On July 15, five of China’s most prominent private-sector entrepreneurs sat shoulder to shoulder at a press conference in Beijing hosted by the State Council, the Chinese Communist Party’s (CCP) ruling body. Above their heads, a banner enjoined them to “carry forward the entrepreneurial spirit” and to serve as “excellent builders of socialism with Chinese characteristics.”
One after another, they spoke of innovation, social responsibility, and their gratitude to the state. Their remarks were punctuated by phrases like “broad prospects,” “great potential,” and “just the right time”—rhetorical markers closely associated with Xi-era political discourse. Our analysis of China’s official government portal found that the phrase “just the right time” has appeared in policy commentary consistently since 2014, while “great potential”—a particularly Xi-inflected phrase—has surfaced 76 times out of 79 total uses since President Xi Jinping came into office.
On July 15, five of China’s most prominent private-sector entrepreneurs sat shoulder to shoulder at a press conference in Beijing hosted by the State Council, the Chinese Communist Party’s (CCP) ruling body. Above their heads, a banner enjoined them to “carry forward the entrepreneurial spirit” and to serve as “excellent builders of socialism with Chinese characteristics.”
One after another, they spoke of innovation, social responsibility, and their gratitude to the state. Their remarks were punctuated by phrases like “broad prospects,” “great potential,” and “just the right time”—rhetorical markers closely associated with Xi-era political discourse. Our analysis of China’s official government portal found that the phrase “just the right time” has appeared in policy commentary consistently since 2014, while “great potential”—a particularly Xi-inflected phrase—has surfaced 76 times out of 79 total uses since President Xi Jinping came into office.
In a February speech, Xi combined all three to describe the future of private enterprise. Far from boilerplate, this language served as a cue of ideological alignment, reminding the audience that the event was not only about showcasing business success but also about demonstrating political correctness.
The rhetoric from all five entrepreneurs was strikingly consistent. Each spoke of duty, service, and gratitude as a civic obligation under CCP leadership. They were stewards of the state’s economic and political aspirations.
The choices of these five, and the narratives they delivered, revealed much more than an effort to reassure a wary private sector. The event offered a quiet lesson in the qualities of entrepreneurship that Beijing has come to value: ambition tempered by discipline, ingenuity expressed in service to the nation, and commercial success maintained within the invisible bounds of political acceptability.
The inclusion of Unitree Robotics and Galactic Energy—representing robotics and aerospace, respectively—highlights two of the 10 priority sectors identified in the CCP’s Made in China 2025 plan. That industrial blueprint, introduced in 2015, reflects Beijing’s ambition to reduce dependence on foreign technology and achieve global leadership in strategic high-tech industries.
The presence of these two firms suggests that the CCP continues to see such sectors not only as engines of innovation but also as pillars of national strength. Unitree Robotics, delivering robots at a fraction of Western costs, now holds more than 60 percent of the global market. It has become an ideal example to feed the CCP’s narrative: Innovation anchored in China is not only capable of catching up but surpassing foreign competitors. Galactic Energy, a private space launch company, was co-founded by former employees of the state-run China Aerospace Science and Technology Corporation. Liu Baiqi, the company’s co-founder and CEO, said that Galactic Energy’s founding in 2018 was spurred by the government’s “mass entrepreneurship and innovation” campaign, and its business model aligns with China’s growing need to launch tens of thousands of satellites. The company is portrayed less as a private startup and more of a patriotic partner in fulfilling the country’s space ambitions.
Other firms also reflect Beijing’s current policy priorities.
Erdos Group, China’s largest cashmere producer, traces its roots back to 1979 and the early reform era. It rapidly expanded and resisted foreign takeovers during the so-called cashmere war, becoming a symbol of securing supply chain independence. Today, Erdos has adopted sustainability as a core principle, in line with national goals for greener, higher-quality development.
Shandong Weiqiao Group is another example of this shift toward greener industry. Once a mainly textile manufacturer, it now includes aluminum as a key business and has moved this traditionally polluting industry to Yunnan, where hydropower is abundant. Jointown Pharmaceutical Group, one of China’s largest drug distributors, has expanded operations in rural areas, aiming to improve health care access in underserved regions. Its CEO, Liu Changyun, often links this strategy to his own rural upbringing and early exposure to urban-rural disparities.
Jointown’s positioning aligns with official campaigns such as “rural revitalization” and more broadly with the CCP’s long-standing concerns about inequality. Although the slogan of “common prosperity” has largely disappeared from official headlines—likely due to the chilling effect it had on private-sector sentiment—the core economic rationale behind it remains. A focus on redistribution, social equity, and public service provision, particularly in the countryside, continues to feature in the state’s evolving approach to economic governance.
That Beijing felt the need to orchestrate such an event speaks volumes about the moment the country is in. After years of regulatory crackdowns, shifting policy winds, and inconsistent enforcement at the local level, confidence among private entrepreneurs has waned. Economic growth has slowed, unemployment has risen, and the state sector no longer possesses the capacity to generate the innovation, dynamism, or employment that China requires to meet its ambitions. The July press conference tacitly acknowledged this reality, recognizing that the vitality of the private sector remains indispensable not merely for high-profile breakthroughs in artificial intelligence or biotechnology, but also for the work of scaling new technologies, revitalizing industries, and sustaining livelihoods.
This tension lies at the heart of China’s private-sector predicament. Beijing’s notion of entrepreneurship doesn’t fit easily with the traits that modern markets reward most readily: risk-taking, independence, and relentless disruption. In China, to grow too large, to become too rich, or to innovate in ways that unsettle vested interests can still provoke suspicion. For example, in 2020, after Alibaba founder Jack Ma publicly criticized China’s financial regulatory system for stifling innovation, Chinese regulators abruptly halted the IPO of Ant Group—Alibaba’s fintech affiliate, which had been poised to launch the world’s largest public offering—citing concerns over anti-monopoly violations and financial risk.
Many entrepreneurs, especially those beyond the political spotlight, remember the antitrust campaigns against the technology sector, the devastation of the private education industry, the arbitrary zero-COVID lockdowns, and the rent-seeking behavior of local officials. For many private entrepreneurs, especially those without strong political backing, the five figures showcased in July serve as both a sign that private firms can still flourish under state endorsement and a reminder that such success often depends on aligning with the CCP’s latest thinking and shifting economic priorities, rather than navigating a stable or transparent set of rules.
Officials have been trying to signal greater willingness to accept risk in the private sector but are unwilling to abandon control. In February, Xi convened a rare meeting with leading private entrepreneurs, where Ma was also invited, signaling a shift from earlier regulatory crackdowns and reaffirming confidence in China’s economic model and market potential. Since then, the National Development and Reform Commission has pledged stronger backing for private enterprises, encouraging their involvement in national strategic priorities.
In April, China passed its first comprehensive law aimed at promoting the private sector. The landmark law is intended to restore entrepreneur confidence by clearly defining the legal status of private enterprises and reaffirming their role as a long-term national priority. It addresses systemic imbalances that favored state-owned enterprises, mandating fair competition, banning selective enforcement, and targeting local protectionism and monopolies for elimination.
The legislation also tackles troubling practices such as “cross-jurisdiction prosecution of entrepreneurs,” also known as long-arm fishing. This refers to cases in which local police cross provincial boundaries to raid private companies, often invoking questionable legal grounds to seize assets and generate revenue for cash-strapped local governments. According to a reportsince 2023, more than 10,000 entrepreneurs in the city of Guangzhou have been arrested by police from other provinces.
Foreign investors have been consistently skeptical of these measures, which can be seen in numbers: According to the Commerce Ministry, foreign direct investment into China slid 15.2 percent in the first half of 2025 compared to the same period last year. Outsiders see a government that extols private enterprise but demands unwavering political loyalty, a market that promises extraordinary opportunity yet keeps its rules inscrutable. The slogans of “broad prospects” and “just the right time” cannot erase the deeper unease over unpredictability and control.
Foreign firms operating in China face mounting pressure to choose sides. Beijing expects them to align with its development goals, while Washington scrutinizes their Chinese ties ever more closely.
They also risk empowering Chinese competitors. Foreign technology and know-how have repeatedly been absorbed and scaled by Chinese firms, which then challenge their foreign partners, as BYD has done to Tesla and Huawei to Apple. Meanwhile, China’s policy environment remains profoundly unpredictable, with decisions swinging abruptly and local enforcement oscillating between sporadic and overzealous.
The July conference was intended to allay such concerns. Yet for all its stagecraft, such pageantry cannot be a substitute for the legal clarity and institutional reform that entrepreneurs and investors crave. If Beijing hopes to fully unlock the potential of its private sector, it must do more than choreograph events. The real test will be whether less politically connected entrepreneurs are allowed to flourish, whether regulations grow more transparent and consistent, and whether policy begins to privilege genuine innovation and efficiency over rote political conformity.
