Tackling corruption’s the key to stability in China

The dramatic purge of Chongqing boss Bo Xilai had all the drama of a Hollywood movie, but there are

Bo Xilai is a name that until recently few in the UK had even heard of. Although his father is one of the "eight elders of the Chinese Communist Party" and he had grown to be one of the "princelings" who dominate public life, Bo’s work in the 30 million plus city of Chongqing remained off more or less all western radars. Yet his downfall has caught the eye not just because, somewhat surreally, his police chief, Wang Lijun, tried at one point to claim asylum in a US consulate and a well-connected British national was found dead in murky circumstances in a Chongqing hotel room, but because of what it says about the way that China works.

Bo’s easy-going and enthusiastic style masked a populist campaign to bring back "red" songs and rhetoric from the time of the cultural revolution. In policy terms, he waged a war against organised crime – leading to over 2,000 arrests and to the development of an image as an enforcer who could get things done. So much for the image. The reality was somewhat different. Bo played fast and loose with what passes for the rule of law, and many people were sucked without into his anti-corruption campaigns without any chance of legal redress. Indeed, it is not just in Chongquing that the rule of law remains a mercurial thing; Bo was more than happy to ignore it if it helped him advance politically. And he is by no means alone in talking a good game but playing another, much dirtier, one.

The paradox of tackling organised crime by corrupting the political process ultimately led to Bo’s downfall. Yet this is a paradox that is in no way limited to Chongquing. China does poorly in the most authoritative corruption ranking, Transparency International’s Corruption Perceptions Index (the Chinese came a lowly 75th in 2011), and Chinese citizens are very aware that without the right type of "guanxi" (connections or networks) you are unlikely to get much at all done. Indeed, opinion polls regularly suggest that endemic corruption is the issue that Chinese citizens feel most aggrieved about. The Chinese government is well aware of this – it was, after all, student protests at endemic corruption within the Communist Party (CP) that led to the Tiananmen Square massacre of 1989 and the CP leadership knows full well that any future uprising against its rule is much more likely to stem from this source than, say, consternation at any alleged lack of democratic oversight and/or human rights abuses. When living and working in China, you soon realise that – no doubt much to the chagrin of western analysts – those two latter points are of little genuine interest to the majority of Chinese men or women on the street.

It is with this in mind that over the last decade China has become a veritable laboratory of anti-corruption strategies. In 2009 over 30,000 corruption cases were brought before the courts and a small but significant number of individuals have been executed for their misdemeanours; in 2007, for example, Zheng Xiaoyu, the former head of China’s authority for regulating food and medicine, was executed for taking bribes in an attempt to cover up one of the many food contamination scandals that regularly seem to make the headlines in China. Both the government and the wider Chinese population subsequently agree that corruption is a major, if not the major, policy challenge facing the country today.

It is against this background that Bo’s case is so interesting, and so indicative of the challenge China’s elites are facing. Bo talked a great game, and declared war on something – the murky links between mafia-like organisations and public servants – that Chinese citizens really do care about. Yet the system he headed was itself built on corrupt foundations. It has ensured stability for three decades, but this is not a stability that is guaranteed to continue ad infinitum. The same applies over and beyond Chongqing. On paper, the Chinese government has sought to do much that sounds laudable: wide-ranging anti-corruption laws were introduced in 2006 and they were further tightened and expanded in 2010; anti-corruption compliance programmes have been developed; high profile anti-corruption summits have been held. And yet levels of corruption remain stubbornly high.  

On the one hand, Chinese officials want to do everything they can to look like they are reacting to public dissatisfaction with corrupt practices. Hence high-profile figures such as Bo pass laws, chuck people in prison (or simply knock off their heads) and generally stomp around sounding authoritative. But they know that many of the practices that are so abhorred are rooted in their system of governance, and changing this system will by definition weaken their ability to control it. That is simply not an option.

A number of points highlight this. Around 90 per cent of China’s dollar millionaires – of which in 2009 there were around 825,000, a number that is growing by around 15 per cent a year – have a middle or high ranking CP official in their extended family. Powerful vested interests therefore do very well out of the current system, no matter whether they themselves act in a corrupt fashion or not. Furthermore, levels of social capital – no matter how defined – are low, meaning that Chinese citizens often simply expect officials to act in what westerners are likely to understand as a corrupt fashion. Despite a vibrant online community (the Chinese version of Twitter, Weibo, is becoming increasingly hard for the online sensors to manage, for example), Chinese journalists and civil society activists do not really have the teeth to keep officials in check. CP managers up the food chain may hang certain individuals out to dry, but the lack of transparency in decision-making and the murky line of accountability ensures that these are the exceptions that prove the rule. Levels of trust in both institutions and in civil servants are therefore lower than elsewhere, and petty corruption is now seen as part of everyday life.  

So what can we learn from Bo’s downfall? Firstly, China’s system of crony capitalism is built on a myriad of corrupt relationships. If you want to get to the top of this system, then you have to know how to play it – and that makes it virtually impossible to launch anything approaching a meaningful anti-corruption campaign. Corruption is at the system’s core. Whilst the system works, questions of legitimacy are not important. If – no, when – growth stalls, then these relationships will be questioned, and the instability that many in the CP fear more than anything else could quickly become a reality.

Secondly, and linked with this, it is important not just to look at what is said, or even what is written on paper, but to see how anti-corruption strategies and mechanisms (do or don’t) work in practice. The well-developed sets of anti-corruption laws in China will, for example, remain ineffective for as long as they can be contravened, side-stepped or just plain ignored by the state’s favoured sons (and daughters). Providing that you look after your support base, then princelings such as Bo Xilai can, and do, have little trouble in doing this. The challenge of remedying corruption in China therefore actually has one big similarity with that facing other countries; good governance structures – with transparency and accountability at their core, based around a consistent set of rules that allows no exemptions – are the key. And China – despite its recent economic boom – remains a long way from that right now.

Newspapers report on the arrest of Bo Xilai. Credit: AFP/Getty

Dr Dan Hough is Professor of Politics at the University of Sussex and Director of the Sussex Centre for the Study of Corruption

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Harmful gender stereotypes in ads have real impact – so we're challenging them

The ASA must make sure future generations don't recoil at our commercials.

July’s been quite the month for gender in the news. From Jodie Whittaker’s casting in Doctor Who, to trains “so simple even women can drive them”, to how much the Beeb pays its female talent, gender issues have dominated. 

You might think it was an appropriate time for the Advertising Standards Authority (ASA) to launch our own contribution to the debate, Depictions, Perceptions and Harm: a report on gender stereotypes in advertising, the result of more than a year’s careful scrutiny of the evidence base.

Our report makes the case that, while most ads (and the businesses behind them) are getting it right when it comes to avoiding damaging gender stereotypes, the evidence suggests that some could do with reigning it in a little. Specifically, it argues that some ads can contribute to real world harms in the way they portray gender roles and characteristics.

We’re not talking here about ads that show a woman doing the cleaning or a man the DIY. It would be most odd if advertisers couldn’t depict a woman doing the family shop or a man mowing the lawn. Ads cannot be divorced from reality.

What we’re talking about is ads that go significantly further by, for example, suggesting through their content and context that it’s a mum’s sole duty to tidy up after her family, who’ve just trashed the house. Or that an activity or career is inappropriate for a girl because it’s the preserve of men. Or that boys are not “proper” boys if they’re not strong and stoical. Or that men are hopeless at simple parental or household tasks because they’re, well...men.

Advertising is only a small contributor to gender stereotyping, but a contributor it is. And there’s ever greater recognition of the harms that can result from gender stereotyping. Put simply, gender stereotypes can lead us to have a narrower sense of ourselves – how we can behave, who we can be, the opportunities we can take, the decisions we can make. And they can lead other people to have a narrower sense of us too. 

That can affect individuals, whatever their gender. It can affect the economy: we have a shortage of engineers in this country, in part, says the UK’s National Academy of Engineering, because many women don’t see it as a career for them. And it can affect our society as a whole.

Many businesses get this already. A few weeks ago, UN Women and Unilever announced the global launch of Unstereotype Alliance, with some of the world’s biggest companies, including Proctor & Gamble, Mars, Diageo, Facebook and Google signing up. Advertising agencies like JWT and UM have very recently published their own research, further shining the spotlight on gender stereotyping in advertising. 

At the ASA, we see our UK work as a complement to an increasingly global response to the issue. And we’re doing it with broad support from the UK advertising industry: the Committees of Advertising Practice (CAP) – the industry bodies which author the UK Advertising Codes that we administer – have been very closely involved in our work and will now flesh out the standards we need to help advertisers stay on the right side of the line.

Needless to say, our report has attracted a fair amount of comment. And commentators have made some interesting and important arguments. Take my “ads cannot be divorced from reality” point above. Clearly we – the UK advertising regulator - must take into account the way things are, but what should we do if, for example, an ad is reflecting a part of society as it is now, but that part is not fair and equal? 

The ad might simply be mirroring the way things are, but at a time when many people in our society, including through public policy and equality laws, are trying to mould it into something different. If we reign in the more extreme examples, are we being social engineers? Or are we simply taking a small step in redressing the imbalance in a society where the drip, drip, drip of gender stereotyping over many years has, itself, been social engineering. And social engineering which, ironically, has left us with too few engineers.

Read more: Why new rules on gender stereotyping in ads benefit men, too

The report gave news outlets a chance to run plenty of well-known ads from yesteryear. Fairy Liquid, Shake 'n' Vac and some real “even a woman can open it”-type horrors from decades ago. For some, that was an opportunity to make the point that ads really were sexist back then, but everything’s fine on the gender stereotyping front today. That argument shows a real lack of imagination. 

History has not stopped. If we’re looking back at ads of 50 years ago and marvelling at how we thought they were OK back then, despite knowing they were products of their time, won’t our children and grandchildren be doing exactly the same thing in 50 years’ time? What “norms” now will seem antiquated and unpleasant in the future? We think the evidence points to some portrayals of gender roles and characteristics being precisely such norms, excused by some today on the basis that that’s just the way it is.

Our report signals that change is coming. CAP will now work on the standards so we can pin down the rules and official guidance. We don’t want to catch advertisers out, so we and CAP will work hard to provide as much advice and training as we can, so they can get their ads right in the first place. And from next year, we at the ASA will make sure those standards are followed, taking care that our regulation is balanced and wholly respectful of the public’s desire to continue to see creative ads that are relevant, entertaining and informative. 

You won’t see a sea-change in the ads that appear, but we hope to smooth some of the rougher edges. This is a small but important step in making sure modern society is better represented in ads.

Guy Parker is CEO of the ASA