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China's Transition, by Andrew J. Nathan
China's experiments with democracy in this century have been few in number, short in duration, and limited in their democratic characteristics. Democratic institutions malfunctioned in numerous ways. Nine sets of causes for the failure of Chinese democracy can be suggested: ideology, internal and external war, military intervention, Chinese political culture, underdevelopment, a peasant mass, flaws in the design of Chinese constitutions, moral failures by democratic politicians, or the lack of transactional benefits for military-based elites in the process of democratic transition. Each of these factors is reviewed critically with an eye to its possible lessons.
In the summer of 1915 former Columbia political science professor Frank J. Goodnow wrote an essay for Chinese President Yuan Shikai exploring what kind of political system was best suited to Chinese conditions. "It is of course not susceptible of doubt that a monarchy is better suited than a republic to China," Goodnow wrote. "China's history and traditions, her social and economic conditions, her relations with foreign powers all make it probable that the country would develop . . . constitutional government . . . more easily as a monarchy than as a republic." 1 Goodnow's advice proved disastrous. Yuan made an abortive, and for him personally fatal, bid for the throne. Goodnow went down in history as a reactionary. Yet on their face, the failed experiments of the next 80 years showed Goodnow's concerns to have been justified.
But I shall argue that the lessons of the past are more ambiguous than they seem on the surface. Although my analytical categories are similar to Goodnow's, my conclusions are different.
Democracy in its most generally accepted sense has never actually been tried in China. Minimally, democracy means open, competitive elections under universal franchise for occupants of those posts where actual policy decisions are made, together with the enjoyment of the freedoms of organization and speech (including publication) needed to enable self-generated political groups to compete effectively in these elections. 2 Before Taiwan's 1996 presidential election, China never had a chief executive elected by direct popular vote. Until 1992 in Taiwan, it never had a national legislature elected by direct, universal franchise. Except for Taiwan since 1989, there has never been more than one strong political party running in an election. And, again with the exception of Taiwan since 1992, speech and organization have never been free of serious restriction. 3
When we speak of democratic experiments in modern China we have in mind two things: efforts to establish legislatures that were chosen in relatively open, competitive elections, and that tried to exercise their constitutional powers; and efforts to establish freedoms of speech and organization. We can refer to these two kinds of efforts as the electoral and the liberal dimensions of democracy. When we speak of democratic failures, we mean that elected legislatures were unable to exercise the authority they were supposed to enjoy under the constitution and the laws; and that freedoms of organization and expression were subject to such severe limits, either legally or extra-legally, that they could not be used with much effect in political competition.
Specifically, China's main democratic experiments (leaving aside Taiwan) and their failures have been as follows:
In 1909, provincial assemblies were elected in all Chinese provinces, and in 1910 the Qing government convened a National Assembly half of whose 200 members were appointed by the court and half of whom were elected from the provincial assemblies. The franchise was limited to less than one-half percent of the population. The freedoms of organization and speech were limited in law, although they were fairly extensive in practice. Only the legislatures were elected, not the executive, and the legislatures were granted limited, essentially advisory, powers. These institutions were ineffective while in office and lasted for a short time, falling with the dynasty.
In 1912-1913 a Parliament was elected, consisting of a Senate elected by the provincial assemblies and a House directly elected by an all-male, economically elite franchise consisting of about 10.5% of the population. The election was attended with much corruption. The parliament had considerable powers on paper, including the power to elect the president and confirm the cabinet. However, in practice the parliament was weak; the entire central government exercised little power. The constitutional system was interrupted twice by coups aimed at restoring the empire.
In 1918, a new parliament was elected which lasted until 1923. Again, the election, based on a limited franchise, was marked by corruption, and the powers of parliament were exercised weakly and intermittently, also with much corruption.
The "May Fourth" era of relative freedom of the press, political organization, and academic investigation and debate, dating roughly from 1912 to 1937, constituted another phase of democratic experimentation in the early Republic, aside from the elections just reviewed. The era of liberalism occurred more because of the weakness of government repression than because of a firm legal and customary basis for political freedoms, although these freedoms were listed in Chinese constitutions at the time.
In 1947-48, the National Government held elections in those areas it controlled for National Assembly, Legislative Yuan, and Control Yuan. Suffrage was universal, but due to wartime conditions and Kuomintang dominance of politics, the elections were neither complete nor competitive. Under the quasi-Leninist system of one-party dominance, these institutions did not begin to exercise their constitutional powers until recent years in Taiwan.
The People's Congress system of the PRC, which was put into effect in 1954, has democratic elements on paper, including universal suffrage, direct election since 1979 of the lower two levels of the four-level hierarchy of congresses, and constitutional powers for the legislature amounting to parliamentary supremacy. But the people's congresses have never exercised their powers in practice.
In sum, the democratic experiments were few in number, short in duration, and limited in their democratic characteristics. The democratic experiments were not robust on the electoral dimension after 1918, and on the liberalism dimension after 1937.
Democratic institutions malfunctioned in numerous ways. Elections were corrupt, parliaments were factionalized, the free press was irresponsible, political groups were unprincipled. Political actors outside these institutions refused to accept the outcomes of elections, did not obey laws passed by legislatures, and did not respect the legal freedoms of the free press or the organizational rights of legally constituted organizations. At base, the failure of democracy consisted in a failure of democratic institutions to acquire authority, or in Samuel Huntington's phrase, to become institutionalized.
To draw the lessons of failure, we need to know its causes. This is difficult because the causes were numerous and interactive. The saying that "Failure is an orphan, success has many fathers" applies well enough to political practice, but it often has to be reversed in political analysis. In politics as in biology, psychology, and engineering, failure is often overdetermined. It is impossible to identify distinct effects of each cause or to measure the relative importance of interacting causes. Moreover, the causes of failure exist on at least three analytical levels and thus potentially provide lessons of three types. Some involve conditions that democratic activists can do little to change. Others concern institutional arrangements that democrats might have a hand in affecting. Still others concern the democrats' strategy and tactics.
Nine sets of causes for the failure of modern Chinese democracy have been or can be suggested, each with its own possible lessons.
1. Ideology . Democracy in the sense in which we have defined it has not constituted the mainstream of modern Chinese political ideology. Almost every political movement tried to garb itself in the mystique of democracy, but what they usually had in mind by democracy was a mystical solidarity of state and people, in fact a kind of authoritarianism. The more powerful a political movement was, the less it looked to democracy for solutions to China's problems. One reason, then, for the failure of democracy was that most Chinese were not convinced it was the answer for China.
The implications of this lesson for today are not necessarily discouraging. The ideological landscape has changed enormously in the last twenty years. Since the Lin Biao incident of 1971, more and more Chinese have been rethinking the reasons for China's political misfortunes. By the time of the Democracy Movement in 1978-79, a small minority had groped their way toward a belief in pluralistic democracy as the kind of political system that could provide responsible and effective government. By the spring of 1989, this belief, in however vague a form, had spread to a wide section of at least the urban public.
Since its beginnings in the Tiananmen Incident of April 5, 1976, the contemporary democratic movement has been rhetorically effective in deploying the regime's democratic pretensions against it. Although this may have helped mobilize some support in society, it has proven a thin shield against repression. Strong voices within the ruling party have used Marxism-Leninism as a framework for arguing for press freedom and political competition. Many of these advocates have been expelled from the Party during periods of repression, but it appears that many who remain in the Party have been influenced by their arguments. Meanwhile, members of the Democratic Movement overseas are now exploring the relevance of human rights and political pluralism to China's cultural tradition and developmental needs. In Taiwan, democratic elements in the official ideology have proven robust and expandable, when called upon by both opposition and ruling party to justify and to some extent shape the transition toward democracy. A similar development of ideology might be possible in mainland China.
However, ideology alone cannot make democracy succeed. Democratic institutions have to prove themselves effective in solving China's problems in order to survive, or their attractiveness will remain only theoretical In this sense, ideology today provides a permissive environment for democratic institutionalization, but it does not guarantee success.
2. National Security Problems . Democratic institutions repeatedly failed in the face of internal or external war. Even when China was not actually fighting a war, its leaders and people perceived national security as severely threatened, by all the Powers in the 1910s and 1920s, by Japan in the late 1920s through the 1940s, by the United States in the 1950s, by the two nuclear-armed superpowers in the 1960s, and by the Soviet Union until the mid-1980s. Democracies seem able to wage foreign wars effectively, and can sometimes survive civil wars, but the Chinese experience confirms the often-drawn conclusion that war is not a conducive environment for building democratic institutions.
The implications of this lesson for Chinese democrats today are encouraging. China faces the most peaceful, unthreatening international environment it has enjoyed in a century and a half, with little prospect that it will be disrupted. Civil disorder is a possibility and a succession struggle among leadership factions a near certainty, but civil war is unlikely to occur. No group can mount a civil war so long as the military remains united, and military breakdown is unlikely for a number of reasons to be discussed below.
Chinese democrats, however, can do little to affect the international or domestic security environments, at least until they take power and establish strong democratic institutions. So the lesson of the past in this respect, while encouraging, is not particularly practical.
3. Militarism . The Chinese experience at several points supports the widely accepted view that military intervention in politics undercuts democracy by undermining civilian authority. The failures of several of the early democratic experiments were linked to military coups and warlordism. The failure of democracy under the Kuomintang coincided with Chiang Kai-shek's increasing reliance the military as the basis of his regime. The lesson is less obvious in the case of post-1949 China, where the conventional wisdom has it that "the party controlled the gun." In fact, Mao's power was based to an important degree on his exclusive control of the Chinese military machine through his chairmanship of the central Military Affairs Commission, so that his was also a sort of quasi-military regime.
Many believe that a military coup or a recurrence of regional militarism is a possibility today. My reading of the tea leaves is different. First, China lacks a Latin American-type tradition of military rule, or "guarantism," which would make coup legitimate in the eyes of the people, the civilian leaders and bureaucrats, or in the eyes of the military itself. Second, Chinese military people appear reluctant to take responsibility for solving China's political and economic problems since they do not believe they have solutions for them. Third, the enormous size of the Chinese officer corps would make it difficult to coordinate a coup without leaks and intra-military opposition. A military coup would benefit some commanders--probably certain department heads in the central Military Affairs Commission and the Beijing Garrison Commander and Beijing Military Region commander--more than others, creating jealousy among those left out, who might even be more senior and command larger forces than the members of the coup coalition.
Fourth, historically one of the factors facilitating regional militarism was the existence of foreign spheres of interest. Contrary to popular images, the Western powers were not opposed to democratic institutions in Republican China, did not take direct steps to frustrate them, and gave but slight support to the warlords. In fact, the foreign powers offered consistent diplomatic recognition to China's successive central governments and provided important financial support through loans and the customs and salt revenues. Still, the foreign presence helped warlords even if only marginally by arms sales, by providing the occasional haven of the foreign concessions, and by whatever it contributed to the weakness of the central government. This historical element, of course, is absent today.
Finally, the most important factor militating against a coup is that the PLA already exercises strong influence on central party politics through its direct representatives among the Elders and in the Politburo. In the past, the military's interests were represented by leaders like Mao, Lin Biao, and Ye Jianying, whose roots were as much in the military as in the Party. In this way, the military was able to have its say without directly taking power, as in the arrest of the Gang of Four and the fall of Hu Yaobang and Zhao Ziyang. This tradition was carried on by Deng and Yang Shangkun. Since Deng's death, the military no longer has senior leaders, whose careers have followed a dual military and civilian track, who can wear two hats as central party leaders and representatives of military interests. But instead of directly taking power, future military and party leaders will probably agree on some senior officers who can formally or informally enter the highest levels of government to represent military interests.
What are those interests? Given its national security mission and the increasing professionalization of the military, the officer corps appears to give priority to political stability, economic development, and the technical upgrading of the economy. The officers probably disagree about how to achieve these goals, but younger officers seem to favor following reform wherever it leads, even if it involves abandoning traditional ideas of socialism. If democratization could promote stability and reform, they would have no reason to oppose it.
The lesson of history, then, is that democrats must find ways to keep the military out of politics. But the strongest force for achieving this will be the vigor and legitimacy of civilian political institutions, whether democratic or not. This again is a lesson that provides no direct guide to action, but that also offers no reason to be discouraged.
4. Political Culture . It is often argued that Chinese political culture is inhospitable to democracy. Lucian Pye, for example, has argued that Chinese political culture embodies an intolerance for conflict, a yearning for authority, and a stress on personal loyalty that all lead to factionalism, which in turn destroys the functioning of democratic institutions. 4 It is a view widely held among Chinese democrats themselves.
This is a difficult argument to evaluate historically. Without direct data to tell us what the political culture of the past was, we can only infer culture from historical behavior (including written texts). But this makes the argument that culture causes action circular, because culture and action are measured by the same evidence.
But the more we learn about late-nineteenth and early-twentieth-century Chinese political behavior the less warranted seems the argument that Chinese of any class were culturally unable to organize self-interested action in an open, competitive public sphere. 5 It is true that democracy failed, but it is fallacious to attribute the failure to culture. One could equally well argue that culture is in good part the product of institutions. 6 When institutions do not work, they produce a culture of despair. If elections do not count because important issues are not raised or because elected officials have no power, people will not go to the trouble of voting seriously. If a legislature has no power, legislators will not treat their jobs seriously. If earlier democrats had been able to institutionalize democracy, a more democratic political culture would have been engendered. Working to change culture, then, is not necessarily the most cost-efficient way to institutionalize democracy and may even be the wrong way.
In any case, China's political culture today is different from what it was earlier in this century. Thanks to economic and social development (further discussed below), the spread of mass education and the mass media, as well as the deep social penetration of Chinese political institutions and the broad social impact of government policies in China, politics have become more salient to the average Chinese citizen than they were before, and citizens are better informed and more interested. Because of the experiences of the Cultural Revolution, which affected virtually every Chinese family, easy acceptance of authority is less widespread than it was before. Circumstantial evidence and preliminary survey data suggest that at least some of the characteristics of a democratic political culture--perception of the salience of government, belief in one's own ability to understand and affect government, tolerance of different opinions--are more widespread in China today than they seem to have been historically. 7
Until they take power, it is difficult for democrats to do much about culture except talk about it. Thus we confront another lesson that offers little guidance for practical action, although it also gives democrats no reason to be discouraged.
5. Underdevelopment . It is well-established that the level of development affects a country's ability to practice democracy. The theory is disputed, the minimum level of development needed for democracy is ill-defined and probably not very high, and the development-democracy relationship may not be a direct or linear one. But until recently, China was so poor and underdeveloped that the theory in its most brutal form probably did explain much of China's difficulty in establishing democratic institutions. But its explanatory power for the past is limited, and its predictive power for the future is nearly nil.
The most obvious relationship is that the majority of the population was too ill-educated and poverty-stricken to take an interest in politics. Whatever democracy existed was thus elite democracy. But this consideration cannot explain the failure of the early Republic's limited-franchise institutions to function well or to become institutionalized. Historically elite democracy in many countries was a step toward full democracy because it allowed competitive institutions to become established before mass participation began.
A second argument involving underdevelopment is that an underdeveloped country faces urgent developmental problems, which do not brook the disunity and slowness of democratic policymaking. The argument for developmental dictatorship was used as an ideological rationale, and may have been to some extent a real motive, for both the Nationalist and the Communist regimes in limiting democracy. But in fact, dictatorships cost more in famines and ecological disasters than they gain in development. The estimated 50 million Chinese dead at the hands of their own governments in this century (not counting the 27 million killed by the government-caused famine of 1958-61) testify to this fact. 8
A third argument relates underdevelopment to the weakness of civil society. To some extent democracy depends on the existence of independent social forces and groups that demand access to policymaking, and that have enough financial and other power to force the state to respect the rules that grant them this access. In this view, democracy gets institutionalized when there are social forces that have an interest in defending democratic procedures. In a backward society these forces are weak. This argument applies well to late Qing and Republican China. Civil society was not absent in those years, but it was relatively weak compared to the countries where democracy established itself.
Whatever the force of these three developmental arguments in explaining past problems, socioeconomic development in China is far more advanced today. China's GNP per capita places it already above the minimum level at which democracy has been reasonably successfully practiced in some other nations. And because of low prices of housing, basic foods, and medical care, GNP per capita figures understate the average level of welfare in China. A more meaningful measure of development is the Human Development Index developed by the U.N. Development Program. By this index, China ranks in the middle level of countries, along with many that practice democracy. 9 Since development is thought to impact on democracy via such mediating factors as geographic mobility, mass media reach, organizational and economic participation, and political information, political interest and other public attitudes, this measure of development is more relevant to political analysis than straightforward GNP per capita figures.
Here is still another lesson from the past that offers little guide to practical action by democrats, since they, like other Chinese, are already committed to development as a goal, aside from whatever impetus it may lend to democratization. Our reflections on this variable once again suggest, however, that at least the failures of the past are not a premonition of what will happen in the future.
6. Peasant mass . Some Chinese argue that it is difficult or impossible to build democracy in a society with a peasant mass. This argument is often simply a restatement of theories we have already considered: either the theory that Chinese political culture, here seen as a peasant culture, is inhospitable to democracy; or the argument that developmental backwardness, seen as a feature of a peasant society, is adverse to democracy. Sometimes, however, the peasant society argument has a distinct meaning--that peasants, as a majority social group, if given the chance to vote, will vote against liberalism, cosmopolitanism, and competitive institutions, and will use their democratic access to reinstall dictatorship. The argument is that the peasants are anti-city, anti-foreign, anti-intellectual, and authoritarian.
This argument is difficult to defend. Several functioning democracies have large peasant populations. In modern Chinese history, the peasant masses had little to do with failure of democracy. Moreover, the Chinese peasants today are more modernized, literate, urbanized, mobile, industrialized, and cosmopolitan than the proponents of this theory give them credit for. It is more appropriate to call them farmers than peasants. 10 Chinese farmers have proven capable of operating simple democratic institutions at the village and township level. They have considerable access to mass media, are sophisticated about market opportunities nationwide, and understand well the impact of national policies on their immediate interests. It seems likely that if Chinese farmers had the chance to vote in meaningful elections, they would vote a well-informed version of their interests.
There are, to be sure, contradictions between rural and urban Chinese residents in their economic and political interests. The impact of democratizing the system so that peasants can affect policy will be adverse to some urban interests. Chinese democrats, who are overwhelmingly urbanites, may fear this. But the fact that farmers have strong policy interests constitutes a favorable condition for institutionalizing democracy, not an unfavorable one. The lesson of these reflections is that democrats must be prepared to see other social groups benefit from the opening of the political system that they alone are currently pushing. 11 Democratization will not hand control over policy to the proponents of democracy.
7. Flaws in the constitutions/institutions . One might argue that earlier Chinese constitutions failed because they were ill-designed. I do not reject this argument in principle, but for most Chinese constitutions it is impossible to sustain it on the basis of the historical record. Political conflicts that ended in the failure of democratic experiments usually took two forms: either struggles among parliament, cabinet, and president, or subversion of constitutional principles by military- or party-based dictatorship.
The Provisional Constitution of 1912, under which most government business was conducted from that year until 1923, was criticized for ambiguity that permitted conflicts among the branches of government to develop. But the other failures did not seem to arise from constitutionally engendered paralysis, but rather from politicians ignoring and circumventing the constitution.
In fact, China's major constitutions all seem to have been fairly good ones, although they were quite different from one another. The constitutions of 1923 and 1946 have been especially praised by legal scholars. The 1923 constitution was never really put into effect because the government that promulgated it was almost immediately overthrown. The 1946 constitution proved to have had some remarkable strengths in Taiwan; the reform so far has done away with the Temporary Provisions that were added to it and changed the method of presidential election, although discussions have been initiated about altering the five yuan structure and the method of presidential election and clarifying the relationship of presidential and cabinet power. The PRC constitutions of 1954 and 1982, which are quite different from the 1923 and 1946 constitutions but similar to one another, offer on paper a workable set of institutions for moving China toward democracy: a series of four levels of people's congresses from the local to the national level, exercising popular sovereignty. What has undermined the democratic potential of these constitutions is domination by the CCP.
The lesson for democrats today is that China's constitutional tradition offers as good a starting point as any for building democratic institutions. No conspicuous mistake made in the past stands as a guidepost to what should be avoided. Since none of the previous Chinese constitutions experimented with federalism or with judicial review, we have no reason to conclude either that these institutions would not work, or that they are needed. As a practical matter, it may be most realistic to build democracy on the existing PRC constitution, with its provisions for NPC supremacy and its strong rights articles. But history offers no lessons as to what kind of constitution is definitely unsuited to China, or which constitutional arrangements are most suited to China in the abstract. Constitutionalism of whatever sort has not yet really been tried beyond Taiwan.
8. Moral failures of the democrats . Many Chinese historians write as if China's democratic experiments failed because the participants abused the process. Analogously, many democrats argue today that the democratic movement is weak because of the failure of its members to unite, to handle funds well, to establish an attractive image, and so on. But this moral argument is like the political culture argument on a smaller scale: it is hard to distinguish preexisting moral weakness from the behavior induced by being placed in institutions that do not work. In fact, some of the behavior deemed to be moral failure would be good, competitive, democratic behavior within working democratic institutions.
In reflecting on this purported lesson of history, one is caught between two irreconcilable truths. On the one hand, to paraphrase Rousseau, if democratic institutions are to function well, they have to take human beings as they are and not as they ought to be. On the other, pervasive moral degeneration can undermine any system of political institutions. The mystery is that when institutions work, they work morally as well as in other ways, and when they fail, they fail in many ways at once, including morally. The fact that moral failure is part of general failure does not mean that moral exhortation is an effective avenue to institution building.
Not only is this lesson of history ambiguous, but its practical implications are once again unactionable. Moral behavior can be wished for, asked for, and encouraged by mechanisms of reward and oversight, but it hardly seems a viable point of access to the problem of democratic institution-building.
9. Elite transactions theory . 12 This body of theory works at a different level of analysis from those discussed so far. It concerns not environing conditions for democracy, but the ways in which the success or failure of institutions come about through the interactions of political elites, operating in pursuit of what we assume they perceive as their political interests. This approach leads us to look at faction leaders, militarists, Yuan Shikai, Chiang Kai-shek, Mao and other major actors, to see where they thought their political interests lay, and try to figure out why they behaved as they did.
This line of thought leads to something like the following formulation. China was an empire that broke up, leaving in place military elites and civilian elites with power bases in the relatively weak, localized, civil society. Since the empire did not evolve but broke down, there were no rules of the game in place. Democratic experiments represented an initial consensus that seemed attractive because of the prestige of the Western model, which military elites thought they could adopt to legitimate their rule, and which civilian elites hoped to use to gain a greater share of power. However, once these institutions were in place, military-based elites did not see benefit in sharing power with electorally based elites, who lacked sufficient financial or other resources to compel such power sharing.
The lessons of this line of analysis are familiar from the literature on democratic regime transitions. Democracy will be firmer if it evolves from the current system rather than being set up on the shards of a broken system. It will be better established if it evolves gradually. It can become institutionalized if it serves the interests of all or most of the powerful social and political forces in the society. Its survival will be helped by moderate, compromise-oriented leadership. Once again, these lessons are hard for democrats to put to use in practical politics for the time being, because for now and in the foreseeable future the fate of Chinese politics depends on many large forces that they do not control.
Our investigation has proven inconclusive. Democracy did not work, but it is hard to disentangle specific reasons why. We have explored a list of possible lessons. Were the earlier failures due to wrong institutions, to wrong leadership, to insufficient civil society, to foreign intervention, to problems of political culture? But the nature of history is so complex that it does not permit us to identify a single or a small number of key causes of democracy's failure. Democracy failed across a broad front.
History does, however, give Chinese democrats reasons for courage. In the past few Chinese really wanted democracy. Today many of them do. In earlier years, authoritarianism seemed more likely to solve China's pressing problems--weakness and division. Today, democracy seems more likely to solve the pressing problems--dictatorship and political stagnation. In the past, political institutions lacked authority and administrative capability. Today the Chinese bureaucracy is large and strong. The regime's legitimacy is compromised, but many of its institutional procedures seem well-accepted. The situation, then, is different, and more favorable to democracy. History does not promise that democracy will work if tried, but neither does it warrant the conclusion that past failures prove China to be unsuited for democracy. Unfortunately, however, the historical record is not generous with practical guidance to democrats on how to bring about a transition to democracy or how to make it work once it begins to take shape.
Note 1: Ernest P. Young, The Presidency of Yuan Shih-k'ai: Liberalism and Dictatorship in Early Republican China (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1977), p. 221. The original version of this essay was presented at the Conference on the Shape of a Democratic China, American Enterprise Institute, May 1, 1991. Back.
Note 2: The definition follows Joseph A. Schumpeter, Capitalism, Socialism and Democracy , 3rd ed. (New York: Harper Torchbooks, 1962). The sense in which it is minimal has been discussed by Carole Pateman, Participation and Democratic Theory (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1970). Back.
Note 3: On restrictions of political rights, see my contribution to R. Randle Edwards, Louis Henkin, and Andrew J. Nathan, Human Rights in Contemporary China (New York: Columbia University Press, 1986). Back.
Note 4: Lucian Pye, The Dynamics of Chinese Politics (Cambridge, MA: Oelgeschlager, Gunn and Hain, 1981). Back.
Note 5: See, e.g., William T. Rowe, Hankow: Conflict and Community in a Chinese City, 1796-1895 (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1989); David Strand, Rickshaw Beijing: City People and Politics in the 1920s (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1989). Back.
Note 6: E.g., see Susan Shirk, Competitive Comrades (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1982); Andrew G. Walder, Communist Neo-Traditionalism: Work and Authority in Chinese Industry (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1986. Back.
Note 7: Andrew J. Nathan and Tianjian Shi, "Cultural Requisites for Democracy in China: Findings from a Survey," Daedalus (Spring 1993), pp. 95-123 (chapter 11 in this volume). Back.
Note 8: R.J. Rummel, China's Bloody Century: Genocide and Mass Murder Since 1900 (New Brunswick, N.J.: Transaction Publishers, 1991); Indivisible Human Rights: The Relationship of Political and Civil Rights to Survival, Subsistence and Poverty (New York: Human Rights Watch, 1992). Back.
Note 9: Human Development Report 1990 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990), p. 128. Back.
Note 10: Myron Cohen, "Cultural and Political Inventions in Modern China: The Case of the Chinese 'Peasant,'" Daedalus (Spring 1993), pp. 150-170. Back.
Note 11: James D. Seymour, "What the Agenda Has Been Missing," in Susan Whitfield, ed., After the Event: Human Rights and Their Future in China (London: Wellsweep, 1993), pp. 36-49. Back.
Note 12: Donald Share, "Transitions to Democracy and Transition through Transaction," Comparative Political Studies 19:4 (January 1987), pp. 525-548; Adam Przeworski, "Some Problems in the Study of the Transition to Democracy," in Guillermo O'Donnell, Philippe C. Schmitter, and Laurence Whitehead, eds., Transitions from Authoritarian Rule: Comparative Perspectives (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1986), pp. 47-63. Back.
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