Every enthusiast of the Chinese political model extols meritocracy as one of its great virtues.
In fact, the idea of competition and reward for merit are concepts that are highly ingrained in Chinese society and, especially, in the current political system.
Provincial governors, for example, face fierce competition. They compete for investments, flashy projects, in addition to meeting goals such as GDP growth and CO emissions reductiontwo.
In the absence of elections to determine a governor’s political future, theoretically it is his performance that determines whether he will head a larger province, an important ministry, a large state-owned company — or if he will fall by the wayside.
The legitimacy of the Chinese political model is often linked to the government’s ability to deliver results. Without the popular vote, such legitimacy for performance is related to the selection and promotion of party-state cadres on the basis of merit.
While the idea of meritocracy is demystified in many parts, Chinese officials relish it, because the concept underpins the country’s political construction. The leaders are concerned, however, with two problems capable of eroding the confidence of individuals in the logic of merit.
First, there is corruption: if decisions (and promotions, in particular) are contaminated, the legitimizing function of meritocracy falls apart. Then there is the growth of inequality: if access to opportunities is unequal, meritocracy becomes a facade argument. It is not by chance that these two themes are priorities for Beijing.
Skeptics of Chinese meritocracy will point out that, in addition to these problems, the wheels of politics are driven by “guanxi”—personal connections, relationships. They will point out that some sons of historical personages of the party occupy important positions today.
They will say that the phenomenon of the so-called little princes relativizes the factor of merit in political ascension. Even though he followed the script to the top, Xi Jinping himself is the son of a former vice premier of China, Xi Zhongxun, critics will recall.
The greatest threat to the credibility of Chinese meritocracy, however, is captured in public images. In those big important political meetings, only with effort are women located. They represent 8% of the 371 members of the Central Committee of the Communist Party, indicates a survey of the US Congress.
In the all-powerful 25-member Politburo, only six women have sat in more than 70 years of rule — and three of them were wives of leaders. Today, there is one woman in the group, Vice Premier Sun Chunlan. At the top of the pyramid of power in China, the seven-member Politburo standing committee, there has never been a woman. Of the 26 ministers in China today, all are men, according to the survey.
Chinese women are underrepresented in politics — as is the case around the world, the Beijing model enthusiast will respond. But the point is that democracies do not intend to justify themselves on merit.
The low presence of women in command positions in China is mainly due to the choices made by the party itself. The Chinese Communist Party has 95 million people, and they account for about 30% of its membership. There should be no shortage of women.
It is difficult to reconcile the idea of meritocratic selection with the fact that the more important and select the political forum, the fewer women there are in it. If women have merit, Chinese meritocracy has a big problem.
In this year as Xi Jinping seeks to secure his third term, there will be changes in key positions in the country. It remains to be seen whether, in the images of the new Politburo, it will be easier to find a woman.
