Thunder from the Silent Zone

Paul Monk (www.paulmonk.com.au) was born and grew up in Melbourne, and took out a BA in European history at the University of Melbourne and a PhD in international relations at the Australian National University. He joined the Australian Department of Defence in 1989 and the Defence Intelligence Organisation in 1990, where he later headed first the Japan and Koreas desk and then the China desk.

Between 2000 and 2017, he was a director and principal consultant for Austhink Consulting, specialists in applied cognitive science, whose clients included ASIO, the CIA, the ANZ Bank and the Hawthorn Football Club. He has written eleven other books, including The West in a Nutshell (2008) and Dictators and Dangerous Ideas (2018) and is a regular commentator on China and international affairs more generally in national print and electronic media.

Books by the same author (available through Echo Books):

Sonnets to a Promiscuous Beauty (2005) (eBook only)

The West in a Nutshell: Foundations, Fragilities, Futures (2009)

Darkness Over Love: A Complete Fiction (2014)

Opinions and Reflections (2015)

Credo and Twelve Poems (2015)

The Secret Gospel According to Mark (2017)

Dictators and Dangerous Ideas (2018)

The Three Graces: Companionship, Discretion, Passion (2022)

First Published in 2005 by Scribe Publications.

This edition published by Echo Books.

Echo Books is an imprint of Superscript Publishing Pty Ltd, ABN 76 644 812 395

Registered Office: Registered Office: PO Box 997, Woodend, Victoria, 3442.

www.echobooks.com.au

Copyright ©Paul Monk

Creator: Monk Paul, Author

Title: Thunder from the Silent Zone : Rethinking China

ISBN:E Pub. 978-1-922603-15-9

Book layout and design by Peter Gamble, Canberra

Set in Garamond Premier Pro Display, 12/17, and

MinervaModern .

Original cover image by Badiucao, exiled Chinese artist and dissident.

To the tens of millions of victims of communism in China: those executed, tortured, starved to death, set to forced labour, imprisoned, abused, deprived of the most elementary human rights, in the name of revolution.

and

To Wei Jingsheng (mainland dissident), Peng Mingmin (centenarian Taiwanese activist), Martin Lee Shuming (doyen of Hong Kong democrats) and young Joshua Wong and Jimmy Lai (defiant Hong Kong democratic activists).

May their cause prevail.

Table of Contents

A Note on Chinese Spelling

Preface to the second edition

Preface to the First Edition

Part One:The Grand Strategic Perspective

Chapter 1. The Clash of Civilisations and the Chinese Empire

Chapter 2. Chinese Grand Strategy and American Hegemony

Chapter 3. Variations on the LAM: plotting China’s futures

Part Two: China and Taiwan

Chapter 4. Kinmen and Kinship

Chapter 5. Conceiving a Paradigm Shift

Chapter 6. Looking at the Taiwan Strait from ‘Down Under’

Chapter 7. Can Rationality Save Us?

Part Three: Chinese Culture and the Modern World

Chapter 8. Ancient History, Modern Cinema and Political Allegory

Chapter 9. Overcoming the Confucian: rethinking Chinese tradition

Chapter 10. Hu’s Rhetoric: A Chinese ‘Stolypin’ in Australia

Part Four: Democracy and Human Rights in the Chinese World

Chapter 11. Wei Jingsheng and the Communist Party

Chapter 12. The Truth about Tiananmen

Chapter 13. Green Island: from prison camp to memorial

Chapter 14. Of Beethoven and Chinese Democracy

Conclusion Setting China Free

Acknowledgements

A Note on Chinese Spelling

The spelling of many Chinese names, including that of both people and places, has changed under the so-called Pinyin system introduced in China in the 1950s. A number of older systems for romanising Chinese names, including the Wade–Giles system, long antedated the Pinyin system; and their renditions of many names are entrenched in both the historical literature and common usage.

To avoid confusion, I have followed a fairly standard practice: names are used in the familiar old form when they are Taiwanese, and with some exceptions in the newer Pinyin form when they are Chinese. Thus, Mao Tse-tung is rendered Mao Zedong, and Peking is rendered Beijing, since these have become standard. But Chiang Kaishek, for example, is preferred over Jiang Jieshi, because the Pinyin alternative has not been widely adopted for his name.

Whereas Chinese personal names under the Wide–Giles system generally had hyphenated given names, such as Tse-tung or Kai-shek, the Pinyin system compounds the two into a single form, such as Zedong or Jieshi. For the sake of consistency, I have adopted the practice of compounding the given names even when using the older Wade–Giles spelling. Thus, Sun Yat-sen appears as Sun Yatsen, and Chiang Kai-shek as Chiang Kaishek.

Preface to the second edition

Why this book has been republished.

Until the late 2010s, around the developed world and beyond, there was a widespread view that China’s rapid growth and even its political and economic model would make China the number one power in the world by around 2030. That changed, as it became apparent that Xi Jinping was pulling back from the reforms of Deng Xiaoping and that China was facing growing problems of slowing growth, debt, corruption, dissent and demographic maturation. It had also become apparent, by then, that Xi Jinping was intent on preparing China for war and was militarizing his country’s foreign policy. The central argument of this book, when first published, was that just such developments might well occur.

Thunder from the Silent Zone: Rethinking China was originally prepared for publication in 2004 and published in 2005. It has been reprinted in 2023 for two reasons:

The argument advanced in it all those years ago has been strongly vindicated by what has happened in between, but more importantly,

The methodological approach urged in the first edition is now more necessary than ever.

By ‘argument’ here I do not mean prediction. Pundits are addicted to making bold predictions, both short and long-term. As Philip Tetlock brilliantly demonstrated, in a book that was published at the same time as Thunder from the Silent Zone, in 2005, such predictions have a very poor hit rate, but the pundits rarely admit their errors.

His book, Expert Political Judgement: How Good Is It? How Can We Know? (Princeton University Press, 2005) was a remarkable study, which went far towards demonstrating the need for serious methodological overhauling of how geopolitical and economic forecasting are done. He gave me a copy at a conference at Wye River, Maryland, in September 2005, and I reviewed it back here, praising its fascinating insights, while observing that the overhauling would likely prove problematic, but that the need was painfully clear.

My own argument, in 2004-05, was that the future was importantly indeterminate, especially looking out more than a quite short time frame, and that far too many pundits—intoxicated by China’s then two decades of rapid growth—were making projections of soaring growth far into the future and ignoring a number of divergent economic and geopolitical scenarios which seemed to me highly germane to any realistic strategy to hedge against China’s futures. It will be immediately apparent why Tetlock and I hit it off at Wye River.

As far as I can ascertain from outside—and without having done a rigorous longitudinal study of the kind Tetlock did before 2005—the performance of Western governments, including their intelligence agencies, and of international conglomerates, has not appreciably improved in the years since. Doubtless, some have done so here and there. But the rhetoric of public policy and economic debate seems to suggest that all the intractable biases that bedevil human predictive and probabilistic forecasting remain endemic. In a world beset by major, interactive challenges, this is a serious problem.

Squatting square in the middle of all those challenges is China itself. What are the challenges? The escalating and daunting issue of nuclear armaments, the problems of climate change and pollution, the matter of population and productivity, the matter of pandemic disease and its genesis, the matter of potential great power conflict over China’s military challenge to the seventy-year-old Pax Americana, the question of human rights and accountable governance. One could go on, the workability of the international trading system and the viability of the American dollar as the pivotal currency in global markets are also at stake.

We, collectively, need to understand and interact with China on all these matters. Thunder from the Silent Zone: Rethinking China was conceived and first published as an accessible handbook less on what to think about China, so much as on how to think about it. I had come out of working inside the Australian government as head of China analysis in the Defence Intelligence Organization deeply disillusioned with how the intelligence and policy arms of that government did their thinking, as a process. My grounds for this state of mind are set out in the preface to the first edition and there is no need to go back over them here.

There has, clearly, been a ‘sea change’ in judgements about China, both in Australia and across the developed world, over the past five years or so. That has been a heartening sign that key analysts have not been asleep at the wheel. But the need for better critical thinking and communication, about how futures evolve and what it make sense to do in both hedging against uncertainty or danger and acting as adroitly as possible to bring desirable futures into being, remains clear. This book is being reissued not with the pretension to having ‘all the answers’, but in order that it will be available as a point of reference.

My four scenarios analysis and where it stands now

The book covered and still covers a lot of historical and conceptual ground. It could have been updated, but the purpose of reissuing it is not to offer a current intelligence briefing. It is, rather, to put into ongoing circulation the briefing that the book delivered at its inception. The chapters on democracy and human rights, in Part Four, far from having been overtaken by events, have gained in importance given the trends in China since 2004. The reflections, in Part Three, on Chinese culture in the modern world likewise. Chapter 10, on Hu Jintao in Australia, serves to throw into high relief the challenge with which the dictatorial politics of Xi Jinping confront us.

But Part One, ‘The Grand Strategic Perspective’ and Part Two, ‘China and Taiwan’ are the parts of the book which, in their original and unedited versions, most urgently need reading now. I have quite deliberately not updated them, because updates are easy to come by. Depth of perspective and the examination of deep and often unexamined presuppositions or assumptions are much harder to find. My work in this book offers both. Towards the end of this Preface, I shall offer a basic update, based on current data and developments. But here I want simply to draw attention to the absolutely central arguments advanced almost twenty years ago, since I believe they have both stood up well over time and warrant close consideration now.

There are three chapters in Part One. The first is a sustained critique of the ‘clash of civilizations’ thesis advanced by the late Professor Samuel Huntington (1927-2008), of Harvard University, in 1996. The second is a reflection on the rise of China and the challenge it seems to present to American hegemony, or what is commonly called the Pax Americana, which began with the defeat of Nazi Germany and militarist Japan in 1944-45. The third chapter ‘Variations on the LAM: plotting China’s futures’ is, however, the key essay in the book and the most compelling reason for republishing it now.

There are a number of passages, between pages 47 and 60, which call for re-emphasising in the present context:

Thinking through China’s possible futures requires deep critical analysis, grounded in first class scholarship, and the testing of mental models and basic assumptions. It cannot be achieved through superficial extrapolation of barely understood statistical trends, or reactive briefing on moment-to-moment or year-to-year crises. p. 47

For the purposes of argument, I shall refer to the simplistic and overawed linear way of thinking involved here as the Linear Ascent Model (LAM). p. 49

The question of how rapidly China is likely to continue growing, and to what dimensions, tends to disappear over the horizon of about 2030 on a simple and unbounded curve of astounding economic growth. p. 52

Those three remarks lead into a long, three paragraph conclusion to the chapter on the LAM:

It would be irresponsible to rule out the possibility that China will fail to negotiate some critical thresholds in the early decades of the twenty-first century. Instead of being awed by simple statistical extrapolations, we would do better to make more complex calculations about the impediments to China’s continued growth and political cohesion, and think seriously about the mutations that both China’s polity and economy must undergo, if its growth is to be sustained and managed. And, let there be no mistake about it: if it cannot sustain rapid growth for a long time to come, it faces very serious political and social problems. Even a serious downturn could have dramatic repercussions.

In place of the LAM, we should think of four models for change in China over the next generation. These might be labelled mutation, maturation, metastasis and militarization. None is linear and none entails uninterrupted ascent, or a Chinese dominated twenty-first century. Mutation would involve a fundamental reshaping of the polity to cope with internationalisation and a complex economy. Maturation would involve a flattening of the growth curve, but only to a level enabling China to cope with the enormous demands of a population that is unlikely to stabilise short of 1.7 billion by mid-century. Metastasis would occur if the multiple and formidable challenges facing the Chinese polity prove overwhelming and result in a collapse of the undertaking to modernise a unified China…The fourth model, Militarisation, would involve a nationalist effort to cope with the stresses of rapid change and uncertainty through a massive increase in military power, much as Germany undertook before 1914 and Japan before 1941.

The mutation model is the one the rest of the world should be seeking to support and encourage. It has been foreshadowed, in part, by the mutation of polities elsewhere in East Asia over the past half-century—notably in Japan, South Korea and Taiwan. It would entail a substantial furthering of the withdrawal from power by the Communist Party and substitution in its place of more democratic norms and, even more crucially, a far more sound and reliable rule of law. pp. 59-60

The statement about China’s population stabilising by mid-century, at about 1.7 billion, needs correction. It has begun to fall already, from a highpoint of 1.41 billion and is projected to fall to 700 million by the end of the century—a phenomenon with extraordinary socio-political and economic implications. The other datum which needs correction here is an historical one. At several points, in the original edition, I cited figures of 30 million deaths from the Great Famine under Mao in 1958-62. That was then the best estimate available. The best evidence now, based on path-breaking archival research in China, suggests that the death toll may have been as high as 55 million, a mind-numbing figure.¹ I have updated this estimate in the text, except where I am quoting someone else’s claim.

There was considerable debate, in the 1990s and 2000s, even in the 1980s, about whether China would reform and open politically; and even whether it ought to be the concern of Washington, or the outside world more generally, to seek to bring that about. Would it happen naturally, as China’s economy grew? Was such political opening alien to Chinese political culture, at a deep level? Would any attempt to engineer it from outside be counter-productive? Or was such a mutation scenario crucial to China finally assuming a place as a leading and responsible stake-holder in a global liberal order?

Xi Jinping has swept all these questions off the table, as a matter of both declaratory ideology and political action. And we have come to realize, a little belatedly, that his manner of rule, like that of Vladimir Putin, is inimical to the global liberal order of the Pax Americana. While the mutation scenario was a plausible subject for debate for many years, it is now off the agenda. The other three scenarios, however, are very much in the mix in the 2020s and have been for a decade now. The policy of ‘constructive engagement’ adhered to in Washington and the rest of the OECD since 1989 must be deemed to have failed at this juncture. It was premised on the mutation scenario. A serious reframing of how to deal with the China of Xi Jinping and his communist regime is now very much needed.

Had I updated the book, it would have been open to many readers to think or even assume that I had developed this four scenario analysis with the wisdom of hindsight. That would, I believe, have deprived the book of much of its latent power. Leaving the text as it was (save for a small number of merely typographical corrections) shows that deeper thinking and the questioning of assumptions and projections was perfectly possible in the early 2000s, when almost no-one of whom I am aware was doing this.² That means it is also possible now. I would like to believe that the wider availability of this book will help to stimulate it.

What has changed since 2005?

There are vital data, of course, that must be taken into account in any update. They can be readily summarized here, if only because they serve to demonstrate why the maturation, militarization and metastasis scenarios were well-conceived many years ago and require searching analysis now. What we know, to a certainty, is that China’s military expenditure has increased by leaps and bounds this century, generating the largest and swiftest military build-up during peacetime in history.

We also know that Xi Jinping has militarized the South China Sea, despite explicit undertakings not to do so. We know that he has threatened to use force to subdue Taiwan and that he has called for the country to be ready for war. Moreover, he is Chairman of the Central Military Commission and, far from professionalising the army as the instrument of the state, he has reinforced its function as the instrument of the Communist Party for furthering its agenda. This is all, of course, very much what the militarization scenario forecast.

At the same time, however, expenditure on internal security—the secret police, the armed police, the great firewall, censorship, surveillance—has grown gigantically. It has increased by 300 percent in just the last decade and has now overtaken military expenditure in gross terms. In 2021 the Party state spent 1.38 trillion Yuan ($US203 billion) on internal security as against 1.268 trillion ($US186.5 billion) on the military. But those are official exchange rate figures. If converted into Purchasing Power Parity terms, as GDP often is, they are much larger. In 2022 PPP terms, China’s internal security budget comes out at $US328 billion and its military budget at $US302 billion.

And even that is not the complete picture, since China does not include in its defence budget, which is markedly opaque, a number of things that are included in the US defence budget. Moreover, the United States spends to maintain a global network of alliances, bases and security guarantees. China spends solely to enhance its own national power. What, therefore, do these raw figures tell us? That the Party is deep into militarization, but is also clinging to power and legitimacy by its teeth. It fears internal instability, dissent and civil society even more than it fears external enemies. This is grist for the mill of the metastasis as much as for the militarization scenario. We are, analytically, in very interesting territory here.

It gets better. During those same years, the Party’s macro-economic policies, hailed briefly, in the wake of the Global Financial Crisis, as a new model for development—the Beijing Consensus³—perhaps more viable than the much-touted Washington Consensus⁴, began to run into increasing problems. The first was massive misallocation of capital through huge subsidies to loss-making state-owned enterprises (SOEs), channelled through the state-owned banking system⁵. The second was further massive misallocation of funds, chiefly by provincial and city authorities and speculators, into the construction of vast quantities of superfluous housing or infrastructure, due to poor coordination between national, provincial and city policies. The third was massive imbalance in the financial system due to the private sector—starved of capital by the state owned banks—having to create a shadow banking network of its own. None of this was path-breaking or even competent macro-economics.

Overall, debt levels skyrocketed in the decade between 2010 and 2020. This led to a series of studies, published in 2017 and 2018, which anticipated the end of the Chinese boom and the failure of the Party’s model of governance.⁶ Growth rates in GDP began to flatten and all this even before COVID-19 broke out in Wuhan and added stress to the global, as well as the national, economic order. Here was both material for the maturation scenario and indicators that the metastasis scenario might, also, have legs. What was not in evidence was a set of further macro-economic reforms that could have eased the pressure on the system and streamlined China’s transition to a more open and sustainable market economy.

Does all this mean that the immediate, to say nothing of the longer-term trajectory of China, whether economic or political, is now readily predictable? It certainly does not. What it means is simply that it was demonstrably possible, in the early 2000s, to anticipate that some of these scenarios were plausible and that we should think hard about them and perhaps hedge against them. The critical assessments of 2017-18 were belated and addressed only part of the picture. What is required now is not more feckless predictions, but more fine-grained and acute analysis, paying attention, in particular, to those variables that will—depending on subtleties in how they evolve—go far to determining what happens from here.

Taiwan

The matter of prediction and scenario planning has, of course, come to the fore in recent years with regard to whether China, under Xi, will finally go to war in an attempt to subdue Taiwan and force it to accept integration into the People’s Republic of China—something which the overwhelming majority of its citizens clearly do not want. There has been mounting concern that, if the United States and its allies dig in to defend Taiwan against such an assault, we could end up embroiled in World War III—in a heavily nuclear-armed world.

The danger of such a war, when this book was first being written, was appreciably less than it has since become. That is for three main reasons: China’s military power has grown enormously over the past two decades, China’s political regime has moved decisively towards dictatorship and away from even the vague pretence of democratic norms; and the United States has been weakened -by its fruitless ‘forever wars’ in Iraq and Afghanistan, by the Wall Street engineered Global Financial Crisis and by its political deterioration, culminating in the rise and erratic one term presidency of Donald Trump.

Having visited Taiwan many times between 1994 and 2004, I developed the clear view that the determination of the Communist Party to take the island from its people was a mistake from the point of view of China’s own national interest. This was not and is not the same as stating that it is a mistake from the point of view of the interests of the Chinese Communist Party. Therein lies the challenge. But until the death of Mao Zedong and the ascent of Deng Xiaoping to primacy, one might have argued that economic reform and opening were not in the Party’s interest, though they might well be in the national interest of China.

Such reform and opening—up to a point—took place, because the Party under Deng decided that it was indispensable to the national interest and that, therefore, the Party must find a way to engineer it⁷. My argument in this book, when it was first published, was that a thought experiment needed to be pressed home as to whether and why the de jure recognition by Beijing of Taiwan’s full independence might actually be in China’s national interest—and to such an extent that the Party could, conceivably, be brought around to accepting and even embracing that idea. I have left that argument—in chapters 5, 6 and 7—unchanged, precisely because the urgency of the matter has grown so much in the intervening years.

I framed the matter, in the original Introduction, as follows:

In a number of ways, the future of Taiwan will tell the story of the future of China, which is why it has a disproportionate place in this book. Geopolitical concerns about China centre on the question of whether it will use force in an effort to assert its sovereignty over Taiwan. Economic hopes for China amount to the idea that it will become, over the next generation or two, a gigantic Taiwan—peaceful, prosperous and fully modern. Political concerns about China centre on the fact that it has failed, thus far, to achieve the political reform that has occurred in Taiwan. But Taiwan is a clear demonstration of what is possible in moving from dictatorship to democratic constitutionalism in the Chinese world.⁸

Those observations have only become more correct since 2004/05, with the ascent to the presidency of Tsai Ingwen and the maturing of the Democratic Progressive Party as a democratic force. Taiwan as a secure, prosperous and well-disposed sister state would be of far more value to China than Taiwan as a brutalized, resentful and poorly governed province⁹.

But the argument in this book always allowed that this seems counter-intuitive and that, in any case, there seemed and seems no possibility that the Communist Party would step back and reconsider its position so radically. Given the relentless suppression of Hong Kong by the Party since 2020¹⁰, including its repudiation of the most fundamental principles of the Basic Law put in place before the city state was handed over by the UK to the Communist Party, in 1997, why would one hold out any hope of its attitude regarding Taiwan being turned on its head?

In order to show how fundamental assumptions can mislead one as to the nature of observable and testable reality, I made use of the idea of a Necker Cube¹¹ and suggested it be used to frame the thought experiment about what is really in China’s national interest. This is a Necker Cube of the kind I described, without diagramming it:

Example of a necker cube

Observe the dot. Is it at the front corner or the rear corner of the Cube? That is indeterminate. It’s a matter of visual perspective, not fact. Assume one visual perspective and you see it at the front. Reframe your perceptions and it appears in a back corner. This offers a disarmingly simple demonstration of how perceptions and assumptions can mislead us. Historical cases of strategic misjudgement have demonstrated, again and again, that this happens. The challenge is to ferret out the assumptions before they lead to disaster—and then shift them.

Pivoting on this conceptual coup de main, I argued that it was both necessary and possible to reframe the Taiwan problem in such a way that it would make as much sense to Chinese strategists as economic reform made in the wake of Mao Zedong’s demise. I will not reiterate the argument in this Preface, since it is in the body of the book. Two points warrant emphasis here, however: that the argument for a paradigm shift needs to be given oxygen, needs to be a matter of advocacy, if it is to end up solving the Taiwan problem for us; and that such paradigm shifts have occurred, in very major geopolitical cases in the recent past, so they can and do happen,

Three cases of them happening are the Soviet withdrawal from Eastern Europe in 1989, the peaceful abandonment of apartheid by the South African white minority regime in 1994 and the withdrawal from East Timor by Indonesia, after the holding of a genuine plebiscite there in 1999. Were any of these seen as realistically likely five years before—in 1984, 1989 and 1994, respectively? They were not. They were, in fact, seen by strategists and statesmen alike as chimerical ideas, extremely unlikely to occur. As late as 1988, Paul Kennedy (as I point out in this book) argued that the Soviet Union would not withdraw from Eastern Europe or countenance the reunification of Germany. He was proved wrong within twelve months.

What makes this intervention important is that the danger of conflict and even of catastrophic conflict has manifestly risen. Before his death in mid-January 2023, my friend of thirty years, retired Major-General and Senator Jim Molan, laid out an apocalyptic scenario, in which China chose to go to war not merely by attempting an amphibious invasion of Taiwan, but by launching a multiple Pearl Harbors assault on American bases critical to any possible US defence of Taiwan¹². His point was less to predict that such an assault would happen, than to alert policy makers to the reality that it could—and that we are utterly unprepared for what would follow.

The Chinese Ambassador to Australia, Xiao Qian, stated frankly, in 2022, that China would retake Taiwan whatever that required and would then ‘re-educate’ the people of Taiwan to understand their subordinate place within the Chinese world. These are the stark realities of the strategic situation as this book goes back into print. Jim Molan’s concern was plainly that China might do, in the near future, what Japan did in December 1941—and be far better equipped to carry it through than was Japan. Any such idea was a distant and abstract possibility in 2004. It isn’t any longer. Alarms have been sounded and alliance systems—the Quad and AUKUS—are forming to discourage China from going to war.

This was also the approach of the Reagan administration and Margaret Thatcher’s Britain in the 1980s vis a vis the Soviet Union, seen as a formidable adversary, with tank divisions poised at the Fulda Gap to invade West Germany and a nuclear arsenal of gigantic proportions that could, if used, wipe out human civilization. The West increased its commitment to deterrence and the Soviet Union not only did not invade Germany, but first, in 1989, withdrew voluntarily and peacefully from Eastern Europe, which it had occupied since 1944-45, then disintegrated completely, in 1991. Though no one wants to end up in a confrontation with China, we are now in a situation with regard to it comparable to that which at least appeared to face us in Europe in between 1945 and 1988.

As I remarked in reviewing Molan’s book¹³, he lays out his scenario for the imagined war in enough detail to make it sound compelling. It is reminiscent of a book published in 1925, The Great Pacific War, by Hector Bywater, a naval analyst with Jane’s Fighting Ships. In that book, Bywater spelled out a scenario for a war between Japan and the US eerily similar to what unfolded between late 1941 and August 1945¹⁴. But that was an era before satellites or nuclear weapons, ballistic missiles, drones, cyber-monitoring or the forward basing of US forces in East Asia. For China to attempt, on the scale Molan projected, what Japan had undertaken in 1941 would involve it in the most incalculable risks.¹⁵

We stand, therefore, at a pivotal point in the history of China, of Asia and of the world. This book might have been allowed to languish in obscurity had it been overtaken by events. It is being republished now because, on the contrary, it has been vindicated by events in several ways. Its vision for change, however, is far from having been vindicated or fulfilled. In that regard, everything lies ahead to be accomplished or, failing its accomplishment, everything ahead looks grim and potentially disastrous. All the more reason to give this clarion call for critical reasoning and deep rethinking of embedded assumptions a fresh set of legs.

Cai Xia and the critique of the Xi regime

Whom should we trust when it comes to assessments of the condition and future of China? When it comes to predictions,