Making it in America and China

The art of governance lies in attracting men of moral integrity, the kind who are only drawn to rulers who themselves demonstrate moral integrity. And how do rulers demonstrate moral integrity? By doing their duty and practicing compassion. Confucius. Doctrine of the Mean.

Us

In 1994, 30-year-old Kamala Harris was dating 60-year-old Willie Brown when he placed her on the California Medical Assistance Commission at $120,000 pa, where she served until 1998. The medical commission met twice a month and Harris, a US senator for California since 2017 , missed 20% of the meetings. In 1994, Harris took a leave of absence from her job as a deputy prosecutor in Alameda County, after Brown appointed her to the California Unemployment Insurance Appeals Board, a $167,000 pa plum. Five months later, she resigned from the insurance board and Brown appointed her to the California Medical Assistance Commission. Harris had no medical background, and her experience consisted of four years as a deputy prosecutor, summer jobs and internships, and a volunteer position at a hospital fundraising group. Rasmussen.

Them

Once they have completed their master’s or doctoral degrees, aspiring Chinese leaders are sent to the poorest available village – with the expectation that they will raise collective incomes by 50% before receiving their first promotion. Heng Xiao did not actually volunteer, as we shall see, nor was anything arranged for him when he reached his new home. In fact, nobody knew who he was. Here’s an excerpt from his memoir, Why the Communist Party Sent Me to the Desert:

My adventure began with a phone call late one summer night. It was my boss, the deputy director of the state-funded Institute of International Studies. He had some unexpected news. The personnel department of our Academy had selected me as a candidate for its Grassroots Service Program (GSP) in one of China’s most underdeveloped provinces, located some 1,500 miles from where I was living in Beijing. Before hanging up, he gravely informed me that all of my peers had refused

to join the program–leaving me with little choice but to accept the offer. What followed was an incredibly difficult decision for me. As a sophomore researcher, I had spent the past year doing staff work instead of academic research, and I feared I might have fallen behind my colleagues. After consulting my wife, we agreed that my boss’s call was to inform me of my participation in the program, not to ask my opinion on the matter. I reluctantly called back and accepted his offer. In hindsight, most of us–the 17 researchers who accepted GSP posts–wished we had never received that call.

The GSP’s Chinese name is guazhi. Guazhi means “to hang your position,” in the way one hangs a coat, and it is a common phrase among China’s state-sponsored entities, including research institutes like the one I was part of. It involves temporarily moving to a new position for at least a year, while your old job is guaranteed upon your return. At the time, it was common practice for young China Communist Party (CCP) members to take on this responsibility at some point. This temporary job sometimes has no relation at all to the cadre’s previous field of work. For example, it would not be unusual for a researcher on US foreign policy to be asked to manage rural development in the Gobi Desert. 

The guazhi program is based on the traditional Chinese belief that different experiences lead to real knowledge and make a man competent. In its most radical form during the Cultural Revolution, this traditional belief was manifested as the “Up to the Mountains and Down to the Countryside” movement. During the Cultural Revolution, universities and colleges in China were closed, and urban youth were sent to poor, remote rural areas to, in the words of Mao Zedong, “learn from ordinary people”. Although far removed from the modern-day GSP, the intention is similar: namely, a notion that the most thorough education comes from diversified experiences…

Local officials were waiting for us at the airport when we landed at our destination on December 1. After a short rest and a dinner full of animated speeches, we–the 17 exhausted researchers–were dispatched to our new homes by town officials. Upon getting in the car, I was told that I would be working almost 13 miles from the urban area. During our drive along the rugged country road, I had a good talk with one of my future colleagues, the town’s Party committee’s vice-secretary. At one point, he asked me a strange question, “Secretary, where will you live in the city? Will the municipal government rent you an apartment?” It seemed that my future colleagues did not even know I was required to live where I worked. I began to realize that there would be no bedroom, no bathroom, and no nice furniture waiting for me. It was immediately apparent upon arriving at the town hall that I had been right in my premonitions, which did not make me happy at all. There was no breakfast or dinner provided, and I wasn’t allowed to cook in the office. There was no hot water and no heating at night, despite temperatures of minus 20 degrees Celsius. I later reflected that the outdoor toilet I had noticed upon entering was the least of my worries compared with the other problems. On the plus side, my office was bright.

From here on, Heng Xiao’s demonstration of the Confucian virtues–compassion, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and fidelity–will be increasingly scrutinized as he rises from section chief, to deputy division chief, division chief, deputy director and director of general office, vice-minister, minister, deputy-state leader to State Leader, just as Xi did.

Next week: Rising Through the Ranks.