China’s political leadership operates under the shadow of two persistent threats, both of which ultimately stem from the regime’s fear of itself. When the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) is governed collectively, factions emerge. If those factions grow too powerful, the party’s control over the country is endangered. On the other hand, if a single autocrat dominates, the risk of intra-party purges increases, as a necessarily paranoid ruler begins to see threats everywhere, especially within the ranks of the elite.
Susan Shirk, a seasoned China expert with experience at the U.S. State Department, famously described China as a “fragile superpower.” Despite being the world’s second-largest economy, possessing a military increasingly capable of challenging the United States, and expanding its global influence, China’s regime remains internally insecure and vulnerable. The paradox, Shirk argued, is that the more prosperous and advanced China becomes, the more its leaders fear their own population.
The CCP may not fear an American invasion – but it does fear that Washington seeks regime change. As a result, Beijing sees foreign interference behind everything from pro-democracy activism to protests over social issues. This vulnerability extends beyond China’s borders, fueling harsh reactions to criticism from foreign politicians and journalists, and prompting surveillance of Chinese exile groups overseas.
Shirk’s concept encapsulates a longstanding theory about authoritarian states. But is it really these threats that keep Xi Jinping awake at night? I argue that this view rests on false assumptions and Western wishful thinking.
The Leninist System in China
It was once believed that the rise of a Chinese middle class would inevitably lead to political demands and protest movements. This hasn’t happened – and it wasn’t the cause of the collapse of communist regimes in Europe, either. In fact, Leninist systems have shown themselves to be more stable than many other authoritarian models.
Unlike most great powers, China remains one of the few surviving Leninist regimes. In such a system, a single party monopolizes all key state institutions. Decisions are made through “democratic centralism,” in which the party line is presented as unanimous and must not be questioned. Yet the party is made up of individuals – and individuals build informal power networks that often form the basis for political factions. The most critical decisions are made with such groups behind closed doors, without public oversight.
The source of China’s fragility lies not in its social modernization but in the inherent contradictions of Leninist one-party rule. The CCP has alternated between two models of governance: one centered on a dominant strongman surrounded by a cult of personality, and the other based on more collective, internally democratic decision-making. Both models carry profound risks, including the very risk party leaders fear most: political collapse.
Francis Fukuyama’s “bad emperor” theory – that dictatorships can function well until an incompetent leader takes over – fails to capture the full scope of the Leninist dilemma. This isn’t a matter of bad luck Fukuyama refers to. It is the structural tragedy of the Leninist one-party state, a Catch-22 from which it cannot escape.
This dilemma is also not the same as that described by Samuel Huntington in his critique of modernization theory – one widely accepted among Chinese intellectuals with close CCP ties – which held that efforts to modernize an authoritarian state could destabilize the regime. Instead, the Leninist state is uniquely vulnerable because it insists on centralized, unaccountable leadership while relying on individuals who may be self-interested or power-hungry.
Shirk’s thesis draws on decades of direct engagement with top Chinese leaders. But this leads to a broader challenge in understanding Chinese policymaking: decision-making is deliberately opaque to maintain the illusion of unity. No one dares leak information, and the outside world only sees the end result. During the Hu Jintao era, non-binding internal votes were sometimes held, though it was never clear whether they influenced outcomes. Xi Jinping, said to have performed well in one such informal poll, later ended the practice entirely.
Democratic centralism forbids any dissent once a decision has been made. As a result, it is extremely difficult to know what is actually happening at the top. Public statements and even leaks cannot be taken at face value. Occasionally, secrets are revealed – through leadership changes, archive work by diligent scholars, or deliberate discrediting of past decisions. These glimpses into the past can help us form educated guesses about how the CCP currently perceives threats.
Purges and Paranoia or Factional Infighting: China’s Dilemma
Leninist theory calls for an avant-garde party to lead the revolution – but revolutions famously devour their own. Both Stalin and Mao Zedong retained power by systematically eliminating their most capable rivals. Stalin’s purges in the 1930s involved show trials and mass executions. His successor, Nikita Khrushchev, pursued “de-Stalinization,” aiming to end repression and create a more efficient and less abusive party. But other elites viewed this liberalization with suspicion.
Mao saw Khrushchev’s thaw as a threat. To prevent similar reforms in China, he launched the Cultural Revolution – a campaign that turned against the CCP itself. Through informal loyalist circles, Mao orchestrated a decade of terror, imprisonment, and death within the party. Only his own death brought an end to the violence.
Shocked by the trauma Mao inflicted, Deng Xiaoping and his allies buried the cult of personality and instituted collective leadership. They introduced term limits and tried to ensure that major decisions would require approval from the CCP’s Central Committee rather than a single individual. These rules were not legally binding, but they were meant to establish political norms.
This new system was tested in 1989 during the Tiananmen Square protests. A rift opened between reformers and conservatives. Should the party crack down or engage in dialogue? The internal split threatened the CCP’s survival. What saved it was Deng Xiaoping – though retired, he convened private meetings with senior leaders and decided to remove General Secretary Zhao Ziyang, who had refused to send in the military.
Deng and his fellow elders then handpicked Jiang Zemin as Zhao’s successor. Before his death in 1997, Deng also designated Jiang’s successor, Hu Jintao. These carefully choreographed transitions kept the CCP intact – but they depended entirely on the authority of an aging patriarch.
After Deng’s departure in the late 1990s, factionalism returned. Jiang and Hu each cultivated their own networks, using appointments to reward loyalists. Corruption soared as officials amassed wealth and influence. High-profile investigations revealed the enormous fortunes accumulated by top leaders’ families. Discontent grew. Religious groups like Falun Gong protested. Bo Xilai, a charismatic figure, revived Maoist nostalgia.
Is Xi the Solution—or the Problem?
The CCP faces a stark choice: embrace collective leadership and risk internal factionalism, corruption, and inefficiency – or concentrate power in the hands of one man and risk a repeat of the violent purges of the past. Scholar Richard Baum described China’s reform era as a cycle of tightening (shou) and loosening (fang). While he was referring primarily to economic policy, the political implications are equally profound.
To ensure growth and dynamism, the CCP must loosen its grip. But decentralization breeds factionalism. The paramount concern keeping leaders up at night is political security – how to prevent splits at the top, as occurred in the Soviet Union during glasnost and perestroika. Historically, the most effective way to prevent such splits has been through strongman rule. Xi Jinping’s rise reflects this logic.
As Jing Huang argues, CCP elites measure a leader’s power by their ability to manipulate factional politics. Jessica Teets has noted that there was near-total consensus within the party that under Hu Jintao, central authority had eroded – and that Xi was the man to fix it. But has Xi’s centralization solved the party’s problems or created even greater ones?
While formal institutions like the Central Committee still exist, strategic decisions are now made by Xi and his handpicked commissions. He personally leads these small groups and fills them with loyalists. Xi uses anti-corruption campaigns to eliminate rivals. Several senior leaders have been purged. He has surrounded himself with a core of trusted allies, many of whom he has worked with before.
Under Xi, China has restructured its foreign policy and military to ensure tighter central control and more coherent strategy. Power has been consolidated in Xi’s hands. He is also fostering a personality cult reminiscent of Mao and Stalin.
Security has become paramount. The apparatus has been centralized and brought closer to Xi personally. Chen Yixin, head of the Ministry of State Security, has stated that political security – especially protection of CCP leadership and Xi himself – is the top priority. Many Politburo members now have backgrounds in the security services.
As China’s economic growth slows, the leadership has traded the safeguards of collective governance – term limits and power sharing – for the perceived unity and strength of autocratic rule. Xi’s anti-corruption drive has lasted 15 years and ensnared millions, including the last two defense ministers and a former foreign minister who has since vanished. The purges continue.
Autocracy may prevent factional collapse – but it comes with its own mortal risks. Xi, like Mao, now rules for life. He has already jailed or sidelined too many rivals to ever feel secure. In a Leninist system, where no one is safe, the dictator must live in fear not just of the people – but of the CCP itself.