Acemoglu and Robinson's Chinese Straw Man
Daron Acemoglu and James A. Robinson are good scholars. But they don’t understand China. In fact, it would be more accurate to say that they have not tried to understand contemporary China. After reading their latest book, The Narrow Corridor. How Nations Struggle for Liberty, I believe that for them (as for many generalist political scientists) China is more of a straw man useful to support their theories, than a complex country worth understanding in depth. A less clichéd picture of China would make their theories seem less perfect and flawless. From a functional point of view, it makes sense for them to present a simplistic picture of China. But if we are talking about intellectual honesty, doing so is highly questionable.
Before I delve into examples of these inaccuracies about China in The Narrow Corridor, let me say that I think it is a good book. Acemoglu and Robinson’s theory of state capacity, liberty and their classification of different types of Leviathan (Absent Leviathan, Despotic Leviathan, Shackled Leviathan, Paper Leviathan) is an appealing and interesting way to classify different types of states. The book is also good at applying comparative case analysis to explain the divergent trajectory of countries in their development of free societies and institutions. One learns about Lebanon, Argentina, the US, German tribes, Athens or Sweden. The argument on how liberty can be undermined by both state power as well as customs (the case of India) made me think of how often we consider a country to be free simply because it holds democratic elections, ignoring the repression that society itself can impose on individuals. The Narrow Corridor is also well written and its thesis and arguments are clear. It is a good example of how to conduct academic research that can also appeal to the general public.
However, when dealing with China, The Narrow Corridor is often utterly simplistic and even inaccurate. Here are a few examples:
In the preface of the paperback edition (the one I have), China is presented as the perfect example of a “Despotic Leviathan” that is less effective in “encouraging innovation and experimentation” (p. xi) than democratic states. To say that China is less effective at innovation (without any literature support or evidence, I might add) sounds like a claim from 2000 or 2010, but it is not a serious statement nowadays. Different US institutions have warned about the rapid trajectory of technological innovation in China and how in some areas it has surpassed the US (just read this Harvard Belfer Center report). There is an intellectually thriving debate on how China has broken the liberal myth that democracies are the only ones capable of innovating. Other “Despotic Leviathans” may be bad at innovation, but nowadays China is a bad example to prove this point.
In the same page, Acemoglu and Robinson claim that the Chinese state is “currently” committing “murder” in “parts of the country” and in particular “in Xinjiang”. The Chinese state has carried out a severe repression in Xinjiang and has imprisoned thousands of Uyghurs and other minorities. There have been accusations of systematic rape, forced labor and torture in Xinjiang’s “reeducation camps”. But even the most critical of the Chinese system (Uyghurs in exile, NGOs…) have never spoken of an ongoing campaign of killings by the Chinese state. The example of a state committing murder would seem more appropriate to describe former Philippine President Duterte’s anti-drug campaign of assassinations, or even the indirect support of some Indian politicians’ indirect support of Indian politicians to deadly anti-Muslim mobs. But it sounds odd in the case of China, where if you want to point out the repressive nature of the state, you have plenty of existing and documented examples.
In Chapter 2, the authors state, “To see the limitations of Chinese state capacity, you need to look no further than the education system” (p. 69). They add that the Chinese state is unable to provide “affordable, high quality and meritocratic education”. Really? Is this the best example the authors could find of the dysfunctions of the Chinese system? Shanghai has ranked in top positions in the international PISA education exams, and the “gaokao” university entrance exam is considered one of fairest, toughest and most meritocratic in the world. In fact, education has been one of the areas in which even critics of the Chinese system have praised the country (usually arguing that the educational success is not due to the Chinese state, but to Confucian ethics). There are Chinese universities in the world’s top university rankings, directly competing with those in the US and the UK. The number of Chinese STEM graduates is far outpacing any other country. Is education really the best example to point to the “limitations” of the Chinese state? The only evidence that Acemoglu and Robinson provide is a New York Times article about parental gifts to teachers and other petty corruption in some elite schools. From only this article, Acemoglu and Robinson extrapolate: “In the Chinese education system, everything is up for sale” (p. 70). Indeed, such cases do occur and such corruption does exist in some schools in China. But the problem of corruption extends to many other areas of Chinese society, and education is by no means where it is having the greatest impact.
Regarding the era of reform and opening up, Acemoglu and Robinson state, “The contemporary incarnation of the Confucian model is what we have seen since 1978 under Deng Xiaoping when collectivization went into reverse and Chinese leaders started attacking corruption, since this violated Confucian principles of virtuous rule” (p. 208). There are many things to praise about the reform and opening-up period: huge welfare gains, more social freedoms, economic growth, poverty reduction… But the fight against corruption is the last thing any Chinese or anyone minimally informed about China would think of. The 1980s and 1990s are precisely known for the huge increase in corruption at many levels created by the new economic opportunities, both in private and state-owned enterprises and in public administrations. In fact, widespread corruption was one of the main complaints of the 1989 Tiananmen protests. How can anyone describe the era of reform and opening up as a period characterized by the fight against corruption, rather than a period precisely characterized by corruption? This is a mistake that even an amateur in Chinese history could not have made.
Later, Acemoglu and Robinson return to China and innovation: “If modernization will not automatically bring liberty, can we hope that the model forged by the Chinese Communist Party will secure vibrant innovation in an economy organized along despotic lines? Can it cultivate innovation without liberty? Can it pour resources into areas such as artificial intelligence in order to gain an innovative advantage? Historical evidence suggests the answer is no” (p. 233). Nothing more to add.
Of course, the Chinese “social credit system” appears later in the book, along with images of facial recognition cameras and quotes from Orwell’s 1984. Acemoglu and Robinson say that under the Chinese “social credit system” every citizen will be “given a social credit score” (p. 235) where you can lose points for reasons such as to “buy alcohol in the supermarket” (first time I hear that) or “if a relative or a friend does something the authorities don’t like”. Also, “if you make decisions the Communist Party doesn’t like, you’ll be locked out of society, unable to travel, rent a car or apartment, or even get a job” (p. 235). The problem with this description by Acemoglu and Robinson is that the “social credit system” as a number that every Chinese citizen has is false. Each Chinese citizen does not have a score that determines the rights or punishments to which he or she is subject. For a sober explanation of what the “social credit system” is and its actual impact (much less than the dystopia presented above) you can read this report by the think tank MERICS (under sanctions from China, so not a pro-Beijing organization, in case you were wondering). Again, Acemoglu and Robinson only rely on an ABC article to support their claims about the “social credit system”, ignoring the rigorous literature on the subject.
As we have seen, some of Acemoglu and Robinson’s inaccurate or clichéd claims are very basic and easy to refute by reading the existing literature. Why do we find these inaccuracies? Is it because the authors (and their legion of assistants) were unable to find better sources? I believe the reason is that Acemoglu and Robinson do not care so much about understanding and rigorously describing contemporary China. They want China to be the perfect example of a “Despotic Leviathan” and they try by all means to fit China into the category they have created. It is more important to bolster their own theory, even with inaccuracies or misleading claims, than to present a rigorous portrait of China.
But this raises a credibility question: even if Acemoglu and Robinson’s state capacity theory seems reasonable to me, how can I be sure that the other examples they present in the book are credible? I am not an expert on Lebanon, South Africa, the Renaissance Italian communes or Saudi Arabia - how can I know that they have not presented an inaccurate picture of these countries and their history just to reinforce their theory and concepts, as they have done with the case of China?
Honestly, I hope that in their next book they address this mistake. Their theories will seem less perfect and flawless, but in fact they will be stronger and more durable.