FRENCH AND BRITISH ELECTIONS – THE LESSON FROM DIFFERENT OUTCOMES

Europe is in the grip of a rumbling political earthquake (as is the US). But two recent elections turned out very differently. Why?

In France, the challenger, Emmanuel Macron and his new party, La République en march, won decisively, first the presidency and then a strong majority in the National Assembly. In Britain, the challenger, Jeremey Corbyn and the Labour Party, did surprisingly well but still lost the election, taking 55 fewer seats in Parliament than the governing Conservative Party.

National circumstances matter, of course, but there is more to it. These were entirely different battles.

In France, Macron represents no established political camp and has stormed the political citadel with a brand new party of his own making. His movement does not define itself on the traditional left-right divide but responds to the new politics of open society internationalism vs. populist nationalism. It is radical and progressive not in the old meaning but in respect to a new political landscape.

In Britain, the battle was between the traditional foes from within the political establishment and was fought on traditional left-right issues, as if nothing had happened to the political landscape since the 1950s. The Labour Party brought to the election a challenge to some of the government’s policies, but no challenge on the big issues of the day or to the way politics is made. As with so much in Britain’s current political culture, Labour’s campaign was entirely backwards looking.

In France, the election has brought hope that a regime is in the making to undertake much needed reforms and shake French society out of its paralysis of sclerosis and despondency. That hope may be frustrated, but for now there is something new and relevant in the air.

In Britain, now that the dust has settled, it would seem that the challenger did not bring enough of a challenge to the established order to win. Any promise of something new and relevant in the air was missing.

The new political landscape in Britain is defined, most urgently, by Brexit. On this issue, Corbyn’s Labour kept strategically silent, not challenging the government’s hard Brexit stand out of fear of alienating hard Brexit voters. You could not have a clearer manifestation of old politics. In France, Macron took the dark forces of populist nationalism head on and saw them off.

Beyond Brexit, the big issues of the day are environmental sustainability and social justice in the context of global capitalism. On none of these issues did Corbyn’s Labour rise to the challenge. On environmental sustainability, the campaign had nothing to say. On social justice, there was, in the old politics way, promises to various constituencies – students and welfare recipients – and to tax the rich. All worthy, but there was no analysis of the logic of global, information based capitalism and the meaning of social justice in that context.

Specifically for Britain, there are also burning issues of constitutional reform. The Labour campaign, again, as if being designed for a bygone age, had nothing to contribute.

The lesson from these two election is that the meaning of what is “radical” is changing. Political movements that define themselves as progressive and want force should take note. Old politics radicalism now has no traction.

 

PARTICIPATION IV: “THE PARTICIPATION STATE”

“Participatory democracy” is a bit of a misnomer. Democracy is by definition participatory: citizens vote and engage in the making of public opinion into a political force. On this level, the role of citizens is to make demands on the governance that is in the hands of representatives and officials.

But there is now a view that this is not enough of a role for citizens if democracy is to be vibrant and responsive. There is a demand not just for different policies but for a different way of doing politics.

A first response is to improve the channels for citizens to provide political input. Much can be done here, for example with techniques such as deliberative opinion polling. That is important, but still limited: citizens are allowed opinions, but the doing is by “those up there.” Can citizens participate directly in the doing?

They already are. People do voluntary work in the provision of services and make financial contributions to charities that do good works. Governments support this with tax exemptions for charitable givings. This is a form of participatory provision of public goods. More could be done by building on this experience.

Here is a proposal: Governments step up their contributions from tax exemptions to obliging themselves to match the contributions of citizen. Whatever citizens provide, either in money or labour, would generate an equivalent provision from the government. That would be a huge stimulus to citizens to engage in good works.

It would also represent a shift in decision-making. The deciding on what to do would be in the hands of citizens. They would have contributory support from the government but the doing would be theirs. We would then have a model in which citizens are in charge of deciding and doing, with the government in the more limited role of facilitator.

Say, as an example, a group of parents think the local school should offer pupils more physical education. They raise half the money to employ a teacher for the purpose, knowing that the government is obliged to match their contribution. The parents have decided what service should be offered and are able to get it done.

You might argue that it is the government’s responsibility to provide services. Well and good, but if you insist that all the doing must be the responsibility of the government, you are also saying that your own role can be no more than to put pressure on the government. If the starting point of this argument is that the participation available to citizens is too limited, why not welcome the opportunity to take charge directly in the deciding on what should be done? Why not welcome a participation that comes with both power and responsibility?

In the example given, there is a lot in it for citizens, in this case the group of parents. They get a teacher job established by raising only half of the money needed. For every £1 they provide, £2 go to the school. They get to decide what teacher job should be established – they have the power. They get involvement with the local school. They get an opportunity to shift a bit of their family spending from yet more consumption trinkets to socially useful doings under their own control.

There is also much in it for the government. As a result of its facilitation, it sees a useful service being provided. It has let citizens decide which service and helps realise something citizens want. It is cheap for the public purse. Not only have citizens raised half the money needed, much of the additional money the government puts in, it gets back. The money goes into a salary on which the school pays social insurance contributions and the new teacher pays income taxes. The teacher spends the remaining income, generating VAT revenue back to the public purse. That spending in the next round stimulates further economic activity, which generates further public revenue.

Step up a notch and imagine thousands and thousands of such initiatives throughout the land. You then have a democratic structure of social justice: doings are in response to needs identified by citizens and under their authority. Citizens massively decide on the provision of public goods, in a decentralised pattern. Ordinary people here, there and everywhere make decisions. They take power and accept responsibility. The government facilitates and supports their doing. Much of that doing will be in the form of job creation. You therefore have a structure that creates jobs, and by and large good jobs. And an efficient structure free from stifling bureaucracy.

In the aggregate, there is again much in it for the government as well. It offers a way out of the blight of public poverty within private wealth. Things get done which the government itself could not do. When the government is the doer, all doing needs to be funded from taxes. But the raising of new taxes for additional doings is now very difficult. By and large, tax revenues are committed to existing doings, and by and large tax extraction has reached its limit within the constraints of global capitalism. Cynically, the arrangement I am suggesting is a way to get people to pay voluntarily what they would not be willing to pay in taxes.

I have had in mind a country like Britain, which is relatively poor in the provision of public goods and in which tax extraction has (pretty much) reached its social limit, but which is rich in what might broadly be called public provision institutions. That includes, for example, institutions like the National Trust or English Heritage and many similar ones, many local, schools and universities, and a vast network of charities. These are institutions rearing to do more work in their respective fields. Along with a strong tradition of voluntary and charitable participation, they represent an underused national capital. With more stimulus, it would be meaningful for citizens to get together and create their own institutions, small or larger, to work for causes of their interest.

Obviously, there would have to be a regulatory regime for which private provisions would trigger an equivalent government provision and which institutions are eligible partners. Obviously, there would have to be oversight to avoid exploitation and corruption. Not easy, the devil is in the detail, but doable.

My argument is that with strong government encouragement in the form of a 100% matching commitment, a second level of public provision, grounded in citizenship participation, would be possible. On the first level, citizens pay taxes and the government provides services. This, roughly, is the “welfare state.” On the second level, citizens take in hand service provision and are able to do that thanks to government facilitation. This we might call the “participation state.”

 

PARTICIPATION III: AN IDEA FOR PARTICIPATORY DEMOCRACY

The classical theory of representative democracy is that citizens elect representatives who then do the governing until it is time for the citizens again in the next election. That puts power in the hands of the people but gives them no other role in governance than to vote.

This theory has much to it, but has been overtaken by history. The age of deference has passed. There is now an expectation that democracy will be participatory.

But what does that mean? While the classical theory of representative democracy is clean and straight, we have no theory of similar clarity for participatory democracy. Enthusiasts sometimes speak of it as the more participation, or activism, in whatever form, the better and the more democratic. But that is superficial. We have some serious thinking to do about participatory democracy in practice.

In representative democracy, the executive listens to divergent opinions in the legislature and shapes public policy accordingly. In a participatory democracy, one might think, the public is brought into the process directly and continuously. Policy then results not only from the exchange between executive and legislature, but between executive, legislature and the public.

That’s well and good but does not take us very far towards a different kind of democracy. First, representative democracy has never functioned the way the classical model has it: the public is already involved. Second, it does not give the public any other role than to exercise pressure on those who make decisions, which is not much by way of participation. Third, it leaves aside a big problem of unfairness, the interests of those who do not engage, who do not march, who do not demonstrate, who do not write newspaper opinions, who do not have think-tanks working for them. And fourth, there is a cost to incessant participation in decision-making in the form less efficient governance.

A different line might be to think of participation not only in exercising pressure on decision-making, but also in public management. The classical model here is again one that gives the public only limited roles. The government taxes the people to fund public services that are delivered back to the people. The role of the public is to pay taxes and consume services, all managed by the government.

I suggest we think of participatory democracy as involvement by citizens not only around the making of decisions but also in their implementation into practical management.

Here is one way that could be done: Services, broadly understood, are brought to recipients by agencies of various kinds. These may be public or semi-public agencies, say, thinking of Britain, the National Trust, the Environment Agency, the universities. Or they may be private, such as charities of various kind. Such agencies are engaged in works to improve social quality.

Participation in the works of such agencies could come about by government encouragement. Citizens could be encouraged to invest in causes in which they have an interest. The government could do that by pledging to match the investment of citizens. If you give £10 to a charity of your interest, the government contributes £10. If you put in five hours of voluntary work, the government matches that with five hours pay. You are given the power to decide where investments go, and the value of your own investment is doubled in the bargain (and, as a bonus, at a very low real cost to the government). You are a participant with say both in decision-making and implementation, and also, importantly, in a participation which involves both power and responsibility.

That, in a sketch, is the idea. I will elaborate in a future post.

OUR UNPROTECTED DEMOCRACIES

Emmanuel Macron’s campaign in the French presidential election suffered a massive hacking intrusion days before the final vote, probably of Russian inspiration. It turned out to be of no consequence but nevertheless goes to show that democratic procedures are vulnerable to manipulation from outside. In the American presidential election, the Democratic campaign suffered similar intrusions, which there may have had some influence on the outcome.

A democratic polity is like a market economy: it only works if certain conditions are satisfied. A market economy only works, for example to generate fair prices, if there is effective competition. If one or a few dominant actors are in a position to rig prices, consumers end up paying more than they should and monopolies earning more than they deserve.

As a market economy depends on effective competition, a democratic polity depends on effective elections. Only if elections are free and fair will they generate outcomes that are representative of the balance of opinions in the population. If one or a few dominant actors have decisively more influence than other citizens or groups, the will be like market monopolists. They may rig election outcomes in the way market monopolists rig prices.

Since Adam Smith, economic theory has recognised the distorting influence of monopolies. It is therefore standard economic doctrine that markets need regulatory protection against monopolistic influence. It is also standard economic policy in most countries to exercise such regulatory protection (more or less efficiently, no doubt).

But political theory is less clear about the vulnerability of democratic procedures and their need for regulatory protection. Rather, in most democracies, the polity is wide open to being manipulated.

Hacking, such as that of Russian inspiration, is a primitive form of interference, and probably does not represent much of a danger, at least now that we are aware of the menace.

Another form of primitive interference is in outright cheating, such as to rig the count of votes or to destroy unwanted ballots. This happens, but is now not the rule in at least reasonably mature democracies.

The more sophisticated, and democratically dangerous, rigging is that which occurs during the process up to and before election day. Elections are free if no one interferes with the casting and counting of votes and fair if the process up to election day has been unrigged. It is here, in the process, that democracies are particularly in risk of monopolistic distortions.

Such distortions occur when information or nominations are manipulated. If one side is able to dominate the information that flows through the campaign, that side may secure itself an advantage over others come election day. If organised interests are able to more or less control nominations, they may win the election before anyone even casts a vote.

The one resource above others that may enable self-selected groups to attain monopolistic political influence, is money. There are other influences that come to bear but the infusion of private money into democratic procedures is the main culprit.

It is money that may enable determined organised interests to manipulate the flow of political information. With modern IT tools – big data analysis, orchestrated use of social media – the scope is enormous for systematic information manipulation, provided enough money is available to put in efforts on a serious scale.

It is money that may enable organised interests to manipulate nominations in their favour, again provided serious money is available. Here, the American case is the horror show. In a system of mega-expensive politics and non-stop campaigning, candidates for elected office are dependent on raising private money, whereby the givers of money have won control over nominations. If there is no hope of winning without private money, candidates whom the givers of money will not invest in need not try.

We know that democratic procedures need some regulatory protection. Well functioning democracies invest enormously in protecting the integrity of the vote. But we do not in a similar way protect the integrity of pre-voting procedures. We allow private money to transgress pretty freely into the domain of politics. (“Transgression” is the term coined by the economist Arthur Okun for money flowing from markets, where it has a job to do, to politics, where it is an alien influence.) That money WILL distort information and nominations because that is the purpose of the investment.

It is urgent to give democracies regulatory protection against the monopolistic influence of dark money. In his final State of the Union Address, then President Barack Obama called on his fellow Americans that “we fix our politics” to prevent “democracy from grinding to a halt.” That’s strong language from a president, but he was right (and it was he who coined the term “dark money”). With the overpowering influence of money, as now in the American system, Obama explained, representatives are “trapped” and not free to make policies for the public good. And further: “We have to reduce the influence of money in our politics, so that a handful of families or hidden interests can’t bankroll our elections … and democracy brakes down.”

America is an extreme case but it would be a mistake to think that other democracies are clean. British democracy, for example, is shot through with the corrupting influence of private money. The need for regulatory protection is universal in the democratic world.

That the need for such protection of democratic procedures is poorly understood is in evidence in the American Supreme Court. This Court has fallen under the spell of a bizarre theory according to which the giving of money to political cause is a form of expression of opinion and therefore protected by the freedom of speech clause in the Constitution’s 1st Amendment. It has accordingly chipped away at such regulatory protections as existed in the American system. The Court the purpose of which is to protect American democracy is instead, by entirely convoluted logic, presiding over its erosion. It is also giving ideological coverage for practices of transgression elsewhere.

So there is a theoretical battle here, which should be waged primarily against the American Supreme Court, and there is a practical battle of regulatory policies, which should be waged everywhere.

TOTALITARIANISM CLOSING IN ON CHINA

The only drama in the recent “two sessions” jamboree in Beijing is that there was no drama at all. Each year the Chinese political élite, 5000 men and a few women strong, congregate in the capital for a week of meetings of the legislature, the National People’s Congress, and its advisory body, the Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference. This year the choreography was faultless. Even reporters who were assigned to provide their editors at least some copy, could find next to nothing to write about. In Beijing, all is steady and all is under control.

The gathering was the dress rehearsal for the Communist Party’s National Congress in the autumn, the once every five year event where real power is at play. We can expect that meeting to be equally orchestrated with no irregularities to suggest confusion in the leadership. The “core” leader, Xi Jinping (as he is now officially designated), will be anointed for another five years, more of his cronies will take positions in the leadership reshuffle, and ways will be found for his ally, Wang Qishan, now in charge of Party discipline and anti-corruption, to stay on in a top post although he by age-rules should be obliged to retire. Again, there will be no drama.

So what is the nature of the regime that holds the grip on national politics that no ripples are allowed to disturb the harmony? We know enough to give a reasonably clear answer to that question, although there are also remaining unknowns on which we can only speculate.

When Xi Jinping came to power in 2012, the almost universal expectation was that he would be the dynamic moderniser to reform the economy off its dependency on state driven debt-infused over-investment. But that hope has been confounded. Xi’s priority has been political restitution. In his first five years he has reshaped the Chinese state so radically that he has taken the People’s Republic into the third phase in its historic march, after the ideological madness of Mao and the economic pragmatism of Deng Xiaoping and his followers.

He has acted with great determination but also shrewdness, working steadily step-by-step and drip-by-drip, never allowing the boat to rock out of balance. By the time the Party meets itself later this year, he will have changed the facts on the ground in two ways. First, there has been a relentless concentration of power, in the country to Beijing, in Beijing to the Party and in the Party to the boss himself. Second, there has been an equally relentless tightening of repression, followed by intensification of Party discipline, political education, mass campaigns, propaganda, thought-work, and crack-downs on political, ethnic and religious activists. Ideology is back with a vengeance, in Xi Jinping’s narrative of national greatness in his slogan of “the China Dream.”

Xi is the most powerful leader since Mao, not quite taking the system back to one-man rule but leaning it in that direction. On coming to power, he immediately occupied all decisive leadership posts, including the chairmanship of the Central Military Commission, and soon created new “leading groups” with himself as chair, such as for national and internet security. Deviants, real or imagined, from outside of his own circle have been purged in the anti-corruption campaign. He has cloaked himself in an aura of person cult, being hailed for exceptional virtue and dedication throughout the state-controlled media. It is now enough for him to stand before the faithful, immaculate in dress and demeanour, a mild smile generously on the ready, not a straw of hair out of place in his jet-black coif, his little pot-belly just right, not big so as to suggest indulgence but enough to make him fatherly, to be rewarded with waves of adulation. This year’s report by the premier, Li Keqiang, to the National People’s Congress was extraordinary for its lavish praise on the Party and its leader, culminating in a pledge for all to “rally ever closer around the Party Central Committee with comrade Xi Jinping at its core.”

Controls and repressions have narrowed the space for human rights lawyers to protect the persecuted, think-tanks and NGO’s to operate independently, journalists to report honestly, feminists to advance their causes, academics and teachers to instruct and research objectively, the religious to worship freely. Authors and artists have been told, in an echo of Stalinism, that their work must “serve the people.” Censorship is ever tighter in literature and media. Contrary to expectations, the internet has not become a lever for opening up from below but rather another instrument of control from above.

The Chinese dictatorship is like nothing the world has ever known, so smooth that it in some respects does not even look dictatorial, relying extensively on people’s self-control. But also brute and raw where needs be. The western provinces, Tibet and Xinjiang, have been turned into garrison states. Most Chinese now have many freedoms in their daily lives which no one interferes with, as long as they do not take their freedoms into the domain of Party affairs or to organising outside of the Party apparatus. It is of a new kind, controlling everything but not dictating what does not need to be dictated. I call it a “controlocracy.”

The regime is equally sophisticated in propaganda. There is much of old-fashioned boasting by the regime, but the real work is done more softly. School children are taught to love the Party but the more effective influence is through careful editing of teaching material in history and other subjects to promote the national truth. Two million “internet opinion analysts” are on the job not only of keeping undesirable material outside of the “great firewall” but also shaping what goes in, which is done subtly so that even much of the criticism that circulates on the web, appearing to be from private citizens, is under control to be of the right kind.

The concentration of power and the tightening of dictatorial controls we know enough about to present as fact. It is also logical. The party-state needs legitimacy. The state has its legitimacy from the Party, but the Party needs to get it from somewhere else. Since Deng’s reform and opening up, it has relied extensively on economic growth and the spreading of rewards in the population. Now, with expectations inflated, mega-growth is over. The leaders know the danger. They can rely less on their ability to purchase the people’s gratitude. Always weary of their grip on power, they turn, pre-emptively, to tighter controls and nationalistic ideology.

Xi’s China Dream, now omnipresent wherever the Party and its affiliates speak, is more than the usual slogan of hot air. The Party that claims the right to control everything must be able to justify itself. Revolution has no traction in a keptocracy in which officials enrich themselves by looting the state and income inequality is more extreme than in most capitalist countries. The available narrative is that of national glory.

What we do not know is just who Xi Jinping is and where he will take the party-state in his next five years (at least) in the lead. Here, we enter the realm of speculation, but nevertheless with some evidence to build on.

One view, by some of his friendlier observers, is that Xi is in fact the hoped for moderniser, that he has used his first years to consolidate power, and that he in his next period will take that power to the job of reforming the economy. Perhaps so – but this is more likely hope over experience. Xi laid out an ambitious agenda of economic reform early on, in the “third plenum” in 2013. (A “plenum” is a meeting of the Party’s Central Committee, about 370 members, usually twice a year.) But not much has been followed up. That is not for want of power. Had reform been a priority, it would long since have been rolled out. It must be safer to speculate from what the leader has in fact done than out of theoretical hope.

The Chinese system is extraordinarily dependent on the leadership, and now on the leader himself. It therefore matters for our understanding of that system what kind of man Xi is, what he thinks, what he believes, what his values are.

We of course cannon know, but for my part I am coming around, hesitantly, to thinking of Xi Jinping as a true believer. He looks to me like a man who really believes in his mission, in the reds aristocracy’s right and duty to rule, and in the purity of the Communist Party.

The imperative is to secure the perpetuation of the Party regime. Xi sees himself as the man who can impose the necessary discipline within the Party and controls throughout society to avoid Soviet-style disintegration. For him and other “princelings” (the children and grandchildren of revolutionary and early PRC grandees), the people are children who need the intimate guidance of their betters. He and his fellow aristocrats allow them the prospect of having property and possibly getting rich, but demand their loyalty. To that end, they control media, information and history. They take propaganda and thought-work very seriously. They use the anti-corruption campaign to make people believe the party-state is being cleaned up. (A remarkable propagandistic skill of the regime is to have itself given credit for allowing people to extricate themselves from the miseries it has itself imposed on them.) As other exposed leaders, they turn to nationalism and co-opt good people into a nasty fairy tale of “national rejuvenation.”

Is this a regime that is able not only to control people’s behaviour but also their minds? Chinese people are not more gullible than others but are more than others subjected to aggressive thought-work from above. When I speak about China in Europe and the US, I can count on a young Chinese in the audience to tell me that his/her parents at home tell him/her that they are happy in their new-found affluence party-state order. Perhaps they are. But then the young Chinese abroad are not from the peasant population, whose young are the internal migrants who fuel the state’s investment machine with cheap labour, and whom visitors, if they put on sun glasses so as not to be blinded by shine from the skyscrapers, will see as the wretched of the earth slaving away in the city gutters, and whose children again are not in comfort abroad but in sub-standard schools at home, an estimated 60 million of them “left-behinds” in the countryside.

If it is possible that the dictators are making the people believers, could it be that they are persuading themselves likewise? Why not? The top brass live elevated lives in their Zhongnonhai enclosed compound, with their own protected food supply and behind the safety of air filtering systems. The state may be a kleptocracy, but it is not more farfetched that those who float on the top there see themselves as righteous than that, for example, European nineteenth century aristocrats, who sat on societies rotten with corruption and vice, saw themselves as the custodians of ordained orders of virtue. If the mission is now national greatness, the Party is again the instrument of a noble cause. If they are cleaning up the corruption, are they not reviving classical values, austerity and honesty? People who tell stories, and repeat them and have them repeated back, are exposed to believing what they say and hear.

What then for the regime in Xi’s next period? In five years he has reshaped both its practice and its narrative. On the continuum from mild autocracy to all-out totalitarianism, he has shifted in the totalitarian direction. Is that now enough or will the shift continue?

A prudent Xi would rest on his laurels, be content with the control he has obtained and consolidate by continuing his various moral crusades. But he has brewed for himself a dangerous cocktail of one-man rule (near to), ideology, propaganda and though-work. When has any leader, dizzy with power and success, able to bend history, experiencing love and admiration, been able to say to himself: enough?

The economic miracle is over and China is getting stuck in the middle-income trap. The socialist market economy’s many problems and contradictions can no longer be smoothed over by having money from mega-growth thrown at them. Such contentment as there may be in the population is not to be trusted. There is nowhere else for the regime to go than to controls justified by mythology. The leader who has reaped success and gratitude for his efforts, will continue. He is in control, but control is not yet total. He has said to his people that “each person’s future and destiny is linked with the future and destiny of the country and nation” (in his launch of the China Dream), but his teachings are not yet clear enough and not yet absorbed.

Critical observers tend to think that a regime with as many built-in contradictions as the People’s Republic cannot endure and that some kind of collapse is in the making. The likely scenario in my reading is different. The red aristocracy will hold on by perfecting the controlocracy, step-by-step and drip-by-drip, towards tighter controls and all-out totalitarianism. Can it thereby endure? Elsewhere (except possibly in North Korea) totalitarianism has failed. The Chinese leaders have studied those failures and are carving out their own way, not soft but smart totalitarianism. The People’s Republic has for decades survived the persistent predictions of its own demise.

DICTATORSHIPS – IMPRESSIONS AND REALITY

I recently came across this: Visitors “coming home from Berlin, where they had been carefully showed around and flattered, praised the orderly regime of the country and its new master, and were coming to think that his claims to a greater Germany might be justified.”

That is from Stefan Zweig’s memoirs, The World of Yesterday. He is writing around 1940 and is remembering how “visitors” preferred to see the Hitler regime during the 1930s.

Well, substitute “from Beijing” for “from Berlin” and “greater China” for “greater Germany” and you have the preferred Western understanding of today’s Chinese regime, in particular that of business interests. Even people with extensive experience in China prefer to see the regime as a pretty benevolent autocracy, the main achievement of which is to deliver effective governance.

It seems to be a regularity in history that many in the democratic world bend over backwards, as long as possible, to give powerful dictatorships the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps out of convenience: it’s good for business. Perhaps because we do not have enough confidence in our own systems.

In a recent interview with The Guardian, I said that I think “the world has failed to grasp the scale of the repression now playing out in China, still viewing the country as a benevolent autocracy when in fact it has mutated into a very, very hard dictatorship which manages to look better than it is.”

In my book, The Perfect Dictatorship, I put it thus: “I have been struck by how often visitors on some more or less official errand come home, having been flattered and entertained, without really having seen the obvious combination of misery and progress. In hindsight, I have not learned all that much from my own visits, except to have my critical instinct stimulated.”

Visitors to a dictatorship that is in control should know that their “impression” of things is not necessarily the way things are, in fact that their “impressions” are likely to be distorted. I know this very well from my own experience. I have had very good collaboration with academic colleagues in China at their universities and institutes, and if I were to go by my “impressions” from my visits, I would side with the benevolent view. But through my analyses I have found a different reality, a hard dictatorship, and one, as for my own “impressions,” that also holds universities and academic institutes in its firm grip.

Read another comment on the Western misunderstanding of China here.