American historian Anne Applebaum coined the term “Autocracy, Inc.” to describe government leaders around the world who function like an agglomeration of like-minded people. They are not united by ideology but by a ruthless, single-minded determination to maintain their personal power. Autocracy, no doubt, has become fashionable nowadays, so much so that even US President Donald Trump would love to join the club.

However, determining who the world’s number one autocrat is is not an easy task. Is it the one who is most ruthless? Or the one that has accumulated more personal power? How about the one whose country wields more international might? Undoubtedly, harshness and a domineering nature are necessary requirements to qualify for the group. However, the defining element must come from the degree of global power held by the nation they lead. Nicaraguan President Daniel Ortega — even if utterly callous and oppressive — could never aspire to be at the top of the list.

Xi Jinping’s autocracy

If that is the case, the prize undoubtedly goes to Chinese President Xi Jinping. To understand how the world’s leading autocracy operates, it is essential to analyze Xi’s comprehensive control over the country, considering both the negative and positive aspects that may arise from it.

The 20th Party Congress, held in October 2022, marked a significant milestone for Xi in establishing this comprehensive control. During this event, Xi was formally reelected as President, thus ending the ten-year-term limit for the nation’s top leader. Although this limit had already been eliminated in 2018 via a constitutional amendment imposed by Xi, his formal reelection entailed crossing the Rubicon (i.e., the point of no return). Unsurprisingly, China’s expert adjunct professor at the Chinese University of Hong Kong, Willy Lam, asserted that “Xi Jinping has become a sort of emperor for life”.

To reach that point, Xi first had to overturn the system of collective leadership that had governed the country for decades. Former leader of the People’s Republic of China (PRC), Deng Xiaoping, established the system after the death of Mao Zedong (the founder of the PRC), with the intention of preventing the excessive concentration of power in a single figure. 

Although Deng asserted himself as the “Paramount Leader” and retained some fundamental decision-making authority, he increasingly encouraged the Politburo Standing Committee to rule collectively during the 1980s. This indeed became the nature of the Chinese ruling system under his successors, Jiang Zemin and Hu Jintao, who were just first among equals.

Decision-making under such conditions required compromise and consensus among the nine members that made up the Politburo Standing Committee. Not long after being elected, Xi managed to reduce the Committee to seven members, subduing the other six into accepting his voice as the only one that counted. Even the management of the economy, normally entrusted to the Prime Minister, passed into his hands. Surpassing even Deng’s power, the degree of political control attained by Xi became comparable only to that of Mao Zedong.

A three-step process was responsible for this change. First, his sweeping anti-corruption campaign — through which he removed his rivals — was able to intimidate the other members of the Committee. Second, he created and personally chaired the so-called “Leading Small Groups”, through which he bypassed the Standing Committee. Third, by 2016, he had the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) formally declare him as “core” leader.

By 2017, the 19th Party Congress had enshrined his name and ideology (“Xi Jinping Thought ”) within the Party Constitution, a privilege previously reserved only for Mao. The following year, term limits for the presidency were abolished, clearing the way for Xi to rule indefinitely. Finally, his reelection in 2022. On that occasion, Xi stacked the Standing Committee and the Politburo entirely with loyalists.

Overcoming systemic risks

The key question to be asked is how Xi’s autocracy has impacted the effectiveness of the CCP regime. The truth is that, from the start of his rule, the regime suffered from multiple systemic risks — a collective mandate equated to weak leadership. Weak leadership, in turn, resulted in overly powerful factions. These were represented by the Tuanpai or Youth League faction, the technocrats graduated from Tsinghua University, the so-called Shanghai gang and the princelings or heirs to former party leaders.

Overly powerful factions meant a constant struggle between vested interests vying for dominance. More significantly, weak political leadership led to two additional problems. The first: an armed force (the People’s Liberation Army [PLA]) that was utterly detached from civilian control. That is, a virtually autonomous armed force. The second: a regime that lacked the strength to stand firm against an increasingly vociferous nationalism of public opinion.

The first of such problems was severe enough. Indeed, when Xi Jinping came to power in 2012, there was concern that the civilian leadership was no longer in a position to control the military. Meanwhile, the party was plagued by corruption and internal power struggles that threatened to lead to fragmentation. The fear that the country’s control of the Chinese Communist Party has entered a countdown was palpable. Not surprisingly, the last chapter of Singapore’s well-known journalist Peh Shing Huei’s 2014 book on China was titled “Will the Party End?”.

Xi used his anti-corruption campaign not only to address this particular and pressing issue, but also as a means to eliminate his rivals and consolidate his power over the factions. Beyond the civilian establishment, the campaign also served as a proper tool to subdue the military’s independence.

The sheer scale of his anti-corruption crusade defied imagination, with millions of civilian party members and military officers being investigated and sanctioned. Not even members of the party’s powerful Politburo or the cabinet were spared from this onslaught. At the same time, more than two dozen high-ranking generals were sanctioned.

Furthermore, Xi’s militant and assertive nationalism has served to create a connection with a public opinion that exhibits strong nationalist tendencies and desires for its country to be respected globally. Indeed, according to the Chinese Citizens’ Global Perception Survey 2025, 72% of those surveyed believed that China was the most influential global power. Xi’s position has thus helped to restore the party’s legitimacy in the eyes of its population.

Autocracy’s inherent risks

It would seem, thus, that Xi’s autocracy brought overly powerful and fractious factions and the increasingly independent military under control, while restoring the party’s damaged legitimacy. However, things are not so simple. The collective leadership system entailed a simultaneous institutionalized mechanism of governance and succession. Under autocratic leadership, not only do the limits on a single figure’s power disappear, but so do the limits on the length of his term.

Autocracy has its own inherent risks. For every Deng Xiaoping or Lee Kuan Yew (former Prime Minister of Singapore) — extremely efficient autocrats who brought about immense advances in their societies — there are dozens of autocrats who have led theirs to decline or collapse. That becomes the obvious risk when the fear imposed by an all-powerful figure doesn’t allow bad news from flowing into the top, when the errors of judgment of a single person affect the entire system or when getting rid of a bad leader ceases to be an option.

The fact is that Xi has created multiple problems for his country, both on the economic and international fronts. His zero-COVID policy, initially presented as a success, turned out to be an utter failure. Inflexibility in changing course translated into a drastic deceleration of the country’s economic growth and the fracturing of its supply chains.

Compounding the long lockdown imposed by this policy, other policies, such as the overregulation of the country’s private sector, particularly in the high-tech industry (where the bulk of its productivity resides), and the imposition of restrictions on foreign investments, led to a serious economic downturn.

Both private consumption of durable goods and private investment fell dramatically, while a worrying deflationary trend emerged. Xi’s emphasis on security over economics didn’t help much. Adam Posen, President of the Peterson Institute for International Economics, spoke of an “economic long Covid”, represented by a decline in household and business confidence, brought on by rigid and arbitrary government intervention.

Under Xi Jinping’s leadership, China has also become increasingly assertive in relation to its regional geopolitical aspirations, boasting about its capabilities and global goals, and confrontational in its international interactions. Moreover, China began showing a linear rigidity in its actions that contradicted the sagacity that had been the country’s trademark during much of the preceding decades. All of it invited a massive reaction.

The hedgehog or the fox?

The country (at least before Trump 2.0 turned America’s alliances upside down) was confronted by a gigantic geostrategic containment block, integrated by nations, mechanisms and organizations of four continents. As a result of Xi’s actions, the costs associated with the attainment of China’s regional and global objectives skyrocketed.

All of this relates to British philosopher Isaiah Berlin’s famous metaphoric distinction between the hedgehog and the fox. As he explained, while the spiky creature subordinates everything to a single central vision, the soft-hairy fox pays more attention to the swamps, deserts and chasms that might appear along the way.

By rigidly and obsessively following the dream of national rejuvenation — when the country would attain global leadership — Xi’s China is clearly following the hedgehog path. The inflexibility shown in this regard has not only substantially increased the costs of achieving its aims, but also goes against the subtle cleverness normally associated with that ancient civilization. One, where the attributes of the fox, and not those of the hedgehog, have been traditionally praised.

But not only is China unavoidably stuck with this rigid autocracy, with no change in sight, but the risks regarding Xi’s succession are unmistakably high. Should this overweight and overworked septuagenarian die, the country would be in great danger.

The complexities of political succession under Xi Jinping

Indeed, throughout its history, the PRC has experienced several traumatic episodes of political succession. From the mysterious death of Lin Piao (Mao’s first designated heir) to the arrest of the so-called “Gang of Four” who attempted to seize power upon his death, to the political marginalization of Mao’s last appointed successor, Hua Guofeng and the ostracism of Deng’s first designated successor, Zhao Ziyang, this has always been a complex chapter under the CCP regime. By abandoning the institutional and predictable rules of succession inherent in a renewable and collective leadership, the risk of leaping into the void has increased significantly.

From the Chinese communist regime’s perspective, Xi Jinping’s autocracy represents a mixed bag. On the one hand, it has clearly unified the party, restored its control over the PLA and increased its legitimacy in the eyes of the people. On the other hand, however, it has set in motion the spiral of risks normally associated with regimes where a single figure monopolizes power.

Xi’s political rigidity and the lack of alternatives to his leadership have multiplied the country’s problems both domestically and externally. Furthermore, the dangers involved in his succession have skyrocketed. Ultimately, while Xi Jinping’s autocratic approach has brought certain efficiencies and a semblance of stability, it has also deepened vulnerabilities that may pose significant challenges to China’s future governance and global standing.

[Kaitlyn Diana edited this piece.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.