Beijing Embraces Classical Fascism
wanghx
May 2008
Beijing Embraces Classical Fascism
In 2002, I speculated that China may be something we have never seen
before: a mature fascist state. Recent events there, especially the mass
rage in response to Western criticism, seem to confirm that theory. More
significantly, over the intervening six years China’s leaders have
consolidated their hold on the organs of control—political, economic and
cultural. Instead of gradually embracing pluralism as many expected,
China’s corporatist elite has become even more entrenched.
Even though they still call themselves communists, and the Communist
Party rules the country, classical fascism should be the starting point
for our efforts to understand the People’s Republic. Imagine Italy 50
years after the fascist revolution. Mussolini would be dead and buried,
the corporate state would be largely intact, the party would be firmly
in control, and Italy would be governed by professional politicians,
part of a corrupt elite, rather than the true believers who had marched
on Rome. It would no longer be a system based on charisma, but would
instead rest almost entirely on political repression, the leaders would
be businesslike and cynical, not idealistic, and they would constantly
invoke formulaic appeals to the grandeur of the “great Italian people,”
“endlessly summoned to emulate the greatness of its ancestors.”
Substitute in the “great Chinese people” and it all sounds familiar. We
are certainly not dealing with a Communist regime, either politically or
economically, nor do Chinese leaders, even those who followed the
radical reformer Deng Xiaoping, seem to be at all interested in treading
the dangerous and uneven path from Stalinism to democracy. They know
that Mikhail Gorbachev fell when he tried to control the economy while
giving political freedom. They are attempting the opposite, keeping a
firm grip on political power while permitting relatively free areas of
economic enterprise. Their political methods are quite like those used
by the European fascists 80 years ago.
Unlike traditional communist dictators—Mao, for example—who extirpated
traditional culture and replaced it with a sterile Marxism-Leninism, the
Chinese now enthusiastically, even compulsively, embrace the glories of
China’s long history. Their passionate reassertion of the greatness of
past dynasties has both entranced and baffled Western observers, because
it does not fit the model of an “evolving communist system.”
Yet the fascist leaders of the 1920s and 1930s used exactly the same
device. Mussolini rebuilt Rome to provide a dramatic visual reminder of
ancient glories, and he used ancient history to justify the conquest of
Libya and Ethiopia. Hitler’s favorite architect built neoclassical
buildings throughout the Third Reich, and his favorite operatic composer
organized festivals to celebrate the country’s mythic past.
Like their European predecessors, the Chinese claim a major role in the
world because of their history and culture, not just on the basis of
their current power, or scientific or cultural accomplishments. China
even toys with some of the more bizarre notions of the earlier fascisms,
such as the program to make the country self-sufficient in wheat
production—the same quest for autarky that obsessed both Hitler and
Mussolini.
To be sure, the world is much changed since the first half of the last
century. It’s much harder (and sometimes impossible) to go it alone.
Passions for total independence from the outside world are tempered by
the realities of today’s global economy, and China’s appetite for oil
and other raw materials is properly legendary. But the Chinese, like the
European fascists, are intensely xenophobic, and obviously worry that
their people may turn against them if they learn too much about the rest
of the world. They consequently work very hard to dominate the flow of
information. Just ask Google, forced to cooperate with the censors in
order to work in China.
Some scholars of contemporary China see the Beijing regime as very
nervous, and perhaps even unstable, and they are encouraged in this
belief when they see recent events such as the eruption of popular
sentiment against the Tibetan monks’ modest protests. That view is
further reinforced by similar outcries against most any criticism of
Chinese performance, from human rights to air pollution, and from
preparations for the Olympic Games to the failure of Chinese quality
control in food production and children’s toys. The recent treatment of
French retailer Carrefour at the hands of Chinese nationalists is a case
in point. It has been publicly excoriated and shunned because France’s
President Nicolas Sarkozy dared to consider the possibility of
boycotting the Olympics.
In all these cases, it is tempting to conclude that the regime is
worried about its own survival, and, in order to rally nationalist
passions, feels compelled to portray the country as a global victim.
Perhaps they are right. The strongest evidence to support the theory of
insecurity at the highest levels of Chinese society is the practice of
the “princelings” (wealthy children of the ruling elites) to buy homes
in places such as the United States, Canada and Australia. These are not
luxury homes of the sort favored by wealthy businessman and officials
from the oil-rich countries of the Middle East. Rather they are
typically “normal” homes of the sort a potential émigré might want to
have in reserve in case things went bad back home.
Moreover, there are reasons to believe that eruptions of nationalist
passion do indeed worry the regime, and Chinese leaders have certainly
tamped down such episodes in the past. In recent days, the regime has
even reached out to the Dalai Lama himself in an apparent effort to calm
the situation, after previously enouncing the “Dalai clique” as a
dangerous form of separatism and even treason.
On the other hand, the cult of victimhood was always part of fascist
culture. Just like Germany and Italy in the interwar period, China feels
betrayed and humiliated, and seeks to avenge her many historic wounds.
This is not necessarily a true sign of anxiety; it’s an integral part of
the sort of hypernationalism that has always been at the heart of all
fascist movements and regimes. We cannot look into the souls of the
Chinese tyrants, but I doubt that China is an intensely unstable system,
riven by the democratic impulses of capitalism on the one hand, and the
repressive practices of the regime on the other. This is a mature
fascism, not a frenzied mass movement, and the current regime is not
composed of revolutionary fanatics. Today’s Chinese leaders are the
heirs of two very different revolutions, Mao’s and Deng’s. The first was
a failed communist experiment; the second is a fascist transformation
whose future is up for grabs.
If the fascist model is correct, we should not be at all surprised by
the recent rhetoric or mass demonstrations. Hitler’s Germany and
Mussolini’s Italy were every bit as sensitive to any sign of foreign
criticism as the Chinese today, both because victimhood is always part
of the definition of such states, and because it’s an essential
technique of mass control. The violent denunciations of Westerners who
criticize Chinese repression may not be a sign of internal anxiety or
weakness. They may instead be a sign of strength, a demonstration of the
regime’s popularity. Remember that European fascism did not fall as the
result of internal crisis—it took a bloody world war to bring it down.
Fascism was so alarmingly popular neither Italians not Germans produced
more than token resistance until the war began to be lost. It may well
be that the mass condemnation of Western calls for greater political
tolerance is in fact a sign of political success.
Since classical fascism had such a brief life span, it is hard to know
whether or not a stable, durable fascist state is possible.
Economically, the corporate state, of which the current Chinese system
is a textbook example, may prove more flexible and adaptable than the
rigid central planning that doomed communism in the Soviet Empire and
elsewhere (although the travails of Japan, which also tried to combine
capitalist enterprise with government guidance, show the kinds of
problems China will likely face). Our brief experience with fascism
makes it difficult to evaluate the possibilities of political evolution,
and the People’s Republic is full of secrets. But prudent strategists
would do well to assume that the regime will be around for a while
longer—perhaps a lot longer.
If it is a popular, fascist regime, should the world prepare for some
difficult and dangerous confrontations with the People’s Republic?
Twentieth-century fascist states were very aggressive; Nazi Germany and
fascist Italy were both expansionist nations. Is it not likely that
China will similarly seek to enlarge its domain?
I believe the answer is “yes, but.” Many Chinese leaders might like to
see their sway extend throughout the region, and beyond. China’s
military is not so subtly preparing the capability to defeat U.S. forces
in Asia in order to prevent intervention in any conflict on its
periphery. No serious student of China doubts the enormous ambitions of
both the leadership and the masses. But, unlike Hitler and Mussolini,
the Chinese tyrants do not urgently need quick geographical expansion to
demonstrate the glory of their country and the truth of their vision.
For the moment, at least, success at home and global recognition of
Chinese accomplishments seem to be enough. Since Chinese fascism is less
ideological than its European predecessors, Chinese leaders are far more
flexible than Hitler and Mussolini.
Nonetheless, the short history of classical fascism suggests that it is
only a matter of time before China will pursue confrontation with the
West. That is built into the dna of all such regimes. Sooner or later,
Chinese leaders will feel compelled to demonstrate the superiority of
their system, and even the most impressive per capita GDP will not do.
Superiority means others have to bend their knees, and cater to the
wishes of the dominant nation. Just as Mussolini saw the colonization of
Africa and the invasion of Greece and the Balkans as necessary steps in
the establishment of a new fascist empire, so the Chinese are likely to
demand tribute from their neighbors—above all, the Chinese on the island
nation of Taiwan, in order to add the recovery of lost territory to the
regime’s list of accomplishments. Even today, at a time when the regime
is seeking praise, not tribute, in the run-up to the Olympic Games,
there are bellicose overtones to official rhetoric.
How, then, should the democracies deal with China? The first step is to
disabuse ourselves of the notion that wealth is the surest guarantor of
peace. The West traded with the Soviet Union, and gave them credits as
well, but it did not prevent the Kremlin from expanding into the Horn of
Africa, or sponsoring terrorist groups in Europe and the Middle East. A
wealthy China will not automatically be less inclined to go to war over
Taiwan, or, for that matter, to wage or threaten war with Japan.
Indeed, the opposite may be true—the richer and stronger China becomes,
the more they build up their military might, the more likely such wars
may be. It follows that the West must prepare for war with China, hoping
thereby to deter it. A great Roman once said that if you want peace,
prepare for war. This is sound advice with regard to a fascist Chinese
state that wants to play a global role.
Meanwhile, we should do what we can to convince the people of China that
their long-term interests are best served by greater political freedom,
no matter how annoying and chaotic that may sometimes be. I think we can
trust the Chinese leaders on this one. Any regime as palpably concerned
about the free flow of information, knows well that ideas about freedom
might be very popular. Let’s test that hypothesis, by talking directly
to “the billion.” In today’s world, we can surely find ways to reach them.
If we do not take such steps, our risk will surely increase, and
explosions of rage, manipulated or spontaneous, will recur. Eventually
they will take the form of real actions.
Mr. Ledeen is an expert on U.S. foreign policy at the American
Enterprise Institute for Public Policy Research. He served as a
commissioner on the U.S.-China Economic and Security Review Commission
from 2001-03.