When seeing recent images of protesters outside China’s consulate in Manchester, United Kingdom, I was reminded not of the diplomatic affairs that usually take place in such venues but of mafia movies.
In a scene reminiscent of Joe Pesci’s violent characters in the movies “Goodfellas” and “Casino,” China’s Consul General Zheng Xiyuan was shown on video kicking down a poster and pulling a protester’s hair, a protester who was then dragged inside the consulate grounds and beaten. After the incident, he said in a media statement that “members of consular staff were required to physically fend off unauthorized entry and subsequent assaults.”
I have interacted with consuls general from many countries in different locales around the world. They are the creme-de-la-creme of the diplomatic corps. Those representing the United States, for instance, have typically passed the rigorous Foreign Service Exam and served multiple 3-year postings in a diverse set of diplomatic outposts before rising to such a responsible position. That those individuals would be involved in a similar physical altercation is impossible to comprehend. The whole idea of diplomacy is to promote dialogue and discussion in service of peaceful relations, and in no way engage in violence oneself.
But Chinese officials clearly have a different mindset and play by different rules. In a later interview, the Manchester consul general justified his actions, saying it was his “duty” to react after demonstrators “abused” his country and his leader, President (and “Mafia Don”) Xi Jinping.
While the term “Mafia State” has been used to describe situations when the state is entwined with organized crime and defined by kleptocratic behavior, it also can also be seen as a governance style promoted by thin-skinned authoritarian dictators who have no checks on their power, no respect for the rule of law and who relish raw displays of power and absolute fealty from those in the family — in this case, the Chinese Communist Party (CCP). It is not that they engage in widespread looting of the state themselves (although they may), but they treat their enemies and rivals with extreme brutality, and demand supplicants violently defend any perceived slight, in diametrical opposition to how diplomacy is conducted by democracies.
The first time I intuited that the Mafia may be a fitting analogy for CCP rule was soon after arriving in China in 2010 when I learned about how China’s petitioning system worked under them. As a student of Chinese history, I knew about petitioning, the 1,000-plus-year-old arrangement whereby ordinary citizens can travel to the capital and present grievances (petitions) to the emperor. And in a peer-reviewed academic article, I even investigated how citizens’ petitions about environmental issues affected companies’ polluting behaviors.
But as a newcomer to China, I was shocked to learn that many provinces and locales employed “interceptors” in Beijing; thugs stationed outside the petitioning office to abduct and detain petitioners from their locale. The petitioners may be offered compensation, and possibly some resolution of their grievance as well as a free trip back to their home. But those who persisted in their claims were frequently taken by force and detained in “black jails,” off-the-books private prisons.
To me, in 2010, the idea that a 21st-century government would use black jails was hard for me to fully comprehend. But after a decade of learning about mass detentions and cultural genocide in Xinjiang and extensive use of house arrest by the CCP under Xi, the true image of how the CCP governs China has come into relief.
So nowadays when I see headlines about how China has undeclared “police stations” throughout Europe that work to identify and silence Chinese dissidents, I am not surprised. China flouts international laws and norms and even abducts and jails citizens of other countries if they have any negative words about the CCP or Xi. For example, Xiao Jianhua, a real estate developer who is a Canadian citizen, was abducted from Hong Kong in violation of the former British colony’s laws which only permit the Hong Kong police to operate in the territory.
In the closing ceremony of the 20th Communist Party Congress, former Supreme Leader Hu Jintao was removed from his front-row seat in the Congress Hall, in a raw display of power by Xi. Not unlike real-life Mafia bosses, Xi has consolidated his power through a series of hard-line crackdowns on rivals under the umbrella of an anti-corruption campaign. From charismatic rival Bo Xilai, to security czar Zhou Yongkang, both of whom were sentenced to prison for various “corruption” charges, Xi has clearly relished in not just swatting away the “flies” — lower-level corrupt officials — but also taking down the “tigers” that threatened his rule. Right before the 20th Party Congress, another set of rivals and perceived enemies were jailed.
With Hu Jintao’s proteges Li Keqiang and Wang Yang sidelined, and the elite Standing Committee stacked with Xi loyalists, Hu’s removal from the meeting was a visible display that shows there is only one man in charge. Xi had run the table, all overt displays of power worthy of a mafia kingpin.
But it is important to recognize that the mafia constitutes a system that extends beyond the leader. As the West, we need to understand that the systemic problems with China’s governance go way beyond the one man at the top and recognize that China under the CCP is essentially a criminal organization that represents a fundamental challenge to lawful societies around the world.
Christopher Marquis is Sinyi Professor of Chinese Management at the University of Cambridge and author of “Mao and Markets: The Communist Roots of Chinese Enterprise” (Yale University Press, 2022).
Editor’s note: This piece was updated on Nov. 2 at 10:50 a.m. to correct the title associated with a former senior leader in the Chinese Communist Party.