Surveillance and Its Uses (Updated)

At a recent Sinology conference here in Beijing, I met again a very interesting person. He was for decades the Danish consul-general in Beijing, with access to the highest levels of government. After retirement, he became active in research centres and speaking to many audiences around the world. These presentations focus on outlining a much fuller picture of the situation in China to audiences who have a piecemeal and often distorted view. He also takes a longer historical perspective on such matters.

At one point in his presentation, he raised the question of surveillance. He did so in light of some rather strange efforts to paint recent developments in China as dystopian, as the ultimate effort by the government to control its citizens. Specifically, he was concerned with facial recognition cameras, the unrolling of the social credit system and breakthroughs in artificial intelligence. I can affirm that all of these and more are realities in China today.

Then came the crucial point: in accusing China of the ultimate form of citizen surveillance and control, some external critics are actually imposing categories and experiences from the Euro-American context. That is, many forms of surveillance have existed for a long time. The most recent technologies are simply another dimension of this longer history. Governments in the ‘Western’ tradition have typically used these forms of surveillance to monitor their own citizens. Obviously, you can see how this history is applied uncritically to China.

But what is the experience in China with surveillance: it has historically been used to monitor external and internal threats to the state, to social stability, harmony and security. Chinese authorities have been wary indeed to use such mechanisms to monitor their own citizens going about their everyday lives. Again, this is the reality today.

For example, the government is currently rolling out a foreigner rating card, with various categories such as education level, skills, language ability, and employment. Your rating (A, B, C etc) is determined by all these factors. I do not have one as yet, but my next residency and work permit will include this new card. It is, in other words, a social credit system for foreigners. Why? Many reasons, but the main one is to weed out those who are in China under dodgy pretences. Used to be more of those in the past, but there are already fewer now.  Clearly, this is the use of surveillance to counter foreign intervention.

There is, of course, one exception: if some citizens (for example, in Xinjiang or other places) become radicalised through external influences, then they too come under surveillance, re-education, vocational training and reintegration within the community.

As a result, there has not been a terrorist attack in China for some years now, unlike the United States or Germany, which have experienced them in the last few months.

Footnote: in another presentation a scholar from Turkey pointed out that some of the efforts to irritate China in regard to Xinjiang have a distinct geopolitical agenda. From a Turkish perspective, they seek to drive a wedge between China and Turkey and slow down developments in the Belt and Road Initiative. Given that Turkey is aware of such an agenda, it should be no surprise that they are wary of what some ‘Western’ countries are seeking.

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Concerning the Taiwan Special Administrative Region of the People’s Republic of China

We need to get used to a simple fact: Taiwan is part of China. It is not a separate state and virtually no country or international body in the world recognizes it as such. Everyone you ask on the mainland simply assumes that Taiwan is part of China. We should do likewise.

The Chinese government has been exceedingly patient on this one, allowing for a long time a type of double-speak. On the one hand, people speak of ‘Taiwan’ as though it were a state, and yet governments around the world, as well as the UN, recognize the ‘one China’ principle. But time is up and the double-speak needs to wind down.

To get a handle on the situation, it is useful to return to some observations by the man-of-few-words, Deng Xiaoping.

The first is ‘An Idea For the Peaceful Reunification of the Chinese Mainland and Taiwan’, from 1983. Deng observes:

The most important issue is the reunification of the motherland … The idea is not that one party should swallow up the other. We hope the two Parties will work together for national reunification and both contribute to the Chinese nation.

We do not approve of “complete autonomy” for Taiwan. There must be limits to autonomy, and where there are limits, nothing can be complete. “Complete autonomy” means two Chinas, not one. Different systems may be practised, but it must be the People’s Republic of China alone that represents China internationally. We recognize that the local government of Taiwan may have its own separate set of policies for domestic affairs. And although, as a special administrative region, Taiwan will have a local government, it will differ from local governments of other provinces, municipalities and autonomous regions. Provided the national interests are not impaired, it will enjoy certain powers of its own that the others do not possess.

A year later, Deng made the following observations during talks in Hong Kong and in preparation for its long overdue return to China. This is from his famous ‘One Country, Two Systems’ piece:

We are pursuing a policy of “one country, two systems”. More specifically, this means that within the People’s Republic of China, the mainland with its one billion people will maintain the socialist system, while Hong Kong and Taiwan continue under the capitalist system. In recent years, China has worked hard to overcome “Left” mistakes and has formulated its policies concerning all fields of endeavour in line with the principle of proceeding from reality and seeking truth from facts. After five and a half years things are beginning to pick up. It is against this background that we have proposed to solve the Hong Kong and Taiwan problems by allowing two systems to coexist in one country.

The concept of “one country, two systems” has been formulated according to China’s realities, and it has attracted international attention. China has not only the Hong Kong problem to tackle but also the Taiwan problem. What is the solution to these problems? As for the second, is it for socialism to swallow up Taiwan, or for the “Three People’s Principles” preached by Taiwan to swallow up the mainland? The answer is neither. If the problem cannot be solved by peaceful means, then it must be solved by force. Neither side would benefit from that. Reunification of the motherland is the aspiration of the whole nation. If it cannot be accomplished in 100 years, it will be in 1,000 years. As I see it, the only solution lies in practising two systems in one country. The world faces the choice between peaceful and non-peaceful means of solving disputes. One way or the other, they must be solved. New problems must be solved by new means. The successful settlement of the Hong Kong question may provide useful elements for the solution of international questions. Has any government in the history of the world ever pursued a policy as generous as China’s? Is there anything recorded in the history of capitalism about any Western country doing something similar? When we adopt the policy of “one country, two systems” to resolve the Hong Kong question, we are not acting on impulse or playing tricks but are proceeding from reality and taking into full account the past and present circumstances of Hong Kong.

An Effort to Understand the DPRK (North Korea) in Light of the Marxist Tradition

This year (2018) the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea – or DPRK – celebrated 70 years. This is no mean feat, given the challenges it has faced. These include Japanese imperialism, United States imperialism, and what they call the ‘arduous march’ of the 1990s, when the web of connections with the Communist Bloc of Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union collapsed. Through all this they have persevered through what they see as a struggle, for they define the transition period of socialism as a long process of struggle.

I was fortunate enough to visit the DPRK for the second time in early October of 2018, soon after the celebration of 70 years of struggle. We managed to catch a late episode of that unique creation, the ‘mass games’ which were in this year called ‘The Glorious Country’. It recounted through dance, music, song and gymnastics, the history of struggle and achievement. The experience, along with an intense week of in-depth engagement at many levels, has led to an effort to understand the DPRK within the longer Marxist tradition. It begins with the tension between old and new, in which a revolution is meant to usher in a qualitatively new society that at the same time stands in a complex relationship with what has gone before. This leads to the second topic, which concerns the relationship with the Marxist tradition, which may now be seen in its own way as an element of the old. In this case, the DPRK has been undergoing a process of claiming a distinct autochthony and gradually dispensing with reference to the tradition. Third, I investigate this development in light of anti-colonialism, which had an initial emergence within the Soviet Union but took on a whole new phase on the Korean Peninsula. Here the desire to rid this part of the world of foreign interference runs strong, so much so that Korean independence and sovereignty not only determine the nature of socialism in this part of the world, but also the drive towards reunification. At the same time, I remain intrigued by a unique feature of DPRK socialism, which is the role played by the leadership. It is very clear that the glue of the Korean project is the Kim family with its socialist succession and that the majority of people in the DPRK genuinely believe in the power and tradition of the family. How to understand this feature? I want to suggest that it ties in closely with the constituent feature of inheritance, according to which the actual figure of the revolutionary leader is embodied in the son and grandson of Kim Il Sung. Finally, I approach the whole situation in light of the ‘Western’ Marxist trope of the qualitatively different nature of socialist society.

Between Old and New

A constituent feature of revolutionary movements like Marxism is a tension between the old and the new. A revolutionary seizure of power is predicated on dispensing with the old and beginning the process of constructing a new society. The particular modulations of such a construction – the stages of socialism and communism, the use of contradiction analysis in the new situation, the development of new philosophical positions in light of circumstances, and so on – are merely part of this more fundamental question.

From the Russian Revolution inwards, this tension appears. Thus, in what became the Soviet Union, we find a significant push to discard all that had gone before, for it was part of the corrupt and exploitative old order of autocracy and nascent capitalism. Everything was to be destroyed and the new constructed from the ground up. On the other side were those – such as Lenin and Lunacharsky – who felt that this was impossible. It was not only that socialism had many precursors that it would be foolhardy to dismiss, but also that a dialectical relationship with what had gone before should be taken up and transformed in the context of the new. All that was best of the past should be appropriated and thoroughly sublated through the process of socialist construction. The second approach ended up becoming the basis of the Soviet Union’s construction of socialism, although it was always  in tension with the desire for creation ex nihilo.

Let us move forward to the second great communist revolution of the twentieth century. In China, the reality of a complex and very long pre-history was far greater than in Europe or Russia. How to deal with this old tradition? While Mao Zedong argued for the need to make Marxism concrete in Chinese conditions, running all the way from Confucius to Sun Yat-sen, and while he deployed much from this tradition in his own thinking and action, he tended towards a desire to begin anew. Perhaps the most significant manifestation of this tendency was during the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution, when the whole tradition that had gone before was to be wiped out. That the excessive trauma of this period runs deep in China even today is witness to the presence of a strong sense that one needs to engage dialectically with the past.

How is all this relevant for Korean socialism? In this case we find not so much a continuing tension, with now one and now the other approach coming to the fore in relation to constructing socialism. Instead, the DPRK is a qualitatively new society, unlike any other country on earth. The challenge is to understand this different in light of the Marxist tradition. This means that the old is understood at two levels. The first is in terms of imperialism and colonialism, which Korean experience has been and continues to be capitalist imperialism. At the same time, the ‘old’ is very much present through the internal tension with the south of the peninsula and the continued occupation of United States troops. In response, the DPRK has set itself in stark contrast to the capitalist south.

The second level in which the old operates is a rather unique development, for it concerns the Marxist tradition itself.

The Marxist Tradition

With its 200 year history, Marxism has developed a rich tradition, full of experiences in seeking power and exercising state power. On this road, the philosophical developments have become significant indeed. How does the DPRK relate to this tradition? Curiously, the Marxist tradition has come to be seen as part of the old. Thus, there has been a steady process of stressing the originality, if not the autochthonous nature, of Korean socialism. If we study the extensive writings of Kim Il Sung – a 50-volume ‘Works’ exists, but the ‘Complete Works’ is still under way, with who knows how many volumes – we find a clear identification with the Marxist-Leninist tradition. Texts are cited, names mentioned, core elements of the tradition are developed further. Indeed, on one of the earlier monuments in Pyongyang devoted to the construction of socialism, one can still find the inscription ‘Uphold Marxism-Leninism’.

However, Kim Il Sung also stressed other features and floated the beginnings of an alternative terminology. So we find the first mention of ‘Juche’, that human beings are masters of their destiny, as well as a core principles of reunification, which is to be undertaken independent of foreign powers. These and other ideas would provide the seeds for his successor, Kim Jong Il, to stress more and more the autochthonous nature of his father’s thought. ‘Juche’ began to replace Marxism-Leninism, and the new security policy of ‘Songun’ was seen as originating with Kim Il Sung. Gradually, more and more of the traditional Marxist vocabulary began to disappear. The latest casualty – I am told – is the term ‘dialectics’. To be sure, they still speak of the stage of constructing socialism as one of struggle, which will eventually lead to communism. And one notices many features that come from earlier experiences of constructing socialism, such the planned economy (although there is a careful shift underway to a socialist market economy), education, socialist culture, and the history of art. The latter is intriguing: after the revolution and liberation of Korea, one finds first a period of socialist realism that then becomes Juche art, or realism with social features.

At the same time, if one studies the literature from the late 1990s until now, one finds less and less of the conventional Marxist terminology. Indeed, one may gain the impression that the socialism in question was created by Kim Il Sung and elaborated later. Indeed, under Kim Jong Un (since 2011), there has been a further shift, speaking of Kimilsungism and Kimjongilism as the body of theory and practice.

So we find a gradual and studied move from the old to the new – to keep the terminology I have been deploying. Korean socialism may have begun with a clear awareness of its debts to the old, maintaining close links with countries in the Communist Bloc. But it has moved ever more clearly into the new, stressing the sheer autochthony of this socialism.

Anti-Colonialism

As I have elaborated elsewhere, I am not inclined the deploy a ‘betrayal narrative’, especially since such a narrative is a Western European product with heavy debts to the biblical story of ‘The Fall’. Instead, I seek to understand this relationship to the Marxist tradition.

An important factor in this shift to an autochthonous Korean socialism is the anti-colonial project. The connection between socialism and anti-colonialism was initially made – theoretically – in the Soviet Union. In the immensely creative 1930s, they began to realise that the internal affirmative action policy in relation to minority nationalities (sometimes erroneously called ‘ethnic groups’) had implications for anti-colonialism. If the internal policy was to foster such nationalities at all levels so that they gained autonomy within the Soviet Union, then the same applied to other places in the world seeking to throw off the colonial yoke.

The intrinsic connection between Marxism and resisting capitalist imperialism appeared again and again in Africa, Asia, Latin America and elsewhere. Practically, this meant substantial support – albeit not without occasional friction – from the Soviet Union. Politically, it meant that some newly independent countries established themselves on a socialist basis. We see this situation clearly in China, where even today the anti-colonial project unfolds with extraordinary consequences. Think of the Belt and Road Initiative, the heavy investment of China in African infrastructure and economic development, as well as the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation and the Asia Infrastructure Investment Bank.

In Korea, the anti-colonial struggle was initially directed at Japan, which had unilaterally annexed the peninsula in 1910. Brutal was the regime and intense was the struggle. The effort to develop a united front against Japanese imperialism meant that ‘patriotism’ was often the key determining factor. For example, in Kim Il Sung’s writings, we encounter all manner of groups and individuals who were not necessarily communists. Some were of a religious background, others were not, but as long as they worked to overthrow Japanese domination, they were seen as part of the same project.

Soon after the defeat of Japan, with the crucial role of the Soviet Red Army after it had defeated Hitler, a new imperialist force appeared on the peninsula. Keen to get a foothold on the Asian landmass, United States troops scurried to occupy part of the peninsula. Ignoring Korean requests to determine their own future, the United States Commander installed the well-known anti-communist hitman, Syngman Rhee, as the ruler of the south. A state was quickly declared in the south (with the north reluctantly following with it sown declaration), tens of thousands of people were slaughtered in crackdowns on uprisings, and United States troops remain on the peninsula.

For the DPRK, the Korean War – or what they call the Fatherland Liberation War – was an effort by the United States to impose its imperialism on the whole peninsula. Resisting this effort was an extraordinary achievement at an extraordinary cost. Twenty percent of the population was slaughtered, every building and piece of infrastructure destroyed, with more napalm and biological weapons used on the north than in Vietnam. Everything one sees in the DPRK today had to be built again or, very often, anew. Pyongyang is perhaps the best example of a completely new city. One or two former buildings (such as Chilgol Church) might have been rebuilt, but the city as a whole has been built from scratch.

As they like to say in the DPRK, Kim Il Sung managed to defeat two imperialisms in his lifetime. Not a bad effort at all.

All of this means that independence from foreign forces is close to hearts of those in the DPRK, as well as a good number of those in the south. Sovereignty here has a distinct sense: no interference from outside forces. This understanding of sovereignty the DPRK shares with China and other formerly colonised countries. It also shapes the policy of reunification, which the north has consistently promulgated. The three principles for reunification are that it should be determined by Koreans and not outside powers, that it should be peaceful, and that it should result in a federated Republic of Koryo, with a socialist north and a capitalist south.

While these developments constitute a worthy topic in their own right, I am also interested in the implications for the autochthonous socialism that I discussed above. Given the strength of the desire for the sovereign independence of the whole peninsula, it should be no surprise that this desire also influences the relationship with the Marxist tradition. Marxism is, of course, originally a foreign and indeed Western European body of theory and practice. But it took root in what at first seemed to be unexpected places, such as Russia, China and Korea. However, instead of acknowledging this tradition and the specific form it has developed in Korea – socialism with Korean characteristics – the preference is to efface the tradition itself. If they did acknowledge it and see themselves as part of it, they would in some way undermine the sheer emphasis on independent sovereignty.

Lest I steer too much in this direction, let me add a caveat: I have found Korean students very knowledgeable about Marx, Engels, Lenin and others, so much so that I have been asked what Marx and Engels would think if they visited the DPRK today. At the same time, this remains at the level of education and discussion, not officially stated positions.

Inheritance and Leadership

Let me now shift my underlying framework of old and new to a slightly different register: the type of socialism found in the DPRK is the most qualitatively different I have found anywhere in the world. One can, of course, identify specific features that one recognises from the Soviet Union, Eastern Europe and China. But the way the pieces come together and how they have developed is quite distinct.

What holds them together? It is a feature that many foreigners find most difficult to understand: the leadership. President Kim Il Sung, General Kim Jong Il and Marshal Kim Jong Un provide the inescapable cohesion of the whole project. As one person put it me when were discussing the recent developments towards reunification: ‘as long as we have our marshal, everything will be fine’. The vast majority genuinely hold to this position. The respect and veneration given takes place every day. For example, at the Palace of the Sun (mausoleum), one shows absolute respect, bowing low at three points of each leader’s preserved body (not the head). Or whenever one comes before a statue, one bows low in respect. Images of the leaders are not to be reproduced for commercial purposes, and one always uses their titles when speaking of them.

The question is how this might be understood from a Marxist approach. Those foreign Marxists who are sympathetic to and even supportive of the DPRK project usually bracket out the leadership. Apart from the inherited leadership, they say, they can support what the DPRK is doing. Obviously, this approach will not work, for the leadership is absolutely central for understanding the DPRK.

Alternatively, one can draw on various non-Marxist examples to gain some perspective. It may be the reverence given to the Thai king, with prison sentences for any act that shows disrespect. Or it may be the development of absolute monarchy in Europe, during its transition from feudalism to capitalism. Or it may be due to the old Korean imperial tradition, with its dynasties and indeed representations of large rulers. These suggestions may help a little, but they do not get us very far.

Other approaches draw nearer to Marxism, at times arising from within as internal criticisms. These include the ‘cult of the personality’, especially surrounding the one who leads the party to power through a revolution, or the well-worn trope of a quasi-religion, with the rituals and reverence for the alternative communist tradition and its practices likened to religion. I have written enough about such dubious suggestions elsewhere, so will not repeat those points here, save to indicate that they are decidedly unhelpful in the DPRK.

I would like to suggest another approach, which arises from the complex laws of inheritance in the DPRK. In the statement on family law (published most recently in 2018), we find a very strong emphasis on family continuity. Someone in the family must inherit the property of the one who dies, even when no spouse, children, grandchildren, parents, brothers or sisters can be found. Even a will written by the testator can be declared invalid if it ‘prejudices the interests of one who has been supported by the testator’. In other words, anyone in the family who has even remotely been supported by the testator can apply to have a will overturned. On the other hand, an inheritor can lose the right to inheritance if they ill-treated the deceased, did not take of the deceased properly or even ‘created conditions for inheritance’. Both conditions are sweeping and reciprocal.

Two questions arise from this feature of family law. First, the document is clear that it refers primarily to property, but one may wander what private property is doing in a socialist country. Here the constitution (revised in 2016) can provide some insight. Articles 21 to 24 stipulate three types of property: state owned, cooperatively owned, and private property. The first two are familiar from other socialist systems and ideally work together. Private property, however, also clearly exists. It is ‘property owned and consumed by individual citizens’. It may arise from socialist distribution according to work (as developed by Stalin in the Soviet Union), from ‘sideline activities’ and ‘other legal economic activities’ – rather broad, to say the least. Crucially the state guarantees this private property and the right to inherit it. Is this an innovation in light of the thriving DPRK economy, which deftly manages to negate economic sanctions (as was abundantly clear on our recent visit)? Not at all, already in the Soviet Union it became clear that only under socialism can everyone enjoy full access to their private property.

The second question concerns what may be inherited beyond property, or indeed whether property includes items that are not material. Some may want to refer to the ‘songbun’ system, in which all families are classified – in many subcategories – as ‘core’, ‘wavering’ or ‘hostile’, depending on family history and loyalty. The catch with this analysis is that it has never been outlined by the DPRK, but rather by CIA operatives, lousy ‘evidence’ from defectors and creative interpretations of Kim Il Sung’s texts. So I prefer not to deploy it here. Instead, what is important is family history and tradition, with a distinct focus on those from anti-imperialist fighters, peasants and workers. The nature of a family continues through the generations, being embodied in each generation. This too, I suggest, counts as inheritance.

By now the implications for understanding the central role of the leadership should be clear. Marshal Kim Jong Un inherits the family tradition of being a revolutionary leader. Let me add one further ingredient: it has become clear by now that the revolutionary leader is crucial not merely for the success of the revolution, but even more so for the construction of socialism. This complex process of veneration first developed with Lenin, but has been repeated in each effort to construct socialism. Lenin died only a few years after the October Revolution, but he lived on in so many ways. Leaders like Mao Zedong and Kim Il Sung were fortunate enough to live long after the revolution, leaving their imprint on the new societies they led. In many respects, the leader embodied the revolution, so much so that the body itself was preserved and continues to be venerated (I, for one, have paid my respects to Lenin, Mao, Kim Il Sung and Kim Jong Il).

If we connect this history of veneration of the revolutionary leader with the strong emphasis on inheritance in the DPRK, we are led to the following conclusion: Kim Jong Un today inherits the role of revolutionary leader from his father and grandfather. But he is not merely the descendent; he is the revolutionary leader. It is not for nothing that he is represented much like his grandfather at the same age, with similar clothing, bearing, and even hair.

Conclusion: A Qualitatively Different Society

In closing, I would like to return to the underlying tension between old and new. A visit or two to the DPRK can be a disconcerting experience, for it is simply like no other society on earth. Some of the elements I have outlined above, but let me use the example of Pyongyang. It has the advantage of having been thoroughly destroyed during the Korean War. In doing so, the United States did the city an unexpected favour. It could be planned and designed anew. And it has been.

Without going into detail concerning the city lines and unique architecture (a new building boom continues as I write), one way of putting it is that Pyongyang is what many cities in eastern Europe tried to become. Perhaps Minsk, also completely destroyed, comes closest, but Pyongyang is far beyond Minsk. What I mean is that Pyongyang is the world’s first truly socialist city. The very construction of space is different, a socialist space at once monumental and collective. The vast majority of the buildings are for the people – sport institutes, cultural venues, performance venues, reading houses, and so on. And now, with the economy moving along at a good clip the streets are full of people and traffic, although most prefer to use the trams, trolley buses and metro to get about – in the newly designed and manufactured vehicles from the DPRK. Many are the foreigners who find it disconcerting, unable to find a way to be in it. I find it one of the most amazing cities on earth.

But it is utterly and qualitatively different, as is the society of the DPRK. Here we may deploy an element of ‘Western’ Marxism. It has been the wont of some ‘Western’ Marxists to stress the qualitatively different nature of socialism, let alone communism. So different will it be, they suggest, that we can barely imagine what it will be like. This approach has many negative dimensions (idealism, romanticism, perpetual putting off of socialism, myopia regarding actual socialist states), but here it may provide an unwitting insight. If you want a qualitatively different socialist country, then the DPRK is it.

Do I like it? I admire it, I enjoy many elements within it, but I am not sure if I like it. This essay is one effort among a number to understand it and come to terms with this sense. Let me put it this way: I am not an admirer of much of ‘Western’ Marxism, especially its emphasis on the new and the qualitatively different. Too many are the negatives with this approach. Instead, I can say that of the socialist countries (past and present) in which I have lived or which I have visited, I prefer socialism with Chinese characteristics, with its complex dialectical relationship with the past – including a clear sense of the Marxist tradition.

China’s socialist model enriches global governance philosophy

I rather like this piece from the Global Times yesterday:

The most discussed challenge to liberal democracy in the West nowadays is the perceived threat of China’s rise and the “Chinese model.” That China has rapidly risen in a development model different from that of the West has startled and upset the West. Does China attempt to overthrow the Western liberal order? Would it spread its development ideas, values and political system to other countries? Such worries haunt many Western scholars, politicians and media outlets.

To figure out whether China is a threat to liberalism, the Economist initiated a debate “Should the West worry about the threat to liberal values posed by China’s rise?” as if liberal values are paramount standards that couldn’t be challenged.

After the Cold War, Western liberal democracy and the market economic system, which are built on core liberal values such as individual freedom, equality and capitalism, gained their momentum. Francis Fukuyama, an acclaimed American political scientist, even declared free-market liberal democracy would become the world’s “final form of human government.”

However, it’s absurd to hold Western liberal democracy was the “end of history.” Since the 2008 financial crisis, the Western world has undergone serious economic, political and social turbulence. Political polarization in the US, the European migrant crisis, Brexit and the rise of populism on both sides of the Atlantic all indicate the West has been mired in a liberalism crisis.

Fukuyama was compelled to revise his original opinion and turned to fear for the future of liberal democracy. He called to examine the deep structural reasons for dysfunctional democracy. Unfortunately, a more prevailing view is to blame external threats for the fall of liberal democracy, regardless of what deserves more attention is not threat from outside, but from within.

The West should make self-introspection for the liberalism crisis. Liberal ideas and institutions failed to solve the problems facing developing countries. Many developing governments found it hard to govern their country well after copying Western political systems and were plagued by political and social woes. More newly emerging countries have become skeptical about the Western model. In sharp contrast, the Chinese model is gaining popularity and giving hope to those countries longing for rapid development while maintaining independence.

The Chinese model has undoubtedly raised questions over liberal values, but it also enriches development philosophy. There is neither “end of history” nor “end of evolution” for development model. Now it’s the time for the West to seriously reflect upon its own problems and reconsider its values. What it needs to do is to improve and move forward, rather than be obsessed with past success. If it continues to defend its internal decay by fabricating external threats, liberal democracy and institutions will face a bigger crisis.

If you wish to read further, there is also an intriguing article about a Nigerian proposal to change to a one-party system and socialist economy in Nigeria.

Friedrich Engels: The State as a ‘Separated Public Power’

A perfect society, a perfect ‘State [Staat]’, are things which can only exist in the imagination [Phantasie]. On the contrary, all successive historical states [Zustände] are only transitory stages in the endless course of development of human society (Engels 1886 [1990], 359, 1886 [2011], 126).

The following material comprises an initial draft concerning Engels’s thoughts on actually existing states. It will eventually form part of a chapter in a book called The Socialist State: Philosophical Foundations. Some of the material may be well-known, but other material I examine has often been ignored. Since what follows is a prolegomenon to Engels’s potential contribution to understanding the socialist state, I have shaped the analysis with this in mind.

Engels’s reflections on ‘the state’ can best be summarised as a series of theses, following which I provide analysis of the key points that are relevant for the focus on what might happen to the state after a communist revolution.[1]

1. Engels repeatedly asserts that the state is a ‘public power [öffentliche Gewalt]’ that is ‘separated [getrennte]’ from society (Engels 1884 [1990]-b, 201, 210, 213, 221, 269-70, 1884 [1962], 95, 103, 107, 115, 165-66). This definition is based on the assumption that political ideas and practices ‘in the final instance [in letzter Instanz]‘ (Engels and Kautsky 1887 [1973], 494) derive from economic conditions.[2] It determines all of his observations concerning the nature and history of the state, from the ancient Athenians to his own day, as well as his initial thoughts on the state under socialism.

2. Thus, it follows that the state is not imposed from without, but arises from a society riven with ‘irreconcilable opposites’, which are ‘classes with conflicting economic interests’.

3. So that society does not tear itself to pieces, a Gewalt is necessary to ‘alleviate the conflict and keep it within the bounds of “order”’.

4. This Gewalt ‘alienates itself more and more’ from society, so that it becomes ‘separated’, ‘alienated’ and ‘above’ society.

5. While the initial manifestation of this Gewalt may be in terms of an armed force that is no longer coterminous with the people (as a militia), it is also comprised of ‘material adjuncts, prisons and institutions of coercion of all kinds’. In short, these are instruments of repression.

6. Alongside such institutions are what Engels calls ‘organs of society [Organe der Gesellschaft]’. These are not part of society, standing in its middle, but are ‘above’ and ‘alien [entfremdenden]’ and need to be asserted through a system of laws and sustained through taxes. Although he does not use the term ‘apparatus’, he here describes an apparatus that is both above society and mediates between state power and society.

7. Is the state an instrument of the ruling class, a structure determined by this class, or it is somewhat autonomous? The question arises from three different emphases in Engels’s text, emphases that set the boundaries of subsequent Marxist debate:

a. ‘As a rule’, Engels writes, the state provides the means whereby the economically dominant class also becomes the politically dominant class. Engels speaks of the state being a ‘means of keeping’ down the oppressed, an ‘instrument [Werkzeug]’ for exploitation.

b. At the same time, he speaks of the state as an ‘organisation of the possessing class [Organisation der besitzenden Klasse]’, so much so that we have the ‘state of slave owners’, the ‘feudal state [Feudalstaat]’ and the ‘modern representative state [Repräsentativstaat]’ or the ‘state of the capitalists’,[3] implying that specific states are imbued with and even determined by a specific nature.[4]

c. At times a state gains relative autonomy, especially when class conflict reaches a certain balance, with neither dominating. In this situation, the state acquires temporarily a ‘certain degree of independence of both’ classes. The pertinent example, in relation to Engels’s detailed study on the ‘The Role of Force’, is Bismarck’s Germany.

Since my concern with the state after a revolution and during the construction of socialism, I emphasise the following in relation to actually existing states. The crucial distinction is between separation and integration/ enmeshment. This distinction appears a few times in the points above, especially when Engels contrasts the nature of the military and the ‘organs of society’, which are different from the ‘organs of the gentile constitution [Organe der Gentilverfassung]’, or ‘organs of gentile society [Organe der Gentilgesellschaft]’ that stand ‘in the midst of society [eben mitten in der Gesellschaft]’ (Engels 1884 [1990]-b, 270, 1884 [1962], 166). Indeed, the definition of the state relies on this contrast, which runs through The Origin of the Family. Engels casts it primarily as a historical narrative, in which the unseparated or integrated nature of pre-state formations contrasts, but also provides the conditions for, the separated nature of the state that follows. While this is a rather standard narrative of differentiation,[5] moving from an undifferentiated state to one that is clearly differentiated (thus the Athenian state provides the pure form of this narrative[6]), it opens a theoretical possibility that is ultimately not reliant on the narrative: communism entails a de-differentiation, if I may put it that way. Or in terms of the distinction between separation and integration, communism is clearly closer to the integrated and enmeshed condition. The implications for understanding the state under socialism and indeed communism (to borrow Lenin’s distinction for a moment) are profound.

At the same time, the distinction produces some tensions in Engels’s presentation. He seeks to be sensitive to historical variations, which appear most obviously in the question I posed in place of thesis 7. Let me begin with the third answer to the question, concerning the autonomy of the state, even though Engels suggests that this situation is only temporary, found at certain moments when class conflict is evenly balanced. In some respects, this would seem to be the most logical outcome of his initial proposal that the state arises from irreconcilable class conflict and that a Gewalt is needed to ameliorate the conflict and keep it within bounds (so that the system is not torn apart).[7]

The first and second answers to the question are more intriguing. Is the separated state a relatively neutral ‘instrument [Werkzeug]’ in the hands of the dominant class? Engels tends in this direction with his comment, ‘as a rule [in der Regel]’.[8] Yet this position can slip into another: the ruling class may determine the nature of the state in question, shaping it into a particular form. One can see how the connection may be made, for an instrument may take on a distinct shape, having been constructed by its wielder. Yet an instrument and a distinct form are not necessarily the same: the former is more neutral – an instrument, means or tool – and the latter indicates a particular nature, determined by the ruling class in question.[9]

Engels’s text struggles with this distinction, at times seemingly connecting instrument and nature,[10] while at others suggesting that they are distinct. A notable example is the fascinating paragraph towards the close of The Origin of the Family,[11] where Engels explores the historical variations of distinct types of states. Here he writes of an ‘organisation of the possessing class [Organisation der besitzenden Klasse]’ for the sake of protection against the non-possessing class.[12] An organisation is already more than a mere instrument, suggesting structures, shaping and the nature of the state itself. It may take the form of property or wealth qualifications for the right to participate in the state (from Athens and Rome to the early parliamentary systems of his own day), or direct corruption of government officials, or an alliance between the government and stock exchange for the sake of building infrastructure. Tellingly, at each suggestion Engels notes that such mechanisms are actually not necessary for the ruling class to determine the state: neither property qualifications, nor corruption, nor alliances between government and stock exchange are needed. Why not? A crucial sentence indicates the direction of his thought, especially in light of the bourgeois state and its emerging practice of apparent universal suffrage. In this situation, how does wealth control the state? It ‘exercises its power indirectly, but all the more surely [seine Macht indirekt, aber um so sichrer aus]’. One may object that he writes only a few sentences later that the possessing class rules ‘directly by means of [direkt mittelst]’ universal suffrage. The initial impression is that he seems to slide back to an instrumental position. But he does not simply write direct, adding immediately afterwards mittelst, which indicates an intermediary, a ‘medium’ (as the MECW translation has it), through which direct rule must operate.

Let me press more heavily on the term ‘indirect’. To begin with, in a piece written with Kautsky called ‘Lawyers’ Socialism’, Engels observes that in the European transition from feudalism to capitalism, the Church was replaced by the state as the arbiter of all matters economic and social – or at least this was how people saw the situation. Crucially, it was the rise of a ‘legal world view’ that signalled such a shift. While we may quibble that the Church had developed its own complex legal system since the ‘lawyer popes’ of the eleventh century, the point I seek to draw out is that the bourgeoisie sought a legal system controlled not by the Church but by the state. The bourgeoisie’s battle cry was equality before the law, pressing more and more legal demands so that a new form of the state arose, the ‘classical one of bourgeoisie’ (Engels and Kautsky 1887 [1990], 598, 1887 [1973], 492). The clear implication is that this form developed without direct power held by the bourgeoisie, but rather as a process of transformation from without.

Further, in the paragraph I have been exegeting in the paragraphs preceding the last one, Engels mentions Bismarck as an example of the indirect rule of the bourgeoisie. Only a few years later, he would come to devote more attention to Bismarck in the extremely insightful (albeit largely ignored) work, ‘The Role of Force in History’.[13] This text is worthy of detailed study in its own right, not least because it offers a worthy complement to the myriad twists and turns of Marx’s ‘Eighteenth Brumaire’. While Marx deals with Louis Napoleon (III), Engels focuses on Bismarck’s rise to power and Germany’s dialectical leap into becoming a significant European power. Crucially, Engels argues that no matter how much Bismarck – like Louis Napoleon – may have sidelined the bourgeoisie from the reins of power, he enabled the very structures of a bourgeois state in political and economic terms. Since the bourgeoisie, especially since the 1848 revolutions, had expanded as never before the network of industry and international trade, it needed not the many individual states but a unified German state, with uniform laws and regulations and currency, to facilitate the process even further – including the easy mobility of labour.[14] Bismarck obliged, since he desperately needed for his own ‘Junker’ agenda all that the bourgeoise demanded, so much so that he shaped the new German state in their image. As Engels puts it, the ‘bourgeoisie triumphed without having to put up a serious fight’ (Engels 1887-88 [1990]-c, 472, 1887-88 [1973]-a, 423).[15]

While this argument reinforces Marx’s similar conclusion in ‘The Eighteenth Brumaire’, with the significant implication that the nature of a particular state is shaped and even determined by the dominant class even when it does not have direct political power, Engels also develops a unique insight of his own. It concerns Gewalt, a topic which I have belatedly left until now, since it will become important for Engels’s potential contribution to understanding the socialist state (and is central to the dictatorship of the proletariat in the work of both Marx and Engels). The semantic field of the term includes power, force and violence, although translators tend to shy away from the stronger senses. In analysing the term, I leave aside the vexed and well-nigh impossible task of determining what an author intended at a particular moment. Instead, I prefer to examine how Engels’s text elaborates on the term.

In the opening sentence of ‘The Role of Force’, Engels indicates that he seeks to analyse contemporary German history and its ‘Gewaltspraxis von Blut und Eisen’ (Engels 1887-88 [1973]-a, 407).[16] The practice of Gewalt entails ‘blood and iron’. It may be very well to speak in abstract terms of ‘power’ and even ‘force’, but the reality is clearly in the direction of the violence of weapons and blood spilled in conflict. The broader topic concerns Germany’s belated reunification under Bismarck, the class dimensions (see above) and ideological realities, let alone their dependence on the economic situation.[17] But the thread that weaves it all together is that of Gewalt in action. Let me backtrack a moment to set the context in terms of Engels’s writings. Already since 1842, military matters had been close to Engels’s thoughts and occasionally actions. In that year, he enlisted in the 12th Foot Company of the Guards Artillery Brigade in Berlin, to be followed by military action during the 1848 revolutions (at first in Elberfeld and Barmen and a little later with the militia in the Palatinate and Baden). These experiences, with their insights and disappointments, led him to deeply insightful articles as a military correspondent and then analyst of the history and present realities of all aspects of military forces, such as training, equipment, discipline, morale, fortifications, tactics and the first real contribution to the need for a good and decisive military force for any revolutionary movement.[18] Thus, it should be no surprise that, in his schematic depiction of the rise of the state as a ‘separated public power’, a military force distinct from the people should be the first sign of this development, or indeed in his reply to Dühring that he should dig into his knowledge of military matters (Engels 1877-78 [1987], 155-61, 1877-78 [1973], 155-61).

As for ‘The Role of Force’, military machinations constitute the line of blood that draws the many parts together,[19] defining the sense of Gewalt. While Engels invokes the full range of the term’s semantic field,[20] the weight of his usage falls on the hard edge of the term. It may be ‘forcible [gewaltsamen]’ Danification, or ‘forcibly [gewaltsam]’ dispelling liberal self-delusion, or keeping one’s subjects ‘forcibly [gewaltsam]’ in check, or Austria’s expulsion ‘with violent force [mit Gewalt]’, or doing ‘violence [Gewalt]’ with the truth, or simply ‘police power [Polizeigewalt]’ (Engels 1887-88 [1990]-c, 475, 477, 480, 495, 507, see also 476, 487, 1887-88 [1973]-a, 426, 429, 431, 432, 446, 459, see also 427, 438). Simply put, the emphasis is on ‘brute force [brutale Gewalt]’ as the guiding principle (Engels 1887-88 [1990]-c, 495, see also 494, 1887-88 [1973]-a, 447, see also 446). Thus, German political and economic unity had to be ‘won in struggle [erkämpft werden]’ against both external and internal enemies (Engels 1887-88 [1990]-c, 460, 1887-88 [1973]-a, 412). Externally, it required wars, realignment of alliances, temporary settlements and new wars.[21] The turning point – for Engels’s analysis – is when reunification takes the path of Prussian hegemony (in contrast to the two other possibilities of genuine abolition of differences between all the German states and Austrian hegemony). This process was kick-started by humiliation at the hands of Denmark in the mid-nineteenth century, which spurred Bismarck to undertake a wholesale reconfiguration of the armed forces, leading to decisive defeat of Denmark in a little over a decade. From there, the path led eventually to the conquest of France, at which point the new German empire became the ‘first power [erste Macht]’ in Europe, with all power (Macht) concentrated in the dictator Bismarck’s hands (Engels 1887-88 [1990]-c, 498, 1887-88 [1973]-a, 449). Internally, the first hint is provided by Engels’s use of ‘dictator’ to speak of Bismarck. In a crucial paragraph, he speaks of the tensions and collaboration between the bourgeoisie and Bismarck. The former demanded a revolutionary transformation of Germany, but this could be achieved ‘only by force [nur durch die Gewalt]’, which he immediately defines as ‘only by an actual dictatorship [nur durch eine tatsächliche Diktatur]’. Two types of Gewalt exist in the modern state, namely the ‘elemental power of the popular masses [elementare Gewalt der Volksmassen]’ and ‘organised state power [die organisierte Staatsgewalt]’. The latter is embodied in none other than the army. While the German bourgeoisie had grown deeply suspicious of the force of the masses, it also did not have the army at its disposal. ‘But’, Engels points out, ‘Bismarck had’ (Engels 1887-88 [1990]-c, 479, 1887-88 [1973]-a, 431).

The implications for insights into possible forms of the socialist state should be obvious. To begin with, the revolutionary process itself and the dictatorship of the proletariat entail the use of Gewalt – the meaning of which should be in no doubt. Further, if we assume Engels’s emphasis on the state as a ‘separated public power’, then the forms of governance – or apparatus – under socialism and communism will be of an unseparated or enmeshed form. To understand how this might work, I will in later parts of this study focus on Engels’s extensive work on ‘pre-state’ or ‘primitive communist’ formations. This task remains to be done, but we should also keep in mind Marx’s point that concrete research on these matters requires evidence and experience, for it can be done ‘only scientifically’.

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NOTES

[1] The best summary may be found in The Origin of the Family (Engels 1884 [1990]-b, 268-72, 1884 [1962], 164-68), from which the quotations in the following theses are drawn.

[2] Engels stresses the economic determination of the state in his piece on Feuerbach (Engels 1886 [1990], 391-93, 1886 [1973]-b, 302-3).

[3] The final quotation comes from Anti-Dühring, where he adds by way of clarification, ‘the ideal personification of the total national capital [der ideelle Gesamtkapitalist]’ (Engels 1877-78 [1987], 266, 1877-78 [1973], 260).

[4] This tendency is expressed well in his comment in the introduction to Borkheim’s pamphlet concerning the 1848 revolutions: ‘the state is becoming more and more estranged from the masses of the people and is now well on the way to transforming itself into a consortium of landowners, stockbrokers and big industrialists for the exploitation of the people’ (Engels 1887 [1990], 450, 1887 [1973]-a, 350).

[5] The most sustained example of such a narrative of differentiation appears in the final section of The Origin of the Family, but this section also summarises the whole treatment of the state in this work (Engels 1884 [1990]-b, 256-76, 1884 [1962], 152-73, see also Engels 1877-78 [1987], 166-69, 1877-78 [1973], 166-69).

[6] With the rise of the Athenian state Engels finds various commercial, money and property relations that develop class relations and thereby the state, with the constitutions articulating the new conditions (Engels 1884 [1990]-b, 213-22, 1884 [1962], 107-16). While he is guilty of a classicist narrative in such a position, finding the Roman and especially the German situations less ‘pure’ (the latter taking full state forms only with Charlemagne and the rise of feudalism (Engels 1884 [1990]-b, 252-54, 1884 [1962], 147-49)), my focus is on the theoretical potential of Engels’s texts in relation to the socialist state. For this reason, it is beyond my remit to delve into Engels’s fascinating studies of the rise of the feudal state, both in his study on the Frankish period and Charlemagne and in his draft concerning the decline of feudalism (Engels 1882 [1990], 1882 [1987], 1884 [1990]-a, 1884 [1973]).

[7] Many subsequent Marxist analyses of the bourgeois state follow this line, offering a range of variations (Carnoy 1984, 50, Esping-Andersen, Friedland, and Wright 1976, Holloway and Picciotto 1978, Evans 1995, Offe 1984, 1974, Skocpol 1979, Evans, Rueschemeyer, and Skocpol 1985, Block 1980, Mann 1986-2013).

[8] A number of later Marxist analyses of the (bourgeois) state agree, suggesting that the concentration of capital in relatively few hands enables the ruling class to have material and ideological control over the levers of power (Sweezy 1942, Miliband 1969, Baran and Sweezy 1966, Domhoff 1979).

[9] I would also locate Lenin’s proposals in the tension between instrument and determined nature (Lenin 1917 [1964], 392-94, 1917 [1969], 7-9), but since a subsequent study will deal carefully with Lenin, I leave this analysis for later.

[10] So also Engels’s comment in Anti-Dühring, where he speaks of state-ownership (the example given in a footnote is to Bismarck’s nationalisation of the railways). He writes that the state is ‘the organisation that bourgeois society takes on in order to support the general external conditions of the capitalist mode of production against the encroachments as well of the workers as of individual capitalists. The modern state, no matter what its form, is essentially a capitalist machine [kapitalistische Maschine], the state of  the capitalists, the ideal personification of the total national capital’ (Engels 1877-78 [1987], 266, 1877-78 [1973], 260).

[11] The quotations that follow are drawn from this paragraph (Engels 1884 [1990]-b, 271-72, 1884 [1962], 167-68).

[12] In Anti-Dühring Engels sides more strongly with this position: the state is ‘an organisation of the particular

class which was pro tempore the exploiting class’ (Engels 1877-78 [1987], 267, 1877-78 [1973], 261).

[13] ‘The Role of Force in History’ was written in draft in 1887-1888 and was initially planned as the fourth and final chapter to a work with the same name (Engels 1887-88 [1990]-d, 1887-88 [1973]-b, 1887-88 [1990]-a, 1887-88 [1973]-d, 1887-88 [1990]-b, 1887-88 [1973]-c, see also Engels 1886 [1995], 529, 1886 [1973]-a, 574-75, 1887 [2001], 126, 1887 [1973]-b, 730, 1888 [2001]-a, 142, 1888 [1973]-a, 15, 1888 [2001]-e, 1888 [1973]-e, 1888 [2001]-b, 1888 [1973]-b, 1888 [2001]-d, 1888 [1973]-d, 1888 [2001]-c, 1888 [1973]-c). The preceding part was to include three chapters from Anti-Dühring on the theory of force (Engels 1877-78 [1987], 146-71, 1877-78 [1973], 147-71). As with a number of works in the 1880s dealing with the state and German history, ‘The Role of Force in History’ remained unfinished, with the draft chapter published as a stand-alone piece in 1894-1895.

[14] We may identify here the seeds of Wallerstein’s (2011 [1974]) later argument that capitalism needed strong states with unified economic and legal frameworks to ensure the passage of goods across borders.

[15] Or more dialectically, Engels later speaks of carrying out ‘the will of the bourgeoisie against its will’ (Engels 1887-88 [1990]-c, 480, 1887-88 [1973]-a, 431). In his draft on the decline of feudalism, Engels’s insightfully connects the rise of absolute monarchies with the rise of the bourgeoisie (Engels 1884 [1990]-a, 1884 [1973]) – a point I have argued in my own way (Boer In press). Perhaps the closest that subsequent Marxist analyses come to this approach to the bourgeois state is the proposal that such a state is a structure – divided between apparatus and power – that is shaped to provide a relatively stable environment for capital, which it does so by ameliorating and regulating class struggle, as well as the inherent crises of capitalist economics and its uneven development (Mandel 1975, Poulantzas 1978, 1980 [1978], Therborn 1978, Wright 1978, Jessop 1982, Przeworski 1985).

[16] Or, as Engels puts it in Anti-Dühring, ‘Force [Gewalt ], nowadays, is the army and navy’ (Engels 1877-78 [1987], 154, 1877-78 [1973], 154).

[17] In his polemic against Dühring, Engels stresses the importance of economic might (Macht) as a determining feature of political Gewalt. In this case, he sets out to undermine Dühring’s hypothesis that political Gewalt is primary and economic realities secondary (Engels 1877-78 [1987], 146-71, 1877-78 [1973], 147-71). ‘The Role of Force in History’ may therefore be seen as Engels’s answer at a more comprehensive level: this is what Gewalt really entails (and not the mythical tale of Robinson Crusoe and Friday, beloved by Dühring).

[18] This material is rarely appreciated, even though it forms a substantial amount of Engels’s published work. The items are too many to cite here, but an interested reader may consult frequent items on military correspondence from MECW 11 and MEW 11 onwards (from the 1948 revolutions to the Franco-Prussian War of 1870-71), as well as analyses of military forces in MECW 18-19 and MEW 14-15. In these cases, MEW generally has less articles than MECW.

[19] In his draft treatment of the decline of feudalism, Engels traces – among other elements – the changes in military technology and strategy (Engels 1884 [1990]-a, 562-64, 1884 [1973], 398-400).

[20] On a few occasions, he speaks of ‘executive power [Exekutivgewalt]’ and the strengthening of ‘state power [Staatsgewalt] (Engels 1887-88 [1990]-c, 499, 507, 1887-88 [1973]-a, 451, 459).

[21] Albeit not determinative, as Tilly’s selective approach would have it (Tilly 1985, 1990).

The Socialist State: Philosophical Foundations

This book outline deals with the socialist state, examining an alternative path through the Marxist tradition in order to understand the realities of the socialist state, with a focus on China. These realities include a many-layered enmeshment of state and society, the nature of the multi-party system, the practices of socialist democracy, and future directions, all in light of distinct emphasis that Marxism – as a guide for action – is front and centre in China. The method is simply working very closely with the texts in their original languages, especially texts or aspects of texts that have been sidelined or even forgotten.

Chapter 1: Marx’s Ambivalence: State, Proletarian Dictatorship and Commune

I begin with Marx, who struggled with a tension concerning what happens after a communist revolution: between the proletarian dictatorship, with its force and violence (Gewalt), and the commune, based on the Paris experiment (1871). One entails strengthening the state and the other its breaking down – a tension bequeathed to the tradition. Marx also begins to offer a possible resolution, in terms of a narrative from one to the other, and in his struggle to delineate the forms of governance under communism. But he is reticent to speculate, aware that without the experience of constructing socialism, he could not undertake a ‘scientific’ study of what might happen.

Chapter 2: Engels: Enmeshed Governance

While Engels set the agenda for subsequent approaches – Weberian and Marxist – to theories of the bourgeois state, his real contribution is in the ‘enmeshed apparatus’. This arises from a contrast: while the state is a separated ‘public power (Gewalt)’ that – in this form – will in theory ‘die away’ with communism, non-state societies have complex patterns of organisation and governance that are not separated but enmeshed within society. This ‘enmeshed apparatus’ (my term) provides a potential theoretical model for understanding the state under socialism in power, although it also entails redefining ‘state’.

Chapter 3: Lenin and the Early Socialist State

In The State and Revolution (1917) Lenin tackled the tension bequeathed by Marx and Engels, between the strong state of the proletarian dictatorship and its ‘dying away’ under communism. His solution was to introduce the crucial distinction between socialism and communism. Socialism was the ‘transition period’ with many relics of earlier state forms and potentially lasting a very long time. Only after communism had become a global reality would conditions arise for the natural ‘withering away’ of the state.

Chapter 4: Stalin and the Socialist State

Since Lenin’s work remained incomplete, it fell to Stalin to develop a fuller theory. His texts (and debates at the time) reveal the importance of a strong state, for the purpose of establishing a comprehensive welfare system, the world’s first ‘affirmative action’ program for minority nationalities, fostering international anti-colonial struggles, and dealing with internal and especially external enemies. But what is this state? It is not a ‘nation’, but a redefined ‘Soviet people’ constituted by workers, collective farmers and intellectuals. Philosophically, this required the breakthrough of non-antagonistic contradictions – classes and tensions continue, but in a non-antagonistic manner. Stalin concludes: ‘We now have an entirely new, Socialist state [sotsialisticheskoe gosudarstvo], without precedent in history’ (1939, 336).

Chapter 5: Mao Zedong’s Contradiction Analysis

The second part of the monograph focuses on the Chinese situation. It begins with Mao’s ‘On Contradiction’ (1937, see also 1957), which is inescapable for understanding the philosophical basis of Chinese political forms. The main insight for my purposes is reframing non-antagonistic contradictions in light of the Chinese idea that contradictions not only oppose but also complement one another (xiangfan xiangcheng), that continuity is enabled through change (biantong). This approach enables a unique development of Marx’s problem – proletarian dictatorship versus commune – and Engels’s enmeshed apparatus, in terms of state-society envelopment, cooperative multi-party system, and socialist democracy with Chinese characteristics. Today, ‘contradiction analysis’ continues at the heart of government policy: a new primary contradiction was announced at the CPC’s 19th congress in 2017.

Chapter 6: State-Society Envelopment

This chapter investigates the envelopment or enmeshment of state and society (and economy), beginning with the proposal that the origins of civilisation and society in China are inseparable from the emergence of that state (Yi 2012). I take seriously the position that China is in the first, or long transitional stage, of socialism. Thus, the state is in some respects separate, as a relic of earlier forms, but also deeply enmeshed within society in all manner of complex ways. Ridding ourselves of the notions of ‘intervention’, the approach – drawing on both Engels and Mao – enables a new understanding of how this envelopment takes place.

Chapter 7: Consultative Multi-Party System

Here I set aside the notion of ‘party-state’ and investigate the philosophical implications of ‘consultative governance’ of the multi-party system (Wang and Wei 2017). Based on the reality of nine political parties, I examine the philosophical implications: political parties operating in a context of differences based on a complementary common ground; robust ‘criticism and self-criticism’ (at the intersection of Chinese and Marxist traditions) in contrast to agonistic models; the nature of the supreme decision-making National People’s Congress (NPC) and the consultative Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference (CPPCC); the separation and enmeshment of powers.

Chapter 8: Theory and Practice of Socialist Democracy

Does China practice democracy, and if so, how? In contrast to a universal notion of ‘democracy’, I begin by distinguishing between ancient Greek, liberal, illiberal and socialist democracies. Focusing on ‘socialist democracy with Chinese characteristics’ (Yu 2008, Yang 2009, Li 2013, Li 2015, Ma 2015a, 2015b, Fang 2015), I examine how ‘democratic centralism’ and indeed ‘democratic dictatorship’ are possible (contradiction analysis) and how they can be mutually reinforcing – as already seen in the Soviet Union (Kokosalakis 2018). This also requires analysis of the permanence of the communist party, feedback mechanisms, and wide-ranging direct and indirect elections.

Chapter 9: The Governance of China

The most recent development is found in Xi Jinping’s The Governance of China (Xi 2014, 2017), core texts in increasing number of works that now comprise ‘Xi Jinping Thought’. Xi carries on a communist tradition of the leader as philosopher, but also the Chinese tradition in which the leader is also tutor. Critical analysis reveals elaborations on the themes already discussed, but also a distinct future focus. Important here are the two centenary goals of a ‘moderately prosperous society (xiaokang shehui)’ by 2020 and a ‘great modern socialist country’ by 2049, as well as the new primary contradiction between uneven and unbalanced development and people’s desire for a ‘better life (meihua shenghuo)’. This 4-character saying has deep resonances in Chinese tradition, which is now being elaborated in light of Xi Jinping’s sustained emphasis on Marxism as the guiding principle of China’s transition into a ‘new era’.

Conclusion: The Socialist State with Chinese Characteristics

The conclusion draws together the themes of the book and delineates what is meant by a socialist state, especially with Chinese characteristics. Here I also broach issues for potential future work, concerning the socialist market economy and international relations. While the former entails further development of the category of enmeshment, historical analysis and distinguishing it from a capitalist market economy, the matter of international relations raises important questions. For example, is the Belt and Road Initiative another form of imperialism, or does it spring from Chinese tradition and older socialist practices of anti-colonialism? Does the ‘community of shared destiny for humankind [renlei mingyun gongtongti]’ – which underlies the BRI (Fu 2017) – really enable moving past geo-political zero-sum rivalry for the sake of ‘win-win’ solutions?

The Socialist Welfare State: A Brief (and Intriguing) History

‘Do you think Europe – especially Scandinavia – is more socialist than China?’

This question used to be more common 7 or 8 years ago. But it came up recently while I was in Yunnan province, in the far southwest of China. It is of course connected with the impression that Scandinavia had a developed welfare system, which some seem to think indicates a socialist influence. And Scandinavians love to cite this one, although by now it is wearing quite thin.

The ‘Scandinavia had’ is quite deliberate in my earlier sentence, but to understand why requires a brief history.

The first country in human history to develop what I have elsewhere called a ‘domestic state’ was the Soviet Union. It happened under Stalin’s watch. In the 1920s, many regulations had been promulgated concerning education, healthcare, pregnancy preparation, maternity leave, childcare, divorce, guardianship and so on (although not unemployment benefits, since there soon was full employment) – the full gamut of matters that had been regarded until then as the domain of the ‘family’, no matter how extended it may have been. But it was only in the 1930s that they could be enacted in a realistic manner. Why? Only with the massive ‘socialist offensive’, with its twin programs of comprehensive industrialisation and agricultural collectivisation, did the Soviet Union have the economic resources to implement them in full. This is not to say that many problems did not happen, for the Soviet Union was making a tumultuous leap to becoming a superpower. As Mao put it later, ‘Progress and at the same time difficulties – this is a contradiction’ (1957). But the contradiction was a feature of a leap into the future.

What did some of the capitalist countries do? They realised that workers were increasingly drawn to the Soviet Union’s model. So the bourgeois governments borrowed some features and sought to institute what became known as the ‘welfare state’. But it was a warped version, predicated on the slogan, ‘from the cradle to the grave’. The state would take care of you, especially if matters beyond your control dealt you a bad hand.

Why warped? The way it was implemented in Europe (and even in the United States for a while with the ‘new deal’) was to neutralise any push by workers and peasants to alter the system itself. A bourgeois state would provide, so why bother with any revolutionary desires. Even more, it became a mechanism for ensuring that everyone in the state’s population remained – or could be retrained – to be productive, and thereby also remain consumers. Crucially, this altered form of the welfare state was restricted to full citizens, producing the framework for the xenophobic charge that ‘immigrants’ want to avail themselves of the benefits of a system to which they were not entitled.

This history has a further twist or two. After the symbolic ‘fall’ of the Berlin Wall in 1989, most countries that had a version of the bourgeois welfare state no longer felt the need to support it. The alternative model of the Soviet Union had imploded, so country after country systematically began to dismantle the ‘welfare state’. So-called ‘cheats’ became the target, such as the demonised ‘single mother’ with multiple offspring who ‘milked’ the system for her benefit. The rhetoric was relentless, ensuring that one plank after another of the bourgeois welfare state was removed. Even Scandinavia began to follow suit, albeit belatedly with the turn of the millennium.

Meanwhile, what was happening in China? Let us deal with the facts rather than mythology. After the communist revolution, a system had developed that may be called ‘Owenite’ (after Robert Owen’s model factories in the UK of the 19th century). Large conglomerates were established, around factories, publication houses, state-owned-enterprises (SOEs) and so on. In these conglomerates, people had everything: accommodation, jobs, dining halls, hospitals, shops, childcare facilities, funeral services … It was dubbed the ‘iron rice bowl’ – a term that originated outside China.

But they were grossly inefficient, sucking up resources, breeding familial corruption and giving little back to the overall system. In the 1980s and into the 1990s, Deng Xiaoping bit the bullet: the conglomerates would have to face the realities not of a ‘planned economy’ but of a ‘socialist market economy’ that has its own distinct Chinese articulation. Many went bankrupt, since they could not manage in the new order. Others thrived, like the Xinhua News Agency. In the process, mistakes were made: workers lost their jobs and were not compensated; farmers lost the healthcare to which they had become accustomed; retirees could no longer rely on the conglomerate to provide for them.

China first had to get its economic act together. As it did so and the resources became available, a whole new system began to be implemented. Farmers who had lost healthcare found a different model in its place. Retirees began to notice that the state was offering a leaner and more efficient system for their security. Workers who had lost their jobs were compensated. In short, a new model of the socialist welfare state was being systematically and carefully rolled out, with an eye on accountability and efficiency. But it goes much further, with a concentrated effort to lift the final 30 million people out of poverty. In short, it is clear that the socialist state has to ensure that it has the resources before implementing such policies.

The upshot: in the current situation we find ourselves at an important crossroads. As the neo-classical model of a capitalist market economy seeks to dismantle ever more vestiges of a bourgeois welfare state that was a response to the appeal of the Soviet Union (of increasingly distant memory), China is gradually and patiently implementing a whole new version of a socialist welfare state.

It should be no surprise that over 87 percent of people in China approve of the direction in which the most powerful socialist country in human history is headed, even while fully aware of the many problems they face.