Western policymakers often discuss China as though it were already in 2025, a fully matured peer rival, operating on the same strategic clock and institutional footing as liberal democracies. But that assumption is flawed.
China may exist in the present, but its behaviour (economically, strategically, and politically) suggests a power still climbing, not consolidating. Misreading China as a finished superpower risks producing policy responses built on symmetry where none exists.
A nation still catching up
China’s modernisation has been rapid, but also relatively recent. While the West began its industrial revolutions in the 18th and 19th centuries, and the United States became a global economic hegemon by the mid-20th century, China’s trajectory only accelerated from 1978 following Deng Xiaoping’s post-Mao reforms. These reforms lifted hundreds of millions out of poverty, rebuilt the nation’s productive base, and positioned China for global economic integration.
But compression is not convergence. Despite technological advances, China is still scaling. Its middle class is still forming. Its financial system remains closely managed. And its industrial strategy is not about defending existing advantage, but acquiring it. By historical comparison, China’s current economic development resembles that of the United States in the late 1940s or early 1950s; not that of a settled power, but one still accumulating capability and reach.
China’s path is not a delayed version of the Western story. It is compressed, idiosyncratic, and still unfolding.
In that sense, China is not in 2025. In developmental terms, it may be closer to 1955.
Strategic adolescence
China’s international posture reflects not the confidence of a stable hegemon, but the impulses of a nationalist power in transition. The language of “humiliation”, “rejuvenation”, and “restoration” remains central to official rhetoric. These are not markers of self-assurance, but signs of a state still emerging from historical trauma and preoccupied with securing legitimacy at home and respect abroad.
The United States in the early 20th century and Japan in the 1930s displayed similar instincts: suspicion of foreign alliances, a preference for regional dominance, and a desire to rewrite the terms of global order. China’s assertiveness in the South China Sea, coercive economic tactics, and alternative institutional models are not incidental. They are expressions of a power still asserting its identity and testing the boundaries of the current system.
Errors of judgment become more likely when such a power is mistaken for a status quo actor. Frameworks built on parity (in defence, diplomacy, or deterrence) will fail if the underlying psychologies diverge.
The unfinished state
Internally, China’s political system continues to centralise under Xi Jinping. The abolition of presidential term limits, the elevation of “Xi Jinping Thought” into constitutional doctrine, and the retreat from collective leadership all point to a reassertion of top-down control. These dynamics are not hallmarks of a postmodern authoritarianism. They recall instead mid-20th century state models, where legitimacy is grounded in developmental performance and party unity, not institutional pluralism.
While China's administrative machinery is vast and capable, it remains opaque. The tensions between growth and debt, innovation and control, ageing and productivity have not been resolved. They have been managed, for now. The result is a political model that projects confidence outward but remains structurally cautious inward.
Policy must distinguish between China’s visible strength and its underlying vulnerabilities, and avoid treating both as static.
Each offset in China’s timeline carries behavioural implications. A power still industrialising, as the West was in the 1940s, prioritises scale, surplus, and speed over balance. A power still nationalising its identity, as the United States was in the 1910s, tends to seek recognition, assert dominance, and bristle at constraint. A government still consolidating authority, as France or the Soviet Union did in the 1950s, favours control over contestation and ideological unity over institutional pluralism. These are not just developmental markers. They shape risk thresholds, diplomatic posture, and escalation dynamics. To treat China as a stable peer is to misread a state still forming, and still reaching.
Implications for Australia
For countries like Australia, the implications are significant. Defence planning, alliance coordination, and economic diversification are often premised on an assumption of China's strategic maturity. But if China is not yet “there”, if it is still ascending, insecure, and internally unresolved, then the risks it poses, and the responses they warrant, must be recalibrated.
Great powers in transition, not those in stasis, are often the most unpredictable. Historical analogies to the Soviet Union or the United States during their respective rises may be imperfect, but they highlight a key truth: structural overreach and geopolitical volatility are most common in systems that are still forming.
Precision, not panic, is required. Policy must distinguish between China’s visible strength and its underlying vulnerabilities, and avoid treating both as static.
A temporal correction
Rather than asking how powerful China is, strategic analysts might better ask where China is — in developmental time, in institutional maturity, and in self-perception. The answer is not 2025.
It is time to abandon mirror-imaging. China’s path is not a delayed version of the Western story. It is compressed, idiosyncratic, and still unfolding. And it is from this difference, not sameness, that risk arises — and policy must adapt.
