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Hong Kong has long held a unique place on the global stage, operating as a liminal space between the East and the West. As a holding of the British Empire all the way up to 1997, Hong Kong has had the experimental status of a purely capitalist actor in a socialist region (that is, before China had fully embraced its “going out” policy). Since that handoff, much has changed for native Hong Kongers.

Of course, the change did not happen overnight. The Hong Kong Basic Law was to keep a British-style government in place for 50 years after the handoff. And for a few years, it did. Hong Kong held a solid footing in the global market and buffered economic interaction between China and the West; China and Hong Kong existed in a balance that held “one country, two systems” as the norm. That all changed in 2020 with China’s passing of the National Security Law, effectively ending the old system and implementing China’s will over Hong Kong in near totality. Where friction between China and other countries has been centered mainly around ethnic and religious lines, the conflict between Beijing and Hong Kong exists on “civic and political values such as civil liberty, rule of law, and democracy” (Lee 68). Because China no longer needs this colony to mediate dealings internationally, it has felt quite comfortable inserting itself into its dealings.

Protests against a Beijing takeover have been happening for years now, coming to their most public head during the 79-day-long Umbrella Movement. Since the implementation of the National Security Law, crackdowns on free speech have continued to be plentiful. Critical discourse surrounding Hong Kong’s history and future still exists, but conversations are often encoded to maintain citizens’ safety.

In the years following the implementation of the National Security Law, Hong Kongers still maintain protest against China in their own ways. Recently, the Hong Kong rugby team entered their game to the tune of a protest song rather than the Chinese national anthem. The death of Queen Elizabeth II sparked public mourning in the city, where gatherings were held in the Queen’s honor outside the British consulate in what must have been a subtle dig at China.

I am very interested to see what direction Hong Kong will be led in the coming years. A commonly held fear by its citizens is that Hong Kong will become just another Chinese city. Even as Hong Kong’s freedoms are being eroded away by the state, I hope to see the will of the people shine through and prevail.

China’s track record concerning their interactions with ethnic minorities is–to say the least–not great. Human rights organizations have long decried the systematic abuses and violence that take place such as Xinjiang and along Tibetan borderlands. Military power is demonstrated to Taiwan on a regular basis. In this post, I will focus less on the physical altercations that occur between people of different ethnicities and the state. Rather, I would like to focus on the programs and information in place that maintains the power of the Chinese state through public opinion.

A population of over 1 billion means it is difficult to determine what “the Chinese” think of the state’s policies regarding ethnic minorities. Knowledge will obviously vary anywhere from ignorance to vehement opposition to abject denial. Generally, official Chinese narratives will emphasize “ethnic harmony,” where denial is policy. Xinjiang is portrayed as a community center of relevant training, culturally sensitive education, and general cooperation. While outside reports will assert the exact opposite, Chinese state media has made a concerted effort to discredit Western media as being anti-China for the sake of being anti-China (which, to be fair, is absolutely true in some cases).

The heavy moderation of Chinese social media makes it difficult to amass unfiltered opinions, however, the social media app “Clubhouse” hosted a “room” in which nearly 4,000 Han Chinese, Uyghurs, and other Chinese and Muslim ethnic minorities were allowed to freely discuss their opinions, tell their stories, and ask questions. While access to this app has since been shut down in Mainland China, this glimpse into the minds of everyday people was enlightening, to say the least. The convention of differing perspectives was short-lived, and there are few other cases like it coming from directly inside mainland China, but this unfiltered view into so many frames of reference was of great importance. Listen to a podcast with some of the room’s hosts here.

This is quite varied from the repetitions of government arguments: that Uyghurs are domestic terrorists, violent, and in need of control. Western pushback has all but firmly planted some in this rhetoric and all willingness to critically examine the government is lost. This is positively fed by state-run media outlets, and the cycle remains unbroken. The general positivity surrounding surveillance, in conjunction with the sentiment that Uyghurs are violent and dangerous, further that exact doctrine in the region of Xinjiang. As noted in a meeting with Dr. Alessandro Rippa, the familiarity imposed on Kashgar–a Uyghur-dominated city– through intense surveillance and a change from traditional architecture to a more familiar, modernized version makes Uyghur culture more palatable and consumable to these Chinese tourists.

Overall, the general sentiments of Chinese citizens are as hard to gather as any other country. Opinions are varied. Free and open communication is difficult. Bias is hard to address. What we can say, however, is that the State is making sure to keep a hard lid on the exact situation of thousands of Uyghur detainees. And they don’t seem keen on letting the pot off any time soon.

China’s lack of soft power is not a secret to most. Where China likes to think of itself in the context of its socialist roots, regionally, the rhetoric is not often mutual. South-South cooperation has little meaning to the democratic West in the context of China’s authoritarianism. Attempts to spread cultural exchange have primarily ended in failure. This back-and-forth has only built greater tension between the West and China, and it seems we are to the point where both parties are sticking their fingers in their ears and ignoring any and all attempts to make nice.

In this context, China’s span of influence might be a double-edged sword. It gains strength in the developing world through energy, infrastructure, and trade deals, but limits itself through its highly-controlled domestic “strongman” appearance. China’s iron hand towards ideological dissidence and political nonconformance is in direct opposition to the soft image it tries to convey. Soft power is hard to measure, but public opinion is a fairly accurate metric by which China can measure its success. And so far, in Southeast Asia where the Chinese diaspora is greatest, things don’t look good.

These attempts to spread influence seem to be hampered by a certain level of fear that China is going to impose its political and cultural power over these countries. It seems that China’s expansion of other forms of power, such as economic statecraft and patron-clientelism, is throttling its expansion of soft power. Perhaps these countries’ fear of economic strangulation or political isolation outweighs cultural admiration or humanitarian progress. China is stuck at a standstill in this region.

Such is not the case in other regions of the world. Where favorability with the United States has fallen, China has come to replace us. Generally, the US is still seen as the most favorable world power. However, our image is quickly falling while perceptions of China’s growing influence are becoming felt worldwide. Will China continue its pursuit of soft power as it has in recent years? Or will its economic power continue to reign as its defining winning characteristic?

A very common thread has run through the course of this class– that China is still bound to the politics and persuasions of other countries and cannot act of its own accord without repercussion. While this class has mainly focused on the global economic side of things, “Rivers of Iron: Railroads and Chinese Power in Southeast Asia” offers a look into the policy-based, political approach to China’s global practices. I found this book to be my favorite of the semester, as the role that international politics plays in the global scene of economics and the importance that image plays in a country’s willingness to act truly intrigues me.

In this book, the authors closely examined the power with which small Southeast Asian countries have the power to connect and bargain with China and the extent to which they practiced that power. I found China’s relationship with Laos to be the most interesting because of the historical role that it played in Chinese-Vietnamese relations in the 1970s and 1980s, and the balance-seeking position that it found itself in during the Vietnam War. Relations were tense between all three countries but eventually softened between China and Laos in the early 1990s. Since then, China has invested heavily in Laotian construction, and this investment has been heavily scrutinized as being neocolonialist, and certainly, power dynamics play a key role in the countries’ relations. Laos is an interesting player in China’s attempt to connect Southeast Asia through the BRI.

Though Laos is one of the poorest and least developed countries in Southeast Asia, its role in negotiating the terms of the Vientiane Railway is incredibly interesting. Laos is a communist regime and democratic opinion is not often a deep stake in official positions. However, with this HSR (High-Speed Railway), Laos held the Chinese state to better terms for itself both politically and for the sake of its people. When the initiative to build this railway was born, the Laotian parliament, backed by the World Bank and the Asian Development Bank, immediately flagged the transaction as being heavily unfair. As a result, China reduced the loan amount from $7.2 billion to $500 million and instead financed the remaining portion. Though this back-and-forth languished for five years and delayed the project heavily, Laos was able to create a more suitable financial case for itself while still receiving benefits from the railway.

Despite China’s best efforts to convey itself as a benevolent benefactor in the region, its concession to these demands was simply part of the deal it had to make to secure its position in strategically important Laos. Knowing this, Laos was able to sway its own power despite its seemingly weak position at the bargaining table. In this, we can see that–even from an international relations perspective– China is not omnipotent and must abide by some rules of the game.

This week, we were given the opportunity to speak with Dr. Miriam Dreissen, author of Tales of Hope, Tastes of Bitterness: Chinese Road Builders in Ethiopia. She was an incredibly well-spoken person with perspectives that I found particularly interesting because Dr. Dreissen is trained as an anthropologist. Reading her book gave a great background for our conversation, and I greatly enjoyed seeing the evolution of her research from her time in Ethiopia to today.

Reading her book, I became most interested in the labor and power relations between Chinese and Ethiopian workers. Accounts of peer-to-peer, authoritative, and personal relationships truly brought the book to life. I wanted to gauge her opinion on the way in which Chinese mid-management views their Ethiopian workers, and especially how race and class play into that relationship. Being that Dr. Dreissen is an anthropologist, her background in cultural relativism and intercultural patterns allows her a unique perspective on the two factors interplay between foreign management and local employee.

Dr. Dreissen informed us that since her research in the early 2010s, relations have greatly improved in the construction sector because of the formalization of labor relations by the court. She explains that courts have forced interactions that may have not been present before, such as management having to sit and listen, undisturbed, to the plight of the workers. Lawyers and translators are employed to maintain the civility of the situation. Dreissen attributes the improved relations to not only this, but a new, more culturally-aware generation beginning to take over.

This change in discourse seems to bring a brighter future toward continued improvement between Chinese enterprises and their workforce.

China has been accused of employing a debt-based political agenda to entrap politically- or resource-strategic countries in unsustainable loans or credit programs. The idea of “debt-trap diplomacy,” as it has come to be known, was popularized by the Trump administration in Vice President Pence’s speech at the 2018 Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC) Summit. This speech sharply criticized the predatory nature of unsustainable loans handed out by countries only looking to “compromise the independence” of sovereign nations by undermining their fiscal autonomy–all without specifically mentioning China by name.

Without deeper examination, it is easy to see how this could be the first conclusion many would reach. China has a tendency to lend to poorer nations that Western lenders are not interested in, and so these countries stand to benefit from China’s generous lending plans. The infrastructure is built, and the home country finds itself unable to repay the loans. China forgives these loans in various forms, but most often through leases and restructurings that seem to politically and economically benefit China. The debtor is left with infrastructure that may not be entirely beneficial and a tract of strategic land under foreign control. Obviously, this seems dire.

It is a much more complicated issue than this, however. As Tim Summers points out in his article “Structural power and the financing of the Belt and Road initiative,” China’s lending patterns seem to follow demand rather than any sort of political strongman strategy. I believe this to be best exemplified by China’s involvement in the Sri Lankan port of Hambantota.

In short, a textbook case of supposed debt-trap diplomacy occurred here. Sri Lanka wanted to build a port, Western lenders were uninterested and preoccupied with the larger Indian Ocean shipping lane, and the EXIM Bank of China won the bid to finance the project. Sri Lanka found itself unable to repay these steep debts without external financial aid, and so rather than adding to that accumulation, Sri Lanka chose to lend out Hambantota port to an experienced company. Only two entities put forth bids on this lease–both were Chinese. Now on a 99-year loan to China Merchants, Hambantota port is under Chinese control.

It is reasonable to say that China does engage in certain aspects of debt entrapment. However, as noted by Padraig Carmody in his article “Dependence, not debt-trap diplomacy,” an important distinction in the morality of this method lies in its intentionality. When it was first acquired, Hambantota was nowhere near the focal point of Indian Ocean trade that it is today. China Merchants had a major hand in growing the port but had no say in its initial construction. This decision was simply in reaction to the situation presented– and it was a very good one at that. This seems to point to a strategy that relies more on opportunity than entrapment, and lends credence to the idea that Chinese enterprise is largely playing the game of global capitalism.

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.