Keyu Jin and China's new playbook

On bridging perspectives and soft apologia

I’ve just finished reading The New China Playbook: beyond Socialism and Capitalism, by London School of Economics professor Keyu Jin.

The book’s publication has gained its author a certain notoriety, with all the most serious Western media outlets lining up to hear her hot takes on China. Many have called her “a bridge between East and West”, that most clichéd of accolades, and praised her for being able to explain China to Westerners.

To be sure, Jin is a serious economist, and her book is clear, well-written and has plenty of good insight on how the Chinese economy works. As someone with a bit of expertise on the subject (I like to think), it gave me no groundbreaking new knowledge, but for readers who know less about the topic it could certainly be a useful introduction.

At the same time, much of the praise for her book seems to ignore Jin’s questionable normative statements regarding China’s political system, of which the book is peppered right from the first chapter. Essentially, her argument boils down to the fact that China has a different culture and history from the West, so its authoritarian political system is acceptable to the Chinese.

Jin argues that China’s “interventionist” state is rooted in a paternalistic attitude, which she traces back to Confucianism (of course). She claims that for the Chinese, there is little difference between state paternalism and authoritarian parenting. She lends support to her argument by quoting a World Values Survey, according to which 93% of Chinese “value security over freedom”, as opposed to just 28% of Americans.

She then quotes various other international surveys, all of which purport to show that the Chinese public is far more satisfied with its government than people in the US and elsewhere: 93% of Chinese were “strongly satisfied” with their government in 2016; 95% had significant confidence in their government in 2020, as opposed to 33% in the US and 45% worldwide; and 91% of Chinese trusted their government in 2022, compared to 39% of Americans.

None of this is exactly original. The same arguments have been made by all of the most sophisticated apologists for the Chinese system, from Martin Jacques and Daniel A. Bell to Kishore Mahbubani and Eric Li: talk of Confucian tradition, comparisons between the Chinese government and a tough but benevolent parent, and references to opinion polls that find overwhelming satisfaction with the government amongst people in China.

Jin argues that, apart from being paternalistic, the Chinese system also delivers the goods. Not only does it keep its people safe, but it has made their lives far more prosperous within her lifetime. Jin’s basic thesis, as her book’s title suggests, is that China’s economic “playbook” is like nothing the world has ever seen before. It’s not socialism, and it’s not capitalism. It’s a successful hybrid, based on what she calls the “mayor economy”. In this system a strong central state can command huge resources, but in practice devolves economic decision-making to the local tiers of government.

By giving authority to local governments, the state is purposefully offsetting the rigidities and institutional deficiencies of its central authority. Local officials are motivated to make economically-sound choices, because they are promoted or demoted based on a series of indicators, among which GDP growth was most prominent until recently. As a result they tend to support successful and innovative private businesses, and not just their local State-Owned Enterprises (which, as she admits, are less efficient).

Jin recognises that this system led local governments to create GDP with no intrinsic value, by engaging in useless public works and constant, unnecessary urban reconfiguration, and that this single-minded pursuit of GDP growth “gave rise to too much of everything in China”, from apartment blocks to steel plants. It has also presented ample opportunity for corruption and collusion.

However, she argues that the Chinese state has already shifted its priorities: instead of focusing only on GDP growth, it is now trying to fix the country’s environmental problems, improve public services, reduce inequality and curb corruption. This is happening because they realise they have to satisfy the aspirations of the rising middle class in order to maintain their legitimacy. This is the “New China playbook” of the book’s title.

In common with most apologists, Jin claims that China’s government receives its legitimacy not from elections, but from being attentive and responsive to its citizens. She states that “the system’s accountability mechanisms can sometimes hold their own with those of democratic countries”, citing environmental inspections, and the setting up of physical and online channels through which citizens are actively encouraged to report wrongdoing by officials.

Jin adds that social media is also an important channel through which Chinese citizens can voice their opinions and complaints, and that the government both allows and encourages this. She dismisses concerns over the system’s lack of democratic mechanisms, saying that “despite the limits China imposes on market forces, and the absence of a free press, independent judicial system, and the individual right to vote, we see that there are other mechanisms in place to respond to the needs of its citizens and address the threats posed by income inequality”.

Does she see any shortcomings in the way China is run? Although her general tone is celebratory, there do seem to be some ways in which the system falls short of her expectations. At various points, she hints that she would like the state to be a bit less invasive, and give more space to private enterprise and talent.

For instance, when it comes to the financial system, she says China “scores high on stability but low on efficiency”. Government interventions to preserve stability create more distortions, she claims, and “market mechanisms clearly need to weigh in more than the state in the future”. “One remedy for China’s financial weaknesses would be to introduce competition from private domestic players and foreign players who can challenge the status quo with its cumbersome state entities”, she adds.

In the chapter on the Technology Race, Jin makes the very fair point that China has become very good at “creative adaptations” of existing technology, but still lags behind when it comes to “fundamental breakthroughs”: trailblazing discoveries and innovations that take us “from zero to one”.

She correctly identifies the problem in the way Chinese universities work: “scholars are pressured to publish a large number of papers to get promoted, or to show results to the government cadres, but this doesn’t win Nobel Prizes”. She also notes that a mindset “that encourages creativity by pushing boundaries” has “hardly been China’s strength so far”. She blames this on the legacy of Confucianism, but also says it is “a practical accommodation to the reality of a strong state”.

She admits that the Chinese leadership’s focus on stability at all costs can be a burden, coming at the cost of flexibility and resilience: “To maintain stability huge costs must be incurred-whether it is to save the economy from plunging into deep financial crisis or to maintain a strict zero-COVID policy. Resisting downward pressure on the economy at all costs or maintaining stability at all times does not help build resilience. Like a body living in a sterile environment, it eventually loses all immunity.”

From the sound of it, Keyu Jin would like the Chinese Communist Party to release its grip a bit, loosen up, be more accommodating towards domestic private companies and even foreign competition, particularly in the financial sector. This is because she sees clearly that their way of running the country can sometimes be stifling and run counter to the goals they seek (goals of which she approves, no doubt): turning China into a highly developed country, an innovator and the world’s preeminent power.

All the same, in her book Jin never makes any mention of the fact that Party rule has taken a clear turn towards being more controlling and stifling over the past decade. She most definitely doesn’t blame any of China’s problems on the man currently in power, who has done away with the practice of “collective leadership” established by Deng Xiaoping and revived strongman rule. In fact, I don’t think Xi Jinping’s name ever comes up in the entire book.

It is reasonable to assume that, as someone who still has family in China and divides her time between London and Beijing, Jin would be uncomfortable openly criticising China’s current leader. Perhaps she is even timidly trying to hint that she wants things to change (although, if she can’t say what she thinks openly, you might wonder why we should take her seriously).

The only thing is that when Xi Jinping abolished term limits for China’s presidency in 2018, a move symbolic of his wish to remain in power longer than the customary two 5-year terms (even though it is his position as Party Secretary, not as President, that really gives him power), Keyu Jin was openly cheering him on.

In an article she wrote at the time, Jin claimed that term limits were no longer necessary, because “the new generation of Chinese leaders is not just well-educated, but also well aware of international norms and standards. Unlike the ideological diehards of the past, they can be expected to behave rationally, intelligently, and responsibly.”

She repeated all of the usual talking points about how responsive, efficient and popular the Chinese government is, and also claimed “the situation is hardly a “one-man show,” as much foreign commentary suggests. Half of the members of the Politburo Standing Committee, China’s supreme government body, are not of Xi’s choosing.”

It’s just unfortunate that five years later, once Xi had consolidated his power, the new Standing Committee was, indeed, filled entirely with people of his choosing. Somehow, I doubt this has led Jin to change her mind about him.

In essence, while she will admit there are a few problems with the way China is run, Keyu Jin is fine with the country’s current leadership and its political system. She sees Communist Party rule as efficient, effective, in line with the Chinese people’s aspirations and responsive to their needs. It is a view that aligns closely with that of China’s ruling elite.

Jin is undeniably far more adept at making the case for the Chinese Communist Party than any of China’s “official” propaganda is ever going to be. She makes no overblown claims about how much better China is, she doesn’t rant about Western or US hegemony, she does her best to steer clear of geopolitical issues and territorial disputes, and she recognises at least some of the Chinese system’s limitations.

When asked about the treatment of the Uyghurs in a New York Times interview last year, she didn’t try to claim that China’s approach to “anti-terrorism” should be a shining example to the world, like China’s state propaganda often does. Instead she dodged the question, saying that she had so little information on the matter it would be “irresponsible” of her to comment.

In her book, Jin writes about how she experienced the effects of China’s economic transformation first-hand. As a child, in the early 1980s, her family and everyone around them were living on rationed food coupons. By the early 1990s food was plentiful and available in “a dazzling variety”, and everyone’s lives were visibly improving. When she moved to the US, she was surprised to find that even “cosmopolitan New Yorkers” believed that “all Chinese people lived in constant fear of an oppressive regime”.

She then writes about how views of China shifted, thanks to the country’s vibrant economy and increased opportunities. She says her generation “is proud of what the nation has achieved, although we are also keenly aware of the high price paid along the way. Today we are more sought after by international companies and institutions than any previous generation, which reflects less on our own abilities than it does on what our nation has given us.”

What she seems to play down is the fact that her family and background are far from typical. Jin grew up in Beijing as the daughter of Jin Liqun, a former vice minister of Finance and current President of the Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank, China’s answer to the World Bank. At the age of 14 she moved to the US to attend a fancy Ivy League prep school and then moved on to Harvard. In her book she makes it sound like she was only able to go to the US thanks to the generosity of an American lobbyist, but I suspect her background played a big part.

As well as being a professor of Economics at LSE, Jin now sits on the board of Credit Suisse and advises various other financial institutions, selling her insights and, I imagine, her connections to China’s political and economic top brass. She is a perfect example of the kind of second-generation Chinese elite who is well-placed to exploit the opportunities offered by being at the intersection between the West and China.

Jin may come from a privileged background, but it must be said that her views aren’t rare, or limited to a tiny elite. I’ve know plenty of middle and upper class Chinese with international exposure who share her attitudes: pride in China’s wealth and the world’s newfound respect for their country, and an altogether positive view of the Communist Party rule that brought this about, in spite of a complete lack of ideological passion for socialism or communism.

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In spite of the widespread praise, The New China Playbook has also received critical reviews. Isabel Hilton, writing in the Guardian, noted her tendency to omit unwelcome information and tip-toe around politically contentious questions. A more strongly critical review came from Yasheng Huang, another Beijing-born academic with a very different view of what’s best for China. Huang, who works in the US, is a well-known critic of the Communist Party and an advocate of pro-market and democratic reform. Writing in Foreign Policy, he takes issue with Jin’s portrayal of the Chinese system as economically successful.  

Huang claims that Jin’s celebratory tone is quite out of touch with China’s current situation, which sees a tanking economy and massive capital flight. He says the so-called “mayor economy” has in fact misallocated capital by favouring less productive state-owned firms, and that local governments have neglected to invest in public services, causing disastrously bad educational and health outcomes in rural areas. He vehemently disagrees that democracy, human rights and rule of law are irrelevant to China, mentioning the protests in 1989 and the revolt against the Covid lockdowns in 2022.

I think some of his criticism is over the top. If China’s system did nothing but misallocate capital, there would not have been decades of breakneck economy growth. Huang says China’s success post-1978 is due to the fact that Beijing “introduced market reforms, encouraged entrepreneurship, and opened up to foreign capital and trade—topics that receive only sporadic attention in Jin’s book.”

But these topics are, in fact, mentioned repeatedly in her book. Quite simply, Jin thinks the Chinese state’s hand in coordinating all these factors was essential to the country’s success. She is probably right. In other developing countries, simply giving free play to market forces and opening up to foreign capital and trade has not led to the same level of sustained economic growth.

It is true that the Chinese economy is currently undergoing some highly publicised problems, from provincial governments drowning in debt to banks defaulting on depositors. But all countries have problems right now, and the real extent of China’s economic woes and of its “massive capital flight” are hotly debated. The country has not yet seen a true economic collapse, it is taking the lead in new sectors like electric cars, and it remains far more prosperous and well-run than it used to be, as well as a force to be reckoned with on the world stage.

Huang quotes from Scott Rozelle’s excellent book Invisible China, which talks about rural Chinese children’s educational and developmental deficiencies. But even Rozelle’s book acknowledges that, while basic education was neglected during the first few decades of Reform and Opening Up, schooling was made free and compulsory in 2006, and both attendance rates and the quality of education in China’s rural areas have improved a lot since then.

Rural Chinese schools now have facilities similar to those in the cities. Rural children’s physical and cognitive deficiencies are in fact the result of being brought up by elderly, uneducated grandparents, while their parents toil away in the cities (which arguably could be blamed on the government’s hukou system). They are not a direct result of a lack of government investment in education.

The reality is that, seen on its own terms and on Keyu Jin’s terms, the Chinese system is a good one. If what you want is a competent government that keeps people safe and makes the economy grow, it is hard to argue that China doesn’t have one. The real problem with Jin’s portrayal of China isn’t what she talks about, but what she leaves out.

Yes, it is true the Chinese government enjoys popular support. The surveys of the Chinese public’s satisfaction that she likes to quote have to be taken with a big grain of salt, even when they are conducted by Harvard University. Nonetheless, no one who knows China today could seriously think the Chinese people are clamouring for an end to Communist Party rule. The uprising of 1989 happened in a very different China, and the anti-lockdown protests petered out as soon as Zero Covid was lifted.

As well as being popular, the Chinese system can also be effective, although whether it is more effective than a democratic system would be is open to question. When it comes to non-political affairs, Chinese governance has become more professional and predictable than it used to be. The country’s transport and telecoms infrastructure are world-beating. Air and water pollution have improved dramatically over the last few years, after the government made this a priority. The cities are mostly safe and well-run. In many ways (although not all), China is a country that works well.  

But there is more to One-Party rule than responsive technocrats, selected on a meritocratic basis, earnestly gathering citizens’ feedback and then setting out to solve their problems. For instance, there is a political system that is still intrinsically unable to allow any discussion of the problems faced by minorities like the Tibetans and Uyghurs. Instead it deals with their disaffection, and a small minority’s violent rebellion, with horrible campaigns of mass detention, re-education and forcible assimilation.

There is a judicial system that still executes a few thousand people a year, sometimes for crimes like corruption, when in much of Asia the death penalty is becoming a thing of the past; a system in which being detained by the authorities still means disappearing for weeks or months before your family is even notified; top officials still engage in power struggles and get purged, with absolutely no transparency; and people can still end up in prison for years for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

There is a censorship machine that squanders the country’s huge creative potential, and an educational system that encourages close-minded nationalism and xenophobia. There is a government that continues to seriously uphold the most ludicrous territorial claims, even when they bring China no appreciable advantage and alienate important neighbours. There is a system so paranoid and lacking in transparency that any serious “on the ground” investigation into the origins of Covid by the WHO would have been out of the question, even though it was in the global interest. And I could go on and on.

On all of this, Keyu Jin has nothing to say. It would not be in her interest to do so, for sure. But it is also clear that, just like many Chinese of her generation and social class, she doesn’t really see any of it as a problem. Therein lies the fundamental disconnect between her view of China and the view of the CCP’s foreign critics. It is a gap in perceptions that is probably impossible to bridge.