Xi Jinping is investigating his most trusted general at precisely the moment China needs military readiness most. The purge of Vice Chairman Zhang Youxia in January 2026—a 75-year-old princeling who shared Xi’s revolutionary heritage and whom Xi retained beyond retirement—signals either ruthless preparation for conflict or dangerous isolation at the top. The timing raises an uncomfortable question: Is China’s apparent strength masking the same brittle vulnerabilities that shattered Russia’s military credibility in Ukraine?
The parallels are unsettling. Like Russia before its 2022 invasion, China faces demographic collapse, military leadership in turmoil, zero combat experience for three generations of soldiers, and allies who are either bankrupt or abandoning ship. Venezuela’s Maduro fell, Panama withdrew from Belt and Road, Pakistan teeters on its 25th IMF bailout, and Iran—Beijing’s only remaining strategic partner in the Middle East—watches nervously as Chinese influence contracts. The paper tiger comparison writes itself. But does the evidence support it?
The Purge That Hollowed Out Command
Something broke in China’s military leadership in 2023, and the fractures keep spreading. What began as anti-corruption probes targeting Defense Minister Li Shangfu metastasized into a systematic dismantling of the entire Central Military Commission hierarchy. By January 2026, Xi had investigated Zhang Youxia and Liu Zhenli—two of the CMC’s most senior members—leaving the military’s top decision-making body reduced to effectively two figures, including Xi himself.
The scale is unprecedented even by Xi’s standards. Since 2023, nine generals have been formally removed, both defense ministers expelled, and the elite Rocket Force—responsible for China’s nuclear arsenal—gutted of leadership. Bloomberg reports that Xi has “effectively hollowed out the leadership he put in place only a few years ago”. The 200,000 officials punished since Xi’s anti-corruption campaign began in 2012 now include his innermost circle.
This matters because purges signal either strength or paranoia, and the distinction determines military capability. Thomas from the Asia Society notes that “dismantling the PLA’s high command suggests Xi is not planning significant military escalation against Taiwan in the near future”. You don’t decapitate command structures before launching complex amphibious operations. But the alternative interpretation is equally troubling: Xi no longer trusts anyone, including the generals he personally promoted.
The demographic data compounds the leadership crisis. China’s birthrate collapsed to 5.6 per 1,000 people in 2025—the lowest on record—down from 6.4 in 2023. Births plunged to 7.92 million in 2025, half of what was projected when the one-child policy ended in 2016, and comparable to 1738 levels when China’s population was only 150 million. The population declined for the fourth consecutive year, falling 3.4 million to 1.405 billion, while those aged 60 and older now comprise 23% of the total.
For military planners, the math is brutal. Fewer young people means a smaller recruitment pool precisely when Xi demands a “world-class military” by 2035. The PLA faces what Russia already experienced: an aging force structure with insufficient replacements. China’s principal economist at EIU notes that “young individuals are postponing marriage and starting families due to increasing economic stress”—the same economic pressures that make military service less attractive.
Add zero combat experience, and the picture darkens further. The PLA hasn’t fought a major conflict since the brief 1979 border war with Vietnam. Three generations of officers have risen through peacetime promotion cycles where political loyalty matters more than battlefield competence. RAND Corporation’s February 2025 report questions whether “China’s military is really built for war,” noting the PLA allocates up to 40% of training time to political education rather than combat skills. Timothy Heath of RAND argues the PLA’s “primary focus is on sustaining the CCP’s governance rather than gearing up for warfare”.
This is Russia’s pattern precisely. Before Ukraine, Russian generals had parade ground experience but couldn’t execute combined arms operations under fire. The PLA faces identical questions about translating modernization into actual combat capability when no serving officer has commanded troops in sustained conflict.
The Collapsing Periphery
China’s geopolitical position is eroding faster than most Western analysts expected. The unraveling began with Venezuela. When U.S. forces captured Nicolás Maduro in January 2026, China lost its primary Latin American proxy and faced billions in uncollectible Venezuelan debt tied to oil infrastructure investments. Beijing had bet heavily on Caracas—the partnership was supposed to secure energy supplies and project influence in America’s traditional sphere. That bet failed.
Panama dealt the next blow. Following U.S. pressure, a Panamanian high court annulled port contracts with Hong Kong-linked firms, and the government withdrew from Belt and Road in 2025, calling the deal “not worth it”. This was symbolically devastating—Panama was the first Latin American nation to join BRI in 2017 after severing ties with Taiwan. The reversal suggests other nations are reassessing whether Chinese partnerships deliver value or merely debt and dependency.
Pakistan’s situation is arguably worse. Islamabad is on its 25th IMF program since 1950, with loans standing at $6.2 billion as of March 2025 and external debt reaching $130 billion in 2024. The IMF’s November 2025 governance report painted a stark picture of systemic corruption, weak institutions, and persistent risks that keep Pakistan “teetering on the brink of bankruptcy”. Pakistan survives on handouts from China, Saudi Arabia, and international agencies, but chronic trade deficits, low tax revenue, and high defense spending make it an unreliable partner.
For China, Pakistan was supposed to anchor the China-Pakistan Economic Corridor, the flagship BRI project connecting Gwadar Port to Xinjiang. A bankrupt Pakistan threatens that entire investment. Beijing has poured billions into infrastructure that may never generate returns if Pakistan’s economy collapses entirely.
Iran remains China’s only stable strategic partner in the Middle East, but the relationship shows strain. The 25-year strategic cooperation pact signed in 2021 promised to deepen ties through infrastructure, ports, energy, and security cooperation. But by late 2025, Iranian officials speak carefully about upgrading relations to an “outcome-driven partnership,” emphasizing “mutual respect, refraining from interference,” and “resolving differences through dialogue”—diplomatic language suggesting tensions beneath the surface.
The pattern is clear: China’s periphery is either bankrupt (Pakistan), lost (Venezuela, Panama), or uncertain (Iran). This resembles Russia’s position after 2014, when sanctions isolated Moscow and traditional allies drifted away. The difference is China’s economy remains far larger, but the trajectory is similar.
The Combat Readiness Question
American strategists draw a direct line from Russia’s Ukraine disaster to China’s Taiwan challenge. Their logic runs like this: modern warfare exposes peacetime militaries brutally. Russia’s parade-ground army collapsed against Ukrainian resistance because Russian officers had no experience adapting to battlefield chaos, logistics failures, or sustained casualties. China faces identical vulnerabilities, amplified by three generations without combat experience and a political commissar system that prioritizes loyalty over competence.
Asia Times argues that “deep-rooted structural flaws, political control and a lack of combat experience could limit” the PLA despite rapid modernization. The PLA’s command structure features both military commanders and political officers who prioritize party loyalty over combat proficiency—a fragmented system that “limits commanders’ ability to adapt swiftly to new challenges”. When 40% of training time goes to political education rather than combat drills, readiness becomes questionable.
The arithmetic matters more in Taiwan than Ukraine. Amphibious assault is the most complex military operation, requiring precise coordination across air, sea, and ground forces. Russia couldn’t execute combined arms in land warfare; China would need combined arms plus amphibious expertise it has never demonstrated in battle. Western analysts note that even achieving air superiority—a prerequisite for landing forces—depends on untested capabilities against modern air defense and electronic warfare.
This logic concludes that China is a paper tiger: impressive on paper, brittle under stress. The purges reinforce this view—you don’t gut your command structure if you trust it to fight effectively.
But Chinese strategists view the same evidence differently. They prioritize deterrence over actual conflict. The PLA’s modernization aims to convince adversaries that Taiwan intervention would be too costly, not to guarantee victory in war. From this perspective, combat readiness is secondary to perceived capability. As long as Washington, Taipei, and Tokyo believe the PLA could credibly threaten Taiwan, deterrence succeeds whether or not the PLA would actually prevail in sustained conflict.
Chinese defense white papers explicitly state that “maintaining combat readiness” means staying “ready to act when required,” not necessarily being optimized for offensive operations. Xi’s emphasis on “combat capability as the sole criterion” ranks after political loyalty and military reform in priority—suggesting deterrence posture matters more than immediate war-fighting ability. The purges, in this view, are long-term preparation: clearing out potentially disloyal officers before the 2028 Taiwan elections create a crisis window.
This logic accepts the experience gap but argues it’s manageable. China studies Russian failures intensively and believes it can avoid them through superior logistics, technology, and planning. The PLA hasn’t fought in 46 years, but it has observed every conflict since 1979, incorporating lessons into doctrine. Chinese strategists assess that deterrence plus preparation beats rushing into conflict before readiness is certain.
Western pessimists offer a third interpretation: China is trapped in the same delusion that doomed Russia. Putin convinced himself his military was ready because no one dared tell him otherwise. Xi may face identical problems—a politicized command structure where truth-telling ends careers creates information failures that hide fundamental weakness until war exposes it.
RAND’s assessment supports this: the PLA’s political control mechanisms mean “loyalty to the party over combat proficiency”. Officers rise by pleasing superiors, not demonstrating tactical competence. The purges intensify this dynamic—investigating 200,000 officials since 2012 teaches everyone that survival depends on loyalty signals, not honest capability assessments.
Under this logic, China mirrors Russia almost exactly: demographic decline, aging leadership, inexperienced military, collapsing periphery, and authoritarian governance that prevents accurate feedback. Russia looked formidable until Ukraine revealed the reality. China may look formidable until Taiwan does the same.
The Variables That Determine Reality
The critical question isn’t whether China looks strong on paper but whether Xi actually intends to use force in the 2026-2030 window. This is the variable that determines whether the paper tiger comparison holds.
If Xi plans Taiwan action before 2030, the purges are catastrophic. You cannot hollow out command structures then execute complex amphibious operations. The fact that Xi is investigating Zhang Youxia in January 2026 suggests strongly that no Taiwan operation is imminent. As analysts note, “dismantling the PLA’s high command suggests Xi is not planning significant military escalation against Taiwan in the near future”.
But if Xi’s timeline extends to 2032-2035 or beyond, the purges might be rational preparation. Removing potentially disloyal generals now gives Xi time to promote a new generation entirely beholden to him, ensuring absolute control when crisis arrives. The demographic collapse would still constrain recruitment, but China would have years to adjust force structure and training.
The second variable is U.S. commitment. Trump’s return to the presidency introduces uncertainty. If Washington signals reduced commitment to Taiwan defense—explicitly or through budget cuts—China’s risk calculus changes. A weaker U.S. response makes Chinese action more likely even if PLA readiness remains questionable. Russia invaded Ukraine partly because Putin assessed Western response would be tepid; he was wrong about economic sanctions but right about limited military intervention.
The third variable is economic sustainability. China’s economy, unlike Russia’s, still generates enough surplus to fund military modernization despite demographic challenges. But the trajectory worries Beijing. Youth unemployment, property sector crisis, and declining consumer confidence all reduce the resources available for defense spending. If economic stress continues, China faces a choice: accept slower military buildup or risk instability from excessive defense budgets. Russia chose the latter and paid dearly.
The fourth variable—and perhaps most important—is whether China learns from Russia’s mistakes. The PLA has studied Ukraine intensively. If Chinese planners genuinely internalize lessons about logistics, combined arms, and the dangers of political interference in military operations, they might avoid Russia’s worst errors. But learning requires honest assessment, and authoritarian systems struggle with that. The purges suggest Xi prioritizes loyalty over competence, which is exactly what doomed Russia. Indicator China 2026 Russia pre-Ukraine Significance Combat experience None since 1979 None since Afghanistan Both untested Demographics 5.6 births/1,000, declining Declining, aging Similar crisis Leadership purges 9+ generals since 2023 Limited pre-2022 China more severe Ally stability Pakistan bankrupt, Venezuela lost Belarus dependent, Syria weak Both isolated Economic reserves $3+ trillion forex $630 billion pre-sanctions China stronger.
What This Reveals
The paper tiger comparison is tempting but incomplete. China faces Russia’s vulnerabilities—demographic collapse, untested military, purged leadership, collapsing periphery—but operates at a different scale. Russia’s $1.5 trillion economy couldn’t sustain a major war; China’s $18 trillion economy can, at least temporarily. Russia isolated itself through adventurism; China still trades with the world. Russia’s military was a hollow shell; China’s is unproven but not obviously hollow.
The honest assessment: China is neither the dominant power Beijing projects nor the paper tiger some Western analysts hope. It’s a rising power with severe structural weaknesses that may or may not prove decisive depending on variables that remain unknown—Xi’s actual timeline, U.S. commitment, economic trajectory, and whether the PLA can truly learn from Russia’s disaster.
Three scenarios illuminate the uncertainty. If Xi moves on Taiwan before 2030, the paper tiger comparison likely holds—purged leadership, inexperienced forces, and complex operations would expose the same brittleness Russia displayed. If Xi waits until 2032-2035, allowing new leadership to consolidate and the PLA to train under more realistic conditions, China’s chances improve but demographics worsen. If Taiwan tensions defuse through political evolution or U.S. deterrence, the question remains hypothetical.
What’s worth watching: PLA command stability through 2026 (further purges signal continued paranoia), China’s 2026-2027 military exercises around Taiwan (reveal whether combined arms competence is improving), Pakistan’s economic trajectory (tests Belt and Road viability), and U.S. defense commitments under Trump (determine whether Beijing sees an opportunity window).
The uncomfortable truth is that we won’t know if China is a paper tiger until it’s tested. Russia looked formidable until February 24, 2022 revealed otherwise. China might avoid that test by deterring conflict successfully—or might enter it with the same delusions that shattered Russian credibility. Xi’s purges ensure absolute loyalty but sacrifice the honest feedback required to assess capability accurately. That was Russia’s fatal flaw. Whether it becomes China’s depends on choices Xi hasn’t yet made and variables no analyst can confidently predict.
The lesson from Russia isn’t that autocracies always fail militarily. It’s that they fail when leaders prioritize loyalty over competence and ideology over reality. Xi is making both choices right now. Whether that makes China a paper tiger or a sleeping dragon won’t be clear until—or unless—the test arrives.