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Aaron Kappeler: On the Kidnapping of a President

Image 1: Photo shared by Donald Trump on social media of a handcuffed and blindfolded Nicolás Maduro aboard USS Iwo Jima.

Anyone who knows Venezuela knows that things happen fast there. It is a function of the hectic pace of urban life in a society that is highly subject to the play of global energy markets. It is also a feature of the nation’s position in the world system––one in which imperial powers are always ready to take advantage of Venezuela’s internal political battles in order to capture a share of its resources. In this light, it is hardly surprising that Venezuelan leaders often find themselves contesting those manoeuvres and that they can rise and fall just as quickly as the price of oil. Something akin to this recurrent dynamic has unfolded in Venezuela over the last six months as the United States has sought to pressure the Venezuelan government into submission with a large naval flotilla, the sinking of multiple small vessels, and now the kidnapping of the country’s head of state. Contrary to what some imagine, however, such a turn of events is in no way new or unprecedented. Just ask Jean-Bertrand Aristide, the former president of Haiti.

Venezuela is no stranger to gunboat diplomacy. In the early twentieth century, the combined naval forces of Britain, Germany, and Italy blockaded the Venezuelan coastline for three months in retaliation for non-payment of debts stemming from the decline of the coffee economy (Roseberry 1985) and the internal political struggles surrounding the dictatorship of Cipriano Castro (Tinker-Salas 2009, McBeth 2001). This blockade was one of the events that led to the Roosevelt corollary to the Monroe Doctrine, which stated that the US could interfere in the affairs of Latin-American and Caribbean nations if the actions taken by any government “loosened the ties of civilized society.” Needless to say, “loosening the ties of civilization” is an extremely broad and loaded phrase. But the key point is that the doctrine now justified not only the expulsion of European powers making territorial claims in the Americas, but also active US intervention in the commercial activities and political disputes of fraternal republics. The “Donroe Doctrine,” as some are now calling it, adds very little to this original formula.

Many observers have correctly diagnosed Trump’s geopolitical strategy as one of US retrenchment in the Western Hemisphere. But most don’t understand its overriding logic. This strategic reorientation is frequently misread as an expression of isolationism or the “paleoconservatism” of the 1930s, which gave voice to anti-communism and latent sympathies for fascism. Others read this strategy as a slightly crude update of the otherwise-august statement by George Washington that the US should “avoid foreign entanglements.” I don’t believe either of these appraisals is entirely correct. The purpose of this retrenchment is to improve the economic and military position of the US, the better to make war on the rest of the world, not to sit quietly on the other side of the Atlantic. In recent decades, the US has been outflanked by China and Russia in multiple world regions, and its investors are slowly being pushed out of Africa, the Gulf States, and of course, parts of Latin America.

The UAE and Saudi Arabia are now trading oil in yuan; Russian and Chinese firms have invested heavily in Venezuela’s petroleum sector, and Russia’s shadow fleet has helped to deliver Venezuelan oil to markets across Asia. China’s Belt and Road Initiative, meanwhile, continues to lay down blacktop on four continents. These developments, combined with Russia drawing closer to Iran in the context of the war in Ukraine, are all unacceptable to US capital and its military planners. Venezuela sits at the crossroad of all these dynamics, making the Bolivarian Republic a key node in a global network that seriously threatens the US empire. Republican strategists thus hope to draw a defensible line or “trench” around the Western Hemisphere from which to relaunch the struggle for global supremacy. The Trumpists and the neoconservatives are of one mind on this.

Some commentators have suggested that with oil hovering around 60 dollars a barrel there isn’t much incentive for US-led transnationals to invest in Venezuela. Indeed, the CEO of ExxonMobil has complained that Venezuela is “uninvestible” without a rewriting of its hydrocarbon laws. There’s some truth to these reports, but the sceptics may be missing the bigger picture. Venezuelan oil has historically played an important role in preserving the US empire outside the Americas, and prices won’t stay the same forever. Remember, things move quickly. Hemispheric oil is essential to securing US energy supplies and the capacity to offset any price increases following renewed or long-term conflict in the Middle East. In truth, this is an old playbook. In the 1980s, with the OPEC crisis still fresh in his mind, George H.W. Bush made an informal agreement with the Venezuelan President Carlos Andres Pérez, which stated that in the event of war or another embargo in the Middle East, Venezuela would open the oil spigot and turn it on full blast to offset any price spikes or supply problems (Mitchell 2011). This quiet agreement, which was in fact implemented during the First Iraq War, was torn up when Hugo Chávez came to power in 1999. Instead, Chávez worked tirelessly to revive OPEC and to forge linkages with the Arab states and Iran, as part of his push for greater returns on Venezuela’s natural resources.

In the event of a wider war in the Middle East, Iran can block the Strait of Hormuz and prevent around a quarter of the world’s oil from leaving the Persian Gulf. If the US wants to topple the Iranian government, or carry out protracted campaigns against its other enemies, control over Venezuela’s oil is a must. Maduro had to go. Trump has already said that he expects Venezuela to deliver between 30-50 million barrels of oil from its crude reserves to the US, and he has been fairly transparent about his objectives beyond Venezuela. In the press conference after the kidnapping of Maduro and his wife, Cilia Flores, journalists asked if the US would cut off Venezuelan oil to Cuba. The Secretary of State, Marco Rubio, was evasive and offered a vague response. But Trump’s answer was an unequivocal, “Yes.” Trump hopes to overturn the Bolivarian Revolution to increase pressure on Cuba and to strengthen his hand in negotiations with Russia over Ukraine. Trump is also waving the big stick at Colombia and Mexico since their presidents dared to question Washington’s dictates. Yet, however much we should despise Trump and Rubio, a share of the blame for this dark turn of events also belongs to Nicolás Maduro himself.

Authoritarianism is not an analysis

It’s extremely difficult to provide a comprehensive analysis of a political process as complex as the Bolivarian Revolution, and it is impossible to give a detailed explanation of all the events that have led up to where we are now. But even a few snapshots from Venezuela’s recent history can reveal the deficiencies in the standard accounts. One diagnosis commonly heard on the left today is that there was “too much centralisation of power” in Venezuela and that the economy was “state-centric”––the magic recipe for disqualifying the Bolivarian Revolution as “authoritarian.” I not only think this analysis is wrong, frankly, I think it’s lazy. Even Stuart Hall (1985) came to qualify his use of the term “authoritarian populism,” saying it could never provide a general explanation of Thatcherism, only the forms of its hegemonic politics. I’m not even sure it can do that in Venezuela.

“Authoritarianism” has become a liberal swearword, used to signify forms of power or government that one finds distasteful. I also consider it tacitly consistent with neoliberal ideology––the sort of “State bad, non-state good” analysis one used to get from the now-confirmed CIA agent, Jim Scott (1998). In most cases, critiques of statism or authoritarian populism in Venezuela are rhetorical moves, based on schematic moral oppositions, not empirical investigation. Such analyses tell us very little, for example, about the labour relations or productive processes in state industries or how Venezuela’s public-sector functioned––or didn’t as the case may be. They also tell us next to nothing about who was calling the shots. What classes or interest groups were in charge in particular spaces and moments? What types of institutions were they trying to build? What types of political consciousness or participation did decision-makers and grassroots activists seek to promote? Those critiques which avoid all these essential questions must be dismissed out of hand. It is also a myth that Venezuelan socialism ever closely resembled the political economy of the Soviet Union.

Based on my experience of working in multiple state enterprises in the 2010s, I arrived at the opposite conclusion: Venezuela’s economy looked more like France in the 1930s, in the days of the Popular Front, than Stalin’s Russia (cf. Smilde 2011). The energy sector, transportation infrastructure, and some of the heavy industries and banks were in the hands of the state. There were also significant welfare programs to protect the poor, along with an ambitious housing construction program (which mostly created individually titled units). Some inroads were also made against landed property. But there was no meaningful central planning of the home market. Venezuela’s socialist economy failed in part because it was decentralized. Decisions made in state enterprises were frequently based on the highest return for the individual farm or factory, not a coherent division of labor or national allocation (Kappeler 2025). In many cases, this decentralization not only resulted in duplication of services or unnecessary competition, but also in state enterprises forging commercial relationships with private capitalists. This hardly helped to reduce Venezuela’s oil dependency or reshape the rentier state (Coronil 1997).

Lack of clarity on these basic questions ultimately made the country vulnerable to imperial predations when oil prices dropped. After Chávez’s death, Maduro presided over the conservatization of a stalled revolutionary process. In turn, Maduro’s government attacked striking workers, backpedalled on land reform, and cut backroom deals with the political opposition. The herds of cattle in my main fieldsite were literally carted off by the military, and the farm’s leadership positions were given to members of the opposition to silence them. When I visited Venezuela in 2016, I had to watch friends weep bitter tears over the stripping of their enterprise. By that time, millions of Venezuelans had already left the country or grown tired of hearing Maduro’s pious words about “the great socialist patria.” The Bolivarian Revolution has been dead man walking for at least ten or twelve years now, and Maduro gave the US the opportunity it needed.

The moves inside Venezuela, required to enforce Trump’s new policies, are obviously very complex and hard to interpret by anyone outside of the ruling circles. Will the US try to force elections to get rid of the Interim President, Delcy Rodríguez? Or will they select another figurehead, like Edmundo González, and try a coronation? Will the Venezuelan military step in and impose its own conception of order? It is hard to say. Many Venezuelans and international observers thought María Corina Machado was the heir apparent after she was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize (see Striffler 2025). However, in some ways, Machado stuck her neck out too far in advocating neoliberal policies. She is on record calling for the privatization of all Venezuela’s state enterprises, including PDVSA, the state oil company. This is a non-starter for most Venezuelans, and I dare say for the military as well. If the cash-cow of the state oil company is cut up, the military will lose many of its privileges. Machado is also one of the most vociferous and reactionary anti-communists, and Venezuela’s political leaders, military officers, and rank-and-file Chavistas must know that there could be reprisals if she gains office. They would likely have no other choice but to fight her, and it could, in fact, start a civil war. For this reason, Trump seems to have dismissed Machado as a transition leader––although if she gives Trump her Nobel Prize medal, he may change his mind.

Where to from here?

The question that now concerns most is the nature of any deal between the US and the Venezuelan military, which remains the real power behind the throne. Was there a quid pro quo involved in Maduro’s removal, and if so, what was it? Rumours are circulating that Venezuela’s military allowed Maduro’s capture and that its units could have fired Russian and Chinese-made antiaircraft weapons at the helicopters flying over Caracas. But the guns were silent. The fact that these weapons were fired a few days ago is an indication of that possibility and a potential signal that the US only gets one “freebie,” i.e. it should not push matters further. If the US actually tries to deepen the coup or threaten the military’s position, the brass might respond. Again, this is only a hypothesis, and I have no way of knowing the specific terms of any deal. But my suspicion is that any future consensus surely includes the severing of Venezuela’s energy-market ties to all of the US’s foes, along with a promise to end any real participation in OPEC. The reestablishment of diplomatic ties with the US points in that direction. Such a deal also likely prohibits oil exports to China––and perhaps India––as well as energy collaborations with Russia and Iran. It is worth repeating that Maduro bears more than a little responsibility for this outcome and having let himself be captured in Caracas. Hugo Chávez always said that if faced with a US invasion, Venezuela’s forces would retreat to the interior of the country to fight a guerilla war. Maduro clearly wasn’t listening.

The situation in Venezuela today remains highly unstable, and many average people are afraid to leave their houses. While there have been pro-government demonstrations in cities and towns across the country, these have generally not been as large as in previous years, and they are certainly nothing like the mass mobilizations that helped to defeat the US-backed coup against Chávez in 2002. The colectivos, or pro-Chavista militias, are prepared to suppress Venezuela’s opposition to ensure PSUV control. But how secure can the PSUV leadership really feel? Probably not very. Delcy Rodríguez’s father was murdered by the state-security services during the Fourth Republic (1953-1999), and she must be aware of the tenuous nature of her position and that of her brother, who is the current head of Venezuela’s National Assembly. Between the hammer of Trump and the anvil of Venezuela’s military, the PSUV officialdom could find itself crushed, and it doesn’t have much economic breathing space either.

Hugo Chávez wisely tried to forge ties with countries that had their own frictions with US imperialism. But like so many other decisions in the Bolivarian Revolution, these temporary alliances or stopgap measures were mistaken for something more permanent or lasting. The terms upon which China is willing to oppose US interests in Latin America, for example, have always been relatively limited. It is important to note that China did not even recall its diplomatic staff from Washington in reaction to Maduro’s kidnapping. The Chinese government lodged some protests with the Trump administration, but they didn’t expel the US Ambassador. That’s the minimum they could have done in response to military action of this sort. It’s also important to understand the two-sided nature of China’s stance towards Venezuela. For its own reasons, the Chinese bureaucracy has seen fit to invest in the country, chiefly to secure access to raw materials and markets for its industrial products. Venezuela has equally benefited from this relationship, and it is my view that neither Maduro nor Chávez would have survived as long as they did without Russian or Chinese help. Anyone who tells you that Venezuela had a choice other than seeking terms with these powers is living in a dream world. But the reality is that China is not going to stick its neck out too far for Venezuela––just as Russia didn’t stick its neck out too far for Assad in Syria.

Superficial ideological similarities aside, the CCP leadership quickly became impatient with Maduro and Venezuela’s non-payment of loans. At one point, China cut off Venezuela’s credit line. So, it’s crucial to understand the limits of this financial and diplomatic relationship. As a matter of fact, I don’t preclude the possibility that China will attempt to sign deals with any Venezuelan government––whether civilian or military––that succeeds Maduro, Rodríguez, or other PSUV leaders like Diosdado Cabello. Beijing’s potentates care more about Venezuela’s oil and creditworthiness than they care about its socialism. This brings me to one last point.

In the final analysis, Venezuela only has the strength of its working people and the international solidarity movement to defend its sovereignty and democracy. Venezuelans have paid a very high price for showing the rest of the world that it was possible to resist the Washington Consensus. In my opinion, anyone who calls themselves a socialist––or even a consistent democrat––owes Venezuela a tremendous debt of gratitude. Sadly, sectors of the left academy have failed in their duty to oppose the overthrow of yet another Latin-American government by the US, and they have mindlessly repeated the new Pentagon-speak of “authoritarianism” to dismiss any leadership the US finds inconvenient. As I have written elsewhere (Kappeler 2024), the defects of Venezuela’s political leaders do not justify US intervention, and any excuse for the kidnapping of Maduro amounts to collaboration with imperial violence. The threat that Venezuela posed to the US was never great in material terms, but one should not underestimate the power of example. The Bolivarian Revolution showed the peoples of Latin America that Thatcher’s dictum of “no alternative” was a lie the moment it was uttered. There were alternatives, and the US is busy trying to kill what’s left of one right now.


Aaron Kappeler is Lecturer in the Anthropology of Development at the University of Edinburgh. His research focuses on agrarian reform, natural resource politics, energy, and environmental struggles in Latin America. He has carried out fieldwork in state enterprises and cooperatives across Venezuela. His latest project explores indigenous land tenure and the redistribution of extractive rents. Before joining the University of Edinburgh, he was Visiting Assistant Professor at Union College, Postdoctoral Fellow in the Institute for Advanced Study at Central European University, and Instructor at the University of Toronto.


References

Coronil, Fernando. 1997. The Magical State: Nature, Money and Modernity in Venezuela. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Hall, Stuart. 1985. Authoritarian Populism: A Reply. New Left Review. 151(1): 115-124.

Kappeler, Aaron. 2025. “Towards Neo-Structural Socialism? Social Profit and Dependency in Venezuelan State Enterprises,” Economy and Society. 54(3): 457-479.

–––––2024. Tropical Leninism or the Eighteenth Brumaire of Nicolás Maduro? Dialectical Anthropology. 48(4): 459-474,2024.

McBeth, Brian. 2001. Gunboats, Corruption and Claims: Foreign Intervention in Venezuela, 1899-1908. Westport, Conn., Greenwood Press.

Mitchell, Timothy. 2011. Carbon Democracy: Political Power in the Age of Oil. London: Verso.

Roseberry, William. 1985. Coffee and Capitalism in the Venezuelan Andes. Austin: University of Texas Press.

Scott, James. 1998. Seeing Like a State. New Haven: Yale University Press.

Smilde, David. 2011. Socialism and Neoliberalism in Chávez’s Venezuela. Contexts. 10(4): 70-72.

Striffler, Steve. 2025. How Trump got his Nobel Peace Prize after all. Al Jazeera. October 16th. https://www.aljazeera.com/opinions/2025/10/16/how-trump-got-his-nobel-peace-prize-after-all

Tinker-Salas, Miguel. 2009. The Enduring Legacy: Oil, Culture, and Society in Venezuela. Durham: Duke University Press.


Cite as: Kappeler, A. 2025. “On the Kidnapping of a President” Focaalblog January 12. https://www.focaalblog.com/2026/01/12/aaron-kappeler-on-the-kidnapping-of-a-president/

Don Nonini: The China Conundrum and The Current Conjuncture

Strategic Ambivalence or Disguised Conflict? China’s Reactions to Russia’s War on Ukraine and to Covid

Why does China’s response so far to the Russian invasion of Ukraine “not add up”? On one hand, China has refused to condemn the Russian invasion of Ukraine, has pushed its own state-controlled media to promote only pro-Russian propaganda, and even republished false reports by the Russian state media. China abstained from a UN Security Council resolution in March 2022 that condemned the Russian invasion. Meanwhile, the Chinese Foreign Minister Wang Yi recently announced that China and Russia “will always maintain strategic focus and steadily advance our comprehensive strategic partnership of coordination for a new era,” especially in the energy trade (Quoted in Torigian 2022). And it is an open secret that Xi Jinping gave his assent – or at the very least knew and did not demur – when he heard of Putin’s intention to invade Ukraine during the latter’s visit to Beijing at the recent Winter Olympics.

On the other hand, the same article notes that President Xi Jinping of China said that he was “pained” to see “flames of war reignited in Europe.” While not condemning the Russian invasion, China has not actively supported it, and instead has called for peace talks and “maximum restraint” (Torigian 2022). It has appealed for all parties to respect pre-existing “sovereign” borders. Nor has China so far provided much economic support to Russia, other than continuing their long-standing trade in oil and gas – nor given any military assistance. And the Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank, in which the PRC holds 27% decisive voting power, halted its work in Russia and Belarus in protest at the invasion of Ukraine (Torigian 2022). What’s going on?

What appears to be ambivalence or failure of the Chinese state to “get its act together”, its confused or contradictory messaging may actually reflect an internal lack of consensus toward the Russian invasion and occupation of Ukraine at the top of the PRC leadership. It may also indicate a current shift in the balance of power within the Politburo of the Chinese Communist Party – away from the extraordinary concentration of power by President Xi Jinping toward  a willingness by other members of the Politburo to impose limits on it after his probable reelection as CCP General Secretary at the Party Congress held later in 2022. There are signs of profound dissatisfaction within these top Party circles, reflecting broader economic, social, and political contradictions within China that have emerged over the last years, as Xi has consolidated his increasingly autocratic rule, undermined adversaries, and done his part to destabilize détente with the EU and the United States.

George Soros recently went so far as to say that Xi may not be reelected to a third term as President at the Twentieth National Congress this fall. Soros stated, “Contrary to general expectations Xi Jinping may not get his coveted third term because of the mistakes he has made. But even if he does, the Politburo may not give him a free hand to select the members of the next Politburo. That would greatly reduce his power and influence and make it less likely that he will become ruler for life” (Ren 2022). 

Then, the day after Ren’s report for Bloomberg.com, we read in the New York Times of Premier Li Keqiang’s recent speech that implied (if not explicitly so) that Xi’s “zero Covid” policies have led to a catastrophic slowdown in the Chinese economy – during the first three months of 2022 there has been a decline in the Chinese GDP rate of growth to 4.8%, well below the official target of 5.5%. This has been precipitated by a two-month lockdown ordered by Xi that brought the everyday life and economic activity of an infuriated population of Shanghai to a standstill for more than two months, as well as episodic lockdowns in other cities which stopped assembly lines, trapped workers, interrupted the movement of goods and confined millions of Chinese to their homes. At a teleconference to more than 100,000 officials across China, Li announced “We must seize the time window and strive to bring the economy back to the normal track” (P. Mazur and A. Stevenson, New York Times, May 26, 2022).  

The key message to take home from this is that China’s #2 highest ranking official has just stepped out in public to implicitly criticize the Covid lockdown policies mandated by China’s #1 highest ranking official – President  Xi Jinping.  There are certain things that are unforgivable in the contemporary PRC, and Xi’s and his faction’s single-handed slowing of the country’s economic growth may be one of them. Whether this is the first step to Xi being ushered out the door to an honorable retirement rather than being reelected to a third presidential term remains to be seen.  

Theoretically, this example points to the importance of investigating the contradictions of illiberal Chinese capitalism that characterizes the corporate Party-oligarchic state in which it is situated.

Deconstructing Socialism’s Deconstruction, Chinese Style

Are (post-) socialist states fundamentally alike? The Chinese Communist Party and its leading intellectuals in the years in the 1990s gave this question much thought. Shambaugh (2008) demonstrates the careful attention after Tiananmen in 1989 with which high-ranking CCP cadres and intellectuals (e.g., from the Chinese Academy of the Social Sciences, and the Central Party School) observed the changes arising from liberalization and “shock therapy” in Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union. They observed the dogmatism of the Soviet nomenklatura, the  overreliance on heavy industry, the neglect of agriculture, and the militarization of the national economy with great interest, and reflected on this as they witnessed the USSR’s fall (Shambaugh 2008:41-86). From these observations, they drew lessons concerning the maintenance of the CCP’s power in China. Li Jingjie, director of the CASS Soviet-Eastern Institute, for example, distilled several of these: “Concentrate on productivity growth,” “be ideologically flexible and progressive,” “seek not only to strengthen confidence in the power of the state [but], more important, [the] material living standards of the people,” among other insights (quoted in Shambaugh 2008:76).

A Post-Socialist Developmental State with Chinese characteristics

What came out of these deliberations of the CCP in the late 1980s-1990s? In particular, unlike the Central and Eastern European late socialist countries, the highest circles of the CCP were determined that the party continue to maintain its ruling position within the state apparatus and organize the national economy, rather than give way to neoliberal penetration by graduates of the University of Chicago School of Economics, and those of similar ilk (Bolesta 2015:230-244).  China’s post-socialist developmental state trajectory has been similar to those of earlier capitalist states (e.g., 19th and 20th-century western Europe, the United States), while very distinct from the post-socialist political systems of Eastern Europe and Russia. Unlike what occurred in these countries, “retaining an authoritarian state was also aimed at creating a strong and capable state… the authorities have attempted to strengthen power and control… over society and the business sector” (Bolesta 2015:232). This has allowed for a gradual and highly planned set of state programs for evolving from a socialist to a capitalist economy.

Being authoritarian and illiberal, however, is not the same as being unaccountable to the “masses” of the working class, rural peasants, and since the early 2000s, the new urban professional managerial classes of China. The “attentive” party-state (Perry 2012) is above all attentive to maintaining its legitimacy among the rural population subject to dispossession, and increasingly among the growing urban middle classes and professionals whose numbers form the new base of the CCP.  Largely, as one might expect, the CCP above all seeks to maintain and increase the standard of living of both the rural and urban populations, ameliorate the environmental disasters that afflict millions of affluent urban residents, and pay specific attention to the protests of thousands of small farmers dispossessed from their land and striking workers exploited in the industrial workplaces. The party has ultimately been willing to bend when large numbers of residents display the capacity for disorder and discontent in public, led by leaders willing to face down beatings by police and to travel to Beijing to petition central cadres and high officials in ministries to redress the injustices committed against them by corrupt local officials. Responsive, yes. Democratic? Not so much.

Morphing into the Chinese Corporate Party-State

The Chinese Party-state takes the form of a corporate-oligarchic structure in that the CCP simultaneously acts as a coordinated body to maintain its power through its deployment of the wealth it extracts, particularly at its highest circles, through securing the loyalty of the population, while seeking to meet the goals of national development undertaken under the “conditionality” of post-socialism, which require playing a role within global capitalism.

The CCP is a heterogeneous organization with approximately 86 million members distributed territorially across the PRC, and is organized in a spatially differentiated bureaucratic hierarchy that mirrors both the official state bureaucracy and private corporate and civil-society organization bureaucracies in tens of thousands of locales. Only a broad summary of how its predatory and developmental practices interact can be given here, given the sheer size of the Chinese population, its heterogeneity, and its regional/macroregional differentiation.  

For the purposes of this essay, I  focus on two defining characteristics of the emergent Party-corporate state — the institutional dominance of large-scale state-owned enterprises managed by the highest circles of the CCP, and the shift by the local corporatist Party-state from investing in  industrial enterprises during the 1990s-2000s toward land speculation and real estate development, and its implications for rural dispossession. 

Political Crisis and Economic Stagnation

China is experiencing the aftermath of the global financial crisis of 2007-2008 which has led to a decline in the rate of capitalist profits, a worldwide realization crisis, the indebtedness of populations and states outside of China, widespread financial speculation in areas essential to social reproduction/human livelihoods (e.g., in energy, foodstuffs, farmland), and compounded, worsening ecological disasters arising from climate change. These global/planetary processes are ones that China’s corporate party-state will have to confront while it is managing its own internal transitions.

In the case of the CCP up to the present, this has entailed managing (and accumulating capital from) the large-scale State-Owned Enterprise (SOE) sector. According to Smith (2015:45), “Thirty-five years after the introduction of market reforms, China’s government still owns and controls the commanding heights of the economy: banking, large-scale mining and manufacturing, heavy industry, metallurgy, shipping, energy generation, petroleum and petrochemicals, heavy construction and equipment, atomic energy, aerospace, telecommunications, vehicles…, aircraft manufacturer, airlines, railways, biotechnology, military production and more.”

These leading state-owned enterprises are managed by the “princelings”, taizibang, the descendants of the first generation of the highest CCP leaders, who have become the most wealthy and powerful members of the Chinese ruling class. As Smith (2015:50) characterizes them, “princelings often are heads of giant conglomerates which themselves own dozens or even hundreds of individual SOEs. Presumably this gives them access to multiple income streams and ample opportunities to plunder the government’s ever-growing treasure.” The princelings form the upper class in the PRC.

Nonetheless, their investments now face diminishing returns as China’s industrial capacity, while still the largest in the world, is plagued by rising costs of labor and environmental controls. Chinese industry is troubled by intense competition and profit crises. Most recently, the Covid pandemic, and the state’s “zero-Covid” response to it imposed by Xi Jinping in particular — total urban lockdown as in 2021-2022 in Shanghai  and in other large cities  — has caused extended shutdowns in industrial production and long-distance supply chains, both critical for its exports.

In so far as their control over the state-owned enterprise sector constitutes the basis of their power, the relatively small Party elite of princelings faces questions about their own reproduction as capitalists and as their continued power at the highest levels of the CCP.  While most will continue to accumulate within the slowing SOE industries, they will compensate by investing capital in China’s burgeoning financial sector. Their turn away from industrial production and its basis in political power is a destabilizing force. Beyond their control over state-owned enterprises, they will continue to exert their capacity to extract rents from privately-owned capitalist enterprises, but their capacity to do so will depend upon their extended political power.  In contrast, those the princelings have targeted in the past, the owners and managers in the privately-owned capitalist sectors in services, high-tech production, and real estate, will be drawn into the middle and upper ranks of the CCP, and seek to increasingly wield power on their own. All this is taking place as economic and social destabilizations are beginning to emerge, such as the failure of large numbers of young Chinese graduates to find work, “brain drain”, flight overseas, and increasing incidences of bailan (withdrawal by discouraged youth from the labor market), which are increasingly presenting a threat to CCP legitimacy.

Under the circumstances, a tendency towards developing and assuming control of increasingly predatory Mafia-like organizations in the absence of more productive uses of their capital, presents a serious risk to the princelings and their many clients.

The Local Corporatist State: Financialization and Dispossession in Rural and Peri-urban Areas

Jean Oi (1995) describes the ways in which local entrepreneurs during the 1980s-1990s came together with local-level Party cadres and established the Township and Village Enterprises (TVEs). This represented the systematic emergence of the local entrepreneurial corporatist state around small-scale industrialization in rural and peri-urban areas. What I want to point to was the logical progression of the local corporatist state as the countryside became increasingly financialized from the mid-1990s onward. Development funds continued to be drawn from increased local tax revenues, supplemented by prioritized development funds sent down by provincial and central state agencies and state banks (So and Chu 2016: 67-69). But after the 2007-2008 financial crisis, the influx of funding from central government and state banks began to turn from small-scale industrial to large-scale real estate development, and from investment in industry to speculation in land by developers with the collusion of local officials.

The pattern has been one in which farmers with lands on the edges of nearby growing rural townships found themselves (often repeatedly) facing displacement from their farmland, often with little or no financial compensation, dispossessed by party and state cadres acting in collusion with well-funded real estate developers and construction firms. Farmers resisting eviction from their lands have faced violent attacks by organized criminal gangs working with developers and protected by local officials (Vukovich 2019: 167-198).  

Much productive farmland has thus been taken out of production. Speculation in new residential and commercial real estate has led to dramatic overbuilding, while large numbers of displaced landless farmers have out-migrated to regional cities for precarious wage labor.  Vukovich (2019) writes of the rise of financial capital to a dominant position within the Chinese economy  as the expropriation of farmers’ land for urban development in thousands of periurban villages throughout the country has become the type-case for dispossession.

Vukovich notes that the process is reaching its spatial and physical limits in terms of China’s still un-expropriated farmland: “Urbanization or the pushing of surplus rural labor into the ever-expanding cities and export processing zones is likewise reaching its limits. The chief limit being that this model of growth does nothing to actually develop the countryside…Those urban jobs done by millions of migrant workers… still do not by and large pay an adequate wage for the laborers to stay” (Vukovich 2019:192). 

The consequences have been not only human but also environmental catastrophes – loss of farmland, flooding due to torrential rains on eroded lands, inadequate disposal of human and animal wastes, and lowered quality and quantity of the rural water supply.  

So far, the CCP has prevented complete disaster by allowing farmers to retain family and collective property rights in land – thus making it legally inalienable through the market — but outright confiscation is working with even greater effect. The result is the accelerating degradation in the capacity of hundreds of millions of rural farmers to continue their own reproduction. 

Making China Great Again? – The Costs of Revanchism

Returning to the ethnographic vignette that began this essay — China’s response to the Russian invasion of Ukraine: its apparent incoherence (as viewed from outside) cannot be understood independently of attending to the conjunction of trends and events characterizing China’s simultaneous financial, economic and environmental crises as these have intersected with the pandemic and Xi’s “Zero-Covid” response to it.  On one hand, Xi Jinping is not only a nationalist (as arguably all CCP officials are), but one who seeks  a “great rejuvenation of the Chinese nation” (zhonghua minzu weida fuxing) through a successful quest to become a “wealthy and powerful country” (fuqiang guojia) vis-à-vis the West and Japan (Heilmann 2017: 54-55). In Xi’s narrative, this recuperates China from its national humiliation (guochi) at the hands of Western and Japanese imperialisms during the 19th and 20th centuries.  Xi’s autocratic and highly ambitious strategy to accomplish this objective places him ideologically squarely alongside Putin – both sympathetic to a common quest to recover past imperial greatness and civilization vis-à-vis the West. This may well explain China’s refusal at the UN to vote to condemn Russia’s invasion, its repetition of Putin’s lies about the war in China’s state-controlled media, and to defiantly commit to continuing China’s and Russia’s longstanding trade in oil and gas. However, Xi well knows that in this liquid partnership China has the upper hand: in net terms, the tribute flows from Moscow to Beijing.   

On the other hand, Li Keqiang, a technocrat and economist by training, has since his election to Premier in 2013 been responsible for the macroeconomic management of the Chinese economy (Brown 2017: 216). His influence in the Politburo has often been overridden by Xi’s heavy-handed decisions (Heilmann 2017: 165-166, 169-170, 173-174).  However, within his scope of power, Li has been active in setting China’s policies around trade and Chinese investments overseas, where China’s commitment to “nonintervention” and its partners’ sovereignty is closely watched in Europe, Africa, and Latin America, and set against the sordid history of the IMF’s and World Bank’s interventions. Thus Li could argue successfully for China to use its decisive voting shares in the Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank to halt the bank’s operations in Russia and Belarus, to call for peace talks between Russia and Ukraine, and to refuse to supply economic or military aid to Russia, despite Xi’s and Putin’s shared revanchist sentiments against an imperialist West. Such aid would not only have triggered economic sanctions by the U.S. and probably EU, but also suspicions of Chinese intentions among its potential trading partners in Latin America and Africa.

As to China’s response to Russia’s war on Ukraine, its incoherence-segue to-conflict between Xi and Li within the Party-state enters into critical junctions with global and temporal processes of political and economic change (Kalb and Tak 2005). Over the last decade, the profitable returns to China’s export industries have declined. Its state banks have made huge Keynesian investments in infrastructure (bullet trains, etc.) to reflate the Chinese economy. It has experienced a stock market crash in 2015 and 2021, been pushed into defensive mode by the worsening of trade and diplomatic relations with the U.S. and EU, and over the last two years has experienced large-scale failures of privately-owned real estate companies backstopped by Chinese state banks. This is where the two longer-term trends mentioned above — decline in SOE industries with resulting dangers for the princelings, and the increased dispossession of rural farmers from their land — come in. The Chinese economy has moved into a precarious state.

And then there has been Covid and Xi’s autocratic response to it.  This was a first-order economic disaster, and everyone in China knew who its author was. It was under these circumstances that Li as China’s #2 could come out from under the shadow of Xi as #1 to declare that “we must strive to bring the economy back to the normal track.” 

Since at least the end of the USSR, top CCP cadres have recognized that those fetishized GDP growth numbers matter, as does the support of the growing urban upper-middle class for the Party’s continued survival.  They recognize that “producing economic growth [is] the most powerful source of [the Party’s] legitimacy. . . [Its] failure to continue delivering a good material standard of living for people would result in its falling from power” (Brown 2016: 215).  

If the situation is now increasingly perceived by CCP leaders as a choice between the Party’s survival and Xi Jinping’s as its leader, there can be no doubt about its outcome.

References

Bolesta, A. (2015). China and post-socialist development. Bristol, England ; Chicago, Illinois, Policy Press.

Brown, K. (2016). CEO, China: The Rise of Xi Jinping. London, I.B. Tauris & Co. Ltd.

Heilmann, S., Ed. (2017). China’s political system. Lanham, MD, Rowman & Littlefield.

Kalb, D. and H. Tak (2005). Critical junctions : Anthropology and history beyond the cultural turn. New York, Berghahn Books.

Oi, J. (1995). “The role of the local state in China’s transitional economy.” The China Quarterly 144: 1132-1149.

Perry , E. (2012). “The illiberal challenge of authoritarian China.” Journal of Democracy 8(2): 3-15.

Shambaugh, D. L. (2008). China’s Communist Party : Atrophy and adaptation. Washington, D.C.,Berkeley, Woodrow Wilson Center Press; University of California Press.

Smith, R. (2015). “China’s communist-capitalist ecological apocalypse.” Real-world Economics Review 71: 19-59.

So, A. Y. and Y.-W. Chu (2016). The global rise of China. Cambridge, UK, Polity Press.

Vukovich, D. F. (2019). Illiberal China: The ideological challenge of the People’s Republic of China. Singapore, Palgrave McMillan.


Don Nonini is Professor Emeritus of Anthropology, University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill.  He is the author and editor of numerous books, peer-reviewed articles, and chapters on the Chinese diaspora in Southeast Asia, on local politics and food politics in the United States, and on the commons.  He can be contacted at  dnonini@email.unc.edu.


Cite as: Nonini, Don. 2022. “The China Conundrum and The Current Conjunctures of Global Capitalism.” Focaalblog, 11 July. https://www.focaalblog.com/2022/07/11/don-nonini-the-china-conundrum-and-the-current-conjuncture/