The Case for China’s Strength
Any attempt to understand China, and the challenge it poses to Western values, must start with an honest enumeration of its strengths.
A lot of Western commentary about China is framed in terms of zero-sum conflict.
For the foreseeable future, the United States and China are going to be the two biggest powers in the world. Unless these two powers are able to come to some kind of modus vivendi, we will collectively fail at any task, from reining in the dangers of artificial intelligence to preserving the environment, that requires international cooperation. An all-out war between the two nations could quickly turn into an extinction-level event for humanity. And of course, about one in six humans are citizens of China, meaning that anybody who cares about the fate of over a billion people must hope for the country to thrive.
At the same time, it is impossible not to think about China’s rise at least in part in terms of what it means for the West. As China continues to develop at rapid speed, it is inevitable—and perhaps salutary—for the country to play a bigger role on the world stage. But if China becomes ever more economically and militarily dominant, this would not only challenge the West’s global preeminence; it would likely also undermine its values. In a Chinese century, the fate of values like free speech and of institutions like liberal democracy would likely be imperilled around the world. So if the West wants to understand how it can hold onto its values in the face of growing competition from China, it first needs to understand the country’s strengths and weaknesses—and perhaps even consider emulating some of the things it gets right.
It is with these questions in mind that I reflected on the state of China’s society and economy on my recent trip to Shanghai. As I traveled around, I started compiling an—admittedly incomplete and impressionistic—mental list of observations.
So here, as a first installment, is my list of China’s most important sources of strength. If you think that they give too rosy or credulous a picture of the country, you would, as an undergraduate tutor told a friend of mine who was so worried about missing his appointment that he kept impetuously ringing the doorbell, do well to cultivate the virtue of patience: I promise that the list of weaknesses, which I will share in the second part of this short series, will be similarly comprehensive.
Scale
The average Chinese person is hardly especially rich. If you sort all the countries in the world by GDP per capita, China ends up falling somewhere in the middle—a tad wealthier than Malaysia or the Dominican Republic, a tad poorer than Russia or Kazakhstan.1
The difference between China and these other economies is obvious: scale. At present, China has a population of 1.4 billion. The United States has a population of 340 million. For the aggregate size of America’s economy to keep pace with that of China, it needs to generate a GDP per capita that is four times higher. Should America’s GDP per capita fall to being “merely” twice as high, the overall size of its economy would shrink to being about half that of China.
Now, for many purposes, GDP per capita is the more meaningful metric. Most people care more about how well-off they are than they do about the aggregate size of their country’s GDP. But there are also many areas in which scale does matter. The overall size of an economy makes a huge difference to its negotiating prowess in areas like trade. It is a great predictor of military might. And for both of these reasons, it also helps to lend a country political heft.
There is also an argument that scale can help to sustain economic growth. Many countries have, at the most rapid stage of their development, completely transformed their infrastructure. But because China is so big, the process of remaking its own infrastructure has turned the country into a world leader in the relevant technologies. In areas from electric cars to high-speed rail, China’s vast internal market has allowed its companies to race ahead.
Coordination
China is not just one of the biggest countries in the world; in China, power is also much more centralized than it is in other large countries.
The contrast to America is especially stark. The United States is a democracy with extensive checks and balances. Before any federal law can take effect, it needs to clear an unusually large number of veto points.2 Power is also regionally dispersed to an extent that is highly unusual even compared to other federal countries like Germany, with individual states having the power to levy taxation and prosecute crimes according to their own laws.
The contrast to India is also instructive. Under Narendra Modi, political power has to a worrying degree been concentrated. There has, for example, been a real erosion of checks and balances, with key bodies like the Supreme Court becoming increasingly politicized. But the power of Delhi is nonetheless severely constrained. Indian states retain real autonomy. Indian society is deeply divided by religion, caste, ethnicity, and language. Perhaps most importantly, state capacity remains comparatively low, making it hard for rule-makers in the capital to impose their will on the rest of the country.
A country as vast as China does of course contain significant differences in language and culture as well. But rulers in Beijing face far fewer constraints than those in Washington or Delhi. The authority of the CCP is paramount. Courts, newspapers and key companies follow political directives. Local party officials may at times enjoy some liberty to experiment, making China’s provinces, to paraphrase Louis Brandeis, laboratories of efficient autocracy; but when they are given an order by Beijing, they comply—or are quickly demoted. And of course, the Chinese population is far more homogeneous than that of any country of comparable size, with over 90 percent belonging to the Han ethnicity, and Mandarin serving as the primary language of instruction in virtually all of its territory.
All of that allows China’s leaders to harness the country’s great size in the pursuit of unified goals. Perhaps the most visible manifestation of this is in industrial policy. When policymakers in Beijing decide to invest heavily in construction, or in infrastructure, or in electric cars, or in artificial intelligence, they can easily marshal the requisite resources.
Infrastructure
You can always tell that a country is on the rise by the fact that everything feels brand new. That is undoubtedly the case in China.
A few decades ago, China had zero miles of high-speed rail. Today, well over half of all the high-speed rail miles in the world are located in the country. When I was in China recently, I was struck by how new and vast Chinese stations are, and how fast and punctual its trains—not just in a famous metropolis like Shanghai but also in a fourth-tier city like Yiwu.
Contrast this with two countries I know well: The United States effectively has zero miles of genuine high-speed rail.3 German trains have, over the past decade, deteriorated to a remarkable extent. The comparison makes China’s vast network of high-speed rail even more impressive—and trains are in many ways the rule rather than the exception.
Major cities in China have all built vast public transportation networks in recent years. Most of the country’s airports are new, spacious and efficient. Cities whose names most Westerners have never heard have acquired impressive skylines. Scores of acres of farmland have been turned into functional (if at times depressingly nondescript) urban districts.
Work Ethic
It’s hard to write about this one without falling into cliché. And, truth be told, much of the difference between China and other countries probably has more to do with their respective stages of economic development than with some supposed characteristics of the “Eastern mind” or the “Confucian outlook.” But whatever the best explanation for the contrast may be, it is clear that most people in China are now much more hard-working than most people in the United States or Western Europe.
The extremely taxing work expectations at many Chinese companies is commonly summarized as 996: Most workers are expected to be in the office from 9am to 9pm, Monday to Saturday. Holidays are also extremely limited. By law, a worker who has been working for a company for five years would be entitled to five days of paid leave every twelve months; one who has been working for a company for fifteen years, to ten. For many citizens, the Chinese New Year is the only opportunity to take an extended period off from work, and visit family or other relatives if they are living far away from home.
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The educational system is also extremely competitive. American high school students typically go to school from about 8am to about 3pm, Monday to Friday; if they are ambitious, they might do a couple of hours of homework every day. Chinese high school students are typically in school from about 7am to 5pm or 6pm; it is not unusual for them to spend three or four hours on homework every day. And while there usually is no formal instruction on weekends, many attend study sessions, or go to private cram schools, on Saturdays and Sundays.
As a result, the 高考 (high school leaving exam) is far more difficult and far more intense than any American equivalent. Perhaps the most striking example is the difficulty of the—typically mandatory—English language exam. In the United States, the College Board has recently announced that it will drastically reduce the length of reading passages; rather than giving students who are taking the SATs texts that are about 600 words in length, and asking them a few questions about each, they will henceforth be given texts that are about 150 words in length, and only have to answer a single question about each.
This means that Chinese high school students taking their English exam now likely face a more challenging test in a foreign language than Americans taking the SAT do in their native tongue. Don’t believe me? Take a look at this page from last year’s exam.
Technology
During a recent heat wave in Europe, thousands of people died, in good part because their apartments lacked air conditioning. Even the continent’s hospitals often don’t hvae AC. The problem does not just lie in the age of many historic buildings, or in a lack of public investment; it is ideological. Despite growing evidence that a lack of air conditioning has serious adverse consequences, from a severe dip in sleep quality to significantly lower productivity, many Europeans reject AC as being in conflict with longstanding traditions; as harmful to the environment; or simply as somehow overly “American.”
It would be difficult to find examples of a similar reluctance to embrace a technology that would improve the lives of millions of people in China. This is true at the level of high tech. The longstanding Western conviction that only democracies can push the frontier in scientific research or the industries of the future has over the last years turned out to be wrong. China is now a world leader in areas like solar power and battery manufacturing, appears competitive in the realm of artificial intelligence (as demonstrated by the launch of DeepSeek), and has universities that (unlike those in continental Europe) rank among the best in the world.
But what I found truly striking while traveling in China is the speed with which new technologies are being integrated into everyday life. Even the most ramshackle mom-and-pop stores now operate almost exclusively through electronic payments. Most restaurants allow diners to order and pay by QR code, eliminating the need to wait until a server graces you with their presence. You can use the same app to access public transport in just about every major city. Ride-hailing apps and delivery services are omnipresent. And if your cell phone runs out of battery, you can borrow a power charger for a few cents at a nearby lending station, and return it wherever you want.
Even larger technological transformations find ready acceptance. Most cabs in Shanghai are now electric. When I asked drivers how happy they were with their cars, the verdict was mixed; many of them drive cheap cars that occasionally give them serious trouble. Being used to a certain penchant for colorful curses and a general reluctance to welcome change from cab drivers in cities like Paris, London and Washington, I was curious whether Shanghainese cabbies also disliked driving electric vehicles; to my surprise, nearly all of them were enthusiastic about the change.
High Modernism
China is not a command economy. The country gave up on the more rigid forms of central planning a long time ago. But it is probably the last big country in the world that now retains the spirit of something like what James C. Scott called “high modernism”: a faith in the ability of ambitious, far-sighted technocrats to marshal the resources of the state to “rationalize” key aspects of society or the economy.
Scott, of course, was highly critical of high modernism, showing in vivid and convincing detail how such “schemes to improve the human condition have failed” (to invoke the subtitle of his most influential book, Seeing Like a State). And the ethos of high modernism certainly bears dangers for the development of the Chinese economy, as when commands from Beijing help to ensure that too many resources get pumped into particular industries, like construction. But a due awareness of high modernism’s many pitfalls should not stop us from recognizing that it has also allowed the country to accomplish astonishing feats of self-transformation.
Take language as an example. The variety of languages and local dialects spoken in China, as I explained recently, is vast. Until a few decades ago, there was a high chance that two Chinese citizens drawn at random would not be able to communicate with each other.4
That is now rapidly changing. With vanishingly few exceptions, the primary language of instruction for just about every child who currently attends school in China is Mandarin. In most provinces, students are banned from speaking local dialects or languages on school grounds, even to each other. As a result, Beijing is, at least for its younger citizens, creating something for the country that thousands of years of Chinese history have not been able to forge: a true lingua franca.
The same principles of high modernism are, often in an even more heavy-handed manner, being used to quash any separatist aspirations in remote provinces like Tibet. There are good reasons to be morally troubled by some of these tactics. But it is possible both to be troubled by such ruthlessness and to recognize that, in purely strategic terms, the attitudes which make them possible are one of the country’s genuine sources of strength.
National Pride
Americans are deeply split about the role that patriotism should play in their country. Many Europeans still believe that nationalism is a retrograde philosophy best left behind in the 20th century. Indians are so divided by their identities that a concern for region, caste or religion often takes precedence over national pride. Most Chinese do not harbor such doubts or divisions. They are very appreciative of their ancient culture, deeply resentful that their country underwent a series of humiliations at the hands of foreigners (both Western and Japanese) in the 19th and 20th centuries, and unabashedly proud that they are now ascending to their rightful place of global preeminence.
A conversation I had with a prominent venture capitalist known for his nationalist positions gives an extreme, though not perhaps a wholly atypical, window into this worldview. He started the conversation by boasting about the strength of the Chinese army, which (he claimed) could handily beat any other fighting force in the world. He went on to ground the reasons for its strength in a form of shared ethnic pride: “We Chinese are Han,” he said. “We are one people. You Americans, you are from all over the world. You are not a real nation.”
Such nationalism can easily lead astray. The venture capitalist to whom I spoke almost certainly overestimates the strength of the Chinese army, which has been beset with corruption scandals, and underestimates the strength of the U.S. army, which is extremely efficient despite—or perhaps because of—the diversity of its personnel. But this widely shared pride in the nation does make the average Chinese citizen much more willing to make sacrifices for their nation. A recent poll in the United States suggested that most Americans wouldn’t be willing to risk their lives for their nation in the case of war; I doubt that, should such a poll be allowed in China, it would come to the same result.
Safety
China is extremely safe.
Many commentators put this down to the deep reach of the state. With surveillance omnipresent and police on virtually every corner, crime simply doesn’t pay.
The argument is superficially plausible. But as a scholar of comparative politics, I am rather skeptical of it. After all, East Asia has a great variety of regimes. Politically, Taiwan and the Chinese mainland, South Korea and North Korea, Japan and Mongolia have precious little in common. And yet, all of them have astonishingly low rates of violent crime. This suggests to me that the reason must be cultural rather than political.
But whatever the reason may be, the reality is incontrovertible. Even as a foreigner, who immediately stands out as a tourist, you can move freely in major metropoles without any serious concern about becoming the victim of significant crime. And while there have of late been a few shocking incidents of mass killings in the vein of American school shootings, the fact that it is virtually impossible to procure a gun has limited their death toll.
Pragmatism
Finally, the Chinese system is far more pragmatic than many outsiders believe.
China is of course an authoritarian country in which power is highly concentrated. But it would be a mistake to think of it as a totalitarian country in which local initiative is completely discouraged and any form of criticism immediately quashed.
On my visits, I have been consistently surprised how openly many people, from highly educated elites to delivery drivers, are willing to speak about genuine problems, like the steep cost of living or the difficulty of finding well-paying jobs. As a fascinating literature in political science has chronicled, there is even a longstanding tradition of political protest. When an individual citizen suffers some flagrant injustice at the hands of the state, or a local official proves to be especially corrupt, citizens often take to the street to call attention to their plight. As long as they avoid directly challenging the authority of the Communist Party, and sidestep especially sensitive topics like Tibet, their protests have a chance of success: it seems that the CCP assiduously monitors such expressions of discontent to identify, and punish, the most inept officials.
Culture
This is perhaps the most obvious point on the list but: China is an ancient civilization with the deep cultural resources that tend to go with such a rich history.
Chinese restaurants, from gourmet restaurants to neighborhood noodle shacks, are some of the best in the world. There is a long and lively tradition of Chinese poetry and calligraphy. The fine arts are booming. Classical music performances in major cities now rival those in any Western city. And given the country’s size, it is increasingly a player in every quirky field of cultural endeavor: Shanghai has some of the most refined coffee shops, some of the most fashionable streetwear brands, and some of the most dedicated cosplay communities in the world.
These strengths are real and they are significant. In light of the many things that China has going for it, only a fool would underestimate the country. Anybody who still claims that authoritarian countries are incapable of innovating, or that the country’s rise will prove to be a chimera, is refusing to update their views in light of very strong evidence.
But of course many of these strengths also have a significant flip side. The ability of a few people in Beijing to make vastly consequential decisions for the whole country can lead to giant economic waste when these leaders make poor decisions. An impressive work ethic can quickly lead to burnout or a culture that prizes the outward manifestations of toil over the actual work of innovation. High modernist schemes can accomplish real feats like creating a lingua franca but also risk imposing uniform ways of doing things which may be ill-adapted to local conditions. A healthy patriotism that unites a vast nation can turn into an overly assertive jingoism that inspires resentment at home and alienates potential allies abroad.
So if you are growing concerned that I’ve bought the (red-tinted) Kool-Aid, worry not: In the next installment of this two-part series, I will share my impressions of China’s most important challenges and weaknesses with the same depth and candor.
This is based on nominal GDP. But while adjusting for purchasing power parity significantly narrows the gap between China and the richest countries, like the United States, it does not change this comparison that much, as other middle-income countries also gain by the adjustment. So if you look at PPP-adjusted GDP per capita, China ends up being a little richer than Thailand and Turkmenistan but a little poorer than Georgia and the Dominican Republic.
In New Zealand, a simple majority by the unilateral legislature suffices for a law to pass. In the United States, it requires a majority in the House of Representatives, the assent of three fifths of all Senators, the signature of the president, and at least the tacit agreement of the Supreme Court.
Yes, Amtrak claims that the Acela counts. But… let’s be real. While in China, I took the train from Shanghai to Nanjing. It covers a distance of about 185 miles and takes one hour. That is about the same distance as that between New York and Baltimore, located en route to Washington, DC., on the fastest rail segment in America. The Acela takes well over two hours to cover the same distance.
If their regional languages were too distinct, they could in theory have attempted to communicate in writing—except that at least one of them would likely have been illiterate.
I've been surprised by how many powerful and influential people still insist that we don't really need to worry about China because their authoritarian system is incapable of innovating and they can only copy the work of others. It strikes me as an example of rejecting new evidence in favor of more comforting prior assumptions. I fear that we won't wake up to reality until we have experienced our own Suez Crisis.
Yascha, my son’s father in law is from Taiwan with business in China. He tells a different story than what you describe. He thinks there is a lot of smoke and mirrors to the look given to tourists. Real estate is overbuilt and unaffordable for most people. People are not happy with Xi Jinping. Many of the rich people are moving their money out, expecting that when Xi Jinping is replaced, there will be chaos because of the power vacuum it will create. He also talks that in his most recent visit, he could not use his phone to summon a taxi because phones have to be registered with the government. He had to arrange with his office to be picked up and taken everywhere.
Did you experience any of these things?