During the state visit to the US by Chinese President Hu Jintao (胡錦濤), US President Barack Obama pressed Hu on human rights. He probably should have asked more about spreading democracy in China, because he might have been surprised by what he heard.
In September, Hu gave a speech in Hong Kong in which he called for new thinking about Chinese democracy.
“There is a need to … hold democratic elections according to the law; have democratic decision-making, democratic management, as well as democratic supervision; safeguard people’s right to know, to participate, to express and to supervise,” Hu said.
His remarks elaborated on previous comments by Chinese Premier Wen Jiabao (溫家寶), delivered in the special economic zone of Shenzhen, the coastal free-enterprise zone where China’s economic revolution began. Wen said that political reform, including opportunities for citizens to criticize and monitor the government, is necessary to sustain China’s breakneck economic growth. Otherwise, he said, the country’s economic gains would be lost.
Wen’s remarks led to speculation that Shenzhen, which set the pace for China’s economic development, could soon become a “special political zone.” China experts noted that a next step could be direct elections for the leaders of the Shenzhen special economic zone’s six districts.
Most non-Chinese would be surprised to learn that the country already holds more elections than any other in the world. Under the Organic Law of the Village Committees, all of China’s approximately 1 million villages — home to about 600 million voters — hold local elections every three years.
Critics scoff that local Chinese Communist Party (CCP) officials manipulate these elections, but according to research by Robert Benewick, a professor at the University of Sussex in England, village elections have been growing more competitive, with a greater number of independent candidates and increasing use of the secret ballot. For those elections that have been genuinely competitive, researchers claim to have found evidence of positive effects.
For example, in a study that looked at 40 villages during a 16 year period, the economist Yang Yao (楊姚) found that the introduction of elections had led to increased spending on public services by 20 percent, while reducing spending on “administrative costs” — bureaucratese for corruption — by 18 percent. Wen has indicated that village elections might be extended to the next highest government level — township administrations — during the next few years.
China’s modest experiments with local elections have been supplemented by exercises in “deliberative democracy.” These take the form of high-tech town hall meetings. Chinese officials hired Stanford University professor James Fishkin to draft a representative sample of citizens from Zeguo for an assembly using keypad polling devices and handheld computers to decide how the city should spend a US$6 million public-works budget. The Zeguo exercise was considered hugely successful and has been replicated elsewhere in China.
Professor Yu Keping (余克平), an influential CCP official and author of a prominent book called Democracy Is a Good Thing, is said to have the ear of Hu. Yu and others have been nudging democracy forward within the CCP itself. Competitive elections for lower-level party posts have already been held, with votes for provincial and national party congresses showing electoral slates with 15 percent to 30 percent more candidates than positions.
Since the CCP has a membership of 73 million people, such a “democratic vanguard” holds great potential. If internal elections become widespread, the lines of ideological disagreement within elite circles might become more clearly drawn, which could further spur calls for some kind of representative institutional structure. Rapid change in China already has resulted in a battle of ideas, pitting the coasts and cities against the countryside and inland provinces, and the rich against the poor.
Of course, as Chinese democracy develops, it is unlikely to replicate the Western model. Confucian-inspired intellectuals like Jiang Qing (蔣慶), for example, have put forward an innovative proposal for a tricameral legislature. Legislators in one chamber would be selected on the basis of merit and competency and in the others on the basis of elections of some kind. One elected chamber might be reserved only for CCP members, the other for representatives elected by ordinary Chinese.
Such a tricameral legislature, its proponents believe, would better ensure that political decisions are made by more educated and enlightened representatives, thereby avoiding the rank populism of Western-style elected factions.
It is intriguing to contemplate China embracing some sort of innovative democratic experiment, combining tricameralism with deliberative democracy methods to mold a new separation of powers — and thus a new type of political accountability.
Former Chinese leader Deng Xiaoping (鄧小平) was quoted in 1987 as saying that there would be national elections in 50 years. China’s democratic trajectory generates little fanfare, but it may actually deliver on Deng’s promise ahead of schedule.
Steven Hill is an author.
COPYRIGHT: PROJECT SYNDICATE
In late January, Taiwan’s first indigenous submarine, the Hai Kun (海鯤, or Narwhal), completed its first submerged dive, reaching a depth of roughly 50m during trials in the waters off Kaohsiung. By March, it had managed a fifth dive, still well short of the deep-water and endurance tests required before the navy could accept the vessel. The original delivery deadline of November last year passed months ago. CSBC Corp, Taiwan, the lead contractor, now targets June and the Ministry of National Defense is levying daily penalties for every day the submarine remains unfinished. The Hai Kun was supposed to be
What began on Feb. 28 as a military campaign against Iran quickly became the largest energy-supply disruption in modern times. Unlike the oil crises of the 1970s, which stemmed from producer-led embargoes, US President Donald Trump is the first leader in modern history to trigger a cascading global energy crisis through direct military action. In the process, Trump has also laid bare Taiwan’s strategic and economic fragilities, offering Beijing a real-time tutorial in how to exploit them. Repairing the damage to Persian Gulf oil and gas infrastructure could take years, suggesting that elevated energy prices are likely to persist. But the most
Most schoolchildren learn that the circumference of the Earth is about 40,000km. They do not learn that the global economy depends on just 160 of those kilometers. Blocking two narrow waterways — the Strait of Hormuz and the Taiwan Strait — could send the economy back in time, if not to the Stone Age that US President Donald Trump has been threatening to bomb Iran back to, then at least to the mid-20th century, before the Rolling Stones first hit the airwaves. Over the past month and a half, Iran has turned the Strait of Hormuz, which is about 39km wide at
The ongoing Middle East crisis has reinforced an uncomfortable truth for Taiwan: In an increasingly interconnected and volatile world, distant wars rarely remain distant. What began as a regional confrontation between the US, Israel and Iran has evolved into a strategic shock wave reverberating far beyond the Persian Gulf. For Taiwan, the consequences are immediate, material and deeply unsettling. From Taipei’s perspective, the conflict has exposed two vulnerabilities — Taiwan’s dependence on imported energy and the risks created when Washington’s military attention is diverted. Together, they offer a preview of the pressures Taiwan might increasingly face in an era of overlapping geopolitical