Jack Ma and the Chinese Economic Identity Crisis

The CCP has time and again demonstrated its nonchalant use of tyrannic authority over its own citizens; a rather transparent demonstration of its execution of oppressive control can be seen with the implementation of the social credit system; it provides a template for its citizens for acceptable social behavior. Offenses such as purchasing too many video games, spending money frivolously, and driving poorly, can warrant throttled internet connections, domestic travel bans, restricted access to education and employment, etc. Ironically, at the same time, China stands as an elected member of the UN Human Rights Council as of 13 October 2020.

Unfortunately, the conventions of international affairs overlook these atrocities for the sake of diplomatic survival. In doing so, nations have augmented China’s insidious lust for control by providing channels to their devious trade practices.

The malignant economics of China are rampant domestically as well. The Party worries of billionaire influence and prefer throttling progress in favor of reaffirming its authority. Jack Ma’s success—independent of the party—is threatening to Xi’s authority; when supreme control is paramount, any challenge to it is intolerable. Jack Ma’s recent $37 billion Ant initial public offering would have set a precedent for the Chinese that would undermine Xi’s leadership as well as the culture and image of China.

Ma’s success, to the Party, is a manifestation of Western perversity—exploiting global trade for personal wealth with a conceited and brash attitude. Whereas Ma himself, a noted follower of Buddhist and Taoist teachings, would maintain a contradictory opinion of himself—broadminded, nonpartisan, and brave. Although the truth of the matter may lie somewhere between these extremities, the CCP is not in the slightest concerned with the facts, let alone the validity of its own dogmatic doctrine; in fact, it actively suppresses, censors, and fabricates untruths in favor of the Communist narrative.

Alibaba’s record Ant Group IPO on the Shanghai Stock Exchange—now thwarted by the CCP—does not embody the scope of entrepreneurship and innovation; rather, Ma and his company epitomize the elite industrialists and tech billionaires who have thrived despite the CCP’s statist regime. To Xi and his Party minions, Ma and his business—irrespective of the gargantuan contribution it has to the state’s balance of trade—represents a depraved consequence of capitalism in their strictly regulated financial system. The state’s naive view of prosperity—as an outcome of value creation—fails to recognize that fortune is not simply exchanged between a populace; the wealth from innovation is a direct result of the value it generates. Innovation is indiscriminate, haphazard, irregular, and thrives in free societies—principles that are antithetical to those of the CCP’s.

The Party, therefore, is fundamentally at odds with its own economic identity—it wants the prosperity and innovation that is borne of capitalism without fostering the climate within which it thrives, and proactively disincentivizes the same through punitive policy and aggressive intervention—the Chinese want to have their cake and eat it too. In China’s state-controlled business model, the tools of the free market are seemingly available—only in service to engineering innovation and progress to upgrade mechanisms that allow CCP to remain in power and exercise increasingly greater levels of control over its citizens, as well as the global economy.

In a sense, this corruption of free trade within the Communist regime is to be expected; China’s adherence to Marxism–Leninism is at the core of the CCP’s contentious perception of private prosperity. With China’s integration into the world economy through its adoption of free-market characteristics, this dissonance in ideology and practice has been reconciled through the application of a nefarious framework wherein maximal despotism may be exercised under the veil of becoming more capitalistic.

As a matter of fact, economic reforms have rather stagnated under the Xi administration. The government’s grip on business and society at large has grown tighter. Unfortunately, the myth of domestic prosperity prevails all the same—a myth that is often irresponsibly cited to vindicate Chinese authoritarianism as evidence for its efficacy.

In reality, the age of the population is climbing in China, and thus, so is the cost of labor; producing in countries such as Malaysia, Vietnam, and Mexico is proving to be more cost-effective for manufacturers. To retain China’s quasi-monopoly on production, Xi is giving utmost priority to automation—making human labor essentially obsolete by 2025. Compounded with the ill-treatment they already face under inhumane work conditions, tense worker-management relations and ultimate indifference by the state, the proletariat in Communist China have been left far from prosperous—effectively second-class citizens.

The CCP’s fixation with perceived success and welfare by virtue of its administration outweighs its commitment to actualize the same. In this mania, the headlines that highlight accomplishment outside of the government’s control are perceived to point to government weakness—a matter that perpetually occupies an enormous bandwidth of government concern. Unsurprisingly, governance that prioritizes genuine public welfare would yield more concrete outcomes for the CCP’s already deplorable global perception. However, that would render the Communist Party’s existence futile.

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