By Marc Joffe
Tuesday, May 17,
2022
China’s ascension to world domination
may not be as inevitable as many of us think and fear. Events of the last year
have revealed significant vulnerabilities within the country, which could
foreshadow a period of economic stagnation, reminiscent of what Japan began
to experience in the 1990s. If that happens, American pundits may need to
rethink their admiration of China’s decisive form of technocratic closed-loop
governance.
Those of us who were around in the 1980s
will recall the literature celebrating Japan’s economic might and projecting
that the “Land of the Rising Sun” would soon eclipse America as the world’s
dominant economy. Yet as Adam Thierer’s extensive review of the contemporary literature showed, American observers proved too quick to lionize Japan’s industrial
policy, led by its Ministry of International Trade and Industry (MITI). That
body’s efforts to predict the future and fine-tune Japan’s economy to meet it
seemed enlightened to American intellectuals and business leaders. In the final
analysis, though, MITI’s crystal ball proved cloudy as it misdirected capital
into analog high-definition television and so-called fifth-generation computing
based on an artificial-intelligence operating system.
At Japan’s peak in 1989, the grounds of
the Imperial Palace in Tokyo were thought to be worth
more than all the real estate in
California. Between the beginning of 1980 and the end of 1989, the Nikkei 225
index rose by a factor of six. But, ultimately, the sharp rise in Japanese
asset valuations proved to be a debt-fueled bubble from which the country has
never fully recovered.
That may well be the case with China in
the early 2020s. According to data from the
International Monetary Fund, China’s
total public and private debt rose from 133 percent of GDP in 2008 to 269
percent in 2020 (a level that may be significantly understated due to the large volume
of hidden debt). This borrowing appears to have
levitated asset prices, especially in the real-estate sector. In Beijing, the
home-price-to-income ratio surpassed 25, roughly triple the level reached in the United States at the
peak of its subprime-housing bubble.
In 2021, Chinese residential real estate
began to fall, while Evergrande and other highly leveraged developers struggled
to service their debt loads. These companies depended on property buyers’
prepaying for their homes before construction: something that buyers are much
less willing to do in a flat or declining market.
Japan was slow to resolve its debt
overhang in the 1990s. Instead, policy-makers and banks kept weak,
overleveraged firms operating with low interest rates and loan extensions. The
failure to allow Japan’s zombie
companies to reorganize or liquidate through
the bankruptcy process led to the inefficient use of capital and slow growth.
There are signs that China will pursue
similar policies. Evergrande, for example, has not been forced into bankruptcy
despite its inability to consistently meet its voluminous debt-service obligations
amid declining sales. Many of China’s zombies will be state-owned enterprises
and local governments that may be deemed too big to fail.
While Japan’s policy-making appeared to be
wise during the run-up, the flaws became apparent during the country’s lost
decade. This, too, might be consistent with China.
In late 2020, China’s management of the
Covid-19 pandemic appeared to be far superior to that of the U.S. or any other
major Western nation. A regime of hard lockdowns, extensive testing, and
hi-tech contact-tracing allowed most Chinese citizens to live normally most of
the time, with very low reported case and death rates
(although we cannot be certain that Chinese health statistics are reliable,
especially given its initial efforts to cover up the pandemic).
But more recently, the bloom has come off
the rose. Rather than soften its selective lockdown policies as vaccines became
available and as milder but more-virulent variants replaced the original
SARS-COV-2 strain, Communist Party leadership has stuck with the same policies.
The result has been the shambolic lockdown of Shanghai and other major cities,
which is fanning popular resistance to authority and driving out expatriates,
who help link China to the outside world.
Despite being clearly incompatible with a
Western perspective that emphasizes personal liberty, China’s 2020 pandemic
policies are sometimes defended as a testament to the strength of the country’s
centralized, authoritarian system. Western countries, and especially the U.S.,
could not mount such a vigorous response to Covid-19 and appear to have
suffered many more deaths and severe illnesses as a result.
But the Chinese system has proven
insufficiently adaptive. It was unwilling to take advantage of more effective
vaccines developed outside China and has continued to pursue zero-Covid
strategies despite their massive social
cost.
Although the U.S. and some other Western
democracies initially responded to Covid-19 in ineffective and incoherent ways,
they ultimately benefited from a policy dialogue that included a wide range of
views. Public pressure and input from nongovernmental organizations persuaded
even the most vehement advocates of zero-Covid strategies in government to
adopt more-balanced approaches. While messy, a vigorous policy debate often
yields better results than the decisions of a closed autocracy resistant to
external feedback.
The combined impact of renewed Covid
lockdowns and falling real-estate valuations (not to mention government
interventions that have hurt China’s tech giants and killed the private
tutoring business) is slower economic growth. But given doubts about the
accuracy of Chinese economic statistics, it may take some time for us to
determine just how much growth is declining.
The Chinese government is addressing its
current economic malaise by ramping up infrastructure investment. China’s
ability to rapidly complete large projects confers an advantage over the U.S.,
which has largely lost the ability to build public infrastructure on schedule
and on budget. But Chinese infrastructure projects vary in the amount of value
they create, and the country appears to be well past the point of diminishing
marginal returns.
Consider high-speed rail, for example. The
connections between Beijing and Shanghai and between Shanghai and Guangzhou
appear to have provided significant net benefits. Each year, tens of millions
of people travel between these megacities and points in between. But as China
builds more and more high-speed rail lines, it is obliged to add lower-demand
routes. At the opposite extreme is the 1,776-kilometer line connecting Langzhou
and Urumqi. Recently, only three
round-trip departures were
scheduled on this line each day. Fares are not sufficient to pay for the train’s electricity consumption, let alone cover
employee salaries, debt service, or maintenance costs.
With per capita GDP so far below
advanced-economy levels, it may seem that China has a lot of room for catch-up
growth. But poor macroeconomic management and malinvestment of capital into
zombie organizations and ill-conceived infrastructure projects may mean China’s
ceiling is much lower than that of Japan, South Korea, Taiwan, or others that
have enjoyed substantial catch-up growth spurts before. If we have indeed
reached “peak China,” some may need to reconsider their admiration for
autocratic technocracies and learn to love the untidiness of competing ideas.
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