Table of Contents
A leading China historian explores the parallels between Xi Jinping and Mao, the enduring influence of Confucian thought, and how ancient philosophy shapes contemporary Chinese politics and society.
Key Takeaways
- Xi Jinping represents the first Chinese leader since Mao to cultivate an intense personality cult, marking a dramatic departure from post-Mao leadership styles
- Ancient Confucian ideals of hierarchy, education, and meritocracy continue to profoundly influence modern Chinese society and governance structures
- The Tiananmen Square protests of 1989 were fundamentally about reforming the Communist Party from within, not overthrowing it entirely
- China's censorship operates through "fear, friction, and flooding" - blocking some content, making other information harder to access, and overwhelming audiences with preferred narratives
- Hong Kong's recent trajectory serves as a cautionary tale for Taiwan, fundamentally altering the "One Country, Two Systems" model's credibility
- Understanding China requires recognizing the tension between Confucian conservatism and Communist revolutionary ideals that Xi Jinping attempts to reconcile
The Return of the Personality Cult
When examining contemporary Chinese leadership, historian Jeffrey Wasserstrom identifies a striking parallel between Xi Jinping and Mao Zedong that sets both apart from their contemporaries. "Xi Jinping is the first leader in China since [Mao] who has had a sustained personality cult," Wasserstrom explains, describing how walking into any Chinese bookstore today immediately confronts visitors with collections of Xi's speeches and writings.
This represents a dramatic shift from the post-Mao era. After the Great Helmsman's death in 1976, Chinese leadership deliberately moved away from personality-driven politics. When Wasserstrom first visited China in 1986, "you could go for days without being intensely aware of who was in charge of the party. His face wasn't everywhere. The newspaper wasn't dominated with stories about him and quotations from his words."
However, the similarities between Xi and Mao extend only so far. Where Mao "reveled in chaos" and believed in "turning things upside down," Xi Jinping prioritizes order, stability, and predictability. Mao's favorite literary work was the tale of the Monkey King, a legendary figure who could "turn the heavens upside down." Xi, by contrast, embraces Confucian traditions emphasizing stable hierarchies and clear social categories.
This fundamental difference in temperament reflects broader changes in how Chinese leadership approaches governance and social control in the modern era.
The Enduring Power of Confucian Thought
To understand contemporary China, Wasserstrom argues, one must grapple with ideas formulated over 2,500 years ago by Confucius. The ancient philosopher lived during a period of warring kingdoms, proposing that society had once enjoyed a "period of great order in the past" where "the lines between inferior and superior were clear."
Confucian philosophy rests on the principle that "hierarchical relationships were a good thing," but crucially, "both sides in a hierarchical relationship owed something to the other." A father deserved respect from his son but owed that son care and benevolence. A husband held authority over his wife but owed her protection. Even brotherly relationships weren't egalitarian - there was only "older brother and younger brother," never equal siblings.
This hierarchical worldview permeated every aspect of society, including politics. The emperor served as the "son of heaven," connecting earthly governance to supernatural order. Confucianism wasn't progressive in the modern sense - it argued for "reclaiming a pure golden age in the past" rather than advancing toward something new.
The tension between this backward-looking conservatism and Marxism's forward-looking revolutionary ideology creates one of the central contradictions in modern Chinese thought. "There is that tension of Confucianism and communism where communism Marxism is supposed to let go of history and Confucianism there's a real veneration of history," Wasserstrom observes.
Education, Meritocracy, and Social Mobility
One of Confucianism's most enduring contributions to Chinese culture lies in its approach to education and human development. The tradition holds that "people are pretty much alike at birth but become differentiated via learning," establishing education as the primary vehicle for social advancement.
This philosophy led to the creation of China's legendary civil service examination system, where "bureaucracies should be run not by people who were born into the right families but ones who had shown their ability to master these fairly intensive exams." The system theoretically offered anyone the opportunity to rise through merit rather than birth.
However, Wasserstrom notes the inherent contradictions in any meritocratic system: "If you had a really good tutor, if you could afford a really good tutor, you had a better chance of passing the exams." Families would pool resources to support their most promising members, creating both opportunity and inequality.
The meritocratic ideal also contained the seeds of its own challenge. "Some of the leaders of rebellions against emperors were failed examination candidates," Wasserstrom points out. When the system failed to deliver promised rewards, it could generate the very instability it was designed to prevent.
These tensions persist in modern China, where educational achievement remains highly valued but where "some of the biggest protests in China have been about this sense of nepotism which really seems to subvert this whole idea of meritocracy."
Tiananmen Square: Misunderstood Revolution
The 1989 Tiananmen Square protests represent one of the most misunderstood events in modern Chinese history, according to Wasserstrom's analysis. Rather than seeking to overthrow the Communist Party, the student protesters were "an effort to get the Communist Party in China to do a better job of living up to its own stated ideals."
The movement emerged from frustration with half-hearted reforms. Students felt the party was "saying we believe in reforming and opening up, we need to liberalize," but implementing these changes "more effectively in the economic realm than in the political realm."
A seemingly trivial incident crystallized deeper frustrations. In 1986, Shanghai students had attended China's first rock concert by the American band Jan and Dean. When security guards forced dancing students to sit down, it symbolized "what was a feint toward openness that really didn't have follow-through. We're going to give you rock concerts, but not let you dance."
The 1989 protests gained momentum following the death of Hu Yaobang, a reformist party leader who had been demoted after supporting earlier student demonstrations. Students put up posters declaring "the wrong people are dying," contrasting the younger reformist's death with older conservatives who "don't seem like they're ever going to die."
The movement's scope expanded far beyond students. When workers formed independent labor unions and joined the protests, the Communist Party recognized an existential threat. The party "might put up with student protesters, but they know from past experience that sometimes student protests lead to members of other social classes joining them."
The Tank Man: Symbol of Resistance
The iconic image of a lone man standing before a column of tanks near Tiananmen Square on June 5, 1989, has become one of history's most powerful photographs. Wasserstrom notes that the Chinese Communist Party initially tried to use the image to their advantage, "showing video of this and said, 'Look, the Western press is talking about how vicious we were, but look at the restraint. Look at this. He wasn't mowed down.'"
However, this narrative strategy failed because "lots and lots of people around Beijing had seen what happened and knew that in fact there had first been the firing on unarmed civilians with automatic weapons." The party eventually banned the image entirely because it showed "the People's Liberation Army looking like an invading force and that's what the Chinese Communist Party can't deal with."
The Tank Man's identity remains unknown. "I assume he was killed," Wasserstrom states simply, noting that unlike other political prisoners who received trials, "there was never a trial. There was never even a trial that was one that you knew what the result would be... but simply disappeared."
The Mechanics of Modern Censorship
Chinese censorship operates through what researcher Margaret Roberts calls "fear, friction, and flooding" - a more sophisticated approach than simple prohibition. Fear involves direct censorship and punishment, but "for the average citizen, the risk of punishment is relatively low, and fear alone is not the main deterrent."
Friction makes accessing unwanted information more difficult without making it impossible. "You just make it harder for people to get answers or get information that you don't want them to get," such as requiring VPNs to access blocked websites or slowing internet speeds.
Flooding involves "filling the airwaves and the media with versions of the stories that you want people to believe." This approach proves particularly effective in the social media age, where attention spans are short and competing narratives can easily overwhelm unwanted information.
Interestingly, many books that might seem obviously banned are actually available in China. "You can read Hannah Arendt's book on totalitarianism" and "you can buy 1984 in a Chinese bookstore" because these works aren't specifically about China. The most intensive censorship targets "things that are actually about China" and particularly "discussions of the private life of Chinese leaders and their families."
Brave New World vs. 1984
Wasserstrom argues that modern China more closely resembles Aldous Huxley's "Brave New World" than George Orwell's "1984," though elements of both dystopian visions coexist. The comparison gains historical resonance from the fact that Huxley taught Orwell at Eton, and in 1949, Huxley wrote to his former student predicting that "dictators of the future will find less arduous ways to keep control over the population."
China's approach emphasizes control through pleasure and distraction rather than pure repression. Citizens enjoy remarkable consumer choices, advanced technology, and entertainment options that would have seemed impossible during the Mao era. "We've got supermarkets, we got McDonald's... we got fast trains, we got things are we're living so much better in some ways than our grandparents did."
However, certain regions like Tibet and Xinjiang experience more "crude boot on the face 1984 style of control," while even prosperous cities like Shanghai had their "Orwellian moment" during COVID lockdowns when "people were being so intensely monitored and controlled."
This hybrid approach creates what Wasserstrom calls "more 1984, more Brave New World parts of the country and also more Brave New World, more 1984 moments."
Hong Kong's Cautionary Tale
The fate of Hong Kong provides crucial insights into Chinese governance and offers sobering lessons for Taiwan. The "One Country, Two Systems" arrangement established in 1984 was explicitly presented as a model for eventual Taiwan integration. Beijing told Taiwan: "Watch what happens to Hong Kong after 1997 and think about it as a model for what could happen with you."
Initially, Hong Kong maintained remarkable autonomy. "No communist party-run country had ever had a city within it that had as free a press as Hong Kong had then, as much tolerance for protests." This arrangement served Chinese interests when the mainland was "heavily dependent on economics in Hong Kong" and when "Hong Kong universities were the only universities in the PRC that were considered totally world-class."
However, as China's economic and educational capabilities grew, Hong Kong's unique advantages diminished. By the 2010s, Beijing became "less patient, needs Hong Kong less," while Hong Kong people felt it was "more of a now or never period to push back."
The 2019 protests represented "some of the biggest protests in history percentage-wise" with "a million to two million people in the biggest protests" in a city of 7.5 million. These demonstrations began over an extradition law that would have allowed Hong Kong residents to be tried in mainland courts, threatening the city's independent legal system.
Hong Kong activists ultimately put up a banner declaring: "Hey, Taiwan, look at Hong Kong. Taiwan, beware. Hong Kong's today could be Taiwan's tomorrow," effectively inverting Beijing's original message about the One Country, Two Systems model.
The US-China Trade Standoff
The current trade tensions between the United States and China extend far beyond economics into deeper cultural and historical dynamics. Xi Jinping's response to American tariffs draws heavily on narratives of national humiliation, referencing "that period from the 1840s to the 1940s" when "foreign powers were involved in bullying China."
This historical framing serves domestic political purposes. "The story that's been intensively told about the past provides the possibility for this to matter a lot," Wasserstrom explains. Chinese leaders can position themselves as defenders against foreign aggression, echoing themes that resonate deeply with Chinese historical memory.
However, the situation's complexity extends beyond bilateral US-China relations. "Time and again we realize that places other than the United States are key variables in these things," whether through European markets for Chinese goods, India's growing importance, or regional alliances throughout Asia.
The interconnectedness of global supply chains creates both opportunities and risks. As one Chinese blogger noted about the Three Gorges Dam: "Americans know that down river from there what will be flooded out was the place where their iPhones are built and you know and they want their iPhones." Economic interdependence can serve as a check on conflict, but it also creates vulnerabilities.
Taiwan's Precarious Position
Taiwan's relationship with mainland China presents one of the most volatile situations in contemporary international relations. The island has evolved from a right-wing dictatorship under martial law to a vibrant democracy, creating a stark contrast with mainland governance approaches.
The generational dynamics prove crucial in understanding potential conflicts. Young people in Hong Kong felt that if gradual erosion continued, "you're talking about living most of your life in a Hong Kong that isn't the Hong Kong you really love, whereas if you were 80 you were like why not be patient."
Similar logic applies to Taiwan, where younger generations show stronger identification with Taiwanese rather than Chinese identity. They observe Hong Kong's fate and conclude that accommodation with Beijing offers little hope for preserving their way of life.
The situation's complexity increases because Taiwan "isn't just one place or one island" but includes various territories with different relationships to the mainland. Any conflict could escalate unpredictably, particularly given the global implications of Taiwan's semiconductor industry and strategic location.
Mao's Enduring Shadow
Understanding modern China requires grappling with Mao Zedong's complex legacy. His path to power began in the chaos following the 1911 overthrow of China's last dynasty, when "the country was really divided" between various competing factions and warlords.
The Communist Party emerged as a "small group of people who formed a communist party" inspired by both Marxist ideas and the Russian Revolution. Mao's innovation lay in recognizing that "actually the peasantry, farmers, can be a radical force" rather than following orthodox Marxist expectations of urban worker-led revolution.
The Great Leap Forward (1958-1962) exemplifies both Mao's utopian ambitions and the catastrophic consequences of unchecked power. This "disastrous policy" imagined China achieving rapid industrialization through sheer will, ultimately causing a famine that killed 30-45 million people.
Xi Jinping's approach to Mao's legacy proves revealing. Rather than the previous assessment of Mao being "70% right, 30% wrong," Xi argues that "we should not use the successes of one [era] to criticize the other." This formulation allows Xi to claim inheritance of Mao's nation-building achievements while avoiding responsibility for his disasters.
Contemporary Chinese education reflects this selective memory. Students learn about Mao's 1953 speech declaring "we will never yield" to American pressure during the Korean War, presenting it as an example of Chinese determination against foreign bullying - a narrative that resonates with current trade tensions.
Looking Forward: Possibilities and Constraints
Despite current tensions and authoritarian trends, Wasserstrom maintains cautious optimism about China's future possibilities. He recalls visiting "really cool Nanjing bookstore in the early 2000s" where Mao himself would have been "amazed at what you could read there," including books on entrepreneurship, getting into Harvard, and diverse global literature.
Some of these freedoms have contracted under Xi Jinping, with innovative bookstores closing on the mainland and reopening in places like Washington DC and upstate New York. However, "creativity and freedom of thinking persists" among Chinese students and intellectuals who find ways to access alternative perspectives.
The concept of "the other China" - represented by places like Taiwan and formerly Hong Kong - offers hope for preserving Chinese cultural traditions that emphasize "not just Confucianism but Daoism, not just hierarchy but also openness to cosmopolitanism, not just nationalism but cosmopolitanism."
Taiwan's post-martial law development demonstrates possibilities for Chinese societies under different governance systems. While not perfect, Taiwan offers examples of "different kinds of things that flourish" when Chinese culture operates within democratic institutions.
The ultimate challenge lies in whether China can find ways to accommodate diversity within unity, allowing for "variations within China, of more space for civil society" while maintaining national coherence. Historical precedents suggest such arrangements are possible - Hong Kong's unique status lasted for decades - but current trends point toward increasing centralization and conformity.
The Human Element
Throughout this complex political and historical analysis, Wasserstrom emphasizes the fundamental humanity that transcends political systems. "There's still people who take the time to go over the firewall or get intrigued" by alternative perspectives, demonstrating that "the human spirit is curious and wants to understand."
Even under restrictive conditions, Chinese students arrive in American universities as "incredible freethinkers who have come through that system," suggesting that authoritarian education cannot completely suppress intellectual curiosity and critical thinking.
The future of China - and its relationships with the rest of the world - ultimately depends on whether these human qualities can find expression within evolving political frameworks. The challenge lies not in predicting specific outcomes, but in creating conditions where Chinese creativity, entrepreneurship, and intellectual tradition can flourish while addressing legitimate concerns about governance, security, and national dignity.
As Confucius himself observed: "When anger rises, think of the consequences." In an era of nuclear weapons and global interdependence, this ancient wisdom about the importance of measured responses and long-term thinking becomes ever more relevant for all parties navigating these complex dynamics.
Understanding modern China requires appreciating both its remarkable achievements and ongoing challenges, its ancient wisdom and contemporary innovations, its legitimate aspirations and troubling trends. Only through such nuanced understanding can we hope to build a future where Chinese civilization continues to enrich our shared human heritage while contributing to global peace and prosperity.
