It is true that China is no longer beset by threats of foreign incursion nor is it a laggard in the world of economic development and trade. But being there and being steeped in an atmosphere of seemingly endless political and economic tension where questions of how far the leadership is willing (able?) to go in making reforms does make one think back to the end of the Qing, China's last dynasty, during its waning years at the end of the 19th century. While the analogy is not perfect, one is left to ponder whether Party General Secretary Xi Jinping might end up being the Empress Dowager Cixi of the Communist era, a victim of the same wager: Fail to reform rapidly enough and risk stasis. Reform too rapidly and risk instability and even upheaval.
It’s interesting to reflect on Cixi's ambivalence toward reform, not to say her indignation at the way foreigners hectored and bullied China and then to compare that to the reluctance (so far) of China's current leaders to take risks and push toward a bold reform agenda. It's also interesting to recall that by the time Cixi actually embraced constitutional monarchy after the Boxer rebellion in 1900, China's traditional system of leadership was already so enfeebled that it was too late to reformat it. Indeed, in dynastic history the question of when major reforms happen is a critical one in any "mid-dynastic revival"—zhōngxìng—or in what Xi Jinping now calls "rejuvenation"—fùxīng.
We now speak of "the end of the Qing," Qīng mò, when speaking of the waning years of the last imperial dynasty. If reforms again fail, might we some day find ourselves speaking of this interim as "the end of the People's Republic," Rénmín Gònghéguó mò?
By the turn of the last century, the Qing Dynasty was like a once great and fierce prize bull that was gushing blood from every limb, having been lanced, stabbed and barbed since the 1830s—when the trouble really became obvious—and was, by the early 1900s, just waiting for the matador to do him in once and for all. The scale and intensity of the Qing’s afflictions in the 19th century are staggering to think back upon: civil disorders such as the Boxers coming after full-scale civil war during the mid-century Taiping rebellion; defeat at sea and on land to the British, French, Japanese, and finally, in 1900, to an eight-nation allied force, resulting in treaties that obliged the Qing to cede territory and pay hundreds of millions in indemnities to its vanquishers; all this, while the economy stagnated, the environment deteriorated, and bureaucracy resisted reform and was riddled with corruption.
Many topics on such a list will ring bells of familiarity with observers of contemporary China, and the renewed interest in the late Qing is of a more than antiquarian nature. But still, the depth of the problems faced by the Qing 100 years ago would seem to outstrip even the more dire diagnoses of today, and the Communist Party under Xi Jinping would appear to have much more formidable resources at its disposal than those the Qing state with Empress Dowager Cixi at the helm could muster. To offer just one example—succession of a paramount ruler was a crippling problem for the Qing from 1860 onwards. The series of weak boy emperors left a vacuum at the top that Cixi could not fill. But the CCP has been moving toward increasingly orderly successions of power, as demonstrated by the relatively smooth ascents of Hu Jintao and Xi Jinping, and the strong consensus with the Party now around Xi.
Orville is right that the CCP would be wise to study not only the fate of the Soviet Union, which, from a PRC perspective, reformed too fast under Gorbachev, but also the fate of the Qing, which reformed too slow. But they also can take some solace in the likelihood that at this stage at least, given China’s decades of economic dynamism and growing international stature, they are much better placed to take “reform and opening-up” to the next level than were their Qing forebears a century ago.
In recent years, many events in China—and elsewhere—have brought to mind, sometimes in unexpected ways, Chinese events of a century or so ago. For example, even though when Mubarak first fell at the start of the Arab Spring, the obvious China-Egypt analogy seemed to only involve the recent past (Tahrir Square protests seeming similar in some ways to the Tiananmen Square ones of 1989), recent moves by Cairo’s generals have been reminiscent of Chinese events of the start rather than end of the twentieth century. What has been happening in Egypt lately parallels Qing military-official-turned-revolution-backer Yuan Shikai's moves in 1912 to put an end to Sun Yatsen’s very short term as China’s first President.