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Sinica
The Legitimacy Barrier
How American reluctance to accept China's political system shapes the relationship
Kaiser Y Kuo
Feb 16, 2025
In April of 2019, over lunch near my home in Chapel Hill, a senior U.S. diplomat in town to give a talk gave me what I recognized immediately as a litmus test.
I had just finished pitching an informal group I was helping to organize, which I hoped she would join. It was a group of policy professionals, analysts, and scholars focused on China. We hoped to influence the next administration's approach — and yeah, that whole “influencing” idea didn’t work out so well. After listening to my high-minded mission statement, she looked at me and said, "I have two questions for you.”
“First,” she began, “do you believe U.S. policy can positively impact China's development?”
I answered with an emphatic and immediate yes. What would be the point, after all, of wanting to help shape U.S. policy if I didn’t believe it could have a positive effect?
But her second question caught me off guard: "Do you believe the rule of the Chinese Communist Party to be legitimate?"
After a moment's hesitation — mostly to process her intent — I also answered yes. She smiled, nodded, and said, "Good. I'm in."
She understood immediately what many in Washington do not: that the refusal to acknowledge the legitimacy of China’s political system isn’t just an ideological stance but also an obstacle to crafting effective policy. It ensures that American engagements with China are as often about moral posturing as about smart strategy. And more profoundly, it reflects an American mindset that has never truly had to confront the possibility that legitimacy might not be universally defined.
This question of legitimacy — how governments earn and maintain their right to rule — lies at the heart of mounting tensions between the United States and China. For decades, if not indeed centuries, Americans have operated under a simple assumption: political legitimacy derived primarily from democratic processes — in particular, free elections as an expression of popular sovereignty. Other mechanisms like checks and balances and the rule of law helped maintain that legitimacy by preventing abuse and ensuring accountability. This wasn't just one way to organize political power — it was seen as the only truly legitimate way.
In this way of thinking, China was supposed to follow this trajectory. As it grew wealthier through market reforms, as its middle class expanded, as its citizens traveled abroad, and as its students filled Western universities, political liberalization would inevitably follow. This wasn't just wishful thinking: it seemed to be backed by sophisticated theories about modernization and democratization, supported by case studies from South Korea to Taiwan.
This is not to suggest that all or even most proponents of engagement operated under this assumption, as the strawman version of the longstanding American policy has it. But even if that were the case — if China’s “becoming more like us” were, in fact, the premise and the goal of engagement — any fair-minded observer must acknowledge that one society's “master narrative,” the American one, has shaped the other's development much, much more than the other way around. Not, to be sure, in the way many hoped or expected. But compare China today with China on the eve of Reform and Opening: The transformation is staggering, and much of it reflects the absorption of core elements of American market capitalism, entrepreneurial culture, and certain individualistic values. From its hypercompetitive business culture to its celebration of self-made entrepreneurs — Wang Xing, Lei Jun, and yes, even Jack Ma (who appears to be back in good graces with the Party), and from its embrace of consumer culture to its cultivation of global brands, China has selectively but extensively absorbed elements of the American mentalité.1 Yet it has done so while maintaining — and in some ways strengthening — its distinct political system and many features of its political culture.
And yet something unexpected has begun to emerge. China's development is starting to challenge core American assumptions about political legitimacy. It’s not doing so through push so much as through pull. The longstanding American belief that China would inevitably democratize rested on an assumption of gravitational inevitability: the liberal order was the center of global development, and all nations were drawn toward it. But today, that gravitational pull is weakened and perhaps might indeed be in the process of reversal. Instead of China orbiting the American model, a growing number of Americans now look at China’s governance — not, perhaps, with admiration, but with a reluctant recognition that it works, at least for China: a state that over several decades has delivered growth, stability, and more recently, even cleaner air. This is not just an ideological embarrassment; it could prove to be a profound rupture in the American self-conception.
It doesn’t have to be. China’s rise and this (grudging) admiration now offered by a growing segment of Americans has exacerbated an inherent tension between two core values in the American political culture — that between universalist claims about electoral democracy as the sine qua non of political legitimacy, on the one hand, and a commitment to pluralism on the other. Pluralism, as I’ve noted elsewhere, is something that the U.S. has, at least until very recently, prized in its domestic political order: the laudable belief in diversity and tolerance of multiple perspectives. The question is whether Americans can accept political pluralism at the global level.
Dialing down the universalism and leaning into pluralist traditions in our international outlook depends first on jettisoning deeply entrenched ideas of legitimacy. The big question, then, is whether the U.S. will continue to insist that legitimacy belongs only to those who adopt its political model. China's staggering ascent is forcing that question.
The Coming Collapse of Procedural Legitimacy?
The American conception of political legitimacy is fundamentally procedural. Power is legitimate when it follows established rules: regular elections expressing the will of the people, transparent institutions, and codified laws. This framework has deep roots in Western political thought, from the Enlightenment's emphasis on rational systems and social contracts to Protestant ideas about covenant and consent. It sat in superficial harmony next to pluralist values, but their compatibility had never really been stress-tested. America could see itself as a pluralistic society that welcomed different cultures, religions, and viewpoints while also believing its political system was the inevitable endpoint of history, a model toward which all other nations would eventually gravitate in part because of that tolerant pluralism. It’s an internal logic that’s hard to assail.
In the last century, it was never meaningfully assailed. America faced either outright ideological adversaries (e.g., the Soviet Union) or societies that largely assimilated into the liberal order (e.g., postwar Germany and Japan).
But China presents a wholly different challenge — not because it rejects liberal democracy, but because it does so while succeeding on its own terms.
This procedural view now faces a potential crisis on two fronts. First, China's success could challenge the assumed link between democratic procedures and effective governance. When a non-democratic system — or what China insists is "whole-process democracy" — delivers sustained economic growth, technological innovation, and rising living standards, it raises questions about the relationship between political processes and outcomes. In January of 2025, a wide swath of American youth seemed suddenly to have become aware that China has, to an impressive extent, delivered those things. The “TikTok refugees” on Xiaohongshu and the startling arrival of DeepSeek may prove to have been the catalysts for a narrative shift: one that sees China more positively and sees the power of its technocratic state as a feature, not a bug.
This challenge is arising at a particularly vulnerable moment, as faith in procedural democracy is already eroding within democracies themselves. When American democratic institutions seem incapable of addressing pressing challenges — climate change, inequality, gun violence, an oligarchic takeover of democratic institutions themselves — citizens begin questioning whether following the right procedures is sufficient justification for political authority. China's rise could accelerate this erosion by presenting, even if only passively, an alternative model. Or American institutions, especially the judicial branch, could ride to the rescue and restore faith. That seems depressingly unlikely at the time of writing.
Performance and Political Legitimacy
China’s conception of legitimacy rests on foundations different from America’s. While it does not reject democratic values outright — indeed, it formally embraces “whole-process democracy” and regards democracy as one of its “core socialist values” — it prioritizes outcomes over procedures. Economic development, social stability, and this abstract goal of “national rejuvenation” are the key metrics by which governance is judged.
It’s tempting to see this emphasis on performance legitimacy — the idea that a government’s right to rule is validated by its ability to deliver material improvements and maintain stability — as having deep roots in Chinese political thought. I think, however, that it would be a mistake to see this simply as a warmed-over version of the imperial Mandate of Heaven. The Party’s claim to legitimacy is rooted not just in historical precedent but in the practical experience of a century of upheaval (and, yes, humiliation). The collapse of the Qing dynasty, the chaos of the Republican era, and both the successes and failures of the Mao era all reinforced a national ethos that prioritizes order and effective governance over abstract procedural ideals.
By this measure, China has delivered. The country’s transformation from widespread poverty to the world’s second-largest economy is central to the Party’s legitimacy narrative. Even as economic challenges mount, the Party continues, so far, to maintain public trust through rapid adaptation — investing in technology, social programs, and economic restructuring. China’s unprecedented rise as a manufacturing superpower, going from about 6% of global manufacturing value-add in 2000 to over 30% today, has produced material abundance domestically. It’s not all for export. Meanwhile, the Party’s ability to correct mistakes and respond pragmatically to crises — whether financial shocks, pandemics, or environmental disasters — reinforces its legitimacy among much of the population, at least so far.
This model, however, has inherent contradictions. A government that derives legitimacy from performance must continue to deliver or risk undermining itself. If economic growth slows, if social expectations outpace policy responses, or if corruption erodes public trust, the very foundation of legitimacy is threatened. For now, China’s leadership is acutely aware of these risks, which is why maintaining economic dynamism and social stability remains paramount — and why I would caution against placing too much faith in self-soothing narratives of an inevitable Chinese economic collapse.
Of course, critics will argue that China’s legitimacy is tenuous — tied too closely to economic growth, sustained through repression, or propped up by state-controlled narratives. These are not trivial concerns. But the assumption that legitimacy in China is purely coercive or that it will inevitably unravel misunderstands both the resilience of its governance model and the adaptability of the Party. Even in moments of crisis, China has shown an ability to course-correct, even if belatedly, whether through policy shifts, technocratic adjustments, or selective political reforms. The bigger mistake would be to assume that legitimacy in China functions exactly as it does in the West — or that it is so fragile that one economic downturn will bring the entire system into crisis
So China’s success also raises that uncomfortable question for the United States: If a government delivers prosperity, order, and technological progress, does it matter whether it holds competitive elections? The real danger to democracy is not that authoritarian states are actively challenging the belief that the ballot box is the only path to political legitimacy. The danger is that this is being quietly challenged within democracies themselves. But when elections yield gridlock, when legislatures fail to tackle urgent crises, and when policy is dictated by corporate lobbies rather than public will, who can blame Americans for questioning whether electoral legitimacy is enough?
The rise of “performance legitimacy” as a concept in American discourse — whether in the form of industrial policy, skepticism toward absolute free speech, or the embrace of state intervention in the economy — suggests that, perhaps unintentionally, aspects of China’s governance model are gaining traction.
This shift is particularly visible among younger Americans. Polls show growing disenchantment with democratic institutions, skepticism about the fairness of capitalism, and openness to alternative governance models. The question now is whether this emerging mindset represents a passing disillusionment or the beginning of a deeper ideological shift.
While the American conception of legitimacy is overwhelmingly procedural, it bears noting that the reality is more complex. In moments of national crisis, U.S. governance has often relied on performance legitimacy, implicitly recognizing that procedural democracy alone is not always sufficient to maintain public trust. Franklin D. Roosevelt’s New Deal fundamentally reshaped the social contract, securing legitimacy not just through elections but by delivering economic recovery and social security. Abraham Lincoln, in the face of existential war, suspended habeas corpus and centralized executive power, arguing that preserving the Union was the ultimate test of legitimacy. More recently, the expansion of executive orders, the rise of the administrative state, and even pandemic-era emergency measures suggest that Americans, too, place weight on outcomes.
This raises an uncomfortable question: If Americans have historically accepted performance legitimacy in times of crisis, why is it considered illegitimate in China’s case? The answer likely lies in selective acknowledgment. When performance legitimacy operates within a procedural framework, it is accepted as a necessary adaptation; when it exists outside that framework — as in China — it is often dismissed as mere authoritarian expediency. This cognitive dissonance prevents a more pragmatic approach to China’s governance, in which legitimacy is understood not as a binary (democratic or illegitimate) but as a dynamic negotiation between process and outcomes.
The Stakes of Legitimacy Recognition
The reluctance of many Americans to recognize the legitimacy of China's political system has consequences far beyond academic debate. It shapes policy choices, constrains diplomatic options, and could even make conflict more likely. When a rising power is viewed as fundamentally illegitimate by the established power, every action it takes — from military modernization to economic development — tends to be interpreted in the most threatening light possible.
This dynamic becomes particularly dangerous when combined with what political scientists call the "security dilemma" — where measures taken by one state to increase its security are interpreted by others as aggressive, leading to an escalatory spiral. When filtered through the lens of legitimacy, this spiral can accelerate: If China's system is seen as illegitimate, then its efforts to secure its interests appear more sinister than similar actions taken by democratic states. The assumption of illegitimacy is the fuel for the fire of escalation.
Consider how this plays out in specific domains. When China develops advanced technologies, the response isn't simply about competitive advantage or security implications — it often includes an assumption that these technologies will inevitably be used for authoritarian control because they emerge from an "illegitimate" system. When China builds international institutions or development frameworks, they're frequently dismissed as attempts to undermine the "rules-based order" rather than being evaluated on their merits. Even China's efforts to combat corruption or poverty can be interpreted cynically as mere attempts to shore up illegitimate rule rather than genuine governance improvements. The political scientist Iza Ding has given this tendency a name: authoritarian teleology.2
The Historical Context
This legitimacy gap didn't emerge in a vacuum. The American conception of political legitimacy as primarily procedural evolved through specific historical experiences: the Revolutionary War's rejection of monarchy, the Civil War's preservation of democracy, the triumph over fascism in World War II, and the Cold War victory over Soviet communism. Each of these moments reinforced the belief that democratic procedures were not just preferable but necessary for legitimate governance.
China's emphasis on performance legitimacy similarly reflects its historical path. The Century of Humiliation, the chaos of the Republican period, the trauma of the Cultural Revolution — these experiences helped shape a political culture that prioritizes stability and material progress over procedural democracy. The Reform and Opening period's success in delivering unprecedented economic growth further reinforced the idea that performance could serve as a primary source of legitimacy.
But here we encounter another asymmetry: While China's leadership has studied democratic systems extensively and understands their internal logic, American policymakers and thought leaders have, in general, invested less effort in understanding how China's system functions on its own terms. This knowledge gap compounds the legitimacy gap, making it harder to engage constructively with China's political reality.
Ironically, as America remains fixated on China’s supposed lack of legitimacy, it has quietly begun to absorb aspects of the Chinese mentalité. Performance legitimacy is creeping into American political thought, with Americans of both parties (and those who are understandably frustrated by the two-party system) now asking whether elections alone are enough if they do not produce competent governance. Skepticism toward absolute free speech is growing, with both the left and right advocating for more controlled information environments. The return of industrial policy and state intervention in the economy signals a move away from neoliberal assumptions — an approach that, while still a far cry from China’s state capitalism, moves in that direction.
This is not an ideological conversion but a pragmatic adaptation. As American institutions falter, elements of the Chinese model become more intellectually respectable, even if few openly advocate adopting them wholesale.
To be clear, I see this as a positive development only to a limited extent. Taken far enough, it can dissolve the shackles of universalist thinking on political legitimacy and remove a major obstacle to better relations not just with China but with other less-than-fully-democratic states. Taken too far, it can destroy the intellectual and institutional foundations of the United States.
Beyond Simple Binaries
The legitimacy question becomes even more complex when we look closely at how political systems actually funct
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