5/5 Foreign policy and the international context are also central to understanding the new era. Earlier reform periods operated in a world where China could prioritize integration into global markets under relatively favorable external conditions. In the Xi era, the international environment has become much harsher. China faces encirclement pressures, technological restrictions, military containment efforts, propaganda warfare, and broad attempts by imperialist powers to block its ascent. This has reinforced the Chinese emphasis on sovereignty, self-reliance, national security, and resistance to external coercion. From the standpoint of Chinese theory, socialism cannot be separated from anti-imperialism. A country that loses control over its technology, finance, food systems, infrastructure, or political decision-making cannot meaningfully maintain an independent socialist trajectory. So the new era’s emphasis on security, indigenous innovation, and strategic autonomy is not merely nationalist in the narrow sense; it is tied to the claim that socialist development requires protection from imperialist subordination.

This is also why the new era does not simply discard reform and opening up. It retains the basic judgment that China cannot advance by shutting itself off from the world, nor can it ignore the productive capacities made possible by earlier reform. But it seeks to place reform on a different footing. Reform in this context is no longer mainly about loosening controls to stimulate growth. It is increasingly described as reform in the service of stronger Party leadership, better state capacity, more advanced industry, reduced systemic risk, and clearer socialist purpose. The center of gravity shifts from opening space for market expansion to disciplining market activity within a more assertive political framework.

Theoretical debates about the Xi era therefore center on whether it represents a genuine rectification of earlier excesses or only a partial correction within the same contradictory model. Supporters argue that it marks a decisive turn: the Party has reasserted command, capital has been reminded of its subordinate status, poverty has been attacked systematically, technological self-reliance has become central, and the socialist meaning of development has been clarified after decades in which economism and market excess sometimes blurred it. Critics, including some from the Marxist left, argue that although the direction is corrective, China remains a mixed formation in which capitalist relations still exist at considerable scale (even if subordinate and not primary), and therefore the struggle between socialist and capitalist tendencies remains unresolved. That is certainly a criticism that should not be dismissed out of hand but at the same time must be understood in the correct context.

“Socialism with Chinese characteristics for a new era” is best understood as the attempt to move from the permissive and often excessively growth-centered logic of the long reform era to a more disciplined phase of socialist modernization. It seeks to preserve the gains of reform and opening up while curbing its most dangerous side effects. It insists more openly that the market is a tool, that capital must not dominate the state, that the Party must command the overall process, and that development must serve social, ecological, strategic, and anti-imperialist ends rather than mere accumulation.

In summary, socialism with Chinese characteristics is best understood as a long, staged, and deeply contradictory process of socialist construction rather than a fixed model. Under Comrade Deng, the central task was to break with dogmatism and develop the productive forces through reform and opening up; under Comrades Jiang and Hu, that path was expanded on a massive scale, producing historic development but also serious excesses, errors, and sharpened contradictions; under Comrade Xi, the emphasis has shifted toward rectification, stronger Party leadership, disciplining capital, common prosperity, and steering development back toward a firmer socialist direction. China has not “abandoned communism,” but that has pursued a historically specific path of building socialism under the conditions of a poor formerly semi-colonial country, followed by managing the contradictions created by rapid market-led development, and now trying to subordinate those contradictions more consciously to long-term socialist modernization and national sovereignty.

4/5

The third and current era is usually treated as a distinct stage because it is not simply a continuation of the Deng or Jiang-Hu periods at the same level of emphasis. It is a new phase of socialist construction arising from the contradictions accumulated during the long reform period: corruption, widening inequality, ideological drift, regional imbalance, environmental damage, financial risk, the growing social power of capital, and intensified imperialist pressure from abroad. If the Deng era was about opening a path and the Jiang-Hu era was about expanding that path under conditions that generated both immense gains and serious excesses, then the Xi era is the period of rectification, recentralization, and strategic reassertion: a move to restore firmer Party leadership over all major dimensions of social life and ensure that the market remains subordinate to socialist and national goals rather than the reverse.

That leads us to the phrase “socialism with Chinese characteristics for a new era”. The “new era” does not merely mean a change in slogans or a new leader’s personal style. It refers to a judgment that China has entered a different stage of development from the one that prevailed in the earlier decades of reform and opening up. In the earlier period, the central contradiction was often framed in terms of how to overcome backwardness and develop the productive forces. In the new era, China is no longer simply a poor country trying to escape scarcity at any price. It is a large, industrialized, technologically advancing socialist country facing the problem of how to discipline the uneven results of earlier development, move from high-speed growth to higher-quality development, resist foreign containment, and prevent the contradictions generated by marketization from undermining the socialist orientation of the system.

The historical background to this shift is important also. By the time Comrade Xi Jinping came to leadership, China had already become one of the decisive economies in the world. It had vast manufacturing capacity, a major state sector, expanding scientific and technological capability, and greatly improved living standards compared to the beginning of reform. But this success came with major internal tensions. Corruption was not merely episodic misconduct; it had become serious enough to threaten Party legitimacy and state capacity. Certain private capitals had acquired significant social influence. Some local authorities had become too driven by debt-fueled and speculative development. Inequality and conspicuous wealth accumulation had become politically and morally corrosive. Environmental destruction had become too severe to treat as an unavoidable side effect. Ideologically, liberal and depoliticized tendencies had also spread, especially where economic success was treated as a substitute for socialist conviction. In short, the problem was no longer whether reform had generated growth. It clearly had. The problem was whether the Party could still command the direction of that growth in a way consistent with socialist construction.

This is the setting in which the Xi era has to be understood theoretically. Its core move is the insistence that Party leadership must be strengthened across the board. This is not just an administrative matter. In Marxist terms, it is a response to the recognition that if the superstructure is allowed to loosen while market forces expand, then the class character of the whole project can begin to shift in substance even if not in name. The answer given in the new era is that the Communist Party must lead everything not because of arbitrary preference, but because only that leadership can prevent capital, bureaucracy, regional fragmentation, or foreign influence from determining the country’s long-term direction. The Party is presented not as one institution among others, but as the decisive political instrument through which socialist strategy is maintained (very inline with the Leninist conception of the party).

This is why one of the signature features of the era has been the anti-corruption campaign (tigers and flies). To liberal observers it is often reduced to a factional matter, but in the Chinese theoretical framework it has a much broader significance. Corruption is not treated simply as an ethical failure of individuals. It is understood as a political and class problem: if cadres become tied to money, patronage, private accumulation, and informal networks of influence, then the Party risks degenerating from an instrument of socialist leadership into a vehicle for privilege and bourgeois penetration. The anti-corruption campaign, therefore, is a struggle over the political character of the Party itself. Its deeper purpose is to restore discipline, reassert central authority, and reduce the danger that economic reform produces a self-reproducing stratum of officials and capitalists fused together in practice.

A second defining feature of the new era is the renewed emphasis on the state sector and the commanding role of public power in strategic development. This does not mean abolition of all private capital or a return to a purely administratively commanded economy. China remains a mixed economy with a large private sector. But the Xi era makes far clearer than the preceding period that private capital does not have the right to set the overall direction of national development. State-owned enterprises in strategic sectors are treated not as temporary remnants, but as core instruments of socialist modernization, technological upgrading, energy security, infrastructure development, and national resilience. The message is that the commanding heights cannot be left to the blind logic of profit, because the goals of a socialist country include long-term development, sovereignty, social stability, and strategic autonomy, not simply immediate return on capital.

This connects directly to the shift from high-speed growth to what Chinese theory often calls high-quality development. Earlier phases of reform often privileged rapid expansion, export growth, construction, and industrial scale, sometimes at severe social and environmental cost. In the new era, the stated aim is to make development more balanced, more technologically advanced, more ecologically sustainable, and more rooted in domestic strength rather than excessive dependence on low-cost labor or external demand. The economy is still expected to grow, but growth is no longer supposed to be pursued as an end in itself. It is subordinated, at least in theory, to broader strategic goals: innovation, environmental repair, national cohesion, targeted poverty reduction, rural revitalization, and resistance to vulnerability in key sectors such as semiconductors, energy, logistics, and food security.

This is where concepts like common prosperity become especially important. Common prosperity does not mean immediate equalization of all income, nor does it imply that market-generated differences disappear overnight. Rather, it marks an effort to push back against the excesses of the earlier reform era, in which some regions, sectors, and classes pulled far ahead while social inequality became increasingly visible and politically sensitive. In the Xi-era framework, this kind of polarization is dangerous because it can hollow out the social basis of socialism and allow wealth to convert itself into power. Common prosperity is therefore presented as both a socialist and a political imperative: development must remain broad-based enough that the Party can continue to represent the fundamental interests of the overwhelming majority rather than coming to preside over a stratification that increasingly resembles capitalist class hierarchy.

The poverty alleviation campaign is often treated as one of the clearest practical expressions of this line. In theoretical terms, it demonstrates that the Chinese state is not content to measure success only through aggregate output or urban wealth concentration. Instead, it asserts that the socialist state has a direct obligation to mobilize resources, cadre organization, planning capacity, and public institutions to eliminate deprivation and integrate previously marginalized populations into national development. That does not by itself settle all questions about class relations in China, but it does illustrate the difference between a state using development solely for capital accumulation and a state that also uses its organizational capacity to pursue mass social objectives on a national scale.

Another major characteristic of the new era is the reassertion of ideology. One of the core lessons drawn from both the Soviet collapse and from some tendencies within China’s own reform period is that if a communist party becomes ideologically hollow, technocratic, or merely growth-oriented, then it becomes vulnerable to liberalization, corruption, and eventual political decomposition. The Xi era therefore places much stronger emphasis on Party education, discipline, Marxist study, historical memory, and confidence in the socialist path. In one sense this is a return to political seriousness after a period in which developmental success sometimes encouraged the illusion that ideology no longer mattered. In another sense it is an acknowledgment that the struggle over China’s future is not purely economic. It is also a struggle over culture, political will, and whether socialism remains a living orientation rather than a ceremonial label attached to market development.

3/5

Still, Hu’s period did not fundamentally break with the inherited model. It attempted to moderate its worst consequences without fully restructuring the relationship between Party leadership, capital, and development. That is precisely why Jiang and Hu belong in one historical bloc. Jiang pushed forward the consolidation and expansion of the socialist market economy inherited from Deng; Hu sought to soften, rebalance, and morally correct the contradictions it had intensified. But both operated within the same basic strategic framework. Both accepted that China remained in the primary stage of socialism. Both accepted the use of markets as instruments. Both accepted continued integration into the world economy. Both assumed that the Party could preserve command while managing the social forces unleashed by reform.

The real historical judgment on this era, then, has to be double-sided. On one side, it was a period of immense achievement that should not be understated: China’s national power increased dramatically, industrial capacity expanded, infrastructure advanced, poverty reduction continued, and the foundations were laid for China’s emergence as a major world power able to resist imperialist domination. On the other side, it was indeed an era of many excesses and errors: corruption spread too far, inequality deepened too much, capital was at times given too much room to shape social life, and the socialist purpose of development was often blurred by an overemphasis on growth at almost any cost.

But those excesses must be located in their proper context. They emerged not from a vacuum, nor from some uniquely malicious intent, but from the difficulty of blazing a new socialist path under modern global conditions. China was attempting to do what no socialist country had previously done in quite this way: harness the world market, domestic marketization, and mixed ownership under communist rule to overcome backwardness without capitulating politically to capitalism. That experiment produced immense gains, but it also produced serious dangers. The Jiang-Hu era is therefore the long period in which those gains and dangers matured together.

2/5

Comrade Jiang Zemin and comrade Hu Jintao are often grouped into a single era as both governed within the same broad historical stage: the maturation of the reform and opening up line after its decisive consolidation under Comrade Deng Xiaoping. This the long middle period in which the socialist market economy inherited from Deng was expanded, institutionalized, stress-tested, and pushed to its limits. If the Deng era was the breakthrough in direction, the Jiang-Hu era was the period in which that path was implemented at full scale across a huge and uneven country, producing extraordinary gains but also serious excesses, distortions, and errors.

To understand why those excesses emerged, it is necessary to begin with the inheritance they received. The reform line established under Deng had already made a decisive theoretical move: socialism in China would not be built through mechanical equalization of poverty or through a rigid administrative model sealed off from the world economy. China would instead develop the productive forces through a socialist market economy, under Communist Party leadership, with public ownership retaining the commanding heights while market mechanisms, foreign capital, local experimentation, and non-state sectors were permitted as instruments of development. This was closely related to what is often called the “birdcage economy” idea associated with Chen Yun: the market could operate, but only within the cage set by socialist planning and Party-state command. The bird was allowed to move, but it was not supposed to break the cage.

That metaphor captures the core contradiction of the Jiang-Hu period. Once the bird was allowed much greater room to move, growth accelerated dramatically, but so too did the danger that the market would begin pressing against the bars of the cage, distorting policy, reshaping social relations, and generating new class forces. Jiang and Hu did not invent this contradiction; they inherited it from the strategic turn of the Deng era. Their historical role was to manage it while pressing forward with modernization under conditions that were far more complex than those of the initial reform period. In that sense, their era should not be judged abstractly, as though they had a clean slate. They were governing a socialist country trying something historically unprecedented: using markets at great scale to develop a still relatively poor society under communist political leadership without surrendering sovereignty or dissolving into the capitalist camp.

This is why the period has to be understood dialectically. It was neither simply a triumphant success nor merely a story of betrayal. It was an era of genuine socialist developmental advance carried out through highly contradictory means. China industrialized at breathtaking speed, entered global production chains, expanded infrastructure on a historic scale, raised productive capacity, strengthened its technological base, and materially improved the lives of hundreds of millions. But the very mechanisms through which this was accomplished also generated serious errors and excesses: widening inequality, corruption, speculative tendencies, regional imbalance, labor exploitation, weakening of older collective protections, ideological drift, and the increasing social weight of private capital. These problems were serious contradictions produced within a new road of socialist construction that had no exact precedent.

Under Comrade Jiang, the central task was to consolidate the post-Deng line and prevent hesitation or reversal. The early 1990s were a moment of enormous uncertainty. The Soviet Union had collapsed, the world balance of forces had shifted in favor of imperialism, and liberal triumphalism was everywhere. In that context, to continue reform and opening up while preserving Communist Party rule was itself a major strategic choice. Deng’s Southern Tour in 1992 had politically reaffirmed the reform path, but Jiang’s leadership had to turn that reaffirmation into durable institutions. The socialist market economy was formally established as the framework of development. Fiscal reforms, financial reforms, enterprise restructuring, and deeper integration into world trade all aimed to create a more coherent national economic structure capable of sustaining rapid growth.

This process, however, came with sharp social costs. State-owned enterprise reform, while often necessary from the standpoint of productivity, competitiveness, and rationalization, involved layoffs and insecurity for many workers, especially in older industrial areas. Decentralization and competition among localities spurred growth, but also encouraged corruption, opportunism, and reckless developmentalism. The opening to global capital accelerated industrialization, but also introduced stronger profit pressures and intensified exploitation in labor-intensive sectors. Coastal development surged ahead, while interior regions often lagged behind. In political economy terms, the state was using market forces to modernize, but those same market forces were simultaneously eroding older egalitarian arrangements and generating new forms of class differentiation.

The theoretical formulation most associated with Jiang, the “Three Represents,” has to be read in this context. It was, in part, an attempt to explain how a communist party should lead a society in which reform had already produced new economic strata, including private entrepreneurs, managers, professionals, and technical elites. The Party could not pretend these strata did not exist. Nor could it simply hand them political power. Jiang’s answer was to insist that the Party must represent advanced productive forces, advanced culture, and the fundamental interests of the overwhelming majority. In one sense, this was an effort to subordinate emerging non-state forces to the Party rather than permit them to cohere as an independent bourgeois political bloc. In another sense, it undeniably reflected a period in which class boundaries became less clear, and in which the Party’s relationship to capital grew more complicated and more dangerous.

This is one reason the era deserves sharp criticism. There were real excesses. Not just “imbalances” in the abstract, but developments that at times went too far in the direction of commodification, private enrichment, and loosened socialist discipline. Some cadres became entangled with moneyed interests. Corruption expanded beyond what could be dismissed as isolated misconduct. Certain sectors saw a weakening of the socialist ethic in favor of narrow economism. Some local governments pursued growth in a reckless, numbers-driven way, with inadequate regard for workers, peasants, social welfare, or ecological consequences. The market was still officially a tool, but in practice there were times and places where the tool began behaving like a commanding logic. To say this plainly is the only serious way to assess the contradictions of the period.

At the same time, criticism must remain historically concrete. These were not the excesses of a country that had simply embraced neoliberal capitalism in a straightforward way. China remained under Communist Party rule. Public ownership still retained decisive force in the strategic heights. The state still directed long-term development. Land was not fully privatized in the capitalist sense. Finance was not handed over to an unrestrained oligarchy. Industrial policy remained active. National sovereignty remained non-negotiable. So even where capitalist tendencies expanded, they did so inside a structure that had not yet been politically captured by the bourgeoisie. This matters as the danger was not that China had ceased to be socialist in every respect, but that the contradictions within the socialist market path had become sharper and more difficult to govern.

If Jiang’s period was the era in which these contradictions were normalized and scaled up, the Hu Jintao period was the era in which they became too visible to ignore. By the time Hu assumed leadership, the developmental achievements were enormous, but so were the strains: widening income gaps, harsh rural-urban inequality, major regional disparities, corruption, degradation of the environment, speculative behavior, labor unrest, and public concern over weakening social guarantees. This was the point at which the leadership increasingly had to confront the fact that rapid development alone could not resolve the contradictions of the reform path. Growth had created wealth, but it had also generated dislocation, resentment, and a perception that some of the socialist content of development was being diluted by the unchecked side effects of marketization.

Hu’s ideological formulations, especially the “Scientific Outlook on Development” and the call to build a “harmonious socialist society,” were attempts to respond to exactly this problem. They represented a corrective impulse within the same overall era. Development was no longer to be measured solely by speed or gross output. It had to be more balanced, more socially inclusive, less regionally lopsided, and less ecologically destructive. Policies in this period moved toward relieving burdens on the peasantry, expanding social welfare, investing in poorer regions, and restoring some measure of social equilibrium. These reflected real recognition inside the Party that the earlier phase of reform had produced serious distortions.

1/5

Apologies in advance extremely long multi comment length effort post incoming.

I believe that to understand socialism with Chinese characteristics, it helps to see it as a historical process with different phases or eras as opposed to a fixed formula. The first major phase is reform and opening up under Comrade Deng Xiaoping, which was not an abandonment of socialism (as many ultras would like to believe), but an attempt at solving the material and developmental problems inherited from China’s earlier stage of socialist construction.

The reform and opening up period under Comrade Deng has to be understood against the background of both revolutionary victory and the limits of China’s development by the late 1970s. The Chinese Revolution had achieved enormous things: it ended semi-colonial humiliation, smashed landlordism on a national scale, established the dictatorship of the proletariat under Communist Party leadership, raised life expectancy, expanded literacy, created a basic industrial system, and gave China real sovereignty for the first time in the modern era. But it also left a central problem unresolved: China was still a poor country with a huge rural population, low productivity, limited technological capacity, and a weak material base relative to the advanced imperialist powers. In Marxist terms, the superstructure of socialism had been established in political form, but the productive forces remained underdeveloped.

That contradiction is the key to understanding the line of this era. The argument was not that socialism had failed, nor that China should “become capitalist” but rather that socialism, especially in a poor country, cannot be built on egalitarian distribution of scarcity forever. If the productive forces remain backward, then socialist construction becomes fragile: living standards stagnate, technological dependency persists, and the socialist state risks isolation and decline. Deng’s intervention therefore rested on a distinctly materialist claim: socialism must prove its superiority not only politically but also in its ability to develop production, improve living standards, modernize agriculture and industry, and strengthen national power.

This is why Deng repeatedly insisted that poverty is not socialism, and that the task of socialism is to liberate and develop the productive forces. That formula is often misunderstood as merely economistic, but in Chinese theory it had a deeper strategic meaning. China was not operating in a vacuum. It existed in a hostile world system dominated by imperialist powers, where weakness invited subordination. From that standpoint, development was not a secondary technocratic issue; it was part of class struggle on a world scale. A poor socialist country could be encircled, pressured, distorted, or even reversed. A stronger socialist country with modern industry, science, infrastructure, and defense would be more capable of resisting imperialism and preserving its revolutionary gains.

The theoretical pivot of the period was the rejection of dogmatism in favor of “seeking truth from facts.” This meant that Marxism had to be applied concretely rather than mechanically. Chinese theorists argued that neither Marx, Engels, nor Lenin had left behind a ready-made blueprint for building socialism in a vast, formerly semi-feudal country entering modernization under late twentieth-century conditions. Therefore, the task was to combine the universal principles of Marxism with China’s specific conditions. “Chinese characteristics” in this sense did not mean abandoning socialism’s class content; it meant refusing to copy foreign models without regard to China’s actual developmental stage.

A major theoretical point from this era was the idea that planning and markets are not in themselves the essential distinction between socialism and capitalism. This was crucial. In earlier debates, especially in many orthodox interpretations, the market was often treated as inherently capitalist and planning as inherently socialist. Deng’s line challenged that binary. The argument became that both planning and market mechanisms are economic methods. Their class character depends on the larger social system in which they are embedded. Under capitalism, markets operate under the rule of capital and for profit maximization. Under socialism, market mechanisms could be used instrumentally by a workers’ state, under Party leadership, to stimulate growth, efficiency, technological transfer, and development. In other words, the market was to be treated as a tool, not as the sovereign principle of society.

This was the basis for the concept that later became known as the socialist market economy, though the formula was fully elaborated after Deng’s early reforms had already begun. The state would retain command over the strategic(commanding) heights of the economy while permitting flexibility, competition, foreign trade, special economic zones, non-state enterprise, and local experimentation. Public ownership would remain dominant overall, especially in sectors decisive for national development, but the economy would no longer rely on rigid administrative allocation alone. The intent was to overcome inefficiencies, unleash initiative, and draw in external resources without surrendering the commanding position of the socialist state.

Historically, this translated into several major shifts. In the countryside, the commune system was replaced by the household responsibility system, which increased peasant incentives by linking production more directly to household output while land itself remained publicly owned in collective form. This produced a major increase in agricultural productivity and helped resolve immediate shortages. In industry, enterprises were given greater autonomy, and profit retention and managerial reforms were introduced. Special Economic Zones such as Shenzhen were created as controlled spaces for experimentation, foreign capital inflow, export-oriented manufacturing, and technological learning. The coastal regions were opened more broadly, and China began integrating into the global economy on terms designed, at least in theory, to serve national development rather than simple dependency.

The opening to foreign capital is one of the most disputed aspects of the Deng period, but from within its own framework it was justified in strategic terms. China lacked sufficient capital, advanced technology, and managerial experience to modernize at the necessary speed through autarky alone. Opening up was therefore conceived as selective utilization of the capitalist world market for socialist ends. The idea was not to dissolve into the world capitalist system, but to exploit its contradictions: attract investment, import technology, expand exports, earn foreign exchange, and accelerate national development while preventing foreign capital from commanding the state. This is why the Party continued to insist that opening up required political firmness. Economic openness without proletarian political leadership would have meant subordination. Economic openness under a strong socialist state was presented as a form of controlled engagement.

Another key theoretical element was the doctrine of the primary stage of socialism. This concept became central because it explained why China could tolerate commodity production, markets, wage differentials, and mixed ownership without declaring socialism abandoned. The claim was that China had entered socialism, but at a very low level of development, and would remain for a long historical period in the primary stage. In this stage, the main task was not immediate transition to advanced communist relations of abundance, but long-term development of the material and institutional foundations of socialism. This theory gave ideological coherence to reforms that otherwise might have seemed like straightforward concessions to capitalism. It argued that socialism is a process, and that its lower stages may involve forms that look contradictory if abstracted from their historical setting.

Of course, this approach contained risks from the beginning, and Chinese leaders themselves were not unaware of them. Once market mechanisms expand, inequalities can widen. Once private capital is permitted, new bourgeois strata can emerge. Once foreign capital enters, there is danger of dependency, corruption, ideological liberalization, and class polarization. Deng’s framework did not deny this. Rather, it assumed that these contradictions could be managed because the Communist Party still held state power, public ownership still occupied the commanding heights, and the overall strategic direction remained socialist. That was the wager of reform and opening up: that markets could be used without allowing the bourgeoisie to take political command.

This is why Deng’s line cannot be reduced either to a simple “capitalist restoration” narrative or to a naive triumphalist one. It was a highly contradictory but consciously theorized attempt to solve a real Marxist problem: how does a socialist state in a poor country develop the productive forces fast enough to survive, modernize, and eventually move toward higher forms of socialism? Deng’s answer was that one must distinguish between socialist goals and the flexible means used in a particular historical stage. The state must hold power; the Party must lead; public ownership must remain decisive overall; but within those limits, methods associated with markets could be deployed as instruments of socialist modernization.

So much potential I just personally can’t get over the engine sticking out the way it does. If it protruded just slightly less or the wings were slightly longer it would be top tier in my book.

Yeah I think my love of the sukhoi aesthetic stems from the J-11 really just the best line of jets aesthetically. Although I do enjoy the Su-47 and Su-57 and even the Su-34/32 as well.

In terms of ranking by how cool the jets look I’m definitely biased but it 100% goes

1. Russia (Have you seen literally anything sukhoi makes)
2. China (J-20 my beloved)
3. America/EU
4. Everyone else

All that makes sense but this part is bad

However, yes, I would love to see a world where interacting with a Chinese person doesn’t implicitly mean I’m interacting with 5000 years of history projected onto this person. If they’re dork then I don’t want to consider their reasonable reason for being a dork.

It’s not 5000 years of history it’s living memory. My grandmother lived through the Japanese occupation era, the Japanese still sanctify and worship their war criminals, they have yet to give any meaningful apology beyond handwaving words, many still deny atrociticies like Nanjing, they are currently pushing remilitarization among much more. You don’t have to understand all 5000 years of history but not taking into account less than 100 is ridiculous like not taking slavery into account when talking about black people in America in 1965.

Sorry if this is a bad reading but, do you seriously equate “Chinese” with “White” as identities detached from struggle?

地主余孽在哪发财呢，小心ICE爆破你风能进雨能进的屋子先吧，我看你欠斗了，我爷爷当年就是主持批斗大会的，抽得地主哭爹喊娘，这辈子放不下中文，只能在网络平台刷存在感咯

笑死我了

Tofu cooked in hotpot(火锅) with a spoon of laoganma peanut chilli oil/chili crisp on top after. The laoganma being the key.

You raise some interesting ideas however when looking at the system as a whole I don’t think they are entirely accurate.

To start I think it’s important to note the scale of change in the hukou system in recent times. Cities under 3 million population have essentially removed settlement barriers, and even megacities are piloting residence-based public service access. This is a substantial structural shift reflecting changed material conditions.

The hukou system was also I believe an unfortunate necessity when it was originally put in place. Go to Mumbai. Look at Dharavi. One point seven five square kilometers holding over a million people in informal settlements with no basic infrastructure. That is what happens when capital accumulates without a mechanism to regulate the pace of urban absorption (the original reason for implementation of the hukou system). The hukou system, however imperfect, prevented that outcome. The hukou system functioned as a valve. It allowed industrialization to proceed at a speed that absorbed labor without collapsing urban systems.

It’s also important to look at the positives of the system as it remains despite its many shortcomings. Every rural hukou holder retains rights to a homestead plot and contracted land. This is the material basis for China’s near-elimination of absolute homelessness. When a rural worker in a city faces unemployment or illness, there is a place to return to. This safety net reduced the fiscal burden on early-stage industrial capital, yes, but it also prevented the formation of a permanently dispossessed urban underclass.

Was rapid industrialization necessary. Absolutely. Not only because of the very real threat of encirclement and containment, which any materialist analysis must account for, but because poverty alleviation on the scale China achieved required a massive productive base. You cannot lift eight hundred million people out of poverty through redistribution of a feudal style economy alone. You need jobs, infrastructure, technology, and the fiscal capacity to fund public goods. That capacity was built through industrial accumulation. The rural industrialization phase, the township and village enterprises, the gradual absorption of migrant labor into manufacturing, these were not arbitrary choices. They were the only path that generated the surplus needed for the later stages of development.

Finally, the gap. It is terrible. But it’s important to measure the rise in the floor not just it’s gap to the ceiling. In 1978, nearly nine out of ten rural Chinese lived in extreme poverty. Today, that number is zero by the international standard. The roof rose faster creating a gap, yes. But the floor rose from subsistence to basic security, from illiteracy to nine years of compulsory education, from no access to healthcare to near-universal coverage. Uneven development is not a moral failure in the abstract. It is the concrete form development takes under historical constraints.

Yes it’s the widely used and mandatory in graduate cariculum (and also maybe in party training programs) (as far as I know) 马克思主义经典著作选读

newsweek crying about it

I didn’t look particularly in depth but from some brief internet searching:

In March 2006, while visiting Uzbekistan with his wife, Celil was detained by Uzbek police.

Uzbek authorities, acting on a request from China and citing an Interpol notice, identified him as Guler Dilaver, a name on watchlists for alleged terrorist activity in Kyrgyzstan.

Despite Canadian diplomatic objections, he was transferred to China.

Chinese courts tried him in August 2006 on charges of “terrorist activities and plotting to split the country,” linking him to the East Turkestan Islamic Movement (ETIM).

He received a life sentence. Appeals reduced an initial death sentence, but the conviction stands.

Also on the refusing Canadian diplomatic assistance I can speak on that a bit, it appears he was holding dual nationality (Canadian and Chinese) for one reason or another. China does not recognise dual nationality, and thus treats anyone who holds a Chinese nationality as entirely Chinese under the law.

Your house gets obliterated because your landlord delayed paying the air defense bill

Russia hooks around the northeast slightly so they have a short border by Khasan

The full set of 20 regulations

his favorite flag is Hezbollah’s

I can see why people would like it but honestly the IRGC(the almost ornate look is really cool) and Ansarallah (the green white and red mix is just very pleasant on the eyes) have them beat in flags imo