China's New Confucianism

Princeton University Press

Contents

Chapter One

In the United States, the political future is constrained, for better or worse, by constitutional arrangements that have been in place for more than two centuries. Barring dramatic developments that few would welcome, such as nuclear war or major terrorist attacks, it is highly unlikely that the political system will change much over the next few decades. In China, by contrast, the political future is wide open. According to the formulation of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP), the current system is the "primary stage of socialism," meaning that it's a transitional phase to a higher and superior form of socialism. The economic foundation, along with the legal and political superstructure, will change in the future. For in de pen dent intellectuals, the only remotely plausible justification for the current system of economic liberalization combined with tight political control is that it is a temporary necessity given the need to provide social order during the disruptive period of economic development (and many would reject this claim). Nobody argues that the current political system should remain in place once the economy is developed.

The question is, what comes after economic development? In China, the debates on this question are somewhat constrained due to political controls as well as the widely felt need to deal with China's more immediate economic and social problems. There also seems to be an aversion to "utopian thinking," which is an understandable reaction to Mao's disastrous attempts to sweep away the past during the Great Leap Forward and the Cultural Revolution. Still, few doubt that there's a need for a different—and more inspiring—political model in the future. In private discussions, there is room for speculation, and I will report on some possibilities.

The End of (Marxist) Ideology

Officially, the philosophy of Karl Marx underpins the legitimacy of the ruling CCP, and thus Marxism is the place to start for thinking about China's political future. It's true that the CCP no longer emphasizes class struggle, hatred of the rich, and opposition to private property. In fact, capitalists can now join the CCP, and the legal system is being reformed (slowly) so that it more closely approximates that of capitalist countries. But such developments may reflect a better understanding of Marxist theory than in Mao's day. The CCP need not abandon the commitment to communism as the long-term goal so long as it recognizes that poor countries must go through capitalism on the way.

The capitalist mode of production treats workers as mere tools in the productive process and puts technology to use for the purpose of enriching a small minority of capitalists. But it does have an important virtue: it has the consequence of developing the productive forces more than any previous economic system. The reason is that capitalists compete with each other to make a profit; hence they have an incentive to develop new, ever more efficient means to produce goods, creating a large material surplus without which socialism would not be feasible. If communism is implemented without developed productive forces (advanced technology and the knowledge to make use of it) that underpin material abundance, then it won't work for long. Without an "absolutely essential material premise," as Marx put it in The German Ideology, "want is merely made general, and with want the struggle for necessities would begin again, and the old filthy business would necessarily be restored." That's why Marx justified British imperialism in India: yes, it would be exploitative and miserable for Indian workers, but the foundations would be laid for socialist rule. The CCP's defense of brutal capitalism in China—as Deng Xiaoping famously put it, "To get rich is glorious"—has its roots in a similar logic.

In the Marxist framework, the moral point of the whole ugly process is to free the large mass of humankind from the need to engage in drudge labor. Technology will be highly developed, and at a certain point—the moment of revolution—private property will be abolished, and machines made to do work for the betterment of humanity instead of the interests of one small class. Technology will do the dirty work needed to meet people's physical needs, and people will finally be free to go fishing, read books, design and create works of beauty, and so on. Unpleasant labor will be limited to the maintenance of machinery and other tasks required to keep the system going, but this "realm of necessity" would not take up most of the working day.

But when is China supposed to implement communism? And how will the transition come about? One response is that it's not useful to think about such questions because the transition to communism will happen anyway. Marx himself was a technological optimist (see his discussion of the Factory Acts in Capital, vol. 1): technological developments will lead to the communist revolution no matter what theorists say about it. But his faith rested on now discredited economic theories such as the falling rate of profit under capitalism and the labor theory of value. And from a normative perspective, it is important to think about policies that can speed up the process and minimize the suffering of workers along the way. Perhaps that's why Marx himself felt the need to address workers and rally them to his cause.

By invoking the rhetoric of "scientific development," the Chinese government seems officially committed to the technologically optimistic interpretation of Marx. Yet it has recently taken on board concerns about the need to minimize the suffering of workers and farmers during the process of scientific development. In October 2006, for the first time in twenty-five years, a plenary session of the CCP's Central Committee devoted itself specifically to the study of social issues. Chinese policymakers signaled a shift from no-holds-barred growth to a more sustainable model that would boost social and economic equality and enable low-income and underprivileged groups to have more access to employment opportunities, basic education, primary health care, and social security. And the government has been more active in promoting workers' rights. It successfully forced Wal-Mart to accept the state-controlled union in its Chinese outlets, and it has passed a law that aims to crack down on sweatshops and gives labor unions power to negotiate worker contracts, safety protection, and workplace ground rules for the first time since market forces were introduced in the 1980s.

Notwithstanding official rhetoric, it is unclear how much these developments stem from commitment to communism. Wu Zhongmin of the Central Party School supports the official recognition of social justice with the view that social resources should be distributed according to contribution, where members of society "are enabled to obtain according to deserts." Chinese readers would recognize the reference to Marx's account of "lower communism," but in practice the government's call for social justice seems to mean nothing more than the recognition of the need for the welfare measures that some capitalist countries have adopted to mitigate the worst excesses of capitalism (many Chinese officials of late have visited Scandinavian states to learn about their social welfare system, and such welfare states have been praised in the official media). And philosophically, the commitment to the disadvantaged can be grounded in social democratic theories that emphasize social and economic rights, Confucian ideas that the government should give first consideration to those deprived of resources and key social relations, or even Christian values that prioritize the needs of the poor and the humble. There is nothing distinctly Marxist about the CCP's call for more social welfare.

Leading intellectuals of the "new left" such as Wang Hui have long been calling for social justice, meaning that China's first priority should be to address the huge gap between rich and poor and to secure the interests of the disadvantaged. But their views, as one might expect, tend to be more critical of the status quo. They argue that social justice cannot be achieved without substantial political reforms, such as more autonomy for organizations of farmers and workers, democratic processes that allow for the articulation of interests, and a free press that would expose official corruption. Cui Zhiyuan of Tsinghua University is perhaps the most radical of the new leftists: he has argued for both economic and political democracy. In a fascinating essay titled "Liberal Socialism and the Future of China: A Petty Bourgeoisie Manifesto," he warns that progressive forces in China should not imitate social democratic practices pursued in Western Europe. Instead, Cui argues for labor-capital partnerships and social dividends paid to all citizens according to age and family status. Only such innovations could realize the goal of empowering the large majority of Chinese workers and farmers.

But the new leftists do not ask the question of what happens after economic development, when the large majority of Chinese no longer have to spend their days toiling in fields and factories. The discourse, both official and unofficial, seems to be confined to debates about how best to provide benefits for workers and farmers given current levels of technological development, and nobody seems to be thinking about how to move toward an abundant society that frees workers from unwanted labor and when this ideal is supposed to be realized.

So why isn't communism being discussed? For scholars, there may be political constraints. Because Marxism is supposed to provide legitimacy for the government, it is the most tightly controlled political discourse in China. At Tsinghua—the university that has trained much of China's political elite, including President Hu Jintao—my Marxist colleagues do interesting and valuable work in Marxist theory (similar to Western scholars of Marxism), but they rarely apply Marx's ideals to China's current and future political reality. I was told that it's too politically sensitive to be explicit about such matters.

The tendency to avoid utopian theorizing also helps to explain the lack of theorizing about "higher communism." I visited the Translation Bureau of the Central Committee of the Chinese Communist Party—the official Marxist institute with the task of translating Marx's works into Chinese—in the hope of finding out more about Marxist theorizing about communism. The institute is flush with funds from the government, and perhaps they are relatively free to think about the appropriate conditions and mechanisms for the implementation of communism in China. But I came up empty. I was handed beautifully packaged translations of the Communist Manifesto, and the people I met spoke about the need to deal with the problem of economic in equality in contemporary China, but they seemed puzzled by my questions about freeing workers from drudge labor in China's communist future. Let's deal with the present problems first, they said, before worrying about the long term.

There may also be the worry that talking about communism now reduces the likelihood of achieving it. An American businessman who is well connected with China's political elite told me that Marxist theorists in the government still plan to implement higher communism in the future, but they don't want to make it explicit because communism might require expropriation of the capitalist class. If capitalists are made aware of this possibility, they might think their property rights are not stable and hence they might not be willing to invest in ways that are necessary to develop the productive forces now. The fact that foreign corporations (with some notable exceptions, like Nike) lobbied vigorously against the fairly mild Chinese proposal to upgrade workers' rights and warned that they would build fewer factories in China suggests that such fears are not entirely unfounded. Such forward-looking leaders may also worry that contemporary Chinese workers may not be willing to sacrifice in the interests of future generations. If workers are made aware of the plan to implement communism in the future, they might not be willing to undergo the sacrifices that are required to get there.

I would surmise, however, that the main reason Chinese officials and scholars do not talk about communism is that hardly anybody really believes that Marxism should provide guidelines for thinking about China's political future. The ideology has been so discredited by its misuses that it has lost almost all legitimacy in society. In reality, even the "communist" government won't be confined by Marxist theory if it conflicts with the imperative to remain in power and to provide stability and order in society. For practical purposes, it's the end of ideology in China. Not the end of all ideology, but the end of Marxist ideology. To the extent there's a need for a moral foundation for political rule in China, it almost certainly won't come from Karl Marx.

The Revival of Confucianism

In China, the moral vacuum is being filled by Christian sects, Falun Gong, and extreme forms of nationalism. But the government considers that such alternatives threaten the hard-won peace and stability that underpins the country's development, so it has encouraged the revival of China's most venerable political tradition: Confucianism. Like most ideologies, however, Confucianism can be a double-edged sword.

"Confucius said, 'Harmony is something to be cherished,'" President Hu Jintao noted in February 2005. A few months later, he instructed China's party cadres to build a "harmonious society." Echoing Confucian themes, Hu said China should promote such values as honesty and unity, as well as forge a closer relationship between the people and the government. In March 2007, the prime minister, Wen Jiabao—regarded as relatively liberal—made even more explicit references to tradition: "From Confucius to Sun Yat-sen, the traditional culture of the Chinese nation has numerous precious elements, many positive aspects regarding the nature of the people and democracy. For example, it stresses love and humanity, community, harmony among different viewpoints, and sharing the world in common (tian xia wei gong)." Political practices also reflect such values: Communist Party officials in Henan province are assessed on the basis of Confucian values such as filial piety and family responsibility. Abroad, the government has been promoting Confucianism via branches of the Confucius Institute, a Chinese language and culture center similar to France's Alliance Française and Germany's Goethe Institute (so far, however, the emphasis has been on language teaching rather than the promotion of culture). The first Confucius Institute was set up in 2004, and 140 campuses have since opened in thirty-six countries (as of mid-2007).

For the government, the promotion of Confucian values has several advantages. Domestically, the affirmation of harmony is meant to reflect the ruling party's concern for all classes. Threatened by rural discontent—according to official figures, there were 87,000 illegal disturbances in 2005, and 385,000 rural people participated in "mass incidents" from January to September 2006—the government realizes that it needs to do more for those bearing the brunt of China's development (there is a joke in China, that development benefits everyone except farmers, workers, and women). China's widening income gap is approaching Latin American levels and threatens to divide the country into separate classes. The call for harmony, in other words, is an implicit recognition that things are not so harmonious; but unlike Maoist days, the conflicts must be resolved peacefully, not through violent class conflict. Internationally, the call for peace and harmony is meant to disarm fears about China's rise. The government is saying that growing economic power won't translate into military adventurism and that peaceful resolution of conflicts is the way to go.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from China's New Confucianismby Daniel A. Bell Copyright © 2008 by Princeton University Press. Excerpted by permission of Princeton University Press. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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