Understanding the Power of China’s National Social Credit System: A Structural/Mechanism Explanation

1. What is China’s National Social Credit System?

Since 2017, China’s Social Credit System (SCS), as a major national project of social control, has become an eye-catching subject in the anglophone world, accompanied by continuous news coverage on its latest development. ¹ Yet, to this day, the vast majority of academic literature has mainly focused on its perceived insufficiencies in the legal framework (Wang 2020), its intricate yet fragmented institutional design at both state and local levels (Ahmed 2018; Creemers 2018; Ohlberg, Ahmed, and Lang 2017), its implications on modes of governance (with a notable reactivation of moral discourse) (Dai 2018; Kostka and Antoine 2020), the surprisingly supportive domestic public opinion (Kostka 2019), its somewhat unimpressive technological application and tenuous relationships with major big-tech companies (Mac Síthigh and Siems 2019), and its limited social impact on local citizens in pilot and model cities (Drinhausen and Brussee 2021), etc. In addition, different scholars also have mixed views on its future development, based on their segmented understandings of the overall SCS project. However, what I believe to be the most significant, yet currently underemphasized aspect—the issue this paper seeks to address—is to what extent does the national SCS, especially its sole nationwide administrative penalty system, the Blacklist and Joint Punishment (BJP) system, influence the lives of the Chinese citizens? ²

Indeed, several scholars (Chorzempa, Triolo, and Sacks 2018; Daum 2017; Drinhausen and Brussee 2021; Engelmann et al. 2019; Knight and Creemers 2021; Liang et al. 2018; Liu 2019) have highlighted two primary motivations of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) leaders in promoting the SCS project. Politically, it serves to ensure Chinese citizen’s compliance with legally prescribed obligations, particularly in the performance of contractual commitments like bank loan repayment. Ideologically, it aims to “promote the virtue of honesty and condemn dishonesty,” thereby reinforcing a mainstream value system for people to follow and positioning the CCP as a guardian of Chinese traditional culture. In this sense, the BJP system, which employs online public shaming platforms and automated punitive-restrictive measures to sanction and deter Chinese citizens, stands as the most emblematic representation of the whole project.

In practice, the “Blacklist system,” officially known as “the List of Dishonest Persons,” publicly shames every blacklisted individual identified as having engaged in “dishonest behavior,” such as bank loan default. This is achieved by publicizing their names and certain personal details on official platforms like “Credit China” and “China’s Enforcement Information Open Network,” without issuing any intricate “credit scores.” The system was primarily constructed by the Supreme People’s Court in July 2013 and is jointly operated by the officials from the judiciary and administration. To amplify the effects of public shaming, the Court has collaborated with the China’s Central Propaganda Department (CPD) to release news reports and social media content that stigmatizes the blacklisted people as “deadbeat,” or laolai (老赖), publicizing their personal details and “dishonest behaviors.”

Furthermore, the “Joint Punishment” system uniformly applies the same types of sanctions to every “deadbeat,” regardless of the degree of their offenses, such as the size of their defaulted bank loans. Some of these sanction measures, like hurdles in loan applications, obtaining government support, property purchases, acquiring honorary titles, launching new businesses, and securing jobs in specific sectors, can be found in the Western world. However, others are considerably more contentious, curtailing individuals’ freedoms related to mobility, consumption, and residence. These severe punishments encompass police detentions lasting up to 15 days and restrictions like prohibitions on frequenting nightclubs, sending children to private schools, purchasing high-value insurance products, utilizing flights and high-speed trains, and registering at certain hotels.

Ultimately, with the robust backing of this technologically-enhanced social control infrastructure, the influence of the national SCS was unstoppable. As of 2019, it had already blacklisted and sanctioned over 14.43 million Chinese citizens (1.04 percent of the entire population), a majority of whom were owners of Small and Medium-size Enterprises who failed to meet legal obligation, such as repaying bank loans (National Public Credit Information Center 2019). What is even more concerning is that when a person is branded as a “deadbeat,” their details are also mandatorily displayed on widely-used online business information websites like “Qichacha,” “Tianyancha,” and “Qixinbao.” Furthermore, at the behest of the China’s Central Propaganda Department, their blacklisting details would intermittently appear on major mainstream social media like “TikTok” and “Sina Weibo” and online news platforms like “Today’s Headline” and “Tencent News,” for ensuring of public visibility. Hence, given its profound impact and associated controversies, this article endeavors to use the Structural/Mechanism Explanation (SME) to forecast the specific ways in which the powerful national SCS influences the lives of the blacklisted people within the prevailing political-ideological structure, across legislative, administrative, judicial, and propaganda spheres. But before diving into this, let us first discuss the characteristics and advantages of this evolving social science methodology.

2. What Is “Structural/Mechanism” Explanation?

Drawing from insights by Chinese sociologist Zhao (2019) and numerous others, there has been a discernable shift in the American sociology after Merton (1949 [1967])’s groundbreaking introduction of the middle-range theory, with “Mechanism-based Explanation” (ME) began to dominate the field after a wave of “sweeping movement” (e.g., Elster 1989; Hedström and Swedberg 1998; McAdam, Tarrow, and Tilly 2001; Norkus 2005; Nullmeier and Kuhlmann 2022; Ylikoski 2017). In addressing this undue phenomenon, I present this section a rapidly evolving Social Science Methodology known as “Structural/Mechanism Explanation” (SME), originally proposed by Zhao (2015, 2019, 2021). In short, I wholeheartedly endorse ME for its commendable emphasis on extracting causal patterns from observed social phenomena, which is integral in “providing good explanation” (Hedström and Ylikoski 2010). Upon that, I reflect on the limitations of a solely ME-centric approach and introduce the idea and benefits of “social structure.” Being the macrolevel condition, “structure” plays a pivotal role in both “incentivizing and disincentivizing the emergence of many key mechanisms,” making it irreplaceable in forecasting the emergence and demise of social phenomena.

Hedström and Ylikoski (2010, 50) offers a succinct definition on ME in “Causal Mechanisms in the Social Science,” arguing that good social explanation should lay out the cogs and wheels of the causal processes that results in the outcome being explained. By uncovering these actual causal patterns underlying social phenomena, ME therefore commits to the existence of entities—namely, the agents (including both actors and institutions), their actions, and their interrelations—that its descriptions refer to. It aligns with the type of real-world effect of phenomenon it explains, illuminates the black box, and tracts relations of counterfactual dependency.

A recent example is Lizardo (2023)’s microlevel analysis of “culture” as a social phenomenon. From the perspective of ME, abstract concepts such as “culture” is always manifested somewhere in the social world—primarily in individuals and indirectly in their relationships and artifacts. Every “cultural phenomenon” can therefore be broken down into its lower-level components: the interactions of people, their relationships, and processes of learning, memory, and practice. Ultimately, it is these phenomena occurring within agents that lead to distinct ideas, behaviors, and lifestyles in different regions and times.

Furthermore, a robust ME typically begins with an intricate analysis of an individual case—or a small amount of event—as one would aim to identify the factors and mechanisms involved in the outcomes of interest. Then, they would search for common processes in multiple cases and consider if existing theories of social processes apply to the observed outcomes (George and Bennett 2005; Nullmeier and Kuhlmann 2022). The value of this approach lies in using the ME extracted from social phenomena as empirical evidence to simulate the recurrence of such phenomena.

Lastly, and perhaps most intriguingly, the academic backdrop which incentivized the development of ME was scholars’ desires to resolve the shortcomings of the “covering-law account of explanation” when it came to “explaining large-scale social-historical process” (Hempel 1965). As Little (2015) points out, a significant historiographic theme over the past two decades has been a shift away from causal, structural, or systemic explanations of large-scale processes and outcomes, moving toward a narrative interpretation of singular social processes. Many have voiced profound skepticism about the sheer feasibility of large-scale structural, dynamic, or systemic explanations of social processes. The root cause of this lies in the central deficiencies of such “grand theory” explanations: it exhibits propensities for single-factor explanations and lean toward deterministic explanations (which overlook multiplicity and contingency), by providing universalistic explanatory hypotheses, yet they frequently end up obfuscating, rather than shedding light on, the sequence of events being studied. Hence, Little (2015, 473) sees social scientist should orient more toward “uncovering the genuine inner mechanics of various phenomena than in seeking high-level generalization.” However, does this suggest a complete renunciation of studying the macrolevel social structure? Not necessarily. To simply put, I insist that a comprehensive understanding of the composition of macrostructures is of paramount importance for social scientist to causally forecast the highly probable emergence and demise of multiple MEs, and the underlying social phenomena they signify.

It is worth referencing two simple yet apt examples provided by Zhao (2019) in “On the Status and Limitations of Mechanism Explanation in Sociology.” First, how to account for the reasons behind the declining quality of primary and secondary education in the US? And second, how to understand the economic underdevelopment in Africa? On the one hand, within the realm of sociology of education, numerous American researchers have been dedicated to analyzing the detailed mechanistic relationship between methods of K-12 education and its quality. However, if one knows beforehand about the macrostructure, i.e., the impoverished neighborhoods which lack the necessary resources and environment to hire quality educators, it becomes easy to causally forecast the emergence of such phenomena. On the other hand, in experimental sociology, scholars have conducted variety of experiments in Africa and other developing countries. Their goal has been to prove that high transaction costs, which impede economic growth in these countries, can be resolved through relatively simple methods, such as fostering greater mutual trust among businesspeople or exposing them to advanced ideas. However, if one is aware of the external constraints of international politics and the lag in nation-building and state construction, then none of this would appear so unexpected (Zhao and Hall 1994).

So how should we understand macrostructure? My perspective, which aligns with the views of Little (2000) and Zhao (2021), is that macrostructure, like microlevel mechanism, is actually “brought into light” by the actions of significant agents. By such act of “creation,” I am referring to the “emergence” of “social phenomena” that can only be observed at a higher societal level (rather than individual-action level)—it is just that microlevel social mechanisms are subordinated to macrostructure (Zhao 2021). Thus, in reality, political leaders, entrepreneurs, inventors, activists, celebrities, and philosophers have the capacity to influence not just everyday social phenomena but also the course of development in particular historical contexts. The results of their actions can form a series of institutional arrangements that become macrolevel conditions leading to the occurrence of multiple (rather than single) social phenomena and are observed by scholars in the form of mechanisms. Since a given institutional arrangement still leaves room for strategic choices by these significant individuals and collective actors (Nullmeier and Kuhlmann 2022; Ylikoski 2017), the emergence and demise of macrostructure, like microlevel mechanisms, are inevitably contingent (rather than over-deterministic), subjective to the contingent actions of these agents.

Most interestingly, often these significant, special series of agents’ actions leading to macrostructural shifts are of unintended consequences. For instance, the losses of the two Opium Wars for China from the 1840s to the 1860s did not lead to any substantial structural changes in politics or mainstream social thought, but the Qing government humiliating defeat in the 1895 Sino-Japanese War immediately triggered intellectuals, local gentry, wealthy merchants, and even some elite officials nationwide to fundamentally reflect and criticize China’s over-two-thousand-year-old “imperial tradition.” They began to embrace new Western ideas of modern political system and moral principles, and this inadvertently became an ideological structure that contributed to the success of Xinhai Revolution in 1911 and later May Fourth Movement in 1919, and inadvertently leading to the demise of the Qing Dynasty and, at least temporarily, ending the “Legalist imperial tradition” as a political structure.

Indeed, the reason that macrostructure is useful in causally forecasting the probable recurrence and demise of certain social phenomena is because it incentivizes mechanisms to occur while disincentivizing others. As a cliché quote goes, “history never repeats itself, but it often rhymes.” When examining mechanisms through a structural lens, I see that history does often rhymes, despite agents always have alternative path available to them, because the macrostructures of distinct historical periods can exhibit striking resemblances (This certainly illuminates the intellectual value of studying Chinese political-ideological history in understanding the present day, as Zhou (2021), Wang (2022), and Zhao (2015) have all been keen on doing).

For instance, both Imperial and contemporary China boast politically authoritarian regimes complemented by efficient bureaucratic systems. And in both periods, Confucian doctrines are mostly recognized by the Chinese people as the predominant social thoughts. When such similarities arise, certain recurrent social mechanisms are more likely to emerge. A case in point is the widespread acceptance by Chinese citizens, both in Imperial and contemporary period, of formal sanctions and information public shaming when these are levied by the state’s administrative branch and propaganda campaign. Conversely, some other mechanisms, such as anti-authoritarian movements, may fade as time passes, especially when pro-liberal state leaders lose power and liberal ideas fail to garner substantial support from the general public—notable examples of this includes the unsuccessful outcomes of the May Fourth Movement in 1919 and the Tiananmen Square Student Movement in 1989.

So, if we integrate Structure and Mechanism to examine China’s national SCS, what insights might we gain? In my view, a compelling starting point, which highlights the recurring pattern or “rhymes” in Chinese history, is precisely this persistent centralization of political and ideological power in the hands of the Chinese rulers, which often results in the re-emergence of a Legalist-Confucianist macrostructure.

It is easy to grasp that due to the obvious disparities in the political-ideological macrostructure of China and Western nations—specially, China’s “Legalist authoritarian regime” contrasted with the West’s “constitutional democratic regime,” and China’s “Confucianist ideology” versus the West’s “liberalist ideology”—the CCP leaders can introduce and implement a national social credit system, imposing stringent administrative penalties on their citizens without provoking significant public protest. In contrast, Western leaders, especially those in the US, simply cannot legitimately pursue such measures with the same level of public acceptance (Lauer 2017). ³

As mentioned, all mechanisms arise from a series of actions taken by agents. This certainly includes the actions of the CCP leaders and government officials in drafting, implementing, and promoting the BJP system in a top-down manner, as well as the Chinese people’s compliance or resistance to such severe administrative penalties. (The specifics of these mechanisms will be analyzed in Section 3.) Nonetheless, with their given macrostructure, certain sequences of actions—and therefore certain social mechanisms—are more likely to occur than others. Thus, while a blacklisted person might in theory rally others to protest collectively against the national SCS, they are unlikely to take such a step (and to date, no such protest has taken place in China). This reluctance stems from an understanding that, given the current authoritarian background, any such protest could lead to a severe crackdown, if not additional penalties. Furthermore, many might align with Confucian ethics, internally chastising themselves, driven either by personal conviction or societal pressure, for failing to honor their debts. In contrast, the constitutional system of Western countries inherently protects the right to protest. In such settings, harsh administrative penalties and public shaming are viewed through a liberalist prism as “infringement on citizen’s civil right.” Consequently, if a system akin to the national SCS were to be introduced in the West, it is highly likely that massive social protests would erupt.

Chinese history demonstrates repeatedly that, whenever a political leader secures his/her political power, s/he always incline to expand their influence over possessors of other power sources from other sites, most notably by seeking and monopolizing the ideological power for their own use (Zhao 2015). This is because to sustain political domination, they often need the legitimizing capacity to justify and glorify their actions. Without this, they must either deliver on promised public good and meet performance expectation, follow certain welcoming political procedure (Zhao 2009), or resort to using violent means to suppress or intimidate those who dissent, a strategy that Weber (1921–22 [1978]) rightly pointed out is rarely sustainable in the long run. Of course, the type of power an ideology offers can either bolster or constrain political power, depending on its specific content. While the liberalist idea of popular sovereignty pushes Western states toward democratic and constitutional governance, pro-autocratic concepts found in Confucianism, Leninism, Maoism, Xi Jinping Thought, and the like, serve to justify the absolute power of the Chinese rulers.

Thus, in both Imperial and contemporary China, and particularly when comes to drafting and enforcing national projects in times when promised (economic) performance becomes harder to deliver, pro-autocratic ideologies have always been the primary auxiliary tool for political domination. Historically, 70 years after the Han Dynasty’s ascendancy in 221 BCE, the political elites persisted in their endorsement of the realpolitik Legalist political tradition inherited from the earlier Qin dynasty. They based their social control on harsh dominating techniques, often through draconian laws and strict punishments, while simultaneously elevated Confucianism to be the status of a prevailing ideology. The rationale behind this was the Confucian justification for the hierarchical disparity between rulers and their subjects, advocating for the unquestioned compliance of the masses to their leaders. In the contemporary era, particularly after the turbulence of the Cultural Revolution which concluded in 1976, there was a restoration of a competent state bureaucracy under an authoritarian framework. This system’s legitimacy was further bolstered following the Tiananmen Square events of 1989. This trajectory was complemented by a revival of Confucian values during the tenure of the Hu-Wen administration starting in 2004, and subsequently, under Xi Jinping’s leadership from 2014 onward, there was a pronounced emphasis on “cultural confidence” (Kubat 2018; Lee 2010). Such is the emergence and formation process of the “Legalist-Confucianist” structure in contemporary China.

Indeed, the national SCS emerges directly from this Legalist-Confucianist structure. The Joint Punishment system manifests as a centralized, authoritative regulations, diligently implemented through the state’s administrative machinery. In contrast, the Blacklist system acts as informal tool for public shaming, celebrating those who are “honest” while stigmatizing the “dishonest.” Together, the BJP system serves multiple purposes: as a “public good” that motivates the Chinese citizenry to uphold contractual obligations like repaying loan debt; as an “instrument of domination” that aims to reestablish social and market equilibrium; and as a “propaganda device” that portrays the CCP as the guardian of traditional culture and virtue. Naturally, the CCP leaders would expect the public to comply with their sanctions, internalize the endorsed ideology, and spontaneously criticize the “dishonest” in their daily interactions. However, does the tangible social influence of the national SCS merely echo this hierarchical “command-compliance mechanism”? This probing question underpins the discussions in Section 3.

3. A Structural/Mechanism Explanation on the Power of the National Social Credit System

The previous Section provided a comprehensive overview about SME regarding how, by analyzing the components of the macrostructures, one can more or less confidently forecast the emergence or absence of certain social mechanisms. In this Section, I will apply the SME to interpret how a revitalized “Legalist political structure paired with Confucianist ideological structure” can predict the mechanisms through which the national SCS impacts the lives of those who are blacklisted, spanning legislative, administrative, judicial, and propaganda spheres. Here, it is imperative to highlight upfront that the subsequent analysis deliberately omits “non-institutionalized social protest” as a mean through which the Chinese populace exerts its influence. This exclusion is not just because, as previously mentioned, no social protests related to the SCS have transpired, but also because social protest, given its non-institutional nature, can theoretically arise in response to any national initiative. Indeed, social protests are a prevalent avenue for the Chinese public to advocate for their rightful interests against the government bodies, primarily because formalized channels for public feedback are often nonexistent or intentionally shut down within the Legalist (authoritarian) political framework (D. Fu 2018). However, due to its current absence and its inherent universality, I do not find it pertinent to account for this aspect while examining the diverse power mechanisms intrinsically tied to the distinct nature of the national SCS.

Firstly, let me begin by examining the legislative branch in China and explaining how a top-down “command-compliance mechanism” emerges as state officials monopolize the legislative process. Intuitively, an “institutionalized democratic negotiation mechanism” seems most plausible within the macrostructure of “liberal democracy,” which, according to Schumpeter (1942 [1962], 269)’s definition, refers specifically to “an institutional arrangement for arriving at political decisions, which individuals acquire the power to decide using a competitive struggle for the people’s vote.” In contrast, under the “Legalist-Confucianist” structure of contemporary China, legislative officials are neither directly elected in general elections nor indirectly by a legislature. Instead, they are chosen through the process of “internal appointment” by their superiors or predecessors, namely, the top CCP leaders (Svolik 2012). As a result, the negotiation process for any national project, such as the optimal design of the national SCS, is exclusively conducted “behind the scenes” by the CCP leaders and their expert advisors. These agents are the sole de facto power holders, and neither the Chinese public nor their political representatives have any say or to voice their interests in the process.

Certainly, China possesses its own parliament, the National People’s Congress (NPC), to be its fundamental legislative body. However, its over three thousand members are de facto handpicked directly by their superior CCP leaders (Feng 2017). They convene only once a year for 2 weeks during which is known as the “two sessions.” This infrequency renders the institution extremely ineffective for substantive national policy discussions. In fact, under such a Legalist political structure, its primary function appears to be channeling citizen grievances and acting as an information conduit, allowing CCP leaders to respond at their discretion (Truex 2016). Actual legislative power, for endeavors like designing the national SCS, is often shifted by the Deputy members of the NPC to “expert advisors.” These include legal officials from the Supreme People’s Court (SPC) and Supreme People’s Procuratorate (SPP). These officials are either Party members themselves or are appointed by CCP leaders to execute their directives (Feng 2012). While CCP leaders may not draft national projects themselves, they rely on the specialized knowledge of these legal experts. They can command these experts to introduce “judicial interpretations,” which become formal regulations everyone must adhere to. This includes the “Several Provisions of the Supreme People’s Court on Announcing the Information of List of Dishonest Persons” (2013) and “Several Provisions on Restricting ‘High Consumption’ and Related Consumption of Dishonest Persons” (2016). Both are foundational documents for the establishment of the national SCS (Jin 2010).

It is worth recalling that during the Hu-Wen administration (2002–12), CCP leaders have been routinely considering public opinions on major national issues—particularly those that affected the livelihood of the population and societal stability (Lei 2018). At the time, they even adopted practices from liberal democracies by introducing the “notice-and-comment rulemaking process” on various social media platforms, such as Sina Weibo and Tianya BBS. This allowed them to actively seek and gather public opinions before drafting and implementing national policies (He and Thøgersen 2010; Truex 2016). However, since Xi Jinping came into power in 2012/13 and successfully consolidated power in the following years, these institutionalized channels of collecting public opinion have gradually been phased out ⁴ (Lei 2018). Any “sensitive topics” would be strictly suppressed and silenced being entering the political discussion.

A quintessential “sensitive issue” is the call to reform China’s Legalist-authoritarian political system toward a Western-style democracy. Such a suggestion directly challenges the CCP’s unassailable leadership. However, in today’s context, even less radical concerns, such as questioning whether certain sanction measures in the BJP system infringe upon the civil rights of Chinese citizens, are deemed as “crossing the redline” due to “improperly promoting Western ideology” (Brown and Bērziņa-Čerenkova 2018). As a result, they are preemptively dismissed from the political discourse. Individuals who boldly raise such issues risk political ostracization, facing potential loss of titles, positions, and party memberships. In extreme cases, they may encounter additional threats or punitive actions from the party (Cheng 2016). On the other hand, the predominant items on their political agenda have consistently revolved around economic growth, issues related to everyday life, and more recently, an emphasis on social stability and paramount national security. The originally designed tools like online public opinion portals and mayor’s mailboxes, which were intended to channel citizen grievances and oversee official conduct, have seen a shift in their primary objectives (Cai and Zhou 2019). Instead of passively reacting to public sentiments, current CCP leaders appear more focused on actively shaping and directing public opinion (Creemers 2018; Lei 2018).

As a result, the decision-making authority for national projects has been recentralized, placing it firmly back in the hands of the political elites, who now treat the general public as “the mass,” expected only to comply with their command. ⁵ Overall, we can conclude that, under the current Legalist political structure, the legislative process lacks any substantial institutionalized channels for the general public to influence state-level policy design from bottom up, and this means the SCS likely engages the Chinese public through a top-down “command-compliance mechanism.”

Secondly, I argue that in the realm of administration, the automated, absolute, and “one-size-fits-all” nature of modern information technology have curtailed opportunities for local-level evasion or collusion, which was previously more feasible, and thereby bolstered the BJP system’s efficacy in controlling the blacklisted individuals, also with a “command-compliance mechanism.”

Following the end of the Cultural Revolution and Mao Zedong’s passing in 1976, China transitioned away from “campaign-style governance.” In its place, a reinvigorated, CCP-led bureaucratic system emerged, reflecting the nation’s intent to rebuild its institutional structures in the Legalist-authoritarian tradition (Lee 2010; Zhou 2017). Ideally, when a national initiative such as the SCS project is introduced, superiors would delegate specific responsibilities to their subordinate officials. Due to the centralized structure of power—where promotions, appointments, and potential dismissals lie in the hands of these superiors—subordinates are disinclined to question or challenge directives. They often perceive any deviation from the set path as detrimental to their career prospects (Zhao 2010).

However, in practice, overseeing such a vast bureaucratic network presents challenges. Central to these is the tension between issuing uniform commands from the central government and the pragmatic execution of these directives across diverse localities. These local regions differ significantly in economic progress, political clout, demography, and cultural practices (Zhou 2012). Historically, in order to navigate this tension, CCP leaders permitted local administrations considerable latitude in interpreting and implementing directives. This flexibility often manifested in localized policy experimentation, prioritizing operational efficacy over strict adherence to central commands. However, this decentralized approach endowed municipal officials with substantial discretionary power. Consequently, these officials could selectively implement policies, engage in collusion with affluent locals, and even leverage their “governance efficacy” as a shield against central scrutiny (Zhou 2008).

Under such a framework, it is conceivable that local officials could negotiate with potential blacklisted people, bargaining their inclusion or exclusion from blacklists in return for kickbacks. However, the administrative landscape began shifting, particularly after Premier Li Keqiang’s 2015 proclamation advocating the integration of robust digital tools like mobile internet, big data, and cloud computing into governance ⁶ (Li 2015). By leveraging these technologies, central leaders could bypass local administrative layers, executing regulations and policies directly. This tech-driven approach minimizes potential pitfalls associated with localized discretion, such as selective policy application or collusive practices—thus avoiding the classic agent-principal problem. Overall, in essence, the technological shift ushered in an administrative environment where the “command-compliance mechanism” is further solidified, where the enforcement of the BJP system on the blacklisted people are followed meticulously, and questions or deviations are avoided.

Thirdly, I argue that under the Legalist political structure, the only variation in power mechanism of the national SCS emerges in the judiciary, particularly during the court hearing before a person is convicted and blacklisted.

From much of its history, guided by the Legalist doctrines from the Qin Dynasty, China has viewed the judiciary fundamentally as a political entity (Huang 1993). Nevertheless, the judicial procedure in Chinese court closely mirrors that of Western countries with a continental law tradition (Jiang and Fu 2020). As such, the court hearing protects the rights of the defendant, such as debt defaulter at risk of being blacklisted as a “deadbeat,” to confront the plaintiffs, like the bank that provided the loans, and to make their case before the judge decides whether to label the defendant as a “deadbeat.”

To be clear, the negotiation process during the court hearing is never balanced. One party can easily take advantage of the other by leveraging their legal knowledge and negotiation skills to uphold their claims. A study on overdue bank loan cases by staffs of the People’s Bank of China (Hua and Li 2019) revealed that the loan officials often omit significant legal terms when explaining contracts to borrowers. Consequently, borrowers frequently struggle to understand the details due to the contract’s complexity and their own lack of legal knowledge. Only upon attending the court hearing do they realize the contract’s meticulous design, where the responsibilities of both parties are lucidly defined, signatures manifest their genuine intentions, and there are no ambiguities in wording.

In addition, in the legal process, the procedure of “pretrial mediation” inherently tilts the balance, ensuring that the competition over the negotiation agenda remains unequal. At the commencement of the court hearing, both parties must mutually agree to opt for the informal “pretrial mediation” instead of the formal “trial” for this procedure to be initiated. Furthermore, a case will only reach a court decision if both parties come to a compromise during the mediation. If either of these conditions is unmet, the judge will commence the formal trial and oversee the entire agenda-setting process, which includes the opening proceeding, evidence examination, defendant questioning, and closing arguments—mirroring the procedures in many continental law countries. Clearly, this institutional setup provides an advantage to the plaintiff, who can decide to discontinue the pretrial mediation at any point.

Despite these hurdles, the inherent challenge does not mean it is impossible to negotiate favorable conditions, especially when the defendant’s rights are institutionally protected during the hearing. The existence of this “pretrial mediation” procedure still opens up a gateway for the debt defaulter to articulate their genuine grievances, which could change the discourse of the negotiation into their advantage. Thus, it can be posited that when it comes to convicting a “deadbeat” during the judicial procedure, the court hearing’s institutional setup gives rise to an “unequal competition mechanism.”

Finally, and most interestingly, the analysis up to this point has concentrated mainly on the overt manifestations of power struggles within the political arena under the Legalist structure. However, as Lukes (1974 [2021], 3) reminds in Power: A Radical View, power is most effective and insidious when it prevents controversial issues from emerging at all. This insightful perspective leads me to examine the “ideological structure” and the mechanism of state propaganda that shape beliefs and preferences in line with the interests of those in power. Otto von Bismarck once remarked, “politics is the art of the possible,” and harnessing ideological power has always been a means to define and control that possibility.

In today’s digital age, the most common method used by the CCP leaders to propagate, such as those concerning the SCS project, is through official public platforms and other online media. When used effectively, these propaganda tools can shape a “mainstream view” about politically charged topics, like the prevalent negative perceptions of the “deadbeat.” Moreover, they can suppress dissenting opinions through the “spiral of silence” phenomenon, as described by Noelle-Neumann (1980 [1993]).

Considering media’s nature, I posit that official public platforms, notably the Blacklist system, serve to propagate state messages of “promoting honesty and sanctioning the dishonest” through a clear “command-compliance mechanism.” As outlined in Section 1, “Credit China” and “China’s Enforcement Information Open Network” publicize the names of “deadbeats” and describe their “dishonest behavior.” The public can access this information, and only after the individuals settle their obligations will their personal details be removed from the website. Significantly, these platforms do not allow for critical commentary that might challenge or counteract the dominant narrative. Yet, given this characteristic, other online media platforms must exhibit different mechanisms of power.

To grasp this, it is crucial to understand the function of China’s Central Propaganda Department (CPD), arguably the most vital government agency for a Leninist party aiming to retain its political supremacy, as noted by Creemers (2018). During Mao’s era, the CPD was the archetypal Leninist conduit, disseminating Maoist ideologies and rallying the populace (Shambaugh 2007). In contemporary times, the CPD remains active, endeavoring to “educate the masses” with ideologies that align with the CCP’s goals (Qin, Strömberg, and Wu 2017; H. Fu 2018). This naturally encompasses the tenets of Xi Jinping Thought. Notably, this philosophy embraces a “totalitarian (Legalist) aspect,” asserting that the “party (or he himself) leads in all matters.” It also features a “moral (Confucianist) component” dubbed “cultural confidence,” which extols Confucian values, particularly the ideals of harmony and honesty (Kubat 2018).

Indeed, the CPD strives to maintain the same top-down “command-compliance mechanism,” even in the face of revolutionary changes in media technology. In practice, they actively intervene in the review and creation process for news reports, videos, and content on online news platforms (such as Tencent News and Today’s Headline) and social media (like TikTok and Sina Weibo). Their primary aim is to ensure that content adheres to a specific “language and tone” (e.g., condemning individuals for being morally “dishonest”) (Qin, Strömberg, and Wu 2017). This standardization process is referred to as tongyi tifa (统一提法), or the unification of framing and wording for news pieces (Shambaugh 2007). Once this standard is established, all media practitioners—be they journalists, broadcasters, social media influencers, or academic scholars—must comply when discussing a given event; if they do not, their content is at risk of being censored.

However, these extensive efforts at censorship and propaganda have only achieved partial success. Before Xi Jinping’s rise to power, some provincial press companies in Guangdong, like the Southern Weekly and Southern Metropolis Daily, managed to achieve commercial success. These entities utilized their increased leverage to produce highly profitable, critical news reports with anti-regime ideologies (Lei 2018). When attempts were made to block the publication of their reports, some liberal-minded journalists would disseminate this sensitive content via their personal social media accounts. In certain instances, this led to a successful mobilization of public opinion, shaping the public agenda, and even influencing significant political decisions and law enforcement actions (Lei 2018). Nowadays, as the Xi administration has restructured internet governance and clamped down on what was once a vibrant online public sphere, the ideological influence of respected societal figures (like liberal journalists, lawyers, entrepreneurs, scholars, and other social media influencers) has been significantly diminished. Yet, the inherent nature of online news media continues to allow for the emergence of the “unequal competition mechanism.”

As Noelle-Neumann (1980 [1993]) points out, the “spiral of silence” mechanism in mass communication might temporarily suppress minority voices, but it cannot indefinitely prevent the desperate and angered from revealing their true sentiments when the chance arises. Indeed, Huang (2018) found that even in nondemocratic nations, a surge in overt and ham-fisted propaganda can be counterproductive, further souring citizens’ perceptions of the regime, particularly when the projected narrative clashes with their lived experiences. A recent case in point is the widespread spontaneous protests against the zero-Covid lockdown measures and the strict curbs on citizens’ mobility (Wong and Williams 2022). These protests were largely amplified by social media platforms like WeChat Moment and Sina Weibo. These platforms, similar in nature to X (formerly known as Twitter), allow users to voluntarily express their opinions, potentially shaping public sentiment in the vast online ideological landscape. Notably, the protesters’ symbolic use of the “white paper” banner—a direct critique of pervasive online censorship—challenges the notion of a seamless “command-compliance mechanism” in propaganda endeavors.

Moreover, a defining feature of online news aggregator apps is the inclusion of a “comment section” below each article, enabling netizens to freely express their views. Even with the presence of “wumao” (五毛)—netizens who are modestly compensated by the state to participate anonymously in online discussions and post regime-supportive comments on posts and news reports (Han and Jia 2019)—these sections sometimes teem with veiled criticisms, and on occasion, overtly dissident remarks, particularly on contentious social events (Qin, Strömberg, and Wu 2017). As long as these comments navigate around the basic “sensitive word censorship mechanism,” they stand as potent challenges to the dominant narrative, capable of redirecting public sentiment. Therefore, even on these moderated online platforms, the inherent characteristics of online media still facilitate the rise of an “unequal competition mechanism.”

4. Two Final Remarks Regarding the Macrostructure

Aside from the main arguments proposed in this article, it is pertinent to presenting two final remarks about the contingency of macrostructure in the theory of SME.

Firstly, the macrostructure discussed above—namely, the Legalist political system combined with Confucianist ideology—does not comprehensively represent all existing political/ideological macrostructures in contemporary China. This is because, across different historical periods, when significant agents (leaders) take specific contingent actions based on their contingent beliefs, the macrostructure forged by these contingent actions in previous periods would persist into contemporary era, as long as succeeding agents continuously internalize such beliefs and act accordingly. As such, in a single historical period, we as observers can witness the coexistence of multiple macrostructures—some of which inherited from the past, some emerged in present time. This is precisely why “mechanism-based explanation” offered by the observer only describes the causal process selectively (Hedström and Ylikoski 2010). Instead of providing an exhaustive account of every detail, it aims to capture the essential elements of the process by sidelining irrelevant specifics. In the case of this article, another significant political structure in contemporary China is the “Leninist party-state.” Under this structure, the power to implement state policy operates through the “campaign-style mobilization” mechanism (Zhou 2012). Here, local officials receive direct political orders from their superiors, mobilizing all available resources to execute specific tasks, often bypassing bureaucratic protocols. A prime example of this is the “anti-rightist struggle sessions” during the Cultural Revolution, where the bureaucratic system itself became the target of political purges. A more recent example is the terminated “zero-Covid strategy,” which mandated officials to rigorously limit citizens’ mobility. In essence, these “campaign-style mobilizations” draw legitimacy not from Confucianism but from the “Communist anti-bureaucratic idea” present in Mao Zedong Thought and the “Stalinist party-rules-over-everything idea” in Xi Jinping Thought. ⁷ It is solely due to the irrelevance of “campaign-style mobilization” to the drafting and execution of the national SCS that I chose not to delve into this profound macrostructure.

Secondly, because macrostructure is in a state of flux, constantly being shaped, reinforced, and challenged by the contingent actions of significant agents, it can potentially demise at any moment, regardless of how unexpected it might appear. Therefore, when China’s stringent anti-Covid lockdown measures unexpectedly sparked mass protests and violent resistance nationwide in December 2022, although they did not induce any structural reforms in the Leninist party-state system (akin to the abrupt dissolution of the Soviet Union in December 1991), they did prompt CCP leaders to abandon the zero-Covid policy within weeks, following nearly 3 years of adamant enforcement marked by campaign-style governance and propaganda lauding the “China model” (Wong and Williams 2022). As mentioned, human history’s progression is not as teleological or deterministic as Marxist or Hegelian theories might suggest (Little 2000). Instead, human history is often steered by both the deliberate and unintended outcomes of human actions. Thus, the “temporality” of any power mechanism analysis should never be underestimated: as macrostructures evolve, the underlying power mechanisms will likely adapt in tandem.