underlying logic of China’s economic operation and has generated persistent structural difficulties.
Core Cause: Personalized Centralization and Policy VolatilityWith the weakening of collective leadership, the personal will of the top leader has become the decisive factor shaping national economic policy. The inherent flaw of this mechanism is the lack of effective checks and balances, resulting in policies that are unpredictable and prone to abrupt, campaign-style implementation—precisely the type of environment most detested by markets. Since 2020, sudden and sweeping crackdowns on key sectors such as the internet, education, and real estate have exemplified the subordination of market principles to personal political will. Policy uncertainty has shattered investor confidence—particularly among private capital—thereby accelerating capital outflows and investment paralysis. The withdrawal of foreign enterprises, such as Seagate’s factory closures, represents a form of “voting with one’s feet” in response to heightened political uncertainty.
The International Economic Backlash of “Wolf-Warrior Diplomacy”Driven by personalized power, China’s foreign policy has also become increasingly confrontational and ideologically charged. The adoption of so-called “wolf-warrior diplomacy” has plunged relations with advanced Western economies into sustained tension and rivalry. This non-pragmatic diplomatic posture has directly fueled Western strategies of “de-risking” and global supply-chain reconfiguration. China’s former “irreplaceability” within global value chains is being rapidly eroded by political factors. The decline in export orders and foreign direct investment (FDI) is a direct consequence of prioritizing political ambition over economic interest.
“Border Closure” Tendencies and the Self-Constraining Logic of the Dual-Circulation StrategyUnder Xi’s leadership, the “internal circulation” strategy has been elevated to an extreme, accompanied by stringent controls over data, personnel, and information flows. This tendency toward de facto “border closure” was most evident during the pandemic through the harsh “zero-COVID” policy, yet it has not been fully reversed in the post-pandemic period. Restrictions on international exchange, tighter controls over sensitive data, and the ideological penetration of culture and capital have all severely undermined market dynamism and innovative capacity. Economic vitality derives from openness and competition; deliberate or involuntary decoupling from the world can only constrain China’s economic potential and ultimately impose costs on livelihoods.
Conclusion: Ending Authoritarianism as the Fundamental Condition for Economic Recovery
History demonstrates that economic prosperity is never merely a technical or market issue; it is inseparably linked to political institutions. The economic success of the Jiang and Hu eras resulted from political choices favoring pragmatism, stability, and openness. By contrast, the challenges confronting today’s economy are the direct outcome of political choices emphasizing concentration of power, personalized rule, and ideological primacy.
The foundations of a people-centered economy are confidence, vitality, and stable expectations. When political direction generates uncertainty for foreign capital, repression for private enterprise, and pervasive tension within society, investment stalls, consumption contracts, and innovation withers. In other words, politics constitutes the economic base. Only by ending one-party authoritarian rule, dismantling the monopoly of power and the “imperial” mindset, and establishing a free market protected by the rule of law can a genuinely dynamic and free economy emerge. Otherwise, any economic tinkering will merely treat symptoms without addressing the cause, and cannot alter the trajectory of decline.
