The Beijing consensus is to keep quiet

The Economist
May 6th 2010

The China model

In the West people worry that developing countries want to copy “the China model”. Such talk makes people in China uncomfortable



CHINESE officials said the opening of the World Expo in Shanghai on April 30th would be simple and frugal. It wasn’t. The display of fireworks, laser beams, fountains and dancers rivalled the extravagance of Beijing’s Olympic ceremonies in 2008. The government’s urge to show off Chinese dynamism proved irresistible. For many, the razzmatazz lit up the China model for all the world to admire.


The multi-billion-dollar expo embodies this supposed model, which has won China many admirers in developing countries and beyond. A survey by the Pew Research Centre, an American polling organisation, found that 85% of Nigerians viewed China favourably last year (compared with 79% in 2008), as did 50% of Americans (up from 39% in 2008) and 26% of Japanese (up from 14%, see chart). China’s ability to organise the largest ever World Expo, including a massive upgrade to Shanghai’s infrastructure, with an apparent minimum of the bickering that plagues democracies, is part of what dazzles.

Scholars and officials in China itself, however, are divided over whether there is a China model (or “Beijing consensus” as it was dubbed in 2004 by Joshua Cooper Ramo, an American consultant, playing on the idea of a declining “Washington consensus”), and if so what the model is and whether it is wise to talk about it. The Communist Party is diffident about laying claim to any development model that other countries might copy. Official websites widely noted a report by a pro-Party newspaper in Hong Kong, Ta Kung Pao, calling the expo “a display platform for the China model”. But Chinese leaders avoid using the term and in public describe the expo in less China-centred language.

Not so China’s publishing industry, which in recent months has been cashing in on an upsurge of debate in China about the notion of a China model (one-party rule, an eclectic approach to free markets and a big role for state enterprise being among its commonly identified ingredients). In November a prominent Party-run publisher produced a 630-page tome titled “China Model: A New Development Model from the Sixty Years of the People’s Republic”. In January came the more modest “China Model: Experiences and Difficulties”. Another China-model book was launched in April and debated at an expo-related forum in Shanghai. Its enthusiastic authors include Zhao Qizheng, a former top Party propaganda official, and John Naisbitt, an American futurologist.

Western publishers have been no less enthused by China’s continued rapid growth. The most recent entry in the field is “The Beijing Consensus, How China’s Authoritarian Model Will Dominate the Twenty-First Century” by Stefan Halper, an American academic. Mr Halper, who has served as an official in various Republican administrations, argues that “just as globalisation is shrinking the world, China is shrinking the West” by quietly limiting the projection of its values.

But despite China’s status as “the world’s largest billboard advertisement for the new alternative” of going capitalist and staying autocratic, Party leaders are, as Mr Halper describes it, gripped by a fear of losing control and of China descending into chaos. It is this fear, he says, that is a driving force behind China’s worrying external behaviour. Party rule, the argument runs, depends on economic growth, which in turn depends on resources supplied by unsavoury countries. Politicians in Africa in fact rarely talk about following a “Beijing consensus”. But they love the flow of aid from China that comes without Western lectures about governance and human rights.

The same fear makes Chinese leaders reluctant to wax lyrical about a China model. They are acutely aware of American sensitivity to any talk suggesting the emergence of a rival power and ideology—and conflict with America could wreck China’s economic growth.

In 2003 Chinese officials began talking of the country’s “peaceful rise”, only to drop the term a few months later amid worries that even the word “rise” would upset the flighty Americans. Zhao Qizheng, the former propaganda official, writes that he prefers “China case” to “China model”. Li Junru, a senior Party theorist, said in December that talk of a China model was “very dangerous” because complacency might set in that would sap enthusiasm for further reforms.

Some Chinese lament that this is already happening. Political reform, which the late architect of China’s developmental model, Deng Xiaoping, once argued was essential for economic liberalisation, has barely progressed since he crushed the Tiananmen Square protests in 1989. Liu Yawei of the Carter Centre, an American human-rights group wrote last month that efforts by Chinese scholars to promote the idea of a China model have become “so intense and effective” that political reform has been “swept aside”.

Chinese leaders’ fear of chaos suggests they themselves are not convinced that they have found the right path. Talk of a model is made all the harder by the stability-threatening problems that breakneck growth engenders, from environmental destruction to rampant corruption and a growing gap between rich and poor. One of China’s more outspoken media organisations, Caixin, this week published an article by Joseph Nye, an American academic. In it Mr Nye writes of the risks posed by China’s uncertain political trajectory. “Generations change, power often creates hubris and appetites sometimes grow with eating,” he says.

One Western diplomat, using the term made famous by Mr Nye, describes the expo as a “competition between soft powers”. But if China’s soft power is in the ascendant and America’s declining—as many Chinese commentators write—the event, which is due to end on October 31st, hardly shows it. True, China succeeded in persuading a record number of countries to take part. But visitor turnout has been far lower than organisers had anticipated. And queues outside America’s dour pavilion have been among the longest.

Cambodian lessons for South Korea

Apr 29, 2010
By Donald Kirk
Asia Times Online (Hong Kong)

SAIGON - North Korea's apparent torpedoing of a South Korean navy ship and getting away from the scene of the crime with no more than recriminations and oratorical flourishes ringing in the ears of the perpetrators demonstrates a reality from which there is no escape. The North still has thousands of artillery pieces within range of metropolitan Seoul and the nearby port of Incheon as well as missiles with the range to reach anywhere in the South, and nobody in South Korea really wants to challenge that kind of threat.

South Korea is doing so well economically and living standards are so high that the idea of seeking anything other than rhetorical revenge for the sinking of the Cheonan with a loss of 46 lives on March 26 appears almost unthinkable. Certainly South Korea would get no support for such a venture from its American ally, bogged down in wars in the Middle East and attempting to force South Korean generals reluctantly to believe they should take full command of all forces in the South in the event of a second Korean war.

While South Korea's economy grows at a pace ahead of that of the rest of the industrial world, South Korean military people worry over what they see as the North's alarming new strategy. That is, to chip away at the South Koreans with attacks such as that on the hapless navy corvette in the West or Yellow Sea - and maybe bold quick hits on Seoul and Incheon.

The point, according to JoongAng Ilbo, one of South Korea's major newspapers, would eventually be to occupy a portion of metropolitan Seoul and then to negotiate a ceasefire. The paper quoted a military intelligence source as saying North Korea had strengthened its mechanized forces near the line with South Korea. At the same time, North Korea is bolstering naval forces on its southwest coast and threatening new attacks on South Korean vessels along the Northern Limit Line below which the South bans all North Korean boats.

While reluctant to do anything that might provoke armed conflict with North Korea, US and South Korean analysts wonder how long the North can carry on with such impunity. They see no let-up in the harshness of life for the vast majority of North Koreans - and ask whether any system can endure forever while the economy deteriorates, citizens gain slightly more knowledge of the outside world via illicit cell phones and short-range radios and ailing Dear Leader Kim Jong-il smoothes the way for transition of power to his youngest son.

For precedent, it's tempting to turn to the case of Cambodia after the victory of the Khmer Rouge in April 1975.

The Dear Leader's rule may not be cruelest the world has seen since the defeat of Adolf Hitler's Germany in 1945 or the death of Soviet leader Joseph Stalin in 1953. That distinction probably belongs to Pol Pot's Khmer Rouge, who ruled from the once tranquil capital of Phnom Penh until December 1978 when Vietnamese communist troops drove them out. About two million people are estimated to have died at the hands of the Khmer Rouge from starvation, executions, torture and disease.

Although comparisons may seem far-fetched, the suffering under the Khmer Rouge is reminiscent of that endured for many more years in North Korea.

Today, however, Phnom Penh is bustling, alive with shops selling an incredible range of exotic silk, statuary, silver objects and souvenirs. Restaurants offer any kind of menu. The streets are swarming with traffic as motor scooters dart in and out and larger vehicles carry people and commercial products. Motorcycles pulling what look like small old-fashioned carriages offer taxi services. Internet cafes thrive in every market place. Casinos and nightclubs lure those in search of higher-priced fun, and the National Museum and Royal Palace offer lush and rich glimpses into Khmer civilization and heritage going back 2,000 years.

So what lesson is there in the transformation of Cambodia from a frightening dictatorship into a hustling if not exactly democratic society? Cambodia's present system, in which Hun Sen has ruled as prime minister with the backing of Vietnam almost constantly for 25 years, is obviously not ideal. Many of the country's 15 million people continue to suffer economically.

And it's fair to assume that torture and killing go on, although not on a mass scale. In an imperfect world, however, Cambodia gives every appearance of having recovered its erstwhile reputation as an "oasis of peace". That was how then prince Norodom Sihanouk - who before and after ruled as king - described Cambodia when it was navigating a treacherous course of neutrality as American and South Vietnamese forces fought the North Vietnamese until the US-backed regime fell in Vietnam two weeks after the defeat of that in Cambodia in 1975.

Incredibly, Sihanouk has survived, so much so that in his old age he endures as a kind of king emeritus above the tawdry power politics that periodically shakes up the elite of the capital six years after his eldest son, Norodom Sihamoni, was crowned as his successor.

The survival of the throne, however, represents a grand compromise in which momentous changes had to occur before Cambodia could begin to reach its current level of peace and prosperity. The Pol Pot regime had to fall, and the men around him, those responsible for forms of torture matched and exceeded only by the security apparatus of Kim Jong-il, had to flee, be killed or captured, to disappear forever. The lesson here may not be lost on South Koreans or their American ally.

There is, however, another irony here: that communist Vietnam, the Socialist Republic of Vietnam, united between North and South Vietnam, drove out the Khmer Rouge. How was it that the forces of a communist country, against which the Americans and South Vietnamese, supported by two divisions of South Koreans, had fought for a generation, could have accomplished such a stunning success for the everlasting benefit of the Cambodian people?

The answer in part is that Vietnam, after the communist victory in 1975, was never a terrible dictatorship on the scale of North Korea. As Vietnam's leadership went through its own tortuous policy shifts, market capitalism began to flourish. Vietnamese gained a level of cultural and economic freedom that had not appeared possible in 1975. Moreover, Ho Chi Minh, who led Vietnam's communist regime until his death in 1969, never gained a reputation for pervasive cruelty over his own people even as he ruthlessly suppressed opponents.

Vastly different though the societies and cultures of Cambodia and North Korea undoubtedly are, the conclusion seems clear. There can be no real compromise with the Kim Jong-il regime. The history of regimes such as that in Cambodia under the Khmer Rouge is they do not willingly yield, do not suddenly adopt humanitarian policies and do not give up the props of their rule, notably their weapons. It's wishful thinking to expect North Korea to shift its policies or honor any agreement on much of anything, including its nuclear weapons program. It took an upheaval to bring about relief from suffering in Cambodia, and it will take another to reform North Korea.

Donald Kirk, based in Seoul, covered the wars in Vietnam and Cambodia for newspapers and magazine, writing two books about them. He has also written three books on Korea, most recently Korea Betrayed: Kim Dae Jung and Sunshine.

Cambodia is Facing up to its Genocide says Youk Chhang

More than 30 years after the darkest chapter in its history, Cambodia remains a damaged and fragile society, Youk Chhang, an expert on the Cambodian genocide and the man leading the Documentation Center of Cambodia told an audience at the Stanford Graduate School of Business.

April 2010

STANFORD GRADUATE SCHOOL OF BUSINESS — More than 30 years after the darkest chapter in its history, Cambodia remains a damaged and fragile society, a leading Cambodian genocide expert told an audience at the Stanford Graduate School of Business.

Cambodia is still suffering from the legacy of the Khmer Rouge, the brutal, ultra-communist regime that ruled the Southeast Asian country from 1975 to 1979. Cambodia is like shattered glass, said Youk Chhang, director of the Documentation Center of Cambodia (DC-Cam). "It's a fragile, broken society as a nation. People are divided," he said in an April 22 talk. "You drop a glass on the floor. It’s broken."

DC-Cam, a Phnom Penh non-profit group founded in 1995, gathers and researches information and materials related to the Khmer Rouge regime. DC-Cam's twin missions are preserving Cambodia's historical memory and helping to bring justice for victims of Khmer Rouge atrocities. The group has collected more than one million documents, interviewed thousands of former Khmer Rouge cadres and identified or mapped 20,000 mass graves and nearly 200 prisons. Its documentation has served as evidence in the United Nations-backed genocide tribunals being held in Cambodia to try former regime leaders. It has the world's largest repository of Khmer Rouge-related materials, much of it available online for free.

At Stanford, Chhang also had a positive message about Cambodia's progress toward renewal and reconciliation. Cambodian schools are beginning to teach the full history of the Khmer Rouge period, a step toward confronting the past and moving on. The genocide tribunals are underway, potentially bringing justice and closure. And DC-Cam's mission of educating the world about the Cambodian genocide could help prevent such atrocities in the future.

"The job of the whole nation is to pick up all the little pieces to put back together," said Chhang. Cambodians, can "be proud of the genocide that we have lived through." "I’m proud to tell you that I have survived genocide and can tell you the story. I am no longer a victim," declared Chhang, who was named one of the world’s 100 "heroes and pioneers" by Time magazine in 2007.

The Khmer Rouge, led by Pol Pot, ruled Cambodia from April 1975 to January 1979, aiming to build an agrarian utopia based on Maoist ideals. About two million Cambodians lost their lives under the Khmer Rouge to execution, starvation, disease, or overwork. Thousands of Cambodians were forced to labor in the countryside. Political enemies were slaughtered, giving rise to the term "killing fields", portrayed in a 1984 movie of the same name.

Chhang was 14 when the Khmer Rouge came to power, forcing him and other teenagers into hard labor in the countryside. Chhang's brother-in-law died after a public beating to punish him for stealing leftover cucumbers to feed his pregnant wife, Chhang's sister. The sister was accused of eating the stolen food and perished after her stomach was cut open.

The genocide has left Cambodians deeply divided. Chhang said his niece, who lost her mother in the butchering, is now in her late 30's and living in Maryland. She refuses to return to her homeland and disagrees with Chhang's work in support of the genocide tribunal. Chhang's mother, who lost her own parents, siblings and some of her children, has forgiven the Khmer Rouge perpetrators and is indifferent toward the tribunals. "In the same family, my niece, mother, and I are divided about how justice should be done," said Chhang. "I support the tribunal. I want justice. I would not reach for forgiveness without prosecution."

The Cambodian genocide tribunal, established in early 2006 with support from the UN, so far has tried one defendant, the former chief of a notorious torture prison. Four other top Khmer Rouge officials are being held for a second trial. Donor countries have provided more than $100 million to support the proceedings, according to the Associated Press. Although some have criticized the tribunal as too little, too late, Chhang sees it as necessary step in Cambodia’s healing process. "The tribunal is about the future, basically."

He also believes that teaching history to a new generation of Cambodians will promote reconciliation. To that end, DC-Cam has published the first Cambodian textbook on Khmer Rouge history, a topic long ignored in the nation's classrooms. Fourteen years after the idea for the textbook emerged, the history book is finally being used in Cambodian high schools this year.

Chhang's talk was sponsored by at the business school's Public Management Program; the Stanford Center on Democracy, Development, and the Rule of Law in the Freeman-Spogli Institute for International Studies; and MBA student participants in a recent service learning trip to Cambodia and Thailand. In addition to speaking to GSB students, Chhang was scheduled to speak with Hoover Institution officials about digitizing and archiving DC-CAM's materials.

DC-Cam was founded as an office of the Yale University Cambodian Genocide Program. It became an independent institute in 1997. It employs about 50 people and has funding from the U.S. and Swedish governments.

— Maria Shao

http://www.gsb.stanford.edu/news/headlines/chhang-Cambodia.html