Editor’s note: Biljana Vankovska, a special commentator for CGTN, is a professor of International Relations and Peace Studies at Saints Cyril and Methodius University in Skopje, capital of North Macedonia. The article reflects the author’s opinions and not necessarily the views of CGTN.
The electoral cycles in countries that call themselves liberal democracies seem never-ending: regular or early elections, from presidential to parliamentary and local, creating the illusion that “something is happening.”
However, it is merely a facade, a recycling of the same already visibly inefficient and fundamentally flawed politics. Citizens are told that elections are a “celebration of democracy,” masking the essential truth: Democracy is lived every day – if it exists at all – not just when one casts a vote. The quality of daily life is the true measure of democracy, but what happens when that quality is lacking from the outset and even what remains is fading into insignificance?
North Macedonia is just one of many countries holding local elections this year at the municipal level. Political parties are already drafting election programs, gauging public opinion, compiling lists of citizens’ demands translated into campaign promises and even launching early pre-election campaigns to win support.
While working on a joint project with colleagues from China, a thought crossed my mind: How does such a vast country address local issues? In other words, what is considered “local” in such a context? When I asked my younger colleague from Shanghai about their local governance, he hesitated before responding. He asked: “What exactly do you mean by ‘local’?” I smiled internally because, indeed, our entire country – covering just 25,000 square kilometers with barely two million people – could be a “local community” in China! It’s remarkable how different words and concepts become depending on the context!
My friend explained that the term “local” in China carries multiple layers of meaning. First, in relation to central governance, “local” refers to the various levels beneath the central government, including provincial, municipal and district authorities. These local governments consist of administrative structures supported by the central government, but they maintain a certain degree of autonomy depending on the context.
Second, geographically speaking, “local” may refer to a specific region, province, or city. For instance, “local” might relate to regional culinary traditions – whether Sichuanese, Cantonese, or another cuisine.
Economically, the term often signifies “domestic” or “regional” as opposed to imported. Additionally, local businesses might be those operating within a single province or city rather than on a national scale. In political discourse, when Chinese leaders discuss “local” reforms or development, they usually mean policies implemented at the provincial, municipal, or rural community levels.
In North Macedonia, it is often unclear what is local and what is national. More often than not, local governance is “feudalized” by some local sheriffs who win an election thanks to party influence and oligarchic power, with little concern for citizens’ voices. Here, “local” also means fragmented – divided along ethnic or political lines. There is no coherent social system or harmony (whereas harmony and social order sustain even a country as vast as China).
It is disheartening that local issues in a micro-state like ours seem insurmountable simply because no one has addressed them for years, allowing them to accumulate. This happens because unqualified and corrupt individuals hold key positions, and eventually, people lose both the will and enthusiasm to clear even the garbage from their own doorsteps or streets.
I recall my visits to China last year – I visited at least four cities – and my first impression was how orderly and clean everything was, decorated with flowers and artistic details. Residential complexes are self-sustaining units, providing their inhabitants with everything they need within walking distance.
With my Western-influenced mindset – though I like to think I haven’t been entirely brainwashed – my first assumption was: security concerns. Perhaps people live in concentrated residential communities to protect themselves from theft or other risks. But my hosts laughed and explained: “No, our nation is built on the foundation of community and collectivity, from the lowest to the highest levels. Life should be of high quality for everyone, as members of a shared society.”
This reminded me of our lost tradition of neighborly connection – the “karshi kapidzhik” – the neighbor’s door directly across from yours, which you could knock on anytime, whether for good or bad reasons. We lost this tradition in Western-like alienation, self-isolation and detachment, not only from those closest to us but also from nature.
My Shanghai colleague mentioned that the National People’s Congress, China’s top political advisory body, was in session. Among the many policies being crafted, a central focus is on improving the quality of life across the country, particularly through the harmonious development of different provinces and addressing everyday issues. Unlike us, who have become self-serving “individualists” – or rather, selfish individuals – who fail to build communities, in China, the collective spirit is nurtured. In that vast network of communities, provinces, municipalities and districts, the focus is on the collective good.
True, there is no competition between political parties, but there is internal motivation and competition within local committees of the Communist Party of China. What we fail to understand is that becoming a Party member isn’t a casual decision – it’s a commitment that must be earned and continuously justified.
Unlike our local governance, which is supposedly the foundation of national politics (bottom-up), in China, it is the opposite. However, this does not mean suppressing local identities, initiatives, or participation. On the contrary, it fosters motivation for improving citizens’ lives where they reside.
My friends told me that no one was left to fend for themselves because there was always someone to turn to. In other words, there is a system – but also solidarity. There is no system collapse or lawlessness as we endure.
Chinese authorities recognize both unity and diversity, so instead of a uniform approach, they adapt policies or even experiment with local initiatives before implementing them nationwide. Pilot projects are often conducted at the local level before being expanded to national policies. Agricultural reforms, urbanization strategies and environmental policies are frequently tested in this way.
The local Party and administrative structure are solid yet responsive to challenges, resolving local issues through a “network of mediators.” In smaller cities and villages, problems are often handled informally through Party secretaries at the neighborhood or village level, who act as liaisons between the government and the people. There are also neighborhood committees and village councils that serve as the first points of contact when issues arise.
A particularly charming aspect of local engagement, as my Shanghai friend described, is the presence of “aunties from the neighborhood committee” – usually retired women overseeing day-to-day matters in residential complexes. In rural areas and smaller cities, public meetings are held, local officials are openly criticized and citizen petitions channel dissatisfaction to higher authorities. Imagine what happens to an official who creates widespread discontent – there is no promotion or comfortable reassignment, as is common in our system.
Professor Zhang Weiwei of Fudan University elaborates on this scientifically, and he emphasized the concept in his talk in Skopje last year: “Selection plus election.” Within the centralized Party structure, there is a drive to prove competence, accessibility and public trust. Before advancing politically, officials must first demonstrate their abilities in local communities. One cannot lead a nation without first proving oneself in a district or province – for at least two successful terms.
A Macedonian friend who has lived in China for many years shared an interesting fact with me. Contrary to the common stereotype of authoritarianism and centralized power at the “top,” China is actually one of the most decentralized countries in the world. This shatters the myth of Western European democracies as champions of local self-governance; from this perspective, they are among the most centralized in the world.
Just yesterday, a dear friend from a small Macedonian town reached out. She and her husband, along with their two young children, returned to the country from a more developed European state. All four of them are environmentally conscious volunteers who seize every opportunity to clean litter from our beautiful forests and fields. She asked how she could contact the president to seek help, as their picturesque town had turned into a dumping ground, making life unbearable.
I can’t help but wonder: how is it possible for such a small country to be incapable of solving what are, in reality, small problems? They are significant in impact but not unsolvable. Do we love this country the way the Chinese, through sheer determination and relentless effort, lifted themselves from poverty to prosperity – with hard work, hard work and more hard work, fueled by love for their homeland and community?
In China, the highest state body shapes policy, but it is the ordinary people who ensure that their courtyards, streets, air, monuments, waters and forests reflect the collective will and desire for a better life. In this regard, Chinese self-governance stands as a model of efficient democracy – not a democracy based on elections, parties and political discord, but one that focuses on solving problems and moving forward.
