Month: September 2022

China has a longstanding reputation as being a country that will lend a hand to develop the underdogs. Under Mao, South-South cooperation flourished by means of loans and infrastructure projects at China’s expense. Until very recently, the state continued to extend the hand of friendship through infrastructure projects that developed the African continent beyond its strategic military and market points. But what about private citizens? Not every Chinese individual who makes their way to South Africa or Ethiopia is going for the glory of the motherland. What do these private ventures see in the African market that Chinese immigration continues to grow?

To answer this question, we must first look at the demographics of Chinese migrants to Africa. Currently, China’s census estimates that anywhere from 800,000 to 1,000,000 Chinese workers have migrated to Africa. Unofficial estimates place the migrant population upwards of 2,000,000 individuals as 27 African countries do not require a visa from Chinese migrants. Temporary labor seems to constitute the largest category of migration, however, other migrants find themselves in Africa as transit migrants on their way to other countries, agricultural workers, or, as we will focus on in this post, entrepreneurs.

In Coevolutionary Pragmatism, Xiaoyang Tang details several accounts of business ventures undertaken by private Chinese capitalist actors in Africa. From family-owned shops to factories that employ hundreds, Tang chronicles their experiences to discover what is working, what isn’t, and how the interactions between locals and migrants have continued to play out through the years. In this book, we look at labor and managerial practices, sourcing and processing, environmental responsibility, and the ways in which Chinese private capital tends to approach these things.

As aforementioned, most Chinese labor in Africa tends to be temporary. We have previously discussed the concept of “eating bitterness” in this blog– Chinese cultural norms have tended to put up with the idea of a block of time in which one must grin and bear a time of unpleasant work for the sake of building financial fortitude. While some temporary workers are seeking employment outside of China with the intent to move back ASAP, others have the intention of dipping their toes in the waters of international business–and Africa is a very convenient place to start. Cheap labor, low entry barriers, and the need for development make Africa a low-stakes environment in which one might experiment with different projects and methods. Here, private marketers have the opportunity to practice flexibility and adapt quickly, and more importantly, cheaply, to issues that crop up.

One important question that arises out of this book is whether or not China practices a unique form of coevolutionary pragmatism as Tang states, or if it is just another capitalist actor in the global system. Tang argues for the uniqueness of Chinese pragmatism through synergism, flexibility, and experimentalism. Because, he argues, no other entity has experienced growth and development to the rate and extent that China has, it is in the unique position of an interactive process known as circular interactive causality. In this mechanism, venture and capital each stem from the other, and as long as the process continues to be successful, production order doesn’t necessarily matter. Profit, productivity, and growth are the main goals, not a linear mode of expansion.

However, being that this is the case, is this any different from the basic practices of capitalism? Every issue we have run into with Chinese private capital seems to be universally attributable to capitalism. This system tends to run with a lack of concern for things such as labor rights or environmental safety. These are of secondary, if not tertiary, interest to profit. How then, can we attribute specific negativity to this Chinese approach? This is not to say China’s affronts to ethical business practices should be ignored, but the rest of the market’s lack of morality must also be acknowledged, and China recognized as part of that collective enterprise that must be held accountable.

As Africa has developed, two trades have taken prominent seats at the table–mining and construction. Mining has a reputation as dangerously exploitative yet exceedingly profitable for African countries, while construction tends to be seen as a financially short-sighted, yet infrastructurally advantageous means of political gain. Providing employment that is attainable by the general populace, each sector has attracted international attention as a chance to profiteer. This has led to several instances of locals bringing labor exploitation to the attention of their elected (and electable) leaders. How grievances are dealt with seems to be highly contingent upon who the actor in question is.

To tackle this issue, C.K. Lee takes a fascinating ethnographic approach to these industries as they relate to Chinese state capital in her book “The Specter of Global China”. In writing this ethnography, she spends six years doing extensive fieldwork in Zambian mines and on construction sites, with politicians and blue-collar workers, gaining every perspective she can in order to bring forth the most accurate depiction and comparison of labor practices. Choosing to first establish expectations, Lee begins this book by laying the foundation of the two main discourses presented in African labor politics. First, the “largely Western discourse of Chinese neocolonial plundering and blatant disregard for human rights, on the one hand, and Beijing’s lofty claim of promoting South-South cooperation, free of hegemonic aspirations or World Bank–style conditionality, on the other” (Lee 2). The rest of the book is spent balancing the two arguments, and by the final chapter, it becomes clear that neither the Western idea of a new colonial actor nor the idealistic Chinese benefactor is a truly representative depiction of China’s presence in Africa. Rather, Lee makes the rather convincing argument that China plays solely to its self-serving needs.

In direct opposition to the Western argument of rising neocolonial power, China’s attraction to resources, mineral or otherwise, seems to be solely in the name of self-interest. The Chinese mainland lacks the materials necessary to support the level of expansion that has been historically pursued, and so the Chinese state has invested in the extraction and processing of copper, cobalt, and other elements to account for that shortcoming. Criticisms of Chinese operations exist to no end, many of those detailing the violation of labor laws and human rights. However, the crux of Chinese economic pursuit can be summarized by the term “profit optimization.” This channel by which the Chinese state operates is defined as a “distinctly depressive regime of accumulation” (Lee 8). This goal of overaccumulation is aimed at controlling prices, as resources are not limited by the volatility of the economy. In this fashion, GDP grows at a steady rate, and thus jobs grow (even if wages are low) and China is protected from moments of resource scarcity.

In China providing steady employment, not only are they accruing resource capital, but also political capital with the Zambian government. This “logic of encompassing accumulation” puts China in a particularly peculiar position of weakened financial gain, but in a greater overall light in Zambia.

This speaks to an overall trend in the way that China conducts itself internationally. In operating on a platform of cooperation in direct opposition to the traditional Western colonialist tenets, China must conform to the standards and norms of the country in which it wishes to conduct business rather than entirely imposing its own in order to maintain its overall mission statement of non-imposition and cooperation.

At first go, comparing Western and Chinese modes of expansion feels to be antipatriotic. The United States has historically prided itself on the righteous campaign of democracy being the leading force of its international reach. On the other hand, Chinese expansion is laden with tones of debt-trap diplomacy and power grabs by the Chinese Communist Party (CCP). These modes of power seem to be in direct opposition to each other. But ultimately, both powers are expanding into territories not deemed to be their own. How do these global powers differ in their approaches?

Laleh Khalili, author of “Growing Pains”, tells us that the US is no stranger to extending its hand of construction into countries it deems strategically advantageous to its military. In 20th century Libya, Turkey, Iran, Saudi Arabia, and Pakistan, communication and transportation infrastructure was built by the US Army Corps of Engineers to suit the needs of military transport and strategy, never really seeming to take into account the needs of a host country (Khalili 2021).

Meanwhile, socialist China was providing monetary aid to its southern neighbors; funding infrastructure was a form of solidarity with countries previously burned by colonial powers. Circumstances have certainly changed since then. Presently, China is the world’s second-largest economy, boasting a nominal GDP of $17,734.1 billion. Its scope of power has vastly widened, and so have the accusations of neocolonialism. Is this justified?

China is known for its public policy claim of non-interference established at the 1955 Bandung Peace Conference by Premier Zhou Enlai. This pledge to avoid direct interference in a foreign entity’s politics has been noted as China’s move away from “hard power” to favor a softer approach deemed “strategic” economic tooling by Chinese Foreign Minister, Wang Yi (Sidaway, Woon 2017).

How, therefore, can we view the Belt-Road Initiative with this context in mind? Do accusations of neocolonialism hold up when one considers the domestic and international economic value that such an expansive project would provide? Is this mode of expansion one of socialist internationalism, or is it an example of global capitalism in which China is just another participant trying to get ahead?

In my opinion, it hardly seems fair to ascribe such an exaggerated label to Chinese infrastructural expansion. When we take a look at the practical history of Chinese development in foreign countries, Chinese interest seems to lie solely in economic discourse. I believe this is best exemplified in China’s shift away from noninvolvement with increased volatility surrounding its business interests in Africa. Historically uninterested in the local politics of the continent, Chinese involvement has begun to increase through diplomatic (“such as in Sudan, where the Chinese… played an active role in persuading Khartoum to accept the Africa Union/United
Nations hybrid peacekeeping force”) and militaristic (a sharp increase in arms sales) means.

Given these instances, I am led to believe that China is more interested in protecting its economic assets than using infrastructure to create a global political empire. Of course, there are other facets of China’s political structure that arouse hostility. Its authoritarian structure, mass enlistment of its citizens to garner the world’s largest standing army, and sovereignty violations are cause to keep an eye on China. However, the BRI and other Chinese economic investments do not seem to carry the same swing as China’s more overt power plays. Where central government plays a large role in the aforementioned policies, the BRI and other foreign infrastructure investments are much more localised. Such external forces would certainly hamper any plans China might have for political overthrow. Perhaps the American fear surrounding China’s external investments have more to do with a growing anxiety owing to China’s rapid exponential growth and a decrease in foreign interest surrounding American investment.

The idea of social credit in China has had no shortage of alarming headlines behind it. A cursory Google search brings up articles detailing a central socialist boogeyman who watches his citizens’ every move in order to keep an accurate minute-by-minute detail of their lives. Some sources go even further to suggest this sort of surveillance is well on its way to being implemented in the United States. But this dystopian nightmare fuel–frightening to think of in its idealized form–is not all it appears to be. Boots-on-the-ground accounts of this crediting system tell a much different story.

Where often portrayed as a nationwide, state-led program, social credit (at least, for now) is much more fragmented in its practice. Some government-led programs are being piloted by bureaucratic officials in small, sleepy provincial towns. As detailed in the article written of Yangqiao, truthfulness and social credibility are not one and the same. Where some would have you believe that social credit is a dark, looming force that conducts all of a person’s thoughts and morals, the presence of gambling and mistruth in the town belie that notion. The idea of social credit does linger in the minds of Yangqiao’s people, as shown by the teahouse owner’s fabricated credit ratings out front of his shop, however, an iron fist of punishment seems to be all but lacking. 

 Larger forms of social credit, such as Sesame Credit, are all-encompassing data trackers by private companies with the capacity to track your online history, social behavior, and legal infractions. These types of accounts seem to follow the Black Mirror-esque ideas that are commonly touted. However, while CCP officials would certainly love free access to this data, it is still technically in the hands of a private company, though there is governmental access.  

There is the argument that Chinese social credit is no more invasive than the financial crediting, internet tracking cookies, or rideshare rating systems we have here in the West. Plenty of attention has been directed towards online privacy and data abuse in recent years. There is something to be said for the deleterious effects that bad credit scores will have on one’s financial prospects. However, companies have not–openly, at least– begun to take a moral spin on one’s credit score.

There are plenty of misconceptions about the idea of social credit and the roots of those misconceptions should absolutely be critically considered. Racism and anti-communism run deep through the veins of the West’s relationship with China, and cannot be ignored when speaking to the anxieties surrounding it. That being said, and acknowledging the limits to the current system, I still find the idea of social credit to be incredibly dangerous. Mass surveillance, punishment without due process, and limit of free speech all seem to be within arm’s reach of the central Chinese government’s idealized social credit system.