CRACKING DOWN ON INACTION

In its relentless campaign against corruption, the Communist Party of China (CPC) has fostered a new, unintended crisis — one where bureaucratic inaction itself is branded as corruption. What began as a crackdown on misconduct has devolved into a system where slackness is punished, driving once-loyal grassroots officials to adopt “lying flat” (躺平, tang ping) as both a survival tactic and a cover for idleness. The result is a paralyzed bureaucracy, one where officials, fearing punishment for both overreach and inaction, now default to doing the bare minimum. Ironically, in its attempt to fortify governance, the Party is undermining its own administrative capacity leading to policy paralysis at the grassroots level.

Structural Triggers of and Behind Bureaucratic Inertia 

Since taking office, Xi Jinping’s anti-corruption campaign has been the centerpiece of his governance agenda. Launched in 2012, the campaign promised to cleanse the Party of internal rot by targeting both “tigers” and “flies”, senior officials and low-level cadres alike. The crackdown aimed to end the era of lavish banquets, backdoor deals, and rent-seeking. While this sweeping effort initially bolstered the Party’s legitimacy, it also introduced a climate of fear into China’s bureaucracy and triggered bureaucratic inertia. Fearing reprisal, local officials prioritize self-preservation over policy execution, resulting in a sluggish administrative apparatus that impedes economic growth. 

Scholars remain divided on whether corruption acts as grease or sand in China’s economic machinery. While the campaign curbs the excesses of patronage networks, it also dismantles the informal channels through which local officials once mobilized resources in the interest of accelerating infrastructure projects, attracting investment, and ensuring policy implementation amid bureaucratic bottlenecks. Their erosion in a way has left behind a paralyzed bureaucracy, hesitant to innovate or take risks. However, the retreat into inaction cannot be attributed solely to the anti-corruption campaign. Long before Xi’s crackdown, bureaucratic evasion tactics were already entrenched in China’s local governance. 

At its core, bureaucratic “lying flat” is also a response to mounting disincentives. Several systemic factors have driven this shift. Firstly, local governments, particularly in rural China, are overburdened with implementing costly central directives without adequate financial support. From infrastructure projects to poverty alleviation schemes, grassroots officials are expected to deliver results under severe budget constraints. When failure carries personal risks, officials opt for risk-averse stagnation. Second, the Party-state’s traditional strategy of incentivizing officials through promotions is faltering. With Xi’s centralization of power limiting upward mobility, local cadres see fewer opportunities for career advancement. Without prospects for growth, the incentive to exert extra effort disappears.

In this environment of fear and inertia, the “lying flat” phenomenon, originally a youthful defiance against the grueling “996” work culture (9 a.m. to 9 p.m., six days a week) found new footing in China’s bureaucracy. Disillusioned by rising risks and dwindling rewards, local officials embraced bureaucratic lying flat as a survival strategy. Rather than obstructing policies outright, they weaponized proceduralism, stalling projects, deferring decisions, and hiding behind paperwork to avoid scrutiny. This low-risk, low-output routine has eroded China’s administrative efficiency, weakening both governance capacity and public trust.

“Snail Awards” and the Futility of Punitive Shaming 

In an attempt to revive bureaucratic zeal, the CPC has resorted to public shaming tactics such as the “snail awards” (蜗牛奖). These ironic “honors” publicly label underperforming officials as sluggish and ineffective, branding them as “snails” or “ostriches” to humiliate them into compliance. State media outlets have amplified this messaging, equating disengaged officials with slackers. In November 2024, the People’s Daily criticized cadres who “mouth empty slogans, pick the easiest tasks, avoid the tough ones, and skirt around difficulties.” The message was clear: inaction itself is now treated as corruption.

While the Snail Awards aim to curb inaction among Chinese civil servants, their effectiveness remains debatable. Despite being framed as a form of “positive punishment,” public shaming is unlikely to inspire productivity. The awards have become increasingly performative, officials are paraded on stage with vacant expressions, subjected to public ridicule, and forever branded as symbols of inefficiency. Although some netizens support expanding the practice, it creates a culture of fear rather than fostering accountability. Fearing the stigma of inaction, officials sometimes resort to rushed, superficial actions to avoid scrutiny. For instance, in Jiangsu’s Taixing, authorities hastily demolished over 300 billboards in two months, leading to accusations of illegal and forced dismantling. This reactionary approach prioritizes performative compliance over meaningful reform. 

The Snail Awards reinforces the criminalization of bureaucratic lethargy. As Beijing increasingly conflates passivity with corruption, lying flat is no longer perceived as laziness, it is equated with political defiance. Officials risk being branded as obstructive or disloyal, their lethargy interpreted as a form of resistance. The CPC’s failure to distinguish between indifference and demoralization has deepened the crisis. In this new environment, both disengagement and mere idleness are penalized under the same banner. The result is a governance model where both action and inaction carry political risks, pushing local officials into an ever-narrowing space of cautious compliance. Ultimately, the Party’s heavy-handed response overlooks the structural roots of bureaucracy lying flat. Without addressing the underlying issues, financial pressures on local governments, lack of career mobility, and political overreach, the CPC’s crackdown will only accelerate disengagement. In seeking to root out lethargy, Beijing may instead be fostering it.

If local officials continue to disengage, the Party’s ability to enforce policies, maintain stability, and deliver public services will be compromised. More alarmingly, this inertia could exacerbate China’s economic slowdown. In a period of rising geopolitical pressures, demographic challenges, and declining investor confidence, ineffective grassroots governance could weaken China’s resilience.

Rethinking the Party’s Strategy 

To counter bureaucratic “lying flat,” the CPC must move beyond punitive shaming and address the underlying causes of disengagement. First, alleviating the debt burdens of local administrations and granting them greater fiscal autonomy would give grassroots officials the resources they need to implement policies effectively. Second, the CPC must reform its performance evaluation system, which currently incentivizes superficial compliance over substantive results. For example, in environmental policy enforcement, the rigid use of air quality improvement targets has led to local governments taking extreme short-term measures rather than pursuing sustainable change. In 2017, during the “war on smog,” authorities in Hebei province indiscriminately shut down factories and even banned household coal burning without providing alternative heating, leaving thousands of residents without heat during the winter. This response prioritized immediate numerical targets over the long-term structural changes necessary for sustainable environmental improvement. Metrics like demolition targets or inspection quotas also encourage such performative governance, as seen in Henan’s Kaifeng city, where officials hastily demolished entire street markets ahead of provincial inspections, displacing hundreds of vendors without offering relocation support. Replacing such rigid benchmarks with outcome-based assessments, measuring service quality, public satisfaction, and long-term impact would reduce the pressure for symbolic action.

Finally, fostering a political climate that protects initiative and innovation is essential. Shielding cadres from disproportionate political risks when policies fall short would encourage genuine experimentation. For example, Zhejiang has been designated as a pilot zone for high-quality development and common prosperity, where local officials have been granted greater reform autonomy to explore new economic and social policies. Expanding such pilot zones nationwide could foster a more adaptive governance environment. Without creating space for policy flexibility, the Party’s tightening grip will continue to drive local officials into risk-averse inertia, deepening the very inefficiency it seeks to eliminate.

Image Credit: Lianhe Zaobao