Xi’s Policies Have Shortened the Fuse on China’s Economic Time Bomb

For the last three decades, the Chinese economy has resembled an impressionist painting: beautiful from afar, but a jumbled mess up close. China’s economic model has centered around investment-led growth made possible by the supply of cheap capital extracted through domestic financial repression, using a combination of policies—such as interest rate caps, capital controls, and restrictions on credit allocation directions and financial market entry—to channel capital into state-prioritized sectors. While this model has contributed to China’s rapid rise, it has also led to the entrenchment of structural issues that began to emerge well before President Xi Jinping assumed power in 2012. Instead of taking the chance for reform, though, Xi’s policies have only worsened these issues.

China faces three major structural challenges that expose it to the risk of economic stagnation akin to Japan’s “lost decades”: Escalating debt coincides with decelerating growth, sluggish household consumption lags overextended supply, and adverse demographic trends have blunted China’s edge in cheap but skilled young labor, which amplifies social welfare costs and causes housing market demand to dwindle. The inevitable reckoning of China’s structural challenges has been accelerated since Xi’s ascendence.

The fuse on this economic time bomb is steadily shortening. In recent months, critical economic indicators—from industrial profits and exports to home sales—have all recorded double-digit percentage declines. In July, while consumer prices rose globally, they fell in China, raising concerns that deflation could worsen the difficulties faced by heavily indebted Chinese companies. A convergence of idiosyncratic factors now threatens to ignite a crisis in the property and construction sector, which makes up nearly 30 percent of Chinese GDP. China Evergrande’s recently filed for bankruptcy. Coupled with the impending default of Country Garden, another major property developer, after missed bond payments this month, it has deepened the already profound sense of uncertainty and fear among the business community.

This economic uncertainty is further heightened by the Chinese Communist Party’s ever-shifting targets of anti-corruption and anti-espionage campaigns. Health care is the latest sector to fall under the gaze of authorities, even as the effects of previous campaigns against tech, private education, gaming, and finance still linger. In the background, the friction between China and the United States continues largely unabated. Private conversations among Chinese citizens, particularly the young, reveal an undercurrent of pessimism and unease. Among the contributing factors is the looming specter of military conflict with the West regarding the future of Taiwan. China’s one-child generation would shoulder the weight if such a conflict were to happen, an existential threat of unparalleled proportions.

Milton Friedman was partially correct when he famously stated that “[i]nflation is always and everywhere a monetary phenomenon.” In China, the manifestation of economic deflation symptoms—even transitory—has been shaped by Xi’s departure from the reform and opening up policy and the return of expansive political, ideological, and geoeconomic aspirations reminiscent of the Mao Zedong era. We might dub the resulting phenomenon “Xi-flation,” deflation with Chinese characteristics. The cumulative policy shocks of the last five years have exacerbated, rather than quelled, the structural challenges that have been dragging—but not crashing—China’s growth.

The posture of China’s teetering-but-not-tumbling growth trajectory has long called for careful structural reform. The goal should be to squeeze out the property market bubble without bursting it, to alleviate income inequality without stifling entrepreneurship, and to foster fair competition without hurting productivity. The success of these reforms hinges on a calibrated policy orchestration. Instead, Xi’s policy has produced grandiose political rhetoric, such as “common prosperity” or “shared human destiny,” mixed with clumsy and misguided enforcement.

Economically, Xi has been a bull in a china shop. His economic policies have often shifted focus but always emphasize the party’s overarching control across nearly all dimensions of China’s economic and financial activity. Since 2017, foreign companies operating in China have organized lectures for employees to study the role of the party and Xi speeches. As of October 2022, 1,029 out of the 1,526 of the mainland-listed companies (more than two-thirds) whose shares can be traded by international investors in Hong Kong acknowledge “Xi Thought” in their corporate constitutions and have articles of association that formalize the role of an in-house party unit.

In fairness, Xi did not create China’s structural woes. However, the reform and opening up policy suffered a quiet, unheralded death as Chinese policy thinkers attempted to compensate for the absence of prudent economic strategy under Xi by ceaselessly leaping from one grand idea to the next under the banner of national rejuvenation.

For example, since December 2016, the phrase “houses are for living, not for speculation” has become the principle to curb the property sector. In 2017, the “thousand-year project” Xiong’an New Area was launched as a city of the future. In 2019, “establishing a new national system for innovation” entered the lexicon for state-led science and technology innovation. Since 2020, “common prosperity” has become the mantra behind which to launch antimonopoly and antitrust probes into China’s tech sector. And since November last year, when Xi suddenly reversed China’s zero-COVID policy, the new catchphrase has shifted to “consumption promotion.”

Xi-flationary policies have exacerbated China’s latent structural problems and rung up a steep tab. For instance, Xi’s regulatory crackdown on China’s leading tech companies wiped out more than $1 trillion in market value, a figure comparable to the GDP of the Netherlands. The zero-COVID policy incurred costs of at least 352 billion yuan ($51.6 billion) for Chinese provinces, almost twice the GDP of Iceland ($27.84 billion in 2022).

The financial cost of these policy missteps is not their worst aspect. The most profound cost of Xi-flation so far is an unprecedented run on confidence in the Chinese economy from within and without. Beijing’s old economic playbook has run out of pages when it comes to tackling this crisis. China cannot export its way out of today’s economic challenges or stimulate its way toward a full recovery without also addressing the underlying political cause. As China moves up global supply chains, foreign companies are increasingly looking for alternative countries to sources for inputs and locate production to ensure they do not fall on the wrong side of any lines drawn as part of Western policymakers’ drive to “de-risk” their reliance on China.

This is, in part, a belated reaction to the willingness of China under Xi to use economic coercion. Researchers from the International Cyber Policy Centre found that between 2020 and 2022, China resorted to economic coercion in 73 cases across 19 jurisdictions, a marked increase compared to China under Xi’s predecessors.

China’s waning comparative advantage is a long-term structural problem, but political and geopolitical factors drive the current run on confidence. As Xi continues to consolidate power, the once lucrative China premium will be further discounted due to the growing regulatory and geopolitical uncertainty. Chinese technocrats cannot fully address this run on confidence using only their limited economic toolbox, such as the People’s Bank of China’s use of the so-called precision-guided structural monetary tools to selectively provide credit for state-preferred sectors.

Xi’s global assertiveness has caused negative spillback for China’s economy. Amid China’s fraying ties with the West and multinationals hastening to diversify their supply chains, ordinary Chinese households are left to deal with mounting anxiety. They are economically less secure as a consequence of Xi’s zero-COVID policy, and they are increasingly concerned that geopolitical forces beyond their control have limited their individual futures. Xi’s commitment to reunite Taiwan with the mainland, by force if necessary, has created the perception among some in China that conflict is inevitable—the same as in the United States. This loss of confidence aggregates across hundreds of millions of Chinese households, underpinning an economic condition that James Kynge has characterized as a “psycho-political funk.”

An essential factor behind China’s economic success during the reform and opening up period was what economist John Maynard Keynes termed “animal spirits”—those emotional and psychological drivers that push people to spend, invest, and embrace risk. For decades, China not only benefited from the inflow of foreign direct investment and technology from the West, but also enjoyed a steady tailwind from the optimistic outlook of Western business leaders eager to capitalize on the globalization trend. When Western companies briefly reconsidered their involvement with China in the aftermath of the Tiananmen protests, Deng Xiaoping rescued the situation by embarking on his influential southern tour in 1992. During his tour, he the world of the party’s commitment to economic reform, stating, “It is fine to have no new ideas … as long as we do not do things to make people think we have changed the policy of reform and opening up.”

However, Xi’s policies have undone much of Deng’s legacy and upended China’s prior economic success formula. China’s appeal as a destination for both tourism and business has dimmed, and a growing number of the country’s elite look beyond the border for their future. If this trend continues, China may fall into the dreaded middle-income trap or face even graver risks such as a financial crisis. A financial crisis in China would have far greater consequences than any other previous emerging market crisis. The size of China’s economy and its level of integration dwarf that of South Korea in the late 1990s, when it was at the epicenter of the East Asian financial crisis.

The West has a genuine interest in preventing the economic downfall of China. Washington and Brussels must closely coordinate to ensure their de-risking policies send a clear message to Beijing on its intended goals and limits by drawing a bright red line around sectors with potential military dual use while clarifying in which circumstances cooperation is still encouraged. Otherwise, the West risks legitimizing Xi’s claims that economic containment is to blame for China’s economic woes, and that further self-sufficiency is the only antidote. The West must be careful to communicate that its policies are designed to avoid the global alienation of 1.4 billion Chinese people.

When the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation summit meets this November in San Francisco, the sister city of Shanghai, China’s economy may be on considerably less sure footing than the United States for the first time in decades. That may prove to be an opportune time for both countries to repair the world’s most consequential bilateral relationship.

The Biden administration can take a page from the playbook of Otto von Bismarck: “Diplomacy is the art of building ladders to allow people to climb down gracefully.” A good start would be for the United States to lend a ladder this fall and help China clean out its gutters—if a Xi-led China is capable of accepting the help.

Correction, Sept. 6, 2023: A previous version of this article misidentified economist John Maynard Keynes.