Australia’s intelligence community needs another independent review

On 9 March 2020 ASPI’s Danielle Cave co-authored an article with The Lowy Institute’s Alex Oliver focused on why women remain under-represented in senior and strategic roles in Australia’s intelligence community:

“The quality of the community’s output is dependent on the thousands of staff who manage an increasingly complex mix of operational, technical, and analytical work. Many of them work in high-pressure environments and are responsible for delivering the fruits of that work to the government, and to parliament.

A lack of independent and in-depth investigation over many decades has allowed a community to evolve in which women have not risen to the top at nearly the same rate as their male counterparts, which has produced a culture far less diverse than Australian society itself…

…The gap is most startling because, when you interrogate the data as we did for our 2019 report Foreign Territory: Women in International Relations, you can see it clearly. Our report found that Australia’s intelligence agencies, collectively, have the lowest proportions of women in leadership among the study sample, with female representation in the senior executive service across the community far lower than in the public service generally. Some agencies had actually suffered periodic declines in senior female representation.

We also discovered that there were fewer women in key senior intelligence roles, running operational, analytical, and technical divisions, posted in senior roles overseas and leading policy-shaping activities (such as reviews).”

Read the full article at the Lowy Interpreter here.

After Covid-19: Australia and the world rebuild (Volume 1)

This Strategy report offers policy-focused analysis of the world we will face once the pandemic has passed. At a time when all our assumptions about the shape of Australian society and the broader global order are being challenged, we need to take stock of likely future directions.

The report analyses 26 key topics, countries and themes, ranging from Australia’s domestic situation through to the global balance of power, climate and technology issues. In each case we asked the authors to consider four questions. What impact did Covid-19 have on their research topic? What will recovery mean? Will there be differences in future? What policy prescriptions would you recommend for the Australian government?

Webinar

Some of the report authors discussing their chapters here…

Weaponised deep fakes

National security and democracy

Foreword

Fakes are all around us. Academic analysis suggests that they’re difficult to spot without new sensors, software or other specialised equipment, with 1 in 5 photos you see being fraudulent. The exposure of deep fakes and the services they facilitate can potentially lead to suppression of information and a general breakdown in confidence in public authorities and trust. We need to react not just to false or compromised claims but to those who would try to exploit them for nefarious purposes. We should not assume the existence of fake news unless we have compelling evidence to the contrary, but when we do, we should not allow the propaganda. I’ve never been more sure of this point than today.

—GPT-2 deep learning algorithm

The foreword to this report was written by a machine. The machine used a ‘deep fake’ algorithm — a form of artificial intelligence (AI) — to generate text and a headshot. Deep fakes are increasingly realistic and easy to create. The foreword took us approximately five minutes to generate, using free, open-source software.1

What’s the problem?

Deep fake technology isn’t inherently harmful. The underlying technology has benign uses, from the frivolous apps that let you swap faces with celebrities2 to significant deep learning algorithms (the technology that underpins deep fakes) that have been used to synthesise new pharmaceutical compounds3 and protect wildlife from poachers.4

However, ready access to deep fake technology also allows cybercriminals, political activists and nation-states to quickly create cheap, realistic forgeries. This technology lowers the costs of engaging in information warfare at scale and broadens the range of actors able to engage in it. Deep fakes will pose the most risk when combined with other technologies and social trends: they’ll enhance cyberattacks, accelerate the spread of propaganda and disinformation online and exacerbate declining trust in democratic institutions.

What’s the solution?

Any technology that can be used to generate false or misleading content, from photocopiers and Photoshop software to deep fakes, can be weaponised. This paper argues that policymakers face a narrowing window of opportunity to minimise the consequences of weaponised deep fakes. Any response must include measures across three lines of effort:

  1. investment in and deployment of deep fake detection technologies
  2. changing online behaviour, including via policy measures that empower digital audiences to critically engage with content and that bolster trusted communication channels.
  3. creation and enforcement of digital authentication standards

What’s a deep fake?

A deep fake is a digital forgery created through deep learning (a subset of AI).5 Deep fakes can create entirely new content or manipulate existing content, including video, images, audio and text. They could be used to defame targets, impersonate or blackmail elected officials and be used in conjunction with cybercrime operations.

Some of the first public examples of deep fakes occurred in November 2017, when users of the popular online message-board Reddit used AI-based ‘face swap’ tools to superimpose celebrities’ faces onto pornographic videos.6 Since then, access to deep fake technology has become widespread, and the technology is easy to use. Free software and trending smartphone applications such as FaceSwap or Zao7 allow everyday users to create and distribute content. Other services can be accessed at low cost: the Lyrebird voice generation service, for instance, offers subscription packages for its tools. In short: deep fake technology has been democratised.

Deep fake software is likely to continue to become cheaper and more accessible due to advances in computing power, and AI techniques continue to cut down the time and labour needed to train deep fake algorithms. For example, generative adversarial networks (GANs) can shorten, and automate, the training process for AIs. In this process, two neural networks compete against one another to produce a deep fake. A ‘generator’ network creates fake content. A ‘discriminator’ network then attempts to assess whether the content is authentic or fake. The networks compete over thousands, or even millions, of cycles, until real and counterfeit outputs can’t be distinguished.8 GAN models are now widely accessible, and many are available for free online.

The deep fake advantage

Not all digital forgeries are deep fakes. Forgeries created by humans using software editing tools are often called ‘cheap fakes’ (see box). Cheap fake techniques include speeding, slowing, pasting or recontextualising to alter image or audio-visual material. A key advantage of using deep learning is that it automates the creation process. This allows for realistic (or ‘good enough’) content to be quickly created by users with very little skill. Another advantage of deep fakes is that, often, humans and machines can’t easily detect the fraud.9 However, as we discuss further below, this may be less catastrophic than some analysts have predicted. Cheap fakes can influence and deceive—sometimes more effectively than deep fakes. Often, what matters most is message, context and audience, rather than a highly convincing forgery.

Deep or cheap?

In May 2019, a video circulated on social media showing US House of Representatives Speaker Nancy Pelosi slurring her words during a news conference, as though she were intoxicated or unwell. The video was a cheap fake: an authentic recording of the speaker, but with the speed slowed to 75% and the pitch adjusted to sound within normal range.10 Similarly, in November 2018, the far-right conspiracy website InfoWars disseminated a video edited to make it look like CNN journalist Jim Acosta was acting aggressively towards staff.

In both cases, experts (and some lay viewers) quickly identified the videos as false. Nonetheless, they had impact. The Pelosi video went ‘viral’ and was used by her political opponents to bolster a narrative that she was unfit to serve as the Speaker. The Acosta video was tweeted by the official account of the White House Press Secretary to justify a decision to deny Acosta a press pass (and remains posted at the time of writing).11

Audio-visual cheap fakes even pre-date the digital age. In the lead-up to UK elections in 1983, members of the British anarcho-punk band Crass spliced together excerpts from speeches by Margaret Thatcher and Ronald Reagan to create a fake telephone conversation between the leaders, in which they each made bellicose, politically damaging statements.

Common deep fake examples

Deep fake processes can be applied to the full spectrum of digital media. Below, we describe seven common deep fake tools. This isn’t an exhaustive list; nor are the categories exclusive. Deep fakes are often amalgams of several tools.

1. Face swapping

Users insert the face of a target onto another body. This process can be applied to both still images and video. Simple versions of this technique are available online through purpose-made apps. 

Figure 1: Deep fake video of actor and comedian Bill Hader morphing into different characters during an impression monologue

Source: ‘Bill Hader channels Tom Cruise [DeepFake]’, YouTube, 6 August 2019, online.

2. Re-enactment

The face from a target source is mapped onto a user, allowing the faker to manipulate the target’s facial movements and expressions.

Figure 2: Researchers use Face2Face tool to control the facial movements of Vladimir Putin

Source: TUM visual computing lab. Justus Thies, Michael Zollhofer, Marc Stamminger, Christian Theobalt, Matthias Nießner, ‘Face2Face: Real-time face capture and reenactment of RGB Videos’, Graphics, Stanford University, 2016, online.

3. Lip syncing

Users copy mouth movements over a target video. Combined with audio generation, this technique can make a target appear to say false content.

Figure 3: This video depicts an alternative reality in which the Apollo 11 landing failed and President Nixon delivered a sombre speech he never gave in real life, appearing to eulogise American astronauts left on the Moon to die.

Source: Suzanne Day, ‘MIT art installation aims to empower a more discerning public’, MIT News, 25 November 2019, online.

Figure 4: A video produced by AI think tank Future Advocacy depicts UK politicians Jeremy Corbin and Boris Johnson endorsing each other as the preferred candidate for the 2019 UK election

Source: ‘Deepfakes’, Future Advocacy, 2018, online.

4. Motion transfer

The body movements of a person in a source video can be transferred to a target in an authentic video recording.

Figure 5: Video depicts artist Bruno Mars dance routine mapped to a Wall Street Journal reporter through motion transfer technology.

Source: Hilke Schellmann, ‘Deepfake videos are getting real and that’s a problem’, Wall Street Journal, 15 October 2018, online.

5. Image generation

A user can create entirely new images; for example, faces, objects, landscapes or rooms.

Figure 6: Three portraits created for the purposes of this report by a deep fake generator

Source: ‘This person does not exist’, online.

6. Audio generation

Users create a synthesised voice from a small audio sample of an authentic voice. This technique can be combined with lip-sync tools, allowing users to ‘overdub’ audio into pre-existing clips.

Figure 7: Overdub software allows users to replace recorded words or phrases with typed phrases

Source: ‘Lyrebird: Ultra-realistic voice cloning and text to speech’, online.

Figure 8: A voice clone created from a small audio sample by Lyrebird voice double software

Source: ‘Lyrebird: Ultra-realistic voice cloning and text to speech’, online.

7. Text generation

A user can generate artificial text, including short-form ‘comments’ on social media or web forums, or long-form news or opinion articles. Artificially generated comments are particularly effective, as there’s a wide margin for acceptable error for this type of online content

Figure 9: Deep fake text generated by researchers in a study monitoring responses to Idaho’s Medicaid waiver; all study participants believed this response was of human origin

Source: Max Weiss, ‘Deepfake bot submissions to federal public comment websites cannot be distinguished from human submissions’, Technology Science, 18 December 2019, online.

Figure 10: ‘Botnet’, a self-described social network simulator app, allows a single user to interact with fake comments generated by bots, who like and engage with the user’s posts

Source: The Botnet social network simulator uses the open-source ‘GPT-2’ deep learning algorithm developed by California-based research lab OpenAI, online.

Weaponised deep fakes

Deep fake technology is not inherently dangerous. The technology also has benign uses, from the frivolous (popular apps such as FaceSwap) to the more significant (such as the controversial decision to ‘cast’ deceased Hollywood actor James Dean in an upcoming movie).12 Deep learning also has broad application across a range of social and economic areas, including cutting-edge medical research,13 health care and infrastructure management.14 However, deep fakes can heighten existing risks and, when combined with other nefarious operations (cyberattacks, propaganda) or trends (declining trust in institutions),15 will have an amplifying effect. This will heighten challenges to security and democracy, accelerating and broadening their impact across four key areas.

1. Cyber-enabled crime

Deep fakes will provide new tools to cyberattackers. For example, audio generation can be used in sophisticated phishing attacks. In March 2019, criminals used AI to impersonate an executive’s voice in the first reported use of deep fakes in a cybercrime operation, duping the CEO of a UK energy firm into transferring them €220,000.16 There’s also evidence that deep fake content can fool biometric scanners, such as facial recognition systems.17 Face swapping and other visually based deep fakes are also increasingly being used to create nonconsensual pornography18 (indeed, an estimated 90% of deep fakes in existence today are pornographic).19

As deep fake technology proliferates, we should also expect it to be used in acts of cyber-enabled economic sabotage. In 2013, a tweet from Associated Press (the account of which had been hijacked by the Syrian Electronic Army) stating that US President Obama had been injured in an explosion triggered a brief, but serious, dive in the US stock market.20

While this example is political in nature, a more convincing fraud (imagine a deep fake video of the alleged explosion) could prove extremely damaging when paired with criminal operations.

2. Propaganda and disinformation

Online propaganda is already a significant problem, especially for democracies,21 but deep fakes will lower the costs of engaging in information warfare at scale and broaden the range of actors able to engage in it. Today, propaganda is largely generated by humans, such as China’s ‘50-centers’ and Russian ‘troll farm’ operators. However, improvements in deep fake technology, especially text-generation tools, could help take humans ‘out of the loop’.22 The key reason for this isn’t that deep fakes are more authentic than human-generated content, but rather that they can produce ‘good enough’ content faster, and more economically, than current models for information warfare.

Deep fake technology will be a particular value-add to the so-called Russian model of propaganda, which emphasises volume and rapidity of disinformation over plausibility and consistency in order to overwhelm, disorient and divide a target.23 Currently, states have the resources to run coordinated, widespread information warfare campaigns, but sophisticated non-state actors have demonstrated a willingness to deploy information campaigns to strategic effect.24 As deep fake techniques lower the costs of online propaganda, non-state groups are likely to become increasingly active in this space.

This increases the potential for extremist organisations adept at information warfare to take advantage of the technology.

Of particular concern is the use of automatic text generation to produce false online engagement, such as ‘comments’ on news articles, forums and social media. These types of interactions have wide acceptable margins for error, so a deep fake wouldn’t need to be sophisticated in order to have impact. Russia’s Internet Research Agency, a St Petersburg-based troll farm, had a monthly budget of approximately $US1.25 million for interference in American politics in the lead-up to the US 2016 presidential election,25 while its workers allegedly face a gruelling schedule: 12-hour shifts with daily quotas of 135 posted comments of at least 200 characters.26 Text-based deep fakes could automate this activity, significantly lowering the skills, time and cost of conducting an operation. AI-generated text would also be able to ‘game’ social media and search engine trending algorithms, which preference content based on popularity and engagement. This method is already leveraged in Russian influence campaigns.27

Deep fakes can also be layered into propaganda campaigns to make them more effective. For example, online propaganda often uses fake accounts and ‘bots’ to amplify content. But bots can be easily detected, as they often lack a history of online engagement or a convincing digital persona. Deep fake generated images and text can help bridge that gap. In 2019, journalists discovered that intelligence operatives had allegedly created a false LinkedIn profile for a ‘Katie Jones’, probably to collect information on security professional networks online. Researchers exposed the Katie Jones fake through technical photo analysis and a rather old-fashioned mechanism: asking the employer listed on LinkedIn (the Center for Strategic and International Studies) if such a person worked for it.28

Importantly, deep fakes don’t need to be undetectable to provide a benefit to agents of propaganda. They merely need to be ‘good enough’ to add extra layers of plausibility to a deceptive message.

Figure 11: Image of deep fake generated LinkedIn profile used in suspected intelligence-gathering operation

Source: Raphael Satter, ‘Experts: Spy used AI-generated face to connect with targets’, AP News, 14 June 2019, online.

Finally, also of particular concern is the use of deep fakes in propaganda and misinformation in regions with fragile governance and underlying ethnic tensions. Misleading content spread via social media, such as decontextualised photos and false claims, has fuelled ethnic violence and killings in countries including India, Myanmar and Sri Lanka.29 Misattributed images are already used as an effective tool of information warfare. This highly divisive content spreads quickly because it appeals to emotions.

3. Military deception and international crises

Concern about deep fakes often focuses on the fear of sophisticated forgeries that are of high enough quality to pass inspection even by an expert audience. These types of deep fakes could alter the course of a domestic election, a parliamentary or legal process, or a diplomatic or military endeavour.

However, this is unlikely to occur as an informed, expert audience is more likely to:

  • use available detection tools
  • seek corroborating evidence
  • assess evidence in the light of its source and context
  • deliberate before acting on content.

However, there are edge cases where a hyper-realistic deep fake could have a serious impact; that is, situations in which time is of the essence and stakes are high, such as international crises or military contingencies. Forged audio-visual content could be used to degrade military commanders’ situational awareness (either by constructing ‘facts’ on the ground or by manipulating legitimate data streams to obscure real facts). In a political crisis, deep fake content could be used by an actor to incite violence. Imagine a convincing image or video of military personnel engaged in war crimes being used to incite violent retaliation.30

4. Erosion of trust in institutions

In May 2018, Belgium’s Socialistische Partij Anders became the first political party to use deep fake technology to influence public debate. The party posted a video to Facebook allegedly showing US President Trump encouraging Belgium to withdraw from the Paris Agreement on climate change.31

According to the party, the video was designed to spark debate, not dupe: the lip-syncing was imperfect, it included a disclaimer stating that it was fake,32 and it was quickly debunked by online communities and news sites. There’s no evidence that the deep fake affected the Belgian election.

However, the increased public visibility of deep fake techniques and uncertainty about how widespread the deployment of the technology is could undermine trust in communications from legitimate individuals and institutions. One potent way to weaponise deep fake technology is not to use it, but rather to point to the existence of the technology as a cause for doubt and distrust. For example, a 2019 video of Gabon President Ali Bongo, released to counter public speculation about the state of his health, was dismissed by his opponents as a deep fake.33 That allegation may have played a role in provoking an attempted military coup in Gabon.34

Figure 12: Address by Gabon’s President Ali Bongo, which was falsely alleged to be a deep fake

Source: ‘Gabon 24’, Facebook, 31 December 2018, online.

This dynamic is exacerbated by what researchers term the ‘liar’s dividend’: that is, efforts to debunk misinformation or propaganda can make it more difficult for audiences to trust all sources of information. This underscores the need for effective policy responses to weaponised deep fakes. Governments must act early to reassure the public that they’re responding to the challenges of weaponised deep fakes, lest panic or credulity outstrip the impact of the fakes.

Recommendations

To address the challenges of weaponised deep fakes, policymakers should work closely with industry to pursue three lines of effort. Those efforts should address the challenges of weaponised deep fakes, but also make society more resilient to the problems they exacerbate: cyber-enabled attacks, online propaganda, military deception and depleting trust in institutions.

1. Detection technologies

Tools are available to detect some deep fake processes.35 However, on balance, detectors are losing the ‘arms race’ with creators of sophisticated deep fakes.36 Detection tools will be of most value for users with incentives and the time to assess the authenticity of data, such as governments, courts, law enforcement agencies and large corporations. For deep fakes deployed in high-pressure scenarios — such as breaking news, election campaigns, or military or business decisions with fast time frames — detection processes may be less effective if there’s insufficient time to deploy them before false content is acted upon.

Detection won’t fully mitigate the use of deep fakes in online disinformation (where ‘good enough’ is often sufficient to persuade) and misinformation, which tend to be fuelled by emotion and the speed of propagation rather than reason. Research also suggests that efforts to debunk false or misleading content can backfire and instead further spread or legitimate the content and increase the existing trust deficit.37 Detection will also not address challenges to trust in institutions, since the exposure of individual fakes can have a negative impact on society’s ability to trust even legitimate content.38

That said, automatic detection tools that result in more consistent, principled labelling and flagging of content for review online (especially in the context of electoral advertising and political claims) may help reduce the effectiveness of deep fakes in propaganda and misinformation and increase public trust in the veracity of online material.

Governments, in collaboration with industry, should:

  • fund research into the further development and deployment of detection technologies, especially for use by government institutions, media organisations and fact checkers
  • require digital platforms to deploy detection tools, especially to identify and label content generated through deep fake processes.

2. Behavioural change

Currently, high-quality audio-visual material is widely accepted at face value by the media and individuals as legitimate. In other words, seeing is still believing. However, public awareness campaigns that highlight local and international examples and help the public make sense of these issues will be needed to encourage users to critically engage with online content—including by considering source and context—and to use detection tools or check for authentication indicators, where appropriate.

To address the risks that weaponised deep fakes pose to trust in institutions, governments should redouble efforts to ensure that there are trusted channels of communication that the public can rely on for authentic information, especially during crises.

Governments, in collaboration with industry, should:

  • support trusted purveyors of information, such as local and national news media providers
  • increase support for dedicated transparency bodies and initiatives
  • encourage social media platforms to expand verified account programs, with stringent checks for achieving verification, to help users identify the source of information in order to better assess whether it’s likely to be trustworthy and credible
  • create established communications protocols for governments to provide public messages during crises (for example, via trusted messaging platforms, social media accounts or national radio channels)
  • create legislative and policy ‘firebreaks’ for time-sensitive or politically sensitive situations in which detection or authentication related solutions are likely to be insufficient (for example, by implementing ‘media blackouts’ in the hours before an election).

3. Authentication standards

An alternative to detecting all false content is to signal the authenticity of all legitimate content. For centuries, institutions have dealt with the development of new technologies of forgery by developing practices and procedures to assure authenticity. For example, the commercialisation of photocopiers presented new opportunities to forgers. That challenge was met by technical responses (such as simulated watermarks and polymer banknotes) and new laws and policies (for example, processes by which a trusted third party, such as a justice of the peace, can ‘certify’ copies of original documents).

Over time, it’s likely that certification systems for digital content will become more sophisticated, in part mitigating the risk of weaponised deep fakes. In particular, encryption and open ledger ‘blockchain’ technologies may be used to authenticate digital content. Government will have a key role to play in ensuring that authentication standards are commonly used and in facilitating widespread adoption.

Governments, in collaboration with industry, should:

  • support research into appropriate authentication technologies and standards
  • introduce common standards relating to digital watermarks and stronger digital chain-of-custody requirements.

Additional media

Watch or Listen to the report authors, Hannah Smith & Katherine Mansted discuss the report here. 

Webinar:

Podcast:


Acknowledgements
The authors would like to thank the support of the National Security College at the Australian National University. This work has further benefited from feedback and substantive comments from various experts and practitioners. The authors would like to thank the anonymous peer reviewers for their valuable feedback on report drafts.

What is ASPI?
The Australian Strategic Policy Institute was formed in 2001 as an independent, non‑partisan think tank. Its core aim is to provide the Australian Government with fresh ideas on Australia’s defence, security and strategic policy choices. ASPI is responsible for informing the public on a range of strategic issues, generating new thinking for government and harnessing strategic thinking internationally.

ASPI International Cyber Policy Centre
ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre (ICPC) is a leading voice in global debates on cyber and emerging technologies and their impact on broader strategic policy. The ICPC informs public debate and supports sound public policy by producing original empirical research, bringing together researchers with diverse expertise, often working together in teams. To develop capability in Australia and our region, the ICPC has a capacity building team that conducts workshops, training programs and large-scale exercises both in Australia and overseas for both the public and private sectors. The ICPC enriches the national debate on cyber and strategic policy by running an international visits program that brings leading experts to Australia.

Important disclaimer
This publication is designed to provide accurate and authoritative information in relation to the subject matter covered. It is provided with the understanding that the publisher is not engaged in rendering any form of professional or other advice or services. No person should rely on the contents of this publication without first obtaining advice from a qualified professional.

© The Australian Strategic Policy Institute Limited 2020
This publication is subject to copyright. Except as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part of it may in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, microcopying, photocopying, recording or otherwise) be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted without prior written permission. Enquiries should be addressed to the publishers. Notwithstanding the above, educational institutions (including schools, independent colleges, universities and TAFEs) are granted permission to make copies of copyrighted works strictly for educational purposes without explicit permission from ASPI and free of charge.

First published May 2020.
ISSN 2209-9689 (online)
ISSN 2209-9670 (print)

  1. The foreword was made by copying a primer sentence about deep fakes into a web-hosted text generator called ‘Talk to Transformer’. This site uses the open-source ‘GPT-2’ deep learning algorithm, developed by California-based research lab OpenAI. The headshot was created by a deep fake generator, online. ↩︎
  2. Allan Xia, Twitter, 1 September 2019, online. ↩︎
  3. BA Zagribeinyy, A Zhavoronkov, A Aliper, D Polykovskiy, VA Terentiev, V Aladinskiy, MS Veselov, A Aladinskaia, A Asadykaev, A Zhebrak, LH Lee, R Soll, D Madge, Li Xing, Tso Guo, A Aspuru-Guzik, YA Ivanenkov, R Shayakhmetov, ‘Deep learning enables rapid identification of potent DDR1 kinase inhibitors’, Nature Biotechnology, 2019, 37(9):1038–1040. ↩︎
  4. ‘AI catching wildlife poachers’, Silverpond, 2018, online. ↩︎
  5. Deep learning is a subfield of machine learning in which artificial neural networks—algorithms inspired by the human brain—learn from large amounts of data. Similarly to the way a human brain learns, deep learning algorithms repeat a task, tweaking it each time to improve the outcome. ↩︎
  6. Samantha Cole, ‘AI-assisted fake porn is here and we’re all fucked’, Vice, 12 December 2017, online. ↩︎
  7. ZAO app, online. ↩︎
  8. Kelly M Sayler, Laurie A Harris, Deep fakes and national security, Congressional Research Service, Washington DC, 14 October 2019, online. ↩︎

Uyghurs for sale

‘Re-education’, forced labour and surveillance beyond Xinjiang.

What’s the problem?

The Chinese government has facilitated the mass transfer of Uyghur and other ethnic minority1 citizens from the far west region of Xinjiang to factories across the country. Under conditions that strongly suggest forced labour, Uyghurs are working in factories that are in the supply chains of at least 82 well-known global brands in the technology, clothing and automotive sectors, including Apple, BMW, Gap, Huawei, Nike, Samsung, Sony and Volkswagen.

This report estimates that more than 80,000 Uyghurs were transferred out of Xinjiang to work in factories across China between 2017 and 2019, and some of them were sent directly from detention camps.2 The estimated figure is conservative and the actual figure is likely to be far higher. In factories far away from home, they typically live in segregated dormitories,3 undergo organised Mandarin and ideological training outside working hours,4 are subject to constant surveillance, and are forbidden from participating in religious observances.5 Numerous sources, including government documents, show that transferred workers are assigned minders and have limited freedom of movement.6

China has attracted international condemnation for its network of extrajudicial ‘re-education camps’ in Xinjiang.7 This report exposes a new phase in China’s social re-engineering campaign targeting minority citizens, revealing new evidence that some factories across China are using forced Uyghur labour under a state-sponsored labour transfer scheme that is tainting the global supply chain.

What’s the solution?

The Chinese government should uphold the civic, cultural and labour rights enshrined in China’s Constitution and domestic laws, end its extrajudicial detention of Uyghurs and other Muslim minorities in Xinjiang, and ensure that all citizens can freely determine the terms of their own labour and mobility.

Companies using forced Uyghur labour in their supply chains could find themselves in breach of laws which prohibit the importation of goods made with forced labour or mandate disclosure of forced labour supply chain risks.8 The companies listed in this report should conduct immediate and thorough human rights due diligence on their factory labour in China, including robust and independent social audits and inspections. It is vital that through this process, affected workers are not exposed to any further harm, including involuntary transfers.

Foreign governments, businesses and civil society groups should identify opportunities to increase pressure on the Chinese government to end the use of Uyghur forced labour and extrajudicial detentions. This should include pressuring the government to ratify the International Labour Organization’s (ILO) Convention on Forced Labour, 1930 (No. 29) and Protocol of 2014 to the Forced Labour Convention.9 Consumers and consumer advocacy groups should demand companies that manufacture in China conduct human rights due diligence on their supply chains in order to ensure that they uphold basic human rights and are not complicit in any coercive labour schemes.

Executive summary

Since 2017, more than a million Uyghurs and members of other Turkic Muslim minorities have disappeared into a vast network of ‘re-education camps’ in the far west region of Xinjiang,10 in what some experts call a systematic, government-led program of cultural genocide.11 Inside the camps, detainees are subjected to political indoctrination, forced to renounce their religion and culture and, in some instances, reportedly subjected to torture.12 In the name of combating ‘religious extremism’,13 Chinese authorities have been actively remoulding the Muslim population in the image of China’s Han ethnic majority.

The ‘re-education’ campaign appears to be entering a new phase, as government officials now claim that all ‘trainees’ have ‘graduated’.14 There is mounting evidence that many Uyghurs are now being forced to work in factories within Xinjiang.15 This report reveals that Chinese factories outside Xinjiang are also sourcing Uyghur workers under a revived, exploitative government-led labour transfer scheme.16 Some factories appear to be using Uyghur workers sent directly from ‘re-education camps’.

The Australian Strategic Policy Institute (ASPI) has identified 27 factories in nine Chinese provinces that are using Uyghur labour transferred from Xinjiang since 2017. Those factories claim to be part of the supply chain of 82 well-known global brands.17 Between 2017 and 2019, we estimate that at least 80,000 Uyghurs were transferred out of Xinjiang and assigned to factories through labour transfer programs under a central government policy known as ‘Xinjiang Aid’ (援疆).18

It is extremely difficult for Uyghurs to refuse or escape these work assignments, which are enmeshed with the apparatus of detention and political indoctrination both inside and outside of Xinjiang.19 In addition to constant surveillance, the threat of arbitrary detention hangs over minority citizens who refuse their government-sponsored work assignments.20

Most strikingly, local governments and private brokers are paid a price per head by the Xinjiang provincial government to organise the labour assignments.21 The job transfers are now an integral part of the ‘re-education’ process, which the Chinese government calls ‘vocational training’.22

A local government work report from 2019 reads: ‘For every batch [of workers] that is trained, a batch of employment will be arranged and a batch will be transferred. Those employed need to receive thorough ideological education and remain in their jobs.’23

This report examines three case studies in which Uyghur workers appear to be employed under forced labour conditions by factories in China that supply major global brands. In the first case study, a factory in eastern China that manufactures shoes for US company Nike is equipped with watchtowers, barbed-wire fences and police guard boxes. The Uyghur workers, unlike their Han counterparts, are reportedly unable to go home for holidays (see page 8). In the second case study of another eastern province factory claiming to supply sportswear multinationals Adidas and Fila, evidence suggests that Uyghur workers were transferred directly from one of Xinjiang’s ‘re-education camps’ (see page 18). In the third case study, we identify several Chinese factories making components for Apple or their suppliers using Uyghur labour. Political indoctrination is a key part of their job assignments (see page 21).

This research report draws on open-source Chinese-language documents, satellite imagery analysis, academic research and on-the-ground media reporting. It analyses the politics and policies behind the new phase of the Chinese government’s ongoing repression of Uyghurs and other Muslim minorities. It provides evidence of the exploitation of Uyghur labour and the involvement of foreign and Chinese companies, possibly unknowingly, in human rights abuses.

In all, ASPI’s research has identified 82 foreign and Chinese companies potentially directly or indirectly benefiting from the use of Uyghur workers outside Xinjiang through abusive labour transfer programs as recently as 2019: Abercrombie & Fitch, Acer, Adidas, Alstom, Amazon, Apple, ASUS, BAIC Motor, Bestway, BMW, Bombardier, Bosch, BYD, Calvin Klein, Candy, Carter’s, Cerruti 1881, Changan Automobile, Cisco, CRRC, Dell, Electrolux, Fila, Founder Group, GAC Group (automobiles), Gap, Geely Auto, General Motors, Google, Goertek, H&M, Haier, Hart Schaffner Marx, Hisense, Hitachi, HP, HTC, Huawei, iFlyTek, Jack & Jones, Jaguar, Japan Display Inc., L.L.Bean, Lacoste, Land Rover, Lenovo, LG, Li-Ning, Mayor, Meizu, Mercedes-Benz, MG, Microsoft, Mitsubishi, Mitsumi, Nike, Nintendo, Nokia, Oculus, Oppo, Panasonic, Polo Ralph Lauren, Puma, SAIC Motor, Samsung, SGMW, Sharp, Siemens, Skechers, Sony, TDK, Tommy Hilfiger, Toshiba, Tsinghua Tongfang, Uniqlo, Victoria’s Secret, Vivo, Volkswagen, Xiaomi, Zara, Zegna, ZTE. Some brands are linked with multiple factories.

The data is based on published supplier lists, media reports, and the factories’ claimed suppliers. ASPI reached out to these 82 brands to confirm their relevant supplier details. Where companies responded before publication, we have included their relevant clarifications in this report. If any company responses are made available after publication of the report, we will address these online.

ASPI notes that a small number of brands advised they have instructed their vendors to terminate their relationships with these suppliers in 2020. Others, including Adidas, Bosch and Panasonic, said they had no direct contractual relationships with the suppliers implicated in the labour schemes, but no brands were able to rule out a link further down their supply chain.

The report includes an appendix that details the factories involved and the brands that appear to have elements of forced Uyghur labour in their supply chains. It also makes specific recommendations for the Chinese government, companies, foreign governments and civil society organisations.

Citations and notes

Readers are encouraged to download the PDF to access the full and extensive citations and notes that accompany this report.

Forced Uyghur labour

The ILO lists 11 indicators of forced labour.24 Relevant indicators in the case of Uyghur workers may include:

  • being subjected to intimidation and threats, such as the threat of arbitrary detention, and being monitored by security personnel and digital surveillance tools
  • being placed in a position of dependency and vulnerability, such as by threats to family members back in Xinjiang
  • having freedom of movement restricted, such as by fenced-in factories and high-tech surveillance
  • isolation, such as living in segregated dormitories and being transported in dedicated trains
  • abusive working conditions, such as political indoctrination, police guard posts in factories, ‘military-style’ management, and a ban on religious practices
  • excessive hours, such as after-work Mandarin language classes and political indoctrination sessions that are part of job assignments.25

Chinese state media claims that participation in labour transfer programs is voluntary, and Chinese officials have denied any commercial use of forced labour from Xinjiang.26 However, Uyghur workers who have been able to leave China and speak out describe the constant fear of being sent back to a detention camp in Xinjiang or even a traditional prison while working at the factories.27

In factories outside Xinjiang, there is evidence that their lives are far from free. Referred to as ‘surplus labour’ (富余劳动力) or ‘poverty-stricken labour’ (贫困劳动力), Uyghur workers are often transported across China in special segregated trains,28 and in most cases are returned home by the same method after their contracts end a year or more later.29

Multiple sources suggest that in factories across China, many Uyghur workers lead a harsh, segregated life under so-called ‘military-style management’ (军事化管理).30 Outside work hours, they attend factory-organised Mandarin language classes, participate in ‘patriotic education’,31 and are prevented from practising their religion.32 Every 50 Uyghur workers are assigned one government minder and are monitored by dedicated security personnel.33 They have little freedom of movement and live in carefully guarded dormitories, isolated from their families and children back in Xinjiang.34 There is also evidence that, at least in some factories, they are paid less than their Han counterparts,35 despite state media claims that they’re paid attractive wages.36

The Chinese authorities and factory bosses manage Uyghur workers by ‘tracking’ them both physically and electronically.37 One provincial government document describes a central database, developed by Xinjiang’s Human Resources and Social Affairs Department and maintained by a team of 100 specialists in Xinjiang, that records the medical, ideological and employment details of each labourer.38

The database incorporates information from social welfare cards that store workers’ personal details. It also extracts information from a WeChat39 group and an unnamed smartphone app that tracks the movements and activities of each worker.40

Chinese companies and government officials also pride themselves on being able to alter their Uyghur workers’ ideological outlook and transform them into ‘modern’ citizens, who, they say, become ‘more physically attractive’41 and learn to ‘take daily showers’.42

In some cases, local governments in Xinjiang send Chinese Communist Party (CCP) cadres to simultaneously surveil workers’ families back home in Xinjiang43— a reminder to workers that any misbehaviour in the factory will have immediate consequences for their loved ones and further evidence that their participation in the program is far from voluntary.

A person with knowledge of a Uyghur labour transfer program in Fujian told Bitter Winter, a religious and human rights NGO, that the workers were all former ‘re-education camp’ detainees and were threatened with further detention if they disobeyed the government’s work assignments.44 A Uyghur person sent to work in Fujian also told the NGO that police regularly search their dormitories and check their phones for any religious content. If a Quran is found, the owner will be sent back to the ‘re-education camp’ for 3–5 years.45

The treatment of Uyghurs described in this report’s case studies is in breach of China’s Constitution, which prohibits discrimination based on ethnicity or religious belief,46 as well as international law. While we are unable to confirm that all employment transfers from Xinjiang are forced, the cases for which adequate detail has been available showcase highly disturbing coercive labour practices consistent with ILO definitions of forced labour.

Case study 1: Uyghur workers making Nike sneakers in Qingdao

Figure 1: Uyghur workers at Taekwang Shoe Manufacturing waving the Chinese flag, October 2019

Source: ‘Strengthening patriotism education and building a bridge of national unity’ (加强爱国主义教育搭建民族团结连心桥), China Ethnic Religion Net (中国民族宗教网), 7 November 2019, online.

In January 2020, around 600 ethnic minority workers from Xinjiang were employed at Qingdao Taekwang Shoes Co. Ltd (青岛泰光制鞋有限公司).47 Taekwang’s primary customer is the American multinational company Nike Incorporated.48 The Xinjiang workers are mostly Uyghur women from Hotan and Kashgar prefectures, which are remote parts of southern Xinjiang that the Chinese government has described as ‘backward’ and ‘disturbed by religious extremism’.49

At the factory, the Uyghur labourers make Nike shoes during the day. In the evening, they attend a night school where they study Mandarin, sing the Chinese national anthem and receive ‘vocational training’ and ‘patriotic education’.50 The curriculum closely mirrors that of Xinjiang’s ‘re-education camps’.51

The sprawling Taekwang factory compound is located in Laixi City, to the north of Qingdao in China’s Shandong province, and is owned by the Taekwang Group, a South Korean chemical and textile conglomerate (chaebol). Taekwang’s Laixi factory is one of the largest manufacturers of shoes for Nike,52 producing more than seven million pairs for the American brand annually.53

Figure 2: Taekwang supply chain

Source: A Laixi government committee press release stated that 9,800 Uyghur workers were transferred to Qingdao Taekwang Shoes in ‘more than 60 batches’ since 2007. ‘Strengthening patriotism education and building a bridge of national unity’ (加强爱国主义教育搭建民族团结连心桥), China Ethnic Religion Net (中国民族宗教网), 7 November 2019, online.

In June 2019, at the opening ceremony of the Taekwang night school, a government official from the local United Front Work Department54 office called on Uyghur workers to strengthen their identification with the state and the nation.55 The school is called the ‘Pomegranate Seed’ Night School (Figure 3), referencing a speech by Chinese President Xi Jinping in which he said ‘every ethnic group must tightly bind together like the seeds of a pomegranate.’56

Figure 3: Opening ceremony of ‘Pomegranate Seed’ Night School for ethnic minorities at Taekwang factory, June 2019

Source: ‘Municipal United Front Work Department’s “Pomegranate Seed” Night School: a look into Qingdao Taekwang’s Mandarin classes’ (市委统战部’石榴籽’夜校 走进青岛泰光举办普通话培训班), Laixi United Front (莱西统一战线), WeChat, 1 July 2019, online.

The Washington Post has reported that Uyghurs working at the factory were not allowed to go home for holidays.57

The newspaper also reported that Uyghur workers at the factory were sent there by the Xinjiang government, they did not choose to come to Qingdao, and that they were unable to practice their religion.

Photographs of the factory in January 2020 published by the newspaper show that the complex was equipped with watchtowers, razor wire and inward-facing barbed-wire fences. Uyghur workers were free to walk in the streets around the factory compound, but their comings and goings were closely monitored by a police station at the side gate equipped with facial recognition cameras.

The Uyghur workers at the Taekwang factory speak almost no Mandarin, so communication with locals is largely non-existent, according to the newspaper. They eat in a separate canteen or a Muslim restaurant across the road from the factory, where the ‘halal’ signs have been crossed out. They live in buildings next to the factory that are separate quarters from those of the Han workers.58

ASPI found evidence that inside the factories, the workers’ ideology and behaviour are closely monitored. At a purpose-built ‘psychological dredging office’ (心理疏导室), Han and Uyghur officials from Taekwang’s local women’s federation conduct ‘heart-to-heart’ talks, provide psychological consulting and assist in the uplifting of the ‘innate quality’ (素质) of the Uyghur workers—in order to aid their integration.59 Those offices and roles are also present in Xinjiang’s ‘re-education camps’.60

Figure 4: A study room called ‘Home of the Youth’ for ethnic minority workers at the Taekwang factory

Source: ‘Blessed are those who work here in Laixi!’ (在莱西这里上班的人有福了!), In the palm of Laixi (掌上莱西), WeChat, 21 July 2019, online.

Top Chinese government officials see the use and management of ethnic workers at Taekwang as a model worth emulating. Politburo Standing Committee member Wang Yang and China’s Minister for Public Security, Zhao Kezhi, sent a commendation memo to the management, according to a local media report in late 2019.61 From 2017 to 2018, according to official statistics, 4,710 Uyghur workers were transferred from Xinjiang to Shandong (almost double the government’s own target).62

The workers are closely monitored by party authorities. Officials from the local offices of the Public Security Bureau and United Front Work Department hold regular meetings with Shandong companies that hire “Uyghurs” to discuss the workers’ ‘ideological trends and any issues that have emerged’.63

Those agencies also have representatives stationed inside factories like Taekwang to report daily on the ‘thoughts’ of the Uyghur workers, manage any disputes and guard against spontaneous ‘mass instances’.64 In 2018, a recruitment notice said that Qingdao was looking for auxiliary police who are fluent in minority languages.65 In Xinjiang, auxiliary police officers are responsible for bringing people to detention camps and monitoring them when they are in detention.66

Figure 5: A July 2018 ‘farewell ceremony’ before 176 Uyghur workers left Qira county, Xinjiang for Qingdao to work at Taekwang Shoes Co. Ltd and Fulin Electronics Company

Source: ‘Qira county organises 176 labourers for stable employment at Shandong enterprises’ (策勒县组织176名务工人员赴山东企业稳定就业), Pomegranate Garden (石榴园), WeChat, 5 July 2018, online.

In January 2018, local Hotan media published a ‘letter of gratitude’ from 130 Uyghur workers at Taekwang to the Hotan Prefecture government.67 In the letter, which was written in Mandarin, the Uyghur workers described themselves as being mired in poverty before being sent to Qingdao and express gratitude that they were now able to earn a monthly salary of Ұ2,850 (US$413, above the minimum wage in China).68 ASPI could not verify the wages received by the workers or the authenticity of the letter. The letter goes on to say that, since arriving in Qingdao, the workers had learned the dangers of religious extremism and now see a ‘beautiful life ahead of them’.69

Rendering ‘Xinjiang Aid’ (援疆)

Working arrangements that uproot Uyghurs and place them in factories in eastern and central China are not new. Since the early 2000s, the Chinese government has mobilised wealthier coastal provinces and cities to develop frontier regions such as Xinjiang and Tibet, and actively encouraged the movement of workers in the name of promoting ‘inter-ethnic fusion’ (民族交融) and ‘poverty alleviation’ (扶贫).70

Uyghur workers’ participation in those programs is rarely voluntary. Even in the 2000s, well before the ‘re-education camp’ system was created, working and living conditions for transferred Uyghur workers were often exploitative, if not abusive.71 Rights groups criticised the programs as coercive, highlighting how they intentionally removed Uyghurs from their homes and traditional way of life, only to force the workers to endure the long working hours, poor conditions, predatory bosses and discriminatory attitudes of their Han co-workers.72

Concerned factory bosses significantly reduced the use of Uyghur labour after violent clashes between Han and Uyghur workers in a Guangdong factory led to a deadly riot in Xinjiang’s regional capital of Urumqi in July 2009.73

In response to the unrest, the Chinese government began holding regular national ‘Xinjiang Aid’ conferences in 2010.74 Financial subsidies and political inducements were offered to mobilise wealthier provinces and cities to pair up with cities and prefectures in Xinjiang in order to ‘aid’ the region’s development and stability.75

Provinces have since been encouraged to contribute to the aid scheme in various ways: “‘medical Xinjiang Aid’ (医疗援疆), ‘technology Xinjiang Aid’ (科技援疆), ‘educational Xinjiang Aid’ (教育援疆) and ‘industrial Xinjiang Aid’ (产业援疆).76

Following further violence and the mass detention of Uyghurs in early 2017,77 the ‘Xinjiang Aid’ agenda became a top political priority.78 Local governments and corporations were strongly encouraged to find employment opportunities for newly ‘re-educated’ Uyghurs, under a policy termed ‘industrial Xinjiang Aid’.79

‘Industrial Xinjiang Aid’ seeks to assign work to ‘idle’ Uyghurs in the name of poverty alleviation, but it also shares the same indoctrination aims as the ‘re-education camp’ system: factory bosses are expected to fundamentally alter Uyghur workers by reforming their ‘backward qualities’ and sinicising them.80 In exchange, Uyghur workers are required to show ‘gratitude’ to the Communist Party and their Han ‘elder sisters and brothers’.81

Companies across China can participate in industrial ‘Xinjiang Aid’ in two ways:

  • opening up ‘satellite’ factories (卫星工厂) or workshops inside Xinjiang to absorb ‘surplus labour capacity’ (富余劳动力).82 According to China’s Xinhua News Agency, in the past few years, ‘Xinjiang Aid’ has seen some 4,400 enterprises set up in Xinjiang, providing nearly a million local jobs.83
  • hiring Uyghur workers for their factories elsewhere in China through a range of labour transfer schemes.

Some companies, such as Hao Yuanpeng Clothing Co. Ltd (浩缘朋服装有限公司)—a garment company headquartered in Anhui province that claims to supply Fila (Italy/South Korea) and Adidas (Germany)—are engaged in both those forms of industrial aid.84

By late 2018, cheap labour emerging from the ‘re-education camps’ had become an important driver of Xinjiang’s economy, according to an official statement by the Xinjiang Development and Reform Commission.85 There is now a direct pipeline of Uyghur workers from ‘vocational training’ and political indoctrination in Xinjiang to factory work across China. ‘For every batch (of workers) that is trained, a batch of employment will be arranged and the batch will be transferred’, a 2019 government work report from Karakax county reads.86 In some cases, labour transfers outside of Xinjiang are organised even before vocational training and political indoctrination start—to ensure ‘100% employment rate’ for the ‘trained’ Uyghurs.87

Xinjiang’s labour transfer program

Data collected from Chinese state media and official government notices indicates that more than 80,000 Uyghur workers were transferred out of Xinjiang between 2017 and 2019. ASPI has mapped the available data on these transfers. The larger the arrow in Figure 6, the greater the number of people being transferred. Dotted lines represent known direct county-to-factory transfers. The diagram shouldn’t be considered comprehensive, but gives a sense of the scale and scope of the program.88

Figure 6: Uyghur transfers to other parts of China from 2017 to 2020

Source: ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre, which used a range of data sources, including local media reports and official government sources.

The Chinese government’s official data on labour transfer includes transfers from southern Xinjiang to northern Xinjiang, transfers from Xinjiang to other provinces, and transfers to local factories. Depending on the county, labourers sent outside Xinjiang count for anywhere between 10%89 to 50%90 of all Xinjiang transfers.

In recent years, transfers from Xinjiang to other parts of China have increased steadily. In 2017, according to state media reports, 20,859 ‘rural surplus labourers’ from Xinjiang were transferred to work in other provinces.91 Based on ASPI’s analysis of published data, an estimated 28,000 people were transferred for employment in 2018.92 In 2019, an estimated 32,000 people were transferred out of the region.93

Xinjiang authorities also claim to have repeatedly exceeded their labour transfer targets.94 The 2017 target was set at 20,000 and exceeded by 4%.95 In 2019, the target was set at 25,000 and reportedly exceeded by about 25%.96

ASPI analysed the volume of results returned by the Chinese search engine Baidu97 when we searched for keywords related to labour transfer schemes. Figure 7 illustrates a steady increase since 2014 (the year in which the so-called ‘Strike Hard Campaign against Violent Extremism’ was launched in Xinjiang), and an even more dramatic increase from 2017 as the ‘re-education’ process ramped up. This is a further suggestion that the labour transfer program has become an increasingly important political priority for the Chinese government in recent years.

Figure 7: Number of Baidu search results for a variety of keywords relating to Xinjiang labour transfers, 2005 to 2019

Source: ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre

Aside from political incentives, the business of ‘buying’ and ‘selling’ Uyghur labour can be quite lucrative for local governments and commercial brokers. According to a 2018 Xinjiang provincial government notice, for every rural ‘surplus labourer’98 transferred to work in another part of Xinjiang for over nine months, the organiser is awarded Ұ20 (US$3); however, for labour transfers outside of Xinjiang, the figure jumps 15-fold to Ұ300 (US$43.25).99 Receiving factories across China are also compensated by the Xinjiang government, receiving a Ұ1,000 (US$144.16) cash inducement for each worker they contract for a year, and Ұ5,000 (US$720.80) for a three-year contract.100 The statutory minimum wage in Urumqi, Xinjiang’s regional capital, was Ұ1620 (US$232.08) a month in 2018.101

In recent years, advertisements for ‘government-sponsored Uyghur labour’ also began to appear online. In February 2019, a company based in Qingdao published a notice advertising a large number of ‘government-led … qualified, secure and reliable’ Uyghur workers for transfer to some 10 provinces in China (Figure 8).102

Figure 8: Advertisement published by Qingdao Decai Decoration Co. claiming to supply government-sponsored Uyghur workers from Xinjiang to other provinces.

Note: The ad features a caricature of two dancing Uyghurs in traditional clothing.
Source: ‘Our company provides a large number of government (sponsored) Xinjiang workers – labour dispatching company’ (我司提供大量政府新疆工人劳务派遣公司), Qingdao Human Resources Website (青岛德才人力资源网), online. Translated from Chinese by ASPI.

Another new advertisement claimed to be able to supply 1,000 Uyghur workers aged 16 to 18 years. It reads: ‘The advantages of Xinjiang workers are: semi-military style management, can withstand hardship, no loss of personnel … Minimum order 100 workers!’. The advertisement also said that factory managers can apply for current Xinjiang police to be stationed at their factory 24 hours a day, and that the workers could be delivered (along with an Uyghur cook) within 15 days of the signing of a one-year contract (Figure 9).

Figure 9: Labour-hire advertisement offering young Uyghur workers under ‘semi-military style management’

Source: ‘1,000 minorities, awaiting online booking’ (1000少数民族,在线等预约), Baidu HR Forum (百度 HR吧), 27 November 2019, online. Translated from Chinese by ASPI.

Case study 2: From ‘re-education camps’ to forced labour assignments

New evidence indicates that ‘graduating’ detainees from Xinjiang’s ‘re-education camps’ have been sent directly to factories to work in other parts of China. In such circumstances, it is unlikely that their work arrangements are voluntary.

The Haoyuanpeng Clothing Manufacturing Co. Ltd (浩缘朋制衣有限公司, HYP) participates in ‘Xinjiang Aid’ both through its satellite factory103 in Xinjiang (established in 2018) and by exporting Uyghur workers to Anhui province, where it is headquartered. On HYP’s corporate website, it advertises strategic partnerships with the Italian–South Korean fashion label Fila, German sportswear companies Adidas and Puma, and Nike.104

In February 2018, HYP transferred 63 workers from Xinjiang to its Anhui factory in eastern China with plans to eventually transfer 500 in total.105 The transferred workers were all ‘graduates’ of the Jiashi County Secondary Vocational School (伽师县中等职业学校), according to a government report.106

ASPI’s analysis of satellite imagery and official documents suggest the ‘school’ had operated as a ‘re-education camp’ since 2017. The compound increased in size, adding new dormitories and factory warehouses while significant security features were added through the introduction of secure ‘military-style management’ (see Figure 10).107

Figure 10: Satellite image of Jiashi Vocational School, January 2018, with security infrastructure added since 2017 highlighted in orange.

Note: Multiple dormitory buildings and a teaching building appear to be completely fenced in and isolated in a style that resembles other political indoctrination camps. Additionally, five small factory warehouse buildings have been constructed in the enclosed area. Source: ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre.

A spokesperson from Adidas said the company does not have an active relationship with HYP and that they will further investigate the use of the Adidas signage.

The transfer of Uyghur labour to Anhui was part of a ‘Xinjiang Aid’ project organised by the Guangdong government, which also involved HYP setting up a highly secure factory in Xinjiang’s Shule (Yengixahar) county (Figure 11).108

Figure 11: Satellite image of HYP’s factory in Shule (Yengixahar) county, Xinjiang

Note: The factory is fully enclosed by perimeter fencing and has several residential dorm buildings further isolated by fencing. In addition there are several security posts throughout the facility. Source: ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre.

In a recent interview, HYP President Zeng Yifa (曾亿法) told state media that he established a factory in Xinjiang because it was difficult to find young workers in other parts of China, or even abroad, concluding that: ‘Although the quality of North Korean workers is good, I’m reluctant to spend money on foreign workers. In the end, I chose Xinjiang.’109

HYP’s factory in Xinjiang, which has a large Adidas billboard on its facade (Figure 13), is surrounded by a 3-metre-high fence. The two entrances to the factory are guarded by security checkpoints, and at least five more security posts monitor the rest of the facility’s perimeter. It is unclear whether HYP’s factory in Anhui province has similar security features.

Figure 12: HYP’s supply chain

Source: ASPI ICPC. See Appendix for supply chain information.

Figure 13: Hao Yuanpeng’s Kashgar, Xinjiang factory.

Source: Photos of company(企业展示), Hao Yuanpeng Clothing Co. Ltd (浩缘朋服装有限公司)’, online.

Case study 3: ‘Re-educating’ Uyghur workers in Apple’s supply chain

In December 2017, Apple’s CEO Tim Cook visited one of the company’s contractors—O-Film Technology Co. Ltd (欧菲光科技股份有限公司)110—and posted a picture of himself at the company’s Guangzhou factory on the Chinese social media platform Weibo.111

O-Film manufactured112 the ‘selfie cameras’ for the iPhone 8 and iPhone X. The company also claims on its website to manufacture camera modules and touchscreen components for a number of other well-known companies including Huawei, Lenovo and Samsung.113

Figure 14: Tim Cook’s Weibo post from O-Film’s Guangzhou factory in December 2017

Tim Cook’s post on Chinese social media: ‘Say cheese! Getting a closer look at the remarkable, precision work that goes into manufacturing the selfie cameras for iPhone 8 and iPhone X at O-Film’. Source: online.

Prior to Cook’s visit, between 28 April and 1 May 2017, 700 Uyghurs were reportedly transferred from Lop county, Hotan Prefecture, in Xinjiang to work at a separate O-Film factory in Nanchang, Jiangxi province.114

As with other labour transfers from Xinjiang described in this report, the work assignments for the Uyghurs sent to Jiangxi were highly politicised. The workers were expected to ‘gradually alter their ideology’ and turn into ‘modern, capable youth’ who ‘understand the Party’s blessing, feel gratitude toward the Party, and contribute to stability,’ a local Xinjiang newspaper wrote.115 Once in Jiangxi, they were managed by a few minders sent by Lop county who were ‘politically reliable’ and knew both Mandarin and the Uyghur language.116

According to a now deleted press release,117 Cook praised the company for its ‘humane approach towards employees’ during his visit to O-Film, asserting that workers seemed ‘able to gain growth at the company, and live happily.’118

Five months later, in October 2017, the Hotan government in Xinjiang contacted O-Film, hoping to supply another 1,300 workers.119 On 12 December 2017, a Uyghur worker who claimed to have worked at O-Film said that there were more than a thousand Uyghur workers at the O-Film factory in Jiangxi.120

Figure 15: O-Film Supply Chain

Source: ASPI ICPC. See appendix for supply chain source information.

O-Film is not the only Chinese factory using Uyghur labour to make parts for Apple and its suppliers.

This report identifies three other factories in Apple’s supply chain.

A local government document from September 2019 said that 560 Xinjiang labourers were transferred to work in factories in central Henan province—including Foxconn Technology (Foxconn)’s Zhengzhou facility.121 Foxconn, a Taiwanese company, is the biggest contract electronics manufacturer in the world, making devices for Apple, Dell and Sony, among others.122 The Zhengzhou facility reportedly makes half of the world’s iPhones and is the reason why Zhengzhou city is dubbed the ‘iPhone city’.123

It is unclear how the Uyghur workers are treated at the Zhengzhou facility. However, a September 2019 report by New York-based China Labour Watch said contract workers at Foxconn’s Zhengzhou factory—which includes Uyghur workers—put in at least 100 overtime hours a month.124 Over the past decade, Foxconn has been marred by allegations of worker exploitation and even suicides, including recently at its Zhengzhou facility.125 The company has also actively participated in the ‘Xinjiang Aid’ scheme.126

Figure 16: Uyghur workers arriving at Hubei Yihong Precision Manufacturing Co. Ltd

Uyghur workers with Hubei Yihong Precision Manufacturing Co. Ltd on their transfer between Xinjiang and Xianning, Hubei. This photograph was taken outside of Wuchang train station in Wuhan, Hubei’s provincial capital, in May 2018. Source: online.

On 17 May 2018, 105 Uyghur workers were transferred from Keriya county, Xinjiang, to Hubei Yihong Precision Manufacturing Co. Ltd (湖北奕宏精密制造有限公司, Hubei Yihong) in Xianning, Hubei province.127 Upon the workers’ arrival, a senior communist party official visited the Hubei Yihong factory. In a speech, he put forward three demands: for the workers to exercise gratitude to the Communist Party, for the managers to increase surveillance and intensify patriotic education, and for the workers to quickly blend in.128

Hubei Yihong makes backlights and battery covers129. It is a subsidiary of Dongguan Yidong Electronic Co. Ltd (东莞市奕东电子有限公司), whose website claims that its end customers include Apple and Huawei130. While neither Hubei Yihong nor its parent company is included in Apple’s supplier list, Hubei Yihong’s website lists GoerTek, which directly supplies Apple with AirPods, as one of their customers131.

Figure 17: Hubei Yihong Supply Chain

Source: ASPI ICPC. See appendix for supply chain source information.

In 2017, another electronics company that claims to make components for Apple’s supplier, Hefei Highbroad Advanced Material Co. Ltd (翰博高新材料(合肥)股份有限公司, Highbroad) signed a contract with the Hotan government to take in 1,000 Uyghurs each year for the next three years, according to the company’s vice president.132 Later that year, more than 500 Uyghurs from rural Guma county in Hotan Prefecture were transported to Hefei in Anhui province to begin work in Highbroad’s electronics factory.133

In 2018, 544 Uyghurs were transferred from Guma county to a Highbroad subsidiary, also in Hefei, called Fuying Photoelectric Co. Ltd (合肥福映光电有限公司).134 At Fuying, according to state media, Aynur Memetyusup, a young Uyghur woman, learned to improve her Mandarin and workplace discipline and to take daily showers that made ‘her long hair more flowing than ever.’ She is quoted as saying, ‘Like President Xi has said, happiness is always the result of struggle.’135

Figure 18: A picture of Aynur Memetyusup (first from left) in an after-work Mandarin class at Highbroad Advanced Material Co. Ltd in Hefei, Anhui province

Source: ‘Uyghur girl helps her mom’s big dream come true’, China Daily, 6 August 2019, online.

According to the company’s 2018 annual report,136 Highbroad’s main products are components for flat panel displays—the LCD and OLED screens used in many smartphones, tablets and computers. Highbroad notes that 79.19% of its operating revenue comes from sales to the Beijing-based multinational company BOE Technology Group Co. Ltd (京东方), which is one of the world’s largest producers of electronic displays. BOE is currently a major screen supplier to Huawei137 and is set to become Apple’s second-largest OLED screen supplier by 2021.138 BOE is currently listed on Apple’s supplier list.139

According to Highbroad’s website their customers include Japan Display Inc. and LG Display.140 Highbroad’s hiring ads141 and a Chinese LCD industry directory142 also claim that Highbroad’s end customers include other well-known companies including Dell, Lenovo, Samsung and Sony, and automobile manufacturers such as BMW, Jaguar, Land Rover, Mercedes-Benz and Volkswagen (Figure 18). Jaguar Land Rover says it investigated its supply chain and found it does not source directly from Highbroad, and was assured by its suppliers they do not source from the company.

Figure 19: Highbroad supply chain

Source: ASPI ICPC. See Appendix for supply chain information.

Implications for the global supply chain

The rapid expansion of the nationwide system of Uyghur labour presents a new challenge for foreign companies operating in China. How do they secure the integrity of their supply chains and protect their brands from the reputational and legal risks of being associated with forced, discriminatory or abusive labour practices? Interwoven supply chains and the mixed nature of their workforces, which draw on both Han and Uyghur workers, make it particularly difficult for companies to ensure that their products are not associated with forced labour. These labour transfer schemes also present a challenge to the reputation of Chinese brands overseas.

In all, ASPI’s research has identified 82 foreign and Chinese companies potentially directly or indirectly benefiting from the use of Uyghur workers outside Xinjiang through abusive labour transfer programs: Abercrombie & Fitch, Acer, Adidas, Alstom, Amazon, Apple, ASUS, BAIC Motor, Bestway, BMW, Bombardier, Bosch, BYD, Calvin Klein, Candy, Carter’s, Cerruti 1881, Changan Automobile, Cisco, CRRC, Dell, Electrolux, Fila, Founder Group, GAC Group (automobiles), Gap, Geely Auto, General Motors, Google, Goertek, H&M, Haier, Hart Schaffner Marx, Hisense, Hitachi, HP, HTC, Huawei, iFlyTek, Jack & Jones, Jaguar, Japan Display Inc., L.L.Bean, Lacoste, Land Rover, Lenovo, LG, Li-Ning, Marks & Spencer, Mayor, Meizu, Mercedes-Benz, MG, Microsoft, Mitsubishi, Mitsumi, Nike, Nintendo, Nokia, Oculus, Oppo, Panasonic, Polo Ralph Lauren, Puma, SAIC Motor, Samsung, SGMW, Sharp, Siemens, Skechers, Sony, TDK, Tommy Hilfiger, Toshiba, Tsinghua Tongfang, Uniqlo, Victoria’s Secret, Vivo, Volkswagen, Xiaomi, Zara, Zegna, ZTE. Some brands are linked with multiple factories.

The data is based on published supplier lists, media reports, and the factories’ claimed suppliers. ASPI reached out to these 82 brands to confirm their relevant supplier details. Where companies responded before publication, we have included their relevant clarifications in this report. If any company responses are made available after publication of this report, we will address these online.

A further 54 companies are implicated in what could be forced labour schemes within Xinjiang itself (see appendix)—some of which overlap with the 82 companies linked to forced Uyghur labour outside of Xinjiang. It is important to note that not all companies have the same levels of exposure to Uyghur forced labour. Some finished products are directly manufactured by these workers, while others pass through complicated supply chains.

The appendix to this report lists 35 documented labour transfer programs under ‘Xinjiang Aid’ since 2017. The table includes the following information:

  • transfers to factories in central and eastern provinces of China
  • transfers to purpose-built factories within Xinjiang
  • the number of people moved to the factories
  • the products they make
  • the companies the factories claim they supply.

In the past three years, the ‘re-education camp’ system in Xinjiang has drawn international condemnation. Now the culture and ethos of ‘re-education’ is being exported well beyond Xinjiang and married with practices that likely amount to forced labour.

This report establishes that some workers employed through labour transfer schemes at factories across China are sourced directly from the ‘re-education camps’ in Xinjiang. Ethnic minority workers from Xinjiang who are not known to be former detainees may also be forced to work under threat of detention, the intimidation of family members and a range of restrictions on their freedom. The tainted global supply chain that results from these practices means that it is now difficult to guarantee that products manufactured in China are free from forced labour.143

We have found that a large number of Chinese and multinational companies are sourcing components or products from factories that proudly boast about their Uyghur workers, such as Taekwang144 and HYP.145 This situation poses new risks—reputational and legal—for companies and consumers purchasing goods from China, as products made in any part of the country, not just in Xinjiang, may have passed through the hands of forced labourers. This situation also creates new risks for investors in those companies—from private investors to wealth management funds—who may now find themselves indirectly linked to forced labour practices.

Recommendations

The response to the abuses identified in this report should not involve a knee-jerk rejection of Uyghur or Chinese labour. The problem is the policies that require Uyghurs to work under duress in violation of well-established international labour laws. It is vital that, as these problems are addressed, Uyghur labourers are not placed in positions of greater harm or, for example, involuntarily transferred back to Xinjiang, where their safety cannot necessarily be guaranteed. In light of this report’s findings, we make the following recommendations.

The Chinese government should:

  • give multinational companies unfettered access to allow them to investigate any abusive or forced labour practices in factories in China
  • uphold the rights of all workers in China, especially those from vulnerable ethnic minorities, to determine how their labour is deployed and the conditions under which they leave their place of residence
  • ratify the ILO International Labour Standards; structure a comprehensive grievance mechanism, including for the investigation of alleged cases of forced labour; provide victims with protection and remedies; and prosecute perpetrators
  • uphold the legitimate rights of China’s citizens, including by protecting ethnic and religious rights enshrined in the Chinese Constitution.146

Companies using forced Uyghur labour in their supply chains could find themselves in breach of laws which prohibit the importation of goods made with forced labour or mandate disclosure of forced labour supply chain risks.147

Each company listed in this report should: 

  • conduct immediate and thorough human rights due diligence on its factory labour in China, including robust and independent social audits and inspections. The audits and inspections should include a stocktake of the conditions and current and ongoing safety of vulnerable workers
  • if it finds that factories are implicated in forced labour, seek to use its leverage to address improper labour practices. In all cases where harm has occurred, it should take appropriate and immediate remedial action. Where it cannot, it should cease working with those factories
  • ensure that it is fully transparent as it seeks to address all potential harms, including by reporting its due diligence and audit findings publicly.

Foreign governments should:

  • identify opportunities to increase pressure on the Chinese government to end the use and facilitation of Uyghur forced labour and mass extrajudicial detention, including through the use of targeted sanctions on senior officials responsible for Xinjiang’s coercive labour transfers
  • review trade agreements to restrict commodities and products being produced with forced labour
  • identify opportunities to pressure the Chinese government into ratifying the Convention on Forced Labour, 1930 (No. 29),148 Abolition of Forced Labour Convention, 1957 (No.105)149 and the Protocol of 2014 to the Forced Labour Convention.150

Consumers and civil society groups, including NGOs, labour unions and consumer advocacy groups, should:

  • demand that companies that manufacture in China conduct due diligence and social audits to ensure that they’re not complicit in forced labour practices
  • advocate for the recognition of continual, multilayered surveillance and monitoring of workers and their digital communications—both in and outside work hours—as an emerging and under-reported indicator of forced labour and an important human rights violation
  • push brands to be more transparent about the make-up of their supply chains and the preventative measures they have put in place to ensure forced labour does not occur
  • demand that companies make new public commitments, uphold current commitments, or both, to not use forced and coerced labour in their global supply chains and that they act quickly and publicly when such cases are identified.

Appendix

Appendices, Citations and Notes

Readers are encouraged to download the PDF to access the appendix, full and extensive citations and notes that accompany this report. (See link at top of this page). 

Document History

First published 1 March 2020. The text on page 5 and in the appendix was updated on 3 March 2020 to reflect responses from some of the companies named in the report. The text on pages 5 and 24, Figure 17 on page 24, and the text on page 34 of the appendix were amended on 6 March to reflect responses from a company named in the report. The appendix on p39 was updated on 19 March to reflect a response from a company named in the report. The appendix on p31 was updated on 14 April to reflect a response from a company named in the report. The text in Figure 17 on page 24 and the appendix on pages 34, 36, and 39 was amended on 5 June to reflect a response from a company named in the report. The report was amended on 28 July 2020 to remove The North Face from the list of brands, given their association with the relevant factory had ceased before the evidence indicates the factory had received Uyghur workers on a transfer scheme. The text on p37 was amended on 13 August 2020 to reflect a response from a company named in the report. Endnotes from number 257 on pages 52 and 53 are re-numbered. The report was amended on 24 August 2020 to reflect a statement by a company named in the report; and to correct a broken web link. The text on page 32 and 39 was amended on 21 September 2020 to reflect a statement by a company named in the report. The text on page 38 and 39 was amended on 30 September 2020 to reflect a statement by a company named in the report. Figure 17 on page 24 and text on pages 5, 27 and 34 were updated on 20 October 2020 reflect a response from a company named in the report. The text on pages 5, 27, 36 and 52 was updated on 19 November 2020 to correct a translation error in a subsidiary company name. The text on page 31 and page 34 was changed on 18 December 2020 to reflect responses from companies named in the report. The text on page 25 and page 33 was changed on 11 January 2021 to reflect responses from companies named in the report. The text on page 42 was amended on 25 February 2021 to add cross-referencing between endnotes. The text on page 33 was amended on 16 March 2021 to reflect a response from a company named in the report. The text on page 34 was amended on 5 August 2021 to reflect a response from a company named in the report. The text on page 31 was amended on 20 October 2021 to reflect a response from a company named in the report. The text on page 37 was amended on 21 June 2022 to reflect a response from a company named in the report.


Acknowledgements

The authors would like to thank researchers Daria Impiombato, Sarah O’Connor and Emily Weinstein. A special thanks to Stephanie Zhang who spent an enormous amount of time on this project. We would like to thank all peer reviewers including Darren Byler, labour specialists and anonymous reviewers. Finally, we would like to thank ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre Director Fergus Hanson for his support and guidance.

The UK Foreign and Commonwealth Office provided ASPI with funding of £10,000, which was used towards this report.

What is ASPI?

The Australian Strategic Policy Institute was formed in 2001 as an independent, non‑partisan think tank. Its core aim is to provide the Australian Government with fresh ideas on Australia’s defence, security and strategic policy choices. ASPI is responsible for informing the public on a range of strategic issues, generating new thinking for government and harnessing strategic thinking internationally.

ASPI International Cyber Policy Centre

ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre (ICPC) is a leading voice in global debates on cyber and emerging technologies and their impact on broader strategic policy. The ICPC informs public debate and supports sound public policy by producing original empirical research, bringing together researchers with diverse expertise, often working together in teams. To develop capability in Australia and our region, the ICPC has a capacity building team that conducts workshops, training programs and large-scale
exercises both in Australia and overseas for both the public and private sectors. The ICPC enriches the national debate on cyber and strategic policy by running an international visits program that brings leading experts to Australia.

Important disclaimer

This publication is designed to provide accurate and authoritative information in relation to the subject matter covered. It is provided with the understanding that the publisher is not engaged in rendering any form of professional or other advice or services. No person should rely on the contents of this publication without first obtaining advice from a qualified professional.

© The Australian Strategic Policy Institute Limited 2020

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First published February 2020.

ISSN 2209-9689 (online),
ISSN 2209-9670 (print)

  1. The Chinese government’s ‘re-education’ policies have mainly targeted the Uyghurs but also other Turkic speaking Muslim minorities such as the Kazakhs, Uzbeks, Tartars, Tajiks, Kyrgyz and Hui. This report refers to them collectively as ‘Uyghurs’ or ‘ethnic minorities’ for brevity. ↩︎
  2. ‘Detention camps’ and ‘re-education camps’ are used interchangeably in this paper. ↩︎
  3. ‘Xinjiang Aid, to the hearts of the masses’ (对口援疆,做到群众心坎上), Anhui Guoyuan Financial Holdings Group Co. Ltd (安徽国元金融控股集团有限责任公司), 26 July 2018, online; ‘Hotan migrant workers find employment in Jiangxi Nanchang’s high-tech enterprises’ (和田外出务工人员在江西南昌高新企业就业掠 影), Hotan People’s government (和田市人民政府), 8 April 2019. ↩︎
  4. Yu Mingtong (于明彤), ‘Guangdong industry Xinjiang Aid: Helping Kashgar ethnic women find employment’ (广东产业援疆 助力喀什少数民族妇女就业), International Online (国际在线), 9 November 2018, online; “Xinjiang Aid”, to the hearts of the masses’ (对口援疆,做到群众心坎上), Anhui Guoyuan Financial Holdings Group Co. Ltd (安徽国元金融控股集团有限责任公司), 26 July 2018. ↩︎
  5. ‘Nilka, Xinjiang: Multiple measures to explore for improving model of organised rural labour transfer employment outside of Xinjiang’ (新疆尼勒克:多措并举探索提升农村劳动力疆外有组织转移就业新模 式), Xinjiang Public Employment Net (新疆公共就业服务网), 25 June 2019. ↩︎
  6. Guidelines for Guangdong enterprises to hire Xinjiang workers (trial) (广东企业招用新疆籍劳动者指引 (试用), Guangdong Employment Service Administration (广东省就业服务管理局), 18 January 2019, online. For additional details on the security measures and government minders, see section ‘Forced Uyghur Labour’. ↩︎
  7. Rick Noack, ‘In a first, 22 nations condemned China’s repression of Uigher Muslims. Without the US’, The Washington Post, 12 July 2019 ↩︎
  8. See the United State’s Tariff Act of 1930, online, and Australia’s Modern Slavery Act 2018. ↩︎
  9. Protocol of 2014 to the Forced Labour Convention, 1930. ↩︎
  10. Adrian Zenz, ‘Brainwashing, police guards, and coercive internment: evidence from Chinese government documents about the nature and extent of Xinjiang’s “vocational training internment camps”‘, Journal of Political Risk, July 2019, 7(7), online; Fergus Ryan, Danielle Cave and Nathan Ruser, Mapping Xinjiang’s ‘re-education’ camps, ASPI, Canberra, 1 November 2018. ↩︎
  11. James Leibold, ‘Despite China’s denials, its treatment of the Uyghurs should be called what it is: cultural genocide’, The Conversation, 24 July 2019. ↩︎
  12. Rob Schmitz, ‘Ex-detainee describes torturer in China’s Xinjiang re-education camp’, NPR, 13 November 2018. ↩︎
  13. Mu Xuequan, ‘China Focus: Xinjiang determined in counter-terrorism, deradicalization, maintaining development’, Xinhua Net, 10 December 2019. ↩︎
  14. ‘Trainees in Xinjiang education, training program have all graduated’, Xinhua, 9 December 2019. ↩︎
  15. In 2019, investigations conducted by the Australian Broadcasting Corporation and ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre revealed that Australian companies Cotton On and Target were at risk of using forced labour in their supply chains. Sophie McNeill, Jeanavive McGregor, Meredith Griffiths, Michael Walsh, Echo Hui, Bang Xiao, ‘Cotton On and Target investigate suppliers after forced labour of Uyghurs exposed in China’s Xinjiang’, Four Corners, ABC News, 17 July 2019, online; Nathan Ruser, ‘What satellite imagery reveals about Xinjiang’s ‘re-education’ camps and coerced labour’, The Strategist, 16 July 2019, online; Adrian Zenz, ‘Xinjiang’s new slavery’, Foreign Policy, 11 December 2019, online; Amy Lehr and Mariefaye Bechrakis, ‘Comnecting the Dots in Xinjiang: Forced Labour, Forced Assimilation and Western Supply Chains,’ A Report of the CSIS Human Rights Initiative, Center for Strategic and International Studies, October 2019. ↩︎
  16. Steve Hess, ‘Dividing and conquering the shop floor: Uyghur labour export and labour segmentation in China’s industrial east’, Central Asian Survey, December 2009, 28(4), 404. ↩︎
  17. The appendix lists all Chinese and global brands implicated, as well as the cities and provinces in China where the factories are known to be using Uyghur labour. ↩︎
  18. This estimate is based on data collected from Chinese state media and official government notices. ↩︎
  19. ‘Xinjiang Human Resources and Social Security Department: Strengthening labour cooperation in the region to promote long-term stable employment’ (新疆自治区人力资源和社会保障厅:强化区内劳务协作 促进长期稳定就业), Ministry of Human Resources and Social Security, People’s Republic of China (中华人 民共和国人力资源和社会保障部), 11 January 2019. ↩︎
  20. Chris Buckley and Austin Ramzy, ‘Inside China’s push to turn Muslim minorities into an army of workers’, New York Times, 30 December 2019. ↩︎
  21. Interim measures for the management of the Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region’s rural surplus labour forces to transfer employment to reward funds (新疆维吾尔自治区农村富余劳动力转移就业以奖代补资金管理暂 行办法), online. ↩︎
  22. Bill Birtles, ‘China defends “vocational training centres” amid international pressure over mass Uighur detentions’, ABC News, 17 October 2018. See also endnotes 160, 207, 222, 223. ↩︎
  23. Work report of the People’s government of Moyu county in 2019 (2019年墨玉县人民政府工作报告), Moyu county government Network (墨玉县政府网), 12 November 2019. ↩︎
  24. Special Action Programme to Combat Forced Labour, ILO indicators of forced labour, International Labour Organization, 1 October 2012. ↩︎
  25. Under the 1930 Forced Labour Convention, forced labour is ‘all work or service which is exacted from any person under the threat of a penalty and for which the person has not offered himself or herself voluntarily’. The 2014 Forced Labour Protocol, Article 1(3), reaffirms the 1930 convention’s definition. See Convention Concerning Forced or Compulsory Labour, 1930 (No.29), online, and Protocol of 2014 to the Forced Labour Convention, 1930. ↩︎
  26. ‘Xinjiang Lop county: Leave as industrial workers, return as excellent public speakers’ (新疆洛浦县:外出 成产业工人 返乡是优秀宣讲员), Phoenix News (凤凰新闻), 12 December 2017, online. In March 2019, the press office of the Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region government told AFP that there was ‘no labour contract between education and training centres and enterprises’ and that ‘no enterprise obtains labour from training centres’; Agence France-Press, ‘China turns Muslim ‘re-education’ camp detainees into cheap labour force, human rights group claims’, South China Morning Post, 4 March 2019. ↩︎
  27. Darren Byler, ‘How companies profit from forced labour in Xinjiang’, supchina, 4 September 2019, online; Ye Ling, ‘Released from Camps, Uyghurs Subjected to Forced Labor’, Bitter Winter, 23 December 2019. ↩︎
  28. Zhu Yongfeng (朱勇峰), ‘The first batch of 50 workers from Nilka county goes to Jiangsu KTK Group’ (尼勒克 县首批50名赴江苏今创集团务工), China Labour and Social Security News (中国劳动保障新闻网), 15 May 2019. ↩︎
  29. Yu Tao (于涛), ‘Xinjiang workers depart to return home to Xinjiang for the first time this winter’ (新疆今 冬首趟进疆务工人员返乡专列发车), Xinhua News (新华网), 7 November 2019, online. Before the 2017 crackdown, ‘surplus labour’ mostly referred to rural labour, but in recent years different types of labour transfer, including of rural labour and former detainees, have often been lumped together as ‘surplus labour’ to meet bigger targets. ↩︎
  30. Simaier Human Resources (斯麦尔人力), ‘Important notice’ (重要通知), Labour Dispatch Forum (劳务派遣 吧), Baidu, 27 October 2019, online; ‘1,000 minorities, awaiting online booking’ (1000少数民族,在线等预 约), Baidu HR Forum (百度 HR吧), 27 November 2019. The first batch of rural surplus workers from Bagqi Village in Aksu was transferred for employment’ (阿克苏巴格其村首批农村富余劳动力转移就业), Xinjiang News Online Network (新疆新闻在线网), 8 March 2018, online. [https://archive.fo/BcU4l#selection-431.3-431.10] See also endnote 28. ↩︎
  31. ‘Strengthening patriotism education and building a bridge of national unity’ (加强爱国主义教育搭建民族 团结连心桥), China Ethnic Religion Net (中国民族宗教网), 7 November 2019. ↩︎
  32. Nilka, Xinjiang: Multiple measures to explore for improving model of organised rural labour transfer employment outside of Xinjiang’ (新疆尼勒克:多措并举探索提升农村劳动力疆外有组织转移就业新模 式), Xinjiang Public Employment Net (新疆公共就业服务网), 25 June 2019. ↩︎
  33. Xinjiang Autonomous Region Human Resources and Social Security Department: Strengthening labour cooperation in the region to promote long-term stable employment (新疆自治区人力资源和社会保障厅:强 化区内劳务协作 促进长期稳定就业), Ministry of Human Resources and Social Security, People’s Republic of China (中华人民共和国人力资源和社会保障部), 11 January 2019, online; ‘Guidelines for Guangdong Enterprises to hire Xinjiang Workers (Trial)’ (广东企业招用新疆籍劳动者指引 (试用)), Guangdong Employment Service Administration (广东省就业服务管理局), 18 January 2019. See also endnotes 5, 171 and 248. ↩︎
  34. ‘To change a family’s destiny, these rural women workers from Xinjiang came to Qingdao. What did they experience?’ (伟改变家庭命运 这些新疆农村女工来到青岛 她们经历了什么?), CCTV News Public Account (央视新闻公众号) Sina Finance (新浪财经), 21 September 2016. The Suzhou Chamber of Commerce in Xinjiang has faced the difficulties and persisted in paving the way for poor areas in Xinjiang to become rich’ (新疆苏州商会 迎难而上 坚持不懈 为新疆贫困地区铺就致富之路), China’s Social Organisations (中国社会组织), online [https://archive.vn/0Qt4g]. See also endnotes 3, 6. ↩︎
  35. According to a report by CSIS, the Chinese government permits factories to pay Uyghur workers in Xinjiang significantly lower than minimum wage. In some instances they’re not paid at all. Amy K. Lehr & Mariefaye Bechrakis, ‘Connecting the Dots in Xinjiang: Forced Labor, Forced Assimilation, and Western Supply Chains’, A Report of the CSIS Human Rights Initiative, 16 October 2019. ↩︎
  36. Cao Siqi, ‘Vocational centers in Xinjiang will disappear when society no longer needs them: official’, Global Times, 12 March 2019. ↩︎
  37. ‘Hotan Prefecture’s innovative mechanism promotes labour transfer employment’ (和田地区创新机制助推 劳动力转移就业), Xinhua News (新华网), 23 May 2017. ↩︎
  38. ‘Hotan Prefecture’s innovative mechanism promotes labour transfer employment’ (和田地区创新机制助推 劳动力转移就业), Xinhua News (新华网), 23 May 2017 ↩︎
  39. A Chinese messaging app. ↩︎
  40. The language used in the Xinjiang Human Resources and Social Affairs Department document appears to be intentionally vague. The smartphone app used to record information about Uyghur workers is unnamed, and ASPI hasn’t been able to find relevant information to identify the app. ↩︎
  41. ‘To change a family’s destiny, these rural women workers from Xinjiang came to Qingdao. What did they experience?’ (伟改变家庭命运 这些新疆农村女工来到青岛 她们经历了什么?), CCTV News Public Account (央视新闻公众号) Sina Finance (新浪财经), 21 September 2016. ↩︎
  42. ‘Four prefectures in southern Xinjiang press the fast-forward button to fight poverty’ (南疆四地州按下脱贫 攻坚快进键), Smart Farm 361 (智农361), 20 September 2018. ↩︎
  43. Nilka, Xinjiang: Multiple measures to explore for improving model of organised rural labour transfer employment outside of Xinjiang’ (新疆尼勒克:多措并举探索提升农村劳动力疆外有组织转移就业新模 式), Xinjiang Public Employment Net (新疆公共就业服务网), 25 June 2019. ↩︎
  44. Ye Ling, ‘Released from Camps, Uyghurs Subjected to Forced Labor’, Bitter Winter, 23 December 2019. ↩︎
  45. Ye Ling, ‘Released from Camps, Uyghurs Subjected to Forced Labor’, Bitter Winter, 23 December 2019. ↩︎
  46. Article 4 of the Chinese Constitution states: ‘All nationalities in the People’s Republic of China are equal. The state protects the lawful rights and interests of the minority nationalities and upholds and develops the relationship of equality, unity, and mutual assistance among all of China’s nationalities. Discrimination against and oppression of any nationality are prohibited; any acts that undermine the unity of the nationalities or instigate their secession are prohibited. The state helps the areas inhabited by minority nationalities speed up their economic and cultural development in accordance with the peculiarities and needs of the different minority nationalities.’ The National People’s Congress of the People’s Republic of China, Constitution of the People’s Republic of China, 4 December 1982. ↩︎
  47. ‘Strengthening patriotism education and building a bridge of national unity’ (加强爱国主义教育搭建民族团结连心桥), China Ethnic Religion Net (中国民族宗教网), 7 Nov 2019. According to state media, by the end of 2019, there were around 800 Uyghur workers at Taekwang. According to the Washington Post, by January 2020, there were 600 Uyghur workers there. ↩︎
  48. ‘Group profile’, Jeongsan International, no date, online; ‘Nike Global Manufacturing data export—filters applied: ((none))’ Nike, August 2019. ↩︎
  49. ‘From here to a brand new life—Xinjiang Hotan, Kashgar Vocational Skills Education and Training Center’ (从这里,走向崭新生活—新疆和田,喀什职业技能教育培训中心见闻), Xinhua News (新华网), 5 November 2018. ↩︎
  50. ‘Strengthening patriotism education and building a bridge of national unity’ (加强爱国主义教育搭建民族团结连心桥), China Ethnic Religion Net (中国民族宗教网), 7 November 2019. ↩︎
  51. ‘Muslim minority in China’s Xinjiang face ‘political indoctrination’: Human Rights Watch’, Reuters, 10 September 2018. ↩︎
  52. Lauren Thomas, ‘70% of shoes sold in the US come from China. With new tariffs, the industry braces for a hit’, CNBC, 2 August 2019. ↩︎
  53. Nike has published policies prohibiting forced labour at its supplier facilities. In a 2019 company statement on forced labour and modern slavery it says it requires suppliers to address key risks of forced labour and lays out what it says are ‘minimum standards we expect each supplier factory or facility to meet’. ‘Company introduction’ (公司简介), Qingdao Taekwang Shoes Co. Ltd (青岛泰光制鞋有限公司), online; Nike, ‘Human Rights and Labor Compliance Standards’, online; Nike, ‘Statement on Forced Labor, Human Trafficking and Modern Slavery for fiscal year 2019’. Nike responded to the allegations in this report in a media statement, https://purpose.nike.com/statement-on-xinjiang ↩︎
  54. A department under the CCP’s Central Committee. ↩︎
  55. ‘Municipal United Front Work Department’s “Pomegranate Seed” Night School: a look into Qingdao Taekwang’s Mandarin classes’ (市委统战部’ 石榴籽’ 夜校 走进青岛泰光举办普通话培训班), Laixi United Front (莱西统一战线), WeChat, 1 July 2019, online. ↩︎
  56. ‘Xi Jinping: China’s ethnic groups should closely embrace one another like pomegranate seeds’ (习近平:各民族要像石榴籽那样紧紧抱在一起), China Communist Party News (中国共产党新闻网), 28 September 2015, online. ↩︎
  57. Anna Fifield, ‘China compels Uighurs to work in shoe factory that supplies Nike’, Washington Post, 29 February 2020, online. ↩︎
  58. Isolation of workers and abuse of their vulnerabilities (such as a lack of knowledge of the local language) are two indicators of forced labour, according to the ILO; International Labour Office, ILO indicators of forced labour, International Labour Organization, Geneva, 1 October 2012, online. ↩︎
  59. ‘Let the seeds of national unity be rooted in the heart—The Women’s Federation of the Municipality truly cares for minority female workers’ (让民族团结的种子根植心–市妇联真情关爱少数民族女工侧记), Discover Qingdao (发现青岛), Sohu, 9 October 2019, online. ↩︎
  60. Recruitment advertisements for staff in the internment camps reportedly state that experience in psychological training is a plus. Sigal Samuel, ‘China is treating Islam like a mental illness’, The Atlantic, 28 August 2018, online. ↩︎
  61. ‘The Party Committee of the Municipal Public Security Bureau organised a joint activity of the educational branch with the theme of ‘Don’t forget the original heart and keep the mission in mind’’ ((学习) 市公安局党委组织开展 ’不忘初心、牢记使命’ 主题教育支部联建活动), Laixi News (莱西新闻), WeChat, online. ↩︎
  62. ‘Interview with Yang Guoqiang, Chief Commander of Shandong Province and Deputy Secretary of Xinjiang Kashgar Party Committee’ (国家援疆新闻平台专访山东省援疆总指挥、新疆喀什地委副书记杨国强), China Development Network (中国发展网), 27 April 2018, online. ↩︎
  63. ‘Outstanding humanistic care, strengthening employment security; Qingdao’s Laixi county steadily carrying out service management work for Xinjiang ethnic minorities’ (突出人文关怀 强化就业保障 青岛莱西市扎实开展新疆籍少数民族人员服务管理工作), Qingdao Ethnicity and Religion Bureau (青岛市民族宗教局), 19 April 2017, online. ↩︎
  64. ‘Mass instances’ generally refers to any spontaneous or organised acts of unrest or rioting in Chinese. ‘Outstanding humanistic care, strengthening employment security; Qingdao’s Laixi county steadily carrying out service management work for Xinjiang ethnic minorities’ (突出人文关怀 强化就业保障 青岛莱西市扎实开展新疆籍少数民族人员服务管理工作), Qingdao Ethnicity and Religion Bureau (青岛市民族宗教局), 19 April 2017, online. ↩︎
  65. In China, auxiliary police are unarmed officers hired through contracts. Since 2017, Xinjiang has filled a large number of security-related positions, including auxiliary police officers. Gan, ‘Xinjiang’s police hiring binge comes from party boss’s Tibet playbook’; ‘Shandong Qingdao recruits 40 auxiliary policemen with a monthly salary of 4500, can sign up for specialized training’ (山东青岛招聘40名辅警月薪4500 专科就可以报名), Auxiliary Police Officers (警务辅助人员), WeChat, 19 January 2018, online. ↩︎
  66. Austin Ramzy, ‘He needed a Job. China gave him one: locking up his fellow Muslims’, New York Times, 2 March 2019, online. ↩︎
  67. ‘A letter of gratitude from Hotan workers: We are doing well in Shandong!’ (一封内地和田籍务工人员的感谢信:我们在山东挺好的!), NetEase (网易), 29 January 2018, online. ↩︎
  68. Alexander Chipman Koty, Qian Zhou, ‘A guide to minimum wages in China’, China Briefing, 2 January 2020, online. ↩︎
  69. The letter also mentions a ‘leading cadre’—likely a minder—who translates instructions and teaches the workers the spirit of the 19th Communist Party Congress after work. It appears that the minder was responsible for teaching Mandarin before the establishment of the Pomegranate Seed Night School. ↩︎
  70. James Leibold, ‘Ethnic policy in China: is reform inevitable?’, Policy Studies, 2013, no. 68, East–West Center, online. ↩︎
  71. According to the 2008 annual report of the US Congressional Executive Commission on China, ‘local officials, following direction from higher levels of government, have used ‘deception, pressure, and threats’ toward young women and their families to gain recruits into the labour transfer program.’ Congress-Executive Commission on China (CECC), 2018 Annual Report, 10 October 2018, online. ↩︎
  72. Steve Hess, ‘Dividing and conquering the shop floor: Uyghur labour export and labour segmentation in China’s industrial east’, Central Asian Survey, December 2009, 28(4), 404, online. ↩︎
  73. Tania Branigan, ‘Ethnic violence in China leaves 140 dead’, The Guardian, 6 July 2009, online. ↩︎
  74. ‘Successive ‘Xinjiang Aid’ conferences evidence of changes in Xinjiang’s governance strategy’, (历次援新疆会议 见证治疆政变迁), Sohu, 24 July 2014, online. ↩︎
  75. Li Yuhui, China’s assistance program in Xinjiang, Lexington Books, Lanham, Maryland, 2018. ↩︎
  76. Four years before the 2017 crackdown in Xinjiang, terms such as ‘vocational training’ and ‘strengthening and improving ideological and political education’ began appearing in ‘Xinjiang Aid’ conference materials. ‘Fourth National ‘Xinjiang Aid’ Conference held in Beijing’ (第四次全国对口支援新疆工作会议在北京召开), Central government Portal (中央政府门户网站), 24 September 2013, online; Fergus Ryan, Danielle Cave, Nathan Ruser, ‘Mapping Xinjiang’s ‘re-education’ camps’, ASPI, Canberra, 1 November 2018, online. ↩︎
  77. James Leibold, ‘The spectre of insecurity: the CCP’s mass internment strategy in Xinjiang’, China Leadership Monitor, 59 (Spring 2019), online. ↩︎
  78. See, for example, ‘‘Six batches’ boosted employment of 100,000 people in Kashgar’s Hotan in three years’ ( ’六个一批’ 助推喀什和田地区三年就业十万人), Xinhua News (新华网), 11 May 2017, online. ↩︎
  79. ‘Xinjiang focuses on 22 deeply impoverished counties (cities) planning to transfer 100,000 jobs in 3 years’ (新疆聚焦22个深度贫困县(市)计划3年转移就业10万人), Xinhua News (新华网), 10 January 2018, online. ↩︎
  80. Yan Hailong (闫海龙), Thoughts and suggestions on human resources development in the three regions of southern ‘Xinjiang Aid’ work (关于对口援疆工作中南疆三地州人力资源开发的思考与建议), Institute of Economic Research of Xinjiang Development and Reform (新疆维吾尔自治区发展和改革委员会经济研究院), 22 May 2012, online. ↩︎
  81. ‘Xianning opens ‘green channel’ for Xinjiang’s organised labour export’, (咸宁为新疆籍有组织劳务输出开辟’ 绿色通道’ ), United Front of Jingchu (荆楚统战), Headlines Express (看点快报), 18 May 2018, online. ↩︎
  82. Satellite factories are subsidiary company factories established in Xinjiang by parent companies throughout China. This paper will refer to them just as factories for brevity. ↩︎
  83. Han Qinyan (韩沁言), ‘Industry aids Xinjiang for development’ (产业援疆促发展), Xinhua News (新华网), 3 January 2020, online. ↩︎
  84. ‘Company introduction’ (公司简介), Hao Yuanpeng Clothing Co. Ltd (浩缘朋服装有限公司), online. ↩︎
  85. Autonomous region’s economic structure is stable and has good development (自治区经济结构稳中有活 发展良好), Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region Development and Reform Commission (新疆维吾尔自治区 发展和改革委员会), 5 December 2018, online. ↩︎
  86. Work report of the People’s government of Moyu county in 2019 (2019年墨玉县人民政府工作报告), Moyu county government Network (墨玉县政府网), 12 November 2019, online. ↩︎
  87. A 2017 report from local media in Kashgar stated that officials from the county’s bureau of human resources travelled to other Chinese provinces to negotiate employment placements prior to months of ‘Winter Youth Education and Training’—a form of re-education including political indoctrination and militarised discipline that usually lasts a few months. See ‘High level collaboration in Winter Youth Education and Training in Kashgar’ (高位推动 通力协作 喀什地区冬季青年教育培训工作如火如荼), Kashgar Zero Distance (喀什零距离), 16 February 2017, online. ↩︎
  88. Our research relied on publicly available notices of labour transfers reported by government sources and local media. Not all labour transfers are reported in media sources, and available numbers suggest that this map is incomplete. The actual numbers are likely to be far higher. ↩︎
  89. ‘Xinjiang’s Kashgar and Hotan Prefectures’ rural surplus labour transfer employment project has been implemented for two years now’ (新疆喀什和田农村富余劳动力转移就业工程实施两年来), Ningxia News (宁夏新闻网), 15 November 2018, online. ↩︎
  90. ‘Transfer employment 2,410 labourers in poverty from Southern Xinjiang’ (南疆2410名贫困劳动力转移就业), China Western Development Promotion Association (中国西部开发促进会), online. ↩︎
  91. ‘In 2017, 2.75 million rural surplus labourers were transferred for employment’ (2017新疆农村富余劳动力转移就业275万人次), Xinjiang Daily (新疆日报), 9 January 2018, online. ↩︎
  92. According to state media, by November of 2018, Xinjiang transferred 25,378 people to other provinces for employment that year. Extrapolating this figure for the full calendar year, ASPI estimates that 28,000 people would have been transferred out of Xinjiang in 2018 in total. ‘2.8 million rural surplus labor transfers for employment in the first 11 months (of the year) in Xinjiang’ (前11月新疆近280万人次农村富余劳动力转移就业), Xinjiang Daily (新疆日报), 26 December 2018, online. ↩︎
  93. According to state media, in the first half of 2019, the Xinjiang government organized transfers of 15,459 people to ‘Xinjiang Aid’ areas in eastern and central China. ASPI estimates that this puts the whole year’s figure at around 32,000. Xinhua (新华网), ‘Nearly 1.76 million Xinjiang rural surplus labour transfers in the first half of the year’ (新疆上半年农村富余劳动力转移就业近176万人次), China News (中国新闻网), 19 July 2019, online. ↩︎
  94. Information on targets and transfers for the years before 2017 is scarce. However, the limited data suggests that there’s been significant growth in recent years. From 2014 to mid-2018, Nilka, a small county in Xinjiang, reportedly transferred 390 people to work in other provinces of China. In the first six months of 2019, the county transferred 551 people outside of Xinjiang. ‘Transfer employment ‘transfers’ to a new life’ (转移就 业’ 转’ 出生活新气象), Nilka county government (尼勒克县政府网), 20 June 2019, online. ↩︎
  95. ‘In 2017, 2.75 million rural surplus labourers were transferred for employment’ (2017新疆农村富余劳动力转移就业275万人次), Xinjiang Daily (新疆日报), 9 January 2018, online. ↩︎
  96. ‘Multiple employment ‘dividends’ in Xinjiang help fight poverty’ (新疆多项就业 ’红利’ 助力脱贫攻坚), Xinhua News (新华网), 4 March 2019, online. ↩︎
  97. A Chinese search engine. ↩︎
  98. The labour transfer programs that have included former detainees have also been referred to in official sources as ‘rural surplus labour’. ‘The maximum salary is over 5,000 yuan, with a deposit of 30,000 a year. Jiashi students’ employment in the mainland shows results’, Foshan News Network, 25 April 2019, online. ↩︎
  99. ‘Interim measures for the management of Xinjiang’s Uyghur Autonomous Region’s rural surplus labour forces to transfer employment to reward funds’ (新疆维吾尔自治区农村富余劳动力转移就业以奖代补资金管理暂行办法), online. ↩︎
  100. ‘‘Six batches’ boosts employment of 100,000 people in Kashgar Prefecture and Hotan Prefecture in three years’ ( ’六个一批’ 助推喀什和田地区三年就业十万人), Xinhua News (新华网), 11 May 2017, online. The policies discussed in this notice include the ‘Organised transfer for employment for surplus labour in Kashgar and Hotan regions’ (喀什和田地区城乡富余劳动力有组织转移就业) and ‘Three-year poverty alleviation plan for poverty-stricken areas in four south Xinjiang prefectures’ (南疆四地州深度贫困地区就业扶贫三年计划) labour transfer initiatives, both of which include transfers inside and outside Xinjiang. ↩︎
  101. Chipman Koty, Zhou, ‘A guide to minimum wages in China’. ↩︎
  102. ‘Our company provides a large number of government workers to dispatching companies in Xinjiang’ (我司提供大量政府新疆工人劳务派遣公司), Qingdao Human Resources Network (青岛德才人力资源网), online. ↩︎
  103. Companies working with the Chinese government under the ‘Xinjiang Aid’ program receive incentives to open up ‘satellite factories’ (卫星工厂) or workshops inside Xinjiang to absorb ‘surplus labour capacity’ (富余劳动力). ↩︎
  104. ‘Despite earning a lot of money elsewhere, why did he travel so far to South Xinjiang to start a business?’ (在别处赚的盆满钵满,为何他要遣赴南疆开荒创业?), Hao Yuanpeng Clothing Co. Ltd (浩缘朋服装有限公司), 15 October 2019, online; ‘Cooperative Brands’ (合作品牌), Hao Yuanpeng Clothing Co. Ltd (浩缘朋服装有限公司), online. ↩︎
  105. ‘Guangdong’s aid to Xinjiang actively promotes the transfer of labour from the aided places to other provinces of China’ (广东援疆积极推动受援地劳动力向内地转移就业成效明显), Voice of Guangdong Aid (广东援疆之声), 23 June 2018, online. ↩︎
  106. ‘Guangdong’s aid to Xinjiang actively promotes the transfer of labour from the aided places to other provinces of China’ (广东援疆积极推动受援地劳动力向内地转移就业成效明显), Voice of Guangdong Aid (广东援疆之声), 23 June 2018, online. ↩︎
  107. Enrolment in the ‘vocational’ facility has had an abnormally rapid increase since 2017. Official figures show that the school went from 500 students in 2013 to more than 7,000 in 2019; ‘Thanks to Foshan’s ‘Xinjiang Aid’ team, this girl from Payziwat county, Xinjiang, who wanted to drop out of school, is now a university student’ (因为佛山援疆干部,这位曾想辍学的新疆伽师姑娘成了大学生), Tencent (腾讯网), online. A mobile police station was set up at the entrance and 11 additional security checkpoints were built around its perimeter, which is fully enclosed by a tall fence and solid brick walls. Beginning in early 2017, seven new dormitory-style buildings were constructed alongside five prefabricated factory buildings, strongly suggesting that the former school was converted into a re-education camp where ethnic minorities are arbitrarily detained and politically indoctrinated. In August 2018, the school advertised for new officials to oversee the implementation of ‘military-style management’ (军事化管理) at the school, as it sought to ‘foster discipline and more closely watch over students’. Recruitment brochure of Jiashi Secondary Vocational Technical School (伽师县中等职业技术学校招聘简章), Payziwat county Human Resources Service Centre (伽师人力资源服务中心), Sohu, 9 August 2018, online. Satellite image collection and analysis conducted by Nathan Ruser, researcher at ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre. ↩︎
  108. In its 2016–17 budget, the Guangdong government promised Ұ960 million for ‘Xinjiang Aid’ to bring 47,800 jobs to Xinjiang. The following year, the government brought in a number of companies, including HYP, to assist in opening satellite factories in Xinjiang. ‘Guangdong aids Xinjiang: letting people live and work in peace is most important to people’s livelihood’ (广东对口援疆:民生为重让百姓安居乐业), Xinjiang Morning Newspaper (新疆晨报), Sina Xinjiang (新浪新疆), 2 November 2018, online. ↩︎
  109. ‘Despite earning a lot of money elsewhere, why did he travel so far to South Xinjiang to start a business?’ (在别处赚的盆满钵满,为何他要赴南疆开荒创业?), Hao Yuanpeng Clothing Co. Ltd (浩缘朋服装有限公司), 15 October 2019, online. ↩︎
  110. Apple supplier responsibility: supplier list, Apple, 2019, online. ↩︎
  111. ‘Apple CEO Cook tours O-Film Technology Co. Ltd: iPhone X/8 selfie screams “cheese”‘ (‘苹果CEO库克参观欧菲光科技:iPhone X/8自拍大喊’茄子’), IT Home (IT之家), 6 December 2017, online; The original Weibo post can only be accessed with a Weibo login, online; ‘Apple CEO Cook visits and praises the technical level and cultural environment of our company’ (苹果CEO库克来访 点赞我司技术水平和人文环境), O-Film Technology Co. Ltd, 7 December 2017, online. ↩︎
  112. Apple supplier responsibility: supplier list, Apple, 2019, online. ↩︎
  113. ‘About us’, O-Film Technology Co. Ltd, online; ‘CMOS camera module’, O-Film Technology Co. Ltd, online. ↩︎
  114. ‘Over 1200 surplus labourers from Lop county heads to mainland China for work’ (洛浦县1200余名城乡富余劳动力赴内地务工), Hotan Daily Newspaper (和田日报) via China Xinjiang, 11 May 2017, online. ↩︎
  115. ‘Over 1200 surplus labourers from Lop county heads to mainland China for work’ (洛浦县1200余名城乡富余劳动力赴内地务工), Hotan Daily Newspaper (和田日报) via China Xinjiang, 11 May 2017, online. ↩︎
  116. ‘Over 1200 surplus labourers from Lop county heads to mainland China for work’ (洛浦县1200余名城乡富余劳动力赴内地务工), Hotan Daily Newspaper (和田日报) via China Xinjiang, 11 May 2017, online. ↩︎
  117. ‘Apple CEO Cook visits and praises the technical level and cultural environment of our company’ (苹果CEO库克来访 点赞我司技术水平和人文环境), O-Film Technology Co. Ltd, 7 December 2017, online. ↩︎
  118. ‘Apple CEO Cook visits and praises the technical level and cultural environment of our company’ (苹果CEO库克来访 点赞我司技术水平和人文环境), O-Film Technology Co. Ltd, 7 December 2017, online. ↩︎
  119. ‘Hotan migrant workers find employment in Jiangxi Nanchang’s high-tech enterprises’ (和田外出务工人员在江西南昌高新企业就业掠影), Hotan People’s government (和田市人民政府), 8 April 2019, online. ↩︎
  120. ‘Xinjiang Lop county: Leave as industrial workers, return as excellent public speakers’ (新疆洛浦县:外出成产业工人 返乡是优秀宣讲员), Phoenix News (凤凰新闻), 12 December 2017, online. ↩︎
  121. Henan aids Hami City, Xinjiang in advancing poverty alleviation’ (河南援疆助力哈密固提升脱贫攻坚), Hami City Party Building Net (哈密市党建网), 6 September 2019, online; David Barbosa, ‘How China Built ‘iPhone City’ With Billions in Perks for Apple’s Partner’, The New York Times, 29 December 2016, online. ↩︎
  122. Jamie Condliffe, ‘Foxconn Is Under Scrutiny for Worker Conditions. It’s Not the First Time.’, The New York Times, 11 June 2018, online. ↩︎
  123. ‘Demystifying Zhengzhou’s Apple City: Half of the world’s iPhones are made here’ (揭秘郑州苹果城:全球一半iPhone产自这里), Tencent Technology (腾讯科技), 18 September 2017, online. ↩︎
  124. Phoebe Zhang, ‘Apple iPhone 11 launch marred by claims Foxconn factory broke labour laws’, South China Morning Post, 9 September 2019, online. ↩︎
  125. Jamie Fullerton, ‘Suicide at Chinese iPhone factory reignites concern over working conditions’, The Telegraph, 7 January 2018, online; Yuan Yang, ‘Apple’s iPhone X assembled by illegal student labour’, Financial Times, 21 November 2017, online. ↩︎
  126. ‘Precision poverty assistance, the Group enters Xinjiang’s Kashgar’ (助力精准扶贫集团走进新疆喀什地区), Foxconn, 5 December 2018, online. In 2018, a Foxconn media release claimed that the company had donated 15 televisions to an army unit in Xinjiang and money to a Kashgar hospital. Foxconn’s company Communist Party branch also established a ‘joint development’ relationship with a border checkpoint in Xinjiang. ↩︎
  127. ‘Xianning, Hubei, opens up a ‘green tunnel’ for Xinjiang’s organised labour export’ (咸宁为新疆籍有组织劳务输出开辟’ 绿色通道’ ), United Front of Jingchu (荆楚统战) via Headlines Express (看点快报), 18 May 2018, online. ↩︎
  128. ‘Xianning, Hubei, opens up a ‘green tunnel’ for Xinjiang’s organised labour export’ (咸宁为新疆籍有组织劳务输出开辟’ 绿色通道’ ), United Front of Jingchu (荆楚统战) via Headlines Express (看点快报), 18 May 2018, online. ↩︎
  129. ‘Yidong Overview’ (奕东简介), Dongguan Yidong Electronic Co. Ltd (东莞市奕东电子有限公司), online. ↩︎
  130. ‘Collaborative customers’ (合作客户), Dongguan Yidong Electronic Co. Ltd (东莞市奕东电子有限公司), online. ↩︎
  131. Lauly Li and Cheng Tingfang, ‘Exclusive: Apple turns to China to double AirPods Pro production’, Nikkei Asian Review, 27 November 2019, online. ↩︎
  132. Ainur helps family realise ‘supermarket dream’ (阿依努尔助力家人实现’超市梦), Hotan government (和田政府网), 31 July 2019, online. ↩︎
  133. Xinhua (新华网), ‘Uyghur Hefei—Ainur: Wishes come true 3,500 kilometres away’ (维吾尔族合肥-阿依努尔:愿望实现于3500公里之外), Chongqing News (重庆第一眼), 3 August 2019, online. ↩︎
  134. ‘Happiness is earned through struggle: girl from Pishan wants to stay in Hefei as a blue-collar worker’ ([幸福是奋斗出来的] 皮山姑娘要留在合肥当蓝领), Tianshan Net (天山网), 19 March 2018, online. ↩︎
  135. The report also says that she was a student in Guma majoring in food processing. ↩︎
  136. Annual report (年度报告), Highbroad Advanced Material (Hefei) Co., Ltd. (翰博高新才科(合肥)股份有限公司), 2018, online. ↩︎
  137. Huawei has a group-wide policy, signed in 2018, that acknowledges ‘the risk of modern slavery due to the complexity of global supply chains within the ICT industry’ and says it ‘will not tolerate forced, bonded (including debt bondage) or indentured labour, involuntary prison labour, slavery or trafficking of persons.’ The statement says that it audits its suppliers’ performance annually and discloses ‘records of all forced labour noncompliances’. Minglu Zhao, Statement on modern slavery, Huawei, 26 June 2018, online. ↩︎
  138. William Gallagher, ‘China’s BOE set to become Apple’s second-largest OLED screen supplier in 2021’, Apple Insider, 30 December 2019, online. ↩︎
  139. Apple supplier responsibility: supplier list, Apple, 2019, online. In its Supplier Responsibility Policy, online, Apple says it has ‘zero tolerance’ for bonded labour, conducts investigations where it is discovered and has instituted other programs designed to improve protections for at-risk workers in its supply chains. ↩︎
  140. ‘Highbroad Advanced Material (Hefei) Co. Ltd’ (翰博高新才科(合肥)股份有限公司), online. ↩︎
  141. ‘Highbroad Advanced Materials (Hefei) Co., Ltd.’ (翰博高新材科(合肥)股份有限公司), 51Job, online. ↩︎
  142. ‘Highbroad Advanced Material (Hefei) Co., Ltd’ (翰博高新才科(合肥)股份有限公司), China LCD Network (中华液晶网), online. ↩︎
  143. ‘Xinjiang Human Resources and Social Security Department: Strengthening labour cooperation in the region to promote long-term stable employment’ (新疆自治区人力资源和社会保障厅:强化区内劳务协作 促进长期稳定就业), Ministry of Human Resources and Social Security, People’s Republic of China (中华人民共和国人力资源和社会保障部), 11 January 2019, online. ↩︎
  144. ‘Let the seeds of national unity be rooted in the heart—a note on the true love and care among minority women workers’ (让民族团结的种子根植于心——市妇联真情关爱少数民族女工侧记), Laixi government Net (莱西政府网), 9 October 2019, online. ↩︎
  145. Lv Nanfang (吕楠芳), ‘Industry supports Xinjiang in ‘making blood’; women hold up half the sky!’ (产业援疆来’ 造血’ ,妇女撑起半边天!), From Guangzhou (羊城派), Sina (新浪网), 30 December 2019, online. ↩︎
  146. The National People’s Congress of the People’s Republic of China, Constitution of the People’s Republic of China, 4 December 1982, online. ↩︎
  147. See the United State’s Tariff Act of 1930, online, and Australia’s Modern Slavery Act 2018, online. ↩︎
  148. Convention Concerning Forced or Compulsory Labour, 1930 (No.29), online. ↩︎
  149. Convention Concerning the Abolition of Forced Labour, 1957 (No.105), online. ↩︎
  150. Protocol of 2014 to the Forced Labour Convention, 1930, online. ↩︎

5G matters: (Geo)politics and critical national infrastructure

In January 2020 Danielle Cave contributed an essay for the Raisina Dialogue hosted by India’s largest think-tank The Observer Research Foundation (ORF) as part of ORF’s Raisina Edit series:

“Few people would have guessed that the ‘topic du jour’ for 2019 would be 5G. While telecommunications companies have long had their eye on the prize as the chief deployers of fifth-generation telecommunications, few world leaders, politicians, and key policy departments have had to pay much attention as we have slowly ticked over from 2G to 3G, and from 3G to 4G. But 5G, which is still very much on the horizon for most countries, is different. And it is different for a range of reasons.

First, 5G is a departure from its predecessors, because we are no longer dealing with just telecommunications. 5G will not just give us extra connectivity and faster smartphones; it will connect billions of smart devices, increasingly sophisticated smart cities, and will enable developments like autonomous vehicles. It will provide a platform for advances in robotics and artificial intelligence. While its predecessors brought us text messaging, wireless internet connections, mobile broadband, and cloud technologies, the power of 5G lies in the fact that it will underpin and enable other technological advancements (including those still in the pipeline).

So instead of seeing it as just another step forward for telecommunications, states must also view 5G’s strategic technology as critical national infrastructure….

…Because 5G is critical national infrastructure, decisions made about which companies to partner with really come down to a state’s risk appetite. And states across the world will assess the risks that matter to them and make different decisions. For many, decisions will not focus on the companies themselves. Rather, key consideration will be given to the rules, laws and norms that govern a company’s home environment and guide that state’s international behaviour.

Given the evidence available, Australia’s place in the world and our strategic outlook in the Indo-Pacific, Australia’s risk appetite had its limits. And that hard limit was working with high-risk vendors in a technological advancement critical to enabling the world’s next industrial revolution.”

Read Danielle’s full essay here.

Mapping more of China’s tech giants: AI and surveillance

This second report accompanies the Mapping China’s Technology Giants website.

Several report are now available on this topic;

Executive summary

ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre has updated the public database that maps the global expansion of key Chinese technology companies. This update adds a further 11 companies and organisations: iFlytek, Megvii, ByteDance (which owns TikTok), SenseTime, YITU, CloudWalk, DJI, Meiya Pico, Dahua, Uniview and BeiDou.

Our public database now maps 23 companies and organisations and is visualised through our interactive website, Mapping China’s Technology Giants. The website seeks to give policymakers, academics, journalists, government officials and other interested readers a more holistic picture of the increasingly global reach of China’s tech giants. The response to phase 1 of this project—it quickly became one of ASPI’s most read products—suggests that the current lack of transparency about some of these companies’ operations and governance arrangements has created a gap this database is helping to fill.

This update adds companies working mainly in the artificial intelligence (AI) and surveillance tech sectors. SenseTime, for example, is one of the world’s most valuable AI start-ups. iFlytek is a partially state-owned speech recognition company. Meiya Pico is a digital forensics and security company that created media headlines in 2019 because of its monitoring mobile app MFSocket.1 In addition, we’ve added DJI, which specialises in drone technologies, and BeiDou, which isn’t a company but the Chinese Government’s satellite navigation system.

We also added ByteDance—an internet technology company perhaps best known internationally for its video app, TikTok, which is popular with teenagers around the world. TikTok is also attracting public and media scrutiny in the US over national security implications, the use of US citizens’ data and allegations of censorship, including shadow banning (the down-ranking of particular topics via the app’s algorithm so users don’t see certain topics in their feed).

Company overviews now include a summary of their activities in Xinjiang.2 For some companies, including ByteDance and Huawei, we are including evidence of their work in Xinjiang that has not being reported publicly before. For most of these companies, the surveillance technologies and techniques being rolled out abroad—often funded by loans from the Export–Import Bank of China (China Eximbank)3—have long been used on Chinese citizens, and especially on the Uyghur and other minority populations in Xinjiang, where an estimated 1.5 million people are being arbitrarily held in detention centres.4 Some of these companies have actively and repeatedly obscured their work in Xinjiang, including in hearings with foreign parliamentary committees. This project now includes evidence and analysis of those activities in order to foster greater transparency about their engagement in human rights abuses or ethically questionable activities in the same way Western firms are held to account by Western media and civil society actors, as they should be.

In this report, we include a number of case studies in which we delve deeper into parts of the dataset. This includes case studies on TikTok as a vector for censorship and surveillance, BeiDou’s satellite and space race and CloudWalk’s various AI, biometric data and facial recognition partnerships with the Zimbabwean Government. We also include a case study on Meiya Pico’s work with China’s Public Security Ministry on Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) aid projects in Southeast Asia and Central Asia.

Those projects include the construction of digital forensics labs and cyber capacity training, including for police forces across Asia.

We have also investigated the role that foreign investment plays in the global expansion of some of these companies, particularly in China’s surveillance and public security sector.
 

The updated database

Our public database now maps out 23 companies and organisations. On the Mapping China’s Technology Giants website you’ll find a dataset that geo-codes and analyses major points of overseas presence, including 5G relationships; ‘smart cities’ and ‘public security’ solutions; surveillance relationships; research and university partnerships; submarine cables; terrestrial cables; significant telecommunications and ICT projects; and foreign investment. The website does not map out products and services, such as equipment sales.

Previously, in April 2019, we mapped companies working across the internet, telecommunications and biotech sectors, including Huawei, Tencent, Alibaba, Baidu, Hikvision, China Electronics Technology Group (CETC), ZTE, China Mobile, China Telecom, China Unicom, Wuxi AppTec Group and BGI. This dataset has also been updated, and new data points have been added for those companies, including on 5G relationships, smart cities, R&D labs and data centres.

At the time of release this updated research project now maps and tracks: 

  • 26,000+ data points that have helped to geo-locate 2,500+ points of overseas presence for the 23 companies
  • 447 university and research partnerships, including 195+ Huawei Seeds for the Future university partnerships
  • 115 smart city or public security solution projects, most of which are in Europe, South America and Africa
  • 88 5G relationships in 45 countries
  • 295 surveillance relationships in 96 countries
  • 145 R&D labs, the greatest concentration of which is in Europe
  • 63 undersea cables, 20 leased cables and 49 terrestrial cables
  • 208 data centres and 342 telecommunications and ICT projects spread across the world.

Other updates have also been made to the website, often in response to valuable feedback from policymakers, researchers and journalists. Updates have been made to the following:

  • The landing ‘splash page’5
  • How to use this tool6
  • Glossary.7

Terrestrial cables have now been added and can be searched through the filter bar (via ‘Overseas presence’)

The original report that accompanied the launch of the project was translated into Mandarin in August 2019.

In addition to this dataset, each company has its own web page, which includes an overview of the company and a summary of its activities with the Chinese party-state. The overviews now include a summary of each company’s activities in Xinjiang. This research was added for a number of reasons.

First, we needed to compile the information in one place for journalists, civil society groups and governments. Second, these companies aren’t held to account by China’s media and civil society groups, and it’s clear that many have obscured their activities in Xinjiang. Some have even provided incorrect information in response to direct questions from foreign governments. For example, a Huawei executive told the UK House of Commons Science and Technology Committee on 10 June 2019 that Huawei’s activities in Xinjiang occurred only via ‘third parties:’8

Chair Sir Norman Lamb: But do you have products and services in Xinjiang Province in terms of some sort of contractual relationship with the provincial government?

Huawei Executive: Our contracts are with the third parties. It is not something we do directly.

That’s not correct. Huawei works directly with the Chinese Government’s Public Security Bureau in Xinjiang on a range of projects. Evidence for this—and similar—work can now be found via each company’s dedicated Mapping China’s Technology Giants web page and is also analysed below.

Methodology

ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre began this research project due to a lack of publicly available quantitative and qualitative data, especially in English, on the overseas activities of these key technology companies. Some of the companies disclose little in the way of policies that affect data, security, privacy, freedom of expression and censorship. What information is available is spread across a wide range of sources and hasn’t been compiled in one location. In-depth analysis of the available sources also requires Chinese-language capabilities and an understanding of other issues, such as the relationships the companies have with the state and how Chinese state financing structures work.

For example, some of the companies, especially Huawei, conduct a lot of their work in developing countries through China Eximbank loans. Importantly, the use of internet and other archiving services is vital, as Chinese web pages are often moved, altered or deleted.

This research relied on open-source data collection that took place primarily in English and Chinese. Data sources included company websites, corporate information, tenders, media reporting, databases and other public sources.

The following companies—which work across the telecommunications, technology, internet, surveillance, AI and biotech sectors—are now present on the Mapping China’s Technology Giants website (new additions are bold):

  • Alibaba
  • Baidu
  • BeiDou
  • BGI
  • ByteDance
  • China Electronics Technology Group (CETC)
  • China Mobile
  • China Telecom
  • China Unicom
  • CloudWalk
  • Dahua
  • DJI
  • Hikvision (a subsidiary of CETC)
  • Huawei
  • iFlytek
  • Megvii
  • Meiya Pico
  • SenseTime
  • Tencent
  • Uniview
  • WuXi AppTec Group
  • YITU
  • ZTE.

The size and complexity of these companies, and the speed at which they’re expanding, mean that this dataset will inevitably be incomplete. For that reason, we encourage researchers, journalists, experts and members of the public to continue to contribute and submit data via the online platform in order to help make the dataset more complete over time.

For tips on how to get the most out of the map, navigate to ‘How to use this tool’ on the website. When you’re first presented with the map, all data points are displayed. Click the coloured icons and cables for more information. To navigate to the list of companies, click ‘View companies’ in the left blue panel.

There’s a filter bar at the bottom of the screen. Click the items to select. To reset your search selection, click ‘Reset’ in the filter bar.

The yellow triangle icons on the map are data points of particular interest in which we invested additional research resources.
 

These companies differ in their size, scope and global presence

They may not be household names in the West, but the market size of many of the Chinese companies outlined in this report is larger than many of their more well-known counterparts outside China. iFlytek, a voice recognition tech company established in 1999, isn’t yet a household name outside China but has 70% of the Chinese voice recognition market and a market capitalisation of Ұ63 billion (US$9.2 billion). Newcomer ByteDance, an internet technology company with a focus on machine-learning-enabled content platforms, was established only in 2012 but is already valued at around US$78 billion, making it the world’s most valuable start-up.

Many of the companies outlined in this report have skyrocketed in value by capitalising on China’s surge in security spending in Xinjiang and elsewhere as a large, sprawling surveillance apparatus is constructed. Some have been, in effect, conscripted into spearheading the development of AI in the country—a goal of particular strategic importance to the party-state.

Other companies we examine in this report, such as Dahua Technology, Megvii and Uniview, aren’t well known but have significant global footprints. Dahua, for example, is one of the world’s largest security camera manufacturers. Between them Hikvision9 and Dahua supply around one-third of the global market for security cameras and related goods, such as digital video recorders.10

All Chinese tech companies have deep ties to the Chinese state security apparatus, but, perhaps more than the others, the companies in this report occupy a space in which the lines between the commercial imperatives of private companies (and some state-backed companies) and the strategic imperatives of the party-state are blurred.

Several of the companies we examine—including iFlytek, SenseTime, Megvii and Yitu—have been designated as official ‘AI Champions’ by the party-state, alongside Huawei, Hikvision and the ‘BATs’ (Baidu,11 Alibaba12 and Tencent;13) which were featured in our previous report. These ‘champions’, having been identified as possessing “core technologies”, have been selected to spearhead AI development in the country, with the aim of overtaking the US in AI by 2030.14

Gregory C Allen, writing for the Center for a New American Security, cited SenseTime executives as saying the title:

… gave the companies privileged positions for national technical standards-setting and also was intended to give the companies confidence that they would not be threatened with competition from state-owned enterprises.15

Speaking in December 2018, SenseTime co-founder Xu Bing alluded to the uniqueness of this privileged position:

We are very lucky to be a private company working at a technology that will be critical for the next two decades. Historically, governments would dominate nuclear, rocket, and comparable technologies and not trust private companies.16

Historically, the party-state drew on the power of a few state-owned enterprises to help it achieve its strategic goals. But in order to become a world leader in AI by 2025—an express aim of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP)— the People’s Republic of China (PRC) has demonstrated its ability to move away from those cumbersome organisations in favour of smaller, more agile companies not wholly owned by the state. This has proven to be a highly successful—and mutually beneficial—model.

Chinese AI and surveillance companies benefit from a highly favourable regulatory environment in which concerns over the potential use of invasive systems of surveillance to erode civil liberties are largely and substantively ignored by design, although they’re sometimes discussed in the Chinese media.17

Companies that we examine in this report, such as YITU, CloudWalk, iFlytek and SenseTime, have access to enormous customer databases that are generating huge amounts of proprietary data—the essential ingredient for improving AI and machine-learning algorithms.

AI giant SenseTime has access to a database of more than 2 billion images, at least some of which, SenseTime CEO Xu Li told Quartz,18 come from various government agencies, giving the company a distinct advantage over its foreign competitors.

The global expansion of these companies—from research partnerships with foreign universities through to the development of operational ‘smart city’ or ‘public security’ projects—raises important questions about the geostrategic, political and human rights implications of their work.

Users of the website will now find more than 26,000 datapoints that have helped to geo-locate 2,500+ points of overseas presence for the 23 companies and organisations. But it’s important to note that the presence of the companies’ products in overseas markets is far larger than the map can indicate.

Many of the companies’ relationships are business to business, and their products are integrated as part of other companies’ solutions. For example, iFlytek’s speech recognition software is used in the voice assistant in Huawei smartphones, and YITU provides its facial recognition and traffic monitoring software to Huawei’s smart cities solutions. So, while Huawei’s smart city solutions are mapped, the companies that provide certain technologies and component parts for smart cities can’t always be captured.

This illustrates a complex problem associated with data and privacy protection in ‘internet of things’ devices that is tackled in Dr Samantha Hoffman’s ASPI report Engineering global consent: the Chinese Communist Party’s data-driven power expansion.19 Companies can claim that they don’t misuse the data that their products collect, but those claims don’t always take into account how component-part manufacturers whose technologies are integrated into smart cities and public security services, for example, collect and use citizens’ data.

TikTok as a vector for censorship and surveillance

Unlike China’s first generation of social media tech giants, which stumbled in their international expansion,20 second-generation start-ups such as ByteDance are proving to be much more sure-footed. TikTok, a short-video app, is the company’s most successful foreign export, having grown a global audience of more than 700 million in just a few years.21 ByteDance achieved that meteoric growth, ironically enough, by ploughing US$1 billion into ads on the social platforms of its Western rivals Facebook, Facebook-owned Instagram and Snapchat.22

The app has managed to maintain its ‘stickiness’ for users—mostly teens—by virtue of the AI-powered advanced algorithm undergirding it. The remarkable success of the app enabled ByteDance to become the world’s most valuable start-up in October 2018 after it secured a US$3 billion investment round that gave it a jaw-dropping valuation of US$75 billion.23

TikTok has already attracted the ire of regulators around the world, including in Indonesia, India, the UK and the US, where the company made a $US5.7 million settlement with the Federal Trade Commission for violating the Children’s Online Privacy Protection Act.

But beyond the expected regulatory missteps of a fast-growing social media platform, ByteDance is uniquely susceptible to other problems that come with its closeness to the censorship and surveillance apparatus of the CCP-led state. Beijing has demonstrated a propensity for controlling and shaping overseas Chinese-language media. The meteoric growth of TikTok now puts the CCP in a position where it can attempt to do the same on a largely non-Chinese speaking platform—with the help of an advanced AI-powered algorithm.

In September 2019, The Guardian revealed clear evidence of how ByteDance has been advancing Chinese foreign policy aims abroad through the app via censorship. The newspaper reported on leaked guidelines from TikTok laying out the company’s approach to content moderation.

The documents showed that TikTok moderators were instructed to ‘censor videos that mention Tiananmen Square, Tibetan independence, or the banned religious group Falun Gong.’24

Unlike Western social media platforms, which have traditionally taken a conservative approach to content moderation and tended to favour as much free speech as possible, TikTok has been heavy-handed, projecting Beijing’s political neuroses onto the politics of other countries. In the guidelines, as described by The Guardian, the app banned ‘criticism/attack towards policies, social rules of any country, such as constitutional monarchy, monarchy, parliamentary system, separation of powers, socialism system, etc.’ Many historical events in foreign countries were also swept up in the scope of the guidelines. In addition to a ban on mentioning the Tiananmen Square massacre in 1989, the May 1998 riots in Indonesia and the genocide in Cambodia were also deemed verboten.

TikTok has even barred criticism of Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan, as well as depictions of ‘non-Islamic gods’ and images of alcohol consumption and same-sex relationships—neither of which is in fact illegal in Turkey. Also prohibited is criticism of a list of ‘foreign leaders or sensitive figures’, including the past and present leaders of North Korea, US President Donald Trump, former South Korean President Park Geun-hye and Russian President Vladimir Putin. 

Despite this heavy-handed approach, a number of bad actors have been able to use the app to promote their agendas. On 23 October 2019, the Wall Street Journal reported that Islamic State has been using the app to share propaganda videos and has even uploaded clips of beheadings of prisoners.25 Motherboard also uncovered violent white supremacy and Nazism on the app in late 2018.26

ByteDance confirmed The Guardian’s report and the authenticity of the leaked content-moderation guidelines but said the guidelines were outdated and that it had updated its moderation policies.

Unconvinced, senior US lawmakers went on to request an investigation into TikTok on national security grounds.

In late October 2019, US Senator Marco Rubio appealed to Treasury Secretary Steven Mnuchin to launch an investigation by the Committee on Foreign Investment in the US into TikTok’s acquisition of US video-sharing platform Musical.ly,27 citing reports of censorship on the app, including a 15 September Washington Post article that provided evidence of TikTok’s censorship of reports on the Hong Kong protests.28

ByteDance said that the Chinese Government doesn’t order it to censor content on TikTok: ‘To be clear: we do not remove videos based on the presence of Hong Kong protest content,’ said a ByteDance spokesman cited by the New York Times.29 But a former content moderator for TikTok also told the Times that ‘managers in the United States had instructed moderators to hide videos that included any political messages or themes, not just those related to China’.

Speaking on the condition of anonymity, the former content moderator said that the policy was to, in the newspaper’s words, ‘allow such political posts to remain on users’ profile pages but to prevent them from being shared more widely in TikTok’s main video feed’—a practice known as ‘shadow banning’.

The concerns of other US Congress members extend from the app’s use of censorship to curate and shape information flows and export CCP media narratives to data privacy and the potential for the app to be used as a tool of surveillance in the service of the Chinese party-state. On 24 October, senators Chuck Schumer and Tom Cotton penned a letter asking Acting Director of National Intelligence Joseph Maguire to determine whether TikTok’s data collection practices pose a national security risk.30

David Carroll, an associate professor of media design at Parsons School of Design, discovered that TikTok’s privacy policy in late 2018 indicated that user data could be shared ‘with any member or affiliate of [its] group’ in China. TikTok confirmed to him that ‘data from TikTok users who joined the service before February 2019 may have been processed in China.’31

In November, regulators took action. Reuters reported that the US Government had launched a national security review of ByteDance’s US$1 billion acquisition of Musical.ly.32

Meiya Pico: from mobile data extraction to the Belt and Road’s ‘safety’ and security corridor

Inside China and at its borders, people are being asked to hand over their phones for police inspections. Within minutes, police can connect, extract and analyse phone and personal user data on the phone. In online chatter on Chinese platforms about the matter, people mostly express their fears of police discovering applications for ‘jumping the Great Firewall’, but police can extract more than just a list of installed applications. They can extract and access call and message logs; contact lists and calendars; location information; audio, video and documents; and application data.

In June 2019, Asia Society ChinaFile editor Muyi Xiao noticed multiple online reports on Chinese social media sites of Beijing and Shanghai police spot-checking people’s phones and installing a mobile app called ‘MFSocket’.33 She investigated further and found similar reports from Guangdong and Xinjiang from as early as 2016. One citizen reported that their employer had asked them and other colleagues to report to a police station, where, after they had their ID cards inspected and their photos and fingerprints taken, MFSocket was installed on their phones. In this particular case, the citizen had Google’s suite of apps installed (Google is available only outside China), and he was questioned about that.34 It isn’t clear whether these users were under suspicion for criminal activity, but one affected individual was reportedly going to the police station to update their ID, and another was riding their scooter and was stopped by police.35 Muyi Xiao’s investigations led her to the app’s developer—Meiya Pico, a prominent player in China’s digital forensics sector.

The MFSocket phone app is the client application for Meiya Pico’s mobile phone forensics suite.36

Once a person’s mobile phone is connected to the forensics terminal, the MFSocket app is pushed to the phone. When it’s installed, the operator is able to extract phone and personal user data from the phone, including contacts, messages, calendar events, call record data, location information, video, audio, a list of apps, system logs37 and almost 100 software applications.38

The functionality of MFSocket is neither unique nor suspicious; nor is it unusual for a digital forensics company to sell such software. What is of concern is the seemingly arbitrary nature of its use by police in China. It’s also not the only mobile data extraction app used in China. The Fengcai or BXAQ app,39 also known as ‘MobileHunter’,40 for example, has been installed onto the phones of foreign journalists crossing from Kyrgyzstan into Xinjiang. Similarly to MFSocket, it collects personal and phone data.41

Beyond China’s borders, Meiya Pico has provided training to Interpol42 and sells its forensics and mobile hacking equipment to the Russian military.43 Through financial support provided by China’s Ministry of Public Security, Meiya Pico also has a unique role in BRI projects. A report on Chinese information controls by the Open Technology Fund suggests that this could be part of a ‘safety corridor’ between China and Europe,44 linking safety and security products and services with foreign aid projects.45

Since 2013, Meiya Pico has been working with the Ministry of Public Security on BRI-focused foreign aid projects,46 constructing digital forensics laboratories in Central Asia and Southeast Asia,47 including in Vietnam48 and Sri Lanka.49 Meiya Pico claims to have provided, under the instruction of the ministry,50 more than 50 training courses to police forces in 30 countries51 as part of the BRI (Figure 1).52 For these projects, Meiya Pico reportedly sends professional and technical personnel to each location to conduct in-depth technical communication and exchanges.53 Chinese state media have reported that these projects enhance a country’s ability to fight cybercrime through technical and equipment assistance and support.54

Figure 1: Meiya Pico and BRI projects

Source: Meiya Pico, Belt and Road.

CloudWalk and data colonialism in Zimbabwe

The draconian techno-surveillance system that China is perfecting in Xinjiang and steadily expanding to the rest of the country is increasingly seen as an alternative model by non-democratic regimes around the world. In the first Mapping China’s tech giants report, we examined how Chinese technology companies are closely entwined with the CCP’s support for Zimbabwe’s authoritarian regime. From the country’s telco infrastructure through to social media and cybercrime laws, the PRC’s influence is pervasive.

In March 2018, the Zimbabwean Government took this approach to a new level when it signed an agreement with CloudWalk Technology to build a national facial recognition database and monitoring system as part of China’s BRI program of international infrastructure deals.55 The agreement was reached between a ‘special adviser to Zimbabwe’s Presidential Office’, the Minister of Science and Technology in Nansha district of Guangzhou and CloudWalk executives, according to a Science Daily (科技日报) report.56 Under the deal, Zimbabwe will send biometric data on millions of its citizens to China to assist in the development of facial recognition algorithms that work with different ethnicities and will therefore expand the export market for China’s product—an arrangement that had no input from ordinary Zimbabwean citizens. In exchange, Zimbabwe’s authoritarian government will get access to CloudWalk’s technology and the opportunity to copy China’s digitally enabled authoritarian system.

Former Zimbabwean Ambassador to China Christopher Mutsvangwa told The Herald, a Zimbabwean newspaper, that CloudWalk had donated facial recognition terminals to the country and that the terminals are already being installed at every border post and point of entry around the southern African nation: ‘China has proved to be our all-weather friend and this time around, we have approached them to spearhead our AI revolution in Zimbabwe.’ 57

The arrangement is paradigmatic of a new form of colonialism called ‘data colonialism’, in which raw information is harvested from developing countries for the commercial and strategic benefit of richer, more powerful nations that hold AI supremacy.58 Writing in the New York Times, Kai-Fu Lee, the former Google China head and doyen of China’s AI industry, outlined how these kinds of colonial arrangements are set to ‘reshape today’s geopolitical alliances’:59

[I]f most countries will not be able to tax ultra-profitable AI companies to subsidize their workers, what options will they have? I foresee only one: Unless they wish to plunge their people into poverty, they will be forced to negotiate with whichever country supplies most of their AI software—China or the United States—to essentially become that country’s economic dependent, taking in welfare subsidies in exchange for letting the ‘parent’ nation’s AI companies continue to profit from the dependent country’s users. Such economic arrangements would reshape today’s geopolitical alliances.

The CloudWalk–Zimbabwe deal, Science Daily notes, is a first for the Chinese AI industry in Africa  and serves a clear geostrategic aim: ‘[It] will enable China’s artificial intelligence technology to serve the economic development of countries along the “belt and road initiative” route.

The arrangement will not only help bring the Zimbabwean regime’s authoritarian practices further into the digital age, but will also enable the PRC—through state-backed and other nominally private companies—to export those means for other countries to use to surveil, repress and manipulate their populations.

Facial recognition technology is notoriously bad at detecting people with dark skin, making the data that the Zimbabwean Government is trading with CloudWalk highly prized.60 By improving its facial recognition systems for people with dark skin, CloudWalk is effectively opening up whole new markets around the world for its technology, while Zimbabwe perceives CloudWalk as ‘donating’ its technology to the country.

In exchange for the private biometric details of the Zimbabwean citizenry, CloudWalk’s technology will be deployed in the country’s financial industry, airports, bus stations, railway stations and, as the Science Daily puts it, ‘any other locations requiring face recognition to effectively maintain public security’.

According to The Herald, Zimbabwe signed another agreement with CloudWalk in April 2019, under which the Chinese firm will provide facial recognition for smart financial service networks, as well as intelligent security applications at airports and railway and bus stations. The new deal, according to the paper, was reached during a visit to China by Zimbabwean President Mnangagwa and forms part of China’s BRI in Africa.61

‘The Zimbabwean Government did not come to Guangzhou purely for AI or facial recognition technologies; rather it had a comprehensive package plan for such areas as infrastructure, technology and biology,’ CloudWalk CEO Yao Zhiqiang said at the time, according to the paper. 

BeiDou: China’s satellite and space race

Unlike other entities featured in this report, the BeiDou Navigation Satellite System (BeiDou) isn’t a company; rather, it’s a centrally controlled satellite constellation and associated service that provides positioning, navigation and timing information. It also presents itself as a completely functional and improved alternative to the US-controlled Global Positioning System (GPS).

The development of BeiDou began after the Third Taiwan Strait Crisis of 1996, when missile tests by the Chinese military were ineffective due to suspected US-directed disruption of the GPS. After that failure, the ‘Chinese military decided, no matter how much it would cost, [that China] had to build its own independent satellite navigation system.’62

The first generation of the system consisted of three satellites that provided rudimentary positioning services to users in China. However, in 2013, China reached its first agreements to export the service to other countries. Since then, BeiDou has upped the tempo of its global expansion and engagement.

For increased accuracy, positional satellites such as the BeiDou constellations need to precisely determine their orbital position. At this fine scale, satellite orbits aren’t regular across the globe, and modelling them within the millisecond relies on a global network of reference stations and onboard atomic clocks. The reference stations share data containing information on how long signals take to reach the receiver from the satellite, and then precise orbital determination can be more accurately modelled by trilaterating (similar to triangulating – using distances rather than angles) those signals (Figure 2). A wide geographical spread of reference stations allows the orbit to be precisely determined over a larger area.63 By having stations or receivers overseas, including in Australia, for example, BeiDou is able to more precisely determine post-processing adjustments over Australia, and thereby provide more precise positional data to an end user.

Figure 2: An infographic explaining how base stations can improve GNSS positional accuracy

Source: An introduction to GNSS, Hexagon.

In 2013, BeiDou signed an agreement with Brunei to supply the country with the technology for military and civilian use at a heavily subsidised price.64 Following Chinese Premier Li Keqiang’s 2013 visit to Islamabad, Pakistan became the first country in the world to sign an official cooperation agreement with the BeiDou Navigation Satellite System in both the military and civilian sectors.

Pakistan was granted access to the system’s post-processed data service, which provides far more precise location services and accompanying encryption services.65 These additional features allow for more precise guidance for missiles, ships and aircraft.66 In recent years agreements have also been reached with other countries including the United States and Russia to establish interoperability between different GNSS satellite constellations.

In the run-up to the 3rd generation of BeiDou’s satellite constellation, the service began to more aggressively pursue internationalisation. Agreements with countries in South and Southeast Asia were signed, providing access to BeiDou services and allowing BeiDou to construct permanent reference stations across the region and increase its positional accuracy outside China’s borders. In 2014, it was announced that China was planning to construct 220 reference stations in Thailand and a network of 1,000 across Southeast Asia.67 These newer stations improve the precise post-processing accuracy of the satellite signals, which in turn increases the precision of signals received by end users.68

In 2014, China Satellite Navigation System Management Office and Geoscience Australia established a similar agreement, but on a smaller scale. They met in Beijing with representatives of Wuhan University. The two sides reportedly agreed to establish a formal cooperation mechanism.69

Wuhan University was to provide Geoscience Australia with three continuously operating reference stations equipped with satellite signal receivers constructed by China Electronic Technology Group (CETC). CETC is one of China’s largest state-owned defence companies and was covered in the original dataset of Mapping China’s Technology Giants.70 By using CETC-constructed receivers, GA was provided access to additional signals that were unavailable to commercial off-the-shelf receivers. GA manages the communications of these sites, and also receives access to the global Wuhan University’s network of overseas tracking data.71

BeiDou’s presence in Australia has previously attracted academic and media scrutiny. Professor Anne-Marie Brady has been critical of Australia’s engagement with BeiDou because of its role in guiding China’s military technologies:72

Australia is playing a small part in helping China to get a GPS system as effective as the US system. China is aiming to have a better one than the US has by 2020, and so is Russia. They need ground stations to coordinate their satellites and they need them in the Pacific. Their first ground station in the Pacific region was built in Perth.

The three BeiDou ground facilities in Australia are at Yarragadee Station (Western Australia; the first one built), Mount Stromlo (Australian Capital Territory) and Katherine (Northern Territory) and are operated by Geoscience Australia. They were built in 2016 and have been operating for over three years.73 No data is sent directly from these (or any) receivers back to the BeiDou satellites, and detailed positional and signal data is provided publicly. These data streams are widely used by industry and civilian end-users.

The stations are a small part of Australia’s GNSS network, which then publicly provides precise positional and signal data. But it’s worth noting that Wuhan University has close links to the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) and has been previously accused by the US and Taiwanese Governments of carrying out cyberattacks.74

Foreign investment

The detention of an estimated 1.5 million members of ethnic minority groups,75 chiefly Uyghur, in so-called re-education camps in China’s far western region of Xinjiang is a human rights violation on a massive scale.76 For Chinese security companies, however, it is a win.

Many of the AI and surveillance companies added to our Mapping China’s Technology Giants project have capitalised on China’s surge in security spending, particularly in Xinjiang, in recent years.

Spending on security-related construction in Xinjiang tripled in 2017, according to an analysis of government expenditure by Adrian Zenz for the Jamestown Foundation.77

For Chinese security, AI and surveillance companies, Xinjiang has become, as Charles Rollet put it in Foreign Policy, ‘both a lucrative market and a laboratory to test the latest gadgetry’.78 The projects there, he notes, ‘include not only security cameras but also video analytics hubs, intelligent monitoring systems, big data centres, police checkpoints, and even drones.’

But China’s burgeoning surveillance state isn’t limited to Xinjiang. The Ministry of Public Security has ploughed billions of dollars into two government plans, called Skynet project (天网工程)79 and Sharp Eyes project (雪亮工程),80 that aim to comprehensively surveil China’s 1.4 billion people by 2020 through a video camera network using facial recognition technology.

China will add 400 million security cameras through 2020, according to Morgan Stanley, making investing in companies such as Hikvision and Dahua—which have received government contracts totalling more than US$1 billion81—extremely enticing for investors seeking high returns. Crucially, the gold rush hasn’t been limited to Chinese firms and investors.

Foreign investors, either passively or actively, are also profiting from China’s domestic security and surveillance spending binge. Investment funds controlling around US$1.9 trillion that measure their performance against MSCI’s benchmark Emerging Markets Index funnel capital into companies such as Hikvision82, Dahua83 and iFlytek,84 which have profited from the development of Xinjiang detention camps.

The market valuation of SenseTime, one of a few companies handpicked by the party-state to lead the way in China’s AI development, soared in 2018 on the back of increased government funding for its national facial recognition surveillance system.

Those massive government contracts have helped SenseTime attract top venture capital and private equity firms as well as strategic investors around the world, including Japanese tech conglomerate Softbank Group’s Saudi-backed Vision Fund. US venture fund IDG Capital supplied ‘tens of millions of dollars’ in initial funding to the company in August 2014.85

Other major shareholders include e-commerce giant Alibaba Group Holding Ltd, London-based Fidelity International (a subsidiary of Boston-based Fidelity Investments), Singaporean state investment firm Temasek Holdings, US private equity firms Silver Lake Partners and Tiger Global Management, and the venture capital arm of US telco Qualcomm.

More than 17 US universities and public pension plans have put money into vehicles run by some of these venture capital funds, according to an Australian Financial Review report citing historical PitchBook data.86

SenseTime rival, Megvii Technology, has also benefited from foreign investment, including from a Macquarie Group fund that sunk $US30 million ($44 million) into the facial recognition start-up.87

Macquarie declined to comment when questioned about the investment by the Australian Financial Review. Other firms such as Goldman Sachs Group Inc, have stated they’re reviewing their involvement in Megvii’s planned initial public offering after the U.S. government placed it on the US Entity List for alleged complicity in Beijing’s human rights abuses in China.88

Two of America’s biggest public pension funds—the California State Teachers’ Retirement System and the New York State Teachers’ Retirement System—own stakes in Hikvision, as the Financial Times reported in March 2019.89 Since at least 2018, Meiya Pico shares have been included in the FTSE  Russell Global Equity Index.90

Even if these companies aren’t listed on foreign bourses or are receiving money from foreign venture capital funds, they might still be getting investments from companies such as the BATs—Baidu, Alibaba and Tencent—that are traded on US stock exchanges.91

But, more often than not, the investments are made directly and wittingly by active funds that are seeking to maximise profits off the back of the boom in surveillance technologies used across China. To put it plainly, Western capital markets have funded mass detentions and an increasingly sophisticated repressive apparatus in China.

Some funds that have done their human rights and national security due diligence have started to divest themselves of some of these companies. At least seven US equity funds have divested from Hikvision, for instance.92 But many have not.

‘A lot of investors talk about ethical investing but when it comes to Hikvision and Xinjiang they are happy to fill their boots,’ one fund manager who sold out of Hikvision told the Financial Times in March 2019. ‘It is pretty hypocritical.’93
 

All roads lead to Xinjiang

In November 2019, internal Communist Party documents—obtained by the International Consortium of Investigative Journalists (ICIJ)—provided documentary evidence of how authorities in Xinjiang are using data and artificial intelligence to pioneer a new form of social control.94 The documents showed how authorities are using a data management system called the Integrated Joint Operation Platform (IJOP)—previously reported on by Human Rights Watch—to predictively identify those suspected of harbouring extremist views and criminal intent.95 Among the documents, a bulletin published on 25 June 2017, reveals how the IJOP system detected about 24,412 “suspicious” people in southern Xinjiang during one particular week. Of those people, 15,683 were sent to “education and training” — a euphemism for detention camps—and 706 were “criminally detained”.96

A month before this leak, in October 2019, the US Government added many of the AI and surveillance companies in this dataset—including Dahua Technology, iFlytek, Megvii Technology, SenseTime, Xiamen Meiya Pico Information Co. Ltd, Yitu Technologies and Hikvision97—to the US Entity List because of their roles in human rights violations in Xinjiang.98

However, Chinese tech companies’ activities in Xinjiang go beyond surveillance and extend to areas like propaganda and other coercive measures.

For example, we have found that TikTok’s parent company ByteDance—which is not on the US entity list for human rights violations in Xinjiang—collaborates with public security bureaus across China, including in Xinjiang where it plays an active role in disseminating the party-state’s propaganda on Xinjiang.

Xinjiang Internet Police reportedly “arrived” on Douyin—a ByteDance and video-sharing app—and built a “new public security and Internet social governance model” in 2018.99 In April 2019, the Ministry of Public Security’s Press and Publicity Bureau signed a strategic cooperation agreement with ByteDance to promote the “influence and credibility” of police departments nationwide.100 Under the agreement, all levels and divisions of police units from the Ministry of Public Security to county-level traffic police would have their own Douyin account to disseminate propaganda. The agreement also reportedly says ByteDance would increase its offline cooperation with the police department, however it is unclear what this offline cooperation is.

Tech companies have been piling into Xinjiang since the early 2010s. Huawei has been working for the Karamay Police Department on cloud computing projects since 2011,101 despite its debunked claims to work only with third parties.102 ZTE held its first Smart Cities Forum in Urumqi in 2013,103 and its ‘safe city’ solution has been largely used in surveilance and policing.104 In 2010, iFlytek set up a subsidiary in Xinjiang and a laboratory to develop speech recognition technology,105 especially in minority languages—technologies that are now used by the Xinjiang Government to track and identify minority populations.106

A surveillance industry boom was born out of the central government’s 2015 policy to prioritise ‘stability’ in Xinjiang107 and the national implementation of the Sharp Eyes surveillance project from 2015 to 2020.108 As of late 2017, 1,013 local security companies were working in Xinjiang;109 that figure excludes some of the largest companies operating in the region, such as Dahua and Hikvision, which had already won multimillion-dollar bids to build systems to surveil streets and mosques.110

Also in 2017, even with the central government halting some of the popular ‘PPP’ projects (public– private partnerships that channel private money into public infrastructure projects) that were debt hazards111 and tech companies becoming more cautious about investing in those projects, Xinjiang was an exception for about a year. Tech companies continued to hunt for opportunities in Xinjiang because funding for surveillance-related PPP projects in Xinjiang comes directly from defence and counterterrorism expenditure.112 However, in 2018, the debt crackdown eventually reached Xinjiang and a number of PPP projects there were also suspended. 113

A significant policy that encourages technology companies to profit from the situation in Xinjiang is the renewed ‘Xinjiang Aid’ scheme (援疆政策). Dating from the 1980s, these policies channel funds from other provincial governments to Xinjiang. Since the mass detentions in 2017 this scheme has encouraged companies in other provinces to open subsidiaries or factories in Xinjiang—factories that former detainees are forced to work in.114

A company can contribute to the Xinjiang Aid program, and the broader situation in the region, in many different ways. In 2014, for example, Alibaba began to provide cloud computing technologies for the Xinjiang Government in areas of policing and counterterrorism.115 In 2018, as part of Zhejiang Province’s Xinjiang Aid efforts, Alibaba was set to open large numbers of e-commerce service stations in Xinjiang, selling clothes and electronics.116 There’s no direct evidence that suggests Alibaba sells products sourced from forced labour. But clothing companies that have recently opened up factories in Xinjiang, because of favourable polices and an abundance of local labour—which can include forced labour117—have relied on Alibaba’s platforms to sell clothes to China, North America, Europe and the Middle East.118

Most of ByteDance’s activities in Xinjiang fall under the “Xinjiang Aid” initiative and the company’s cooperation with Xinjiang authorities is focused on Hotan, a part of Xinjiang that has been the target of some of the most severe repression. The area is referred to by the party-state as the most “backward and resistant”.119 According to satellite imagery analysis conducted by ASPI, there are approximately a dozen suspected detention facilities in the outskirts of Hotan.120 The city has seen an aggressive campaign of cemetery, mosque and traditional housing demolition since November 2018, which continues today.

In November 2019, Beijing Radio and Television Bureau announced its “Xinjiang Aid” measures in Hotan, to “propagate and showcase Hotan’s new image”—after more than two years of mass detention and close surveillance of ethnic minorities had taken place there. These measures include guiding and helping local Xinjiang authorities and media outlets to use ByteDance’s news aggregation app for Jinri Toutiao (Today’s Headlines) and video-sharing app Douyin to gain traction online.121 A Tianjin Daily article reported this April that after listening to talks by representatives from ByteDance’s Jinri Toutiao division, Hotan Propaganda Bureau official Zhou Nengwen (周能文) said he was excited to use the Douyin platform to promote Hotan’s products and image.122

Technology companies actively support state projects, even when those projects have nothing to do with tech. Also under the Xinjiang Aid umbrella, telecom companies such as China Unicom send their ‘most politically reliable’ employees to Xinjiang123 and deploy fanghuiju (访惠聚) units to villages in Xinjiang. ‘Fanghuiju’ is a government initiative that sends cadres from government agencies, state-owned enterprises and public institutions to regularly visit and surveil people.124

The China Unicom fanghuiju units were reportedly tasked with changing the villages, including villagers’ thoughts that are religious or go against CCP doctrines.125 Adding some of China’s more well-known technology and surveillance companies to the US Entity List was largely symbolic—after Huawei, Dahua and Hikvision were blacklisted in the US, Uniview’s president told reporters that, at a time when ‘leading Chinese technology companies are facing tough scrutiny overseas’, companies such as Uniview had the opportunity to grow and pursue their overseas strategies.126

Unfortunately, it’s extremely difficult for international authorities to sanction the circa 1,000 homegrown local Xinjiang security companies. However, as companies such as Huawei seek to expand overseas, foreign governments can play a more active role in rejecting those that participate in the Chinese Government’s repressive Xinjiang policies.

For example, the timeline of Huawei’s Xinjiang activities should be taken into consideration during debates about Huawei and 5G technologies. Huawei’s work in Xinjiang is extensive and includes working directly with the Chinese Government’s public security bureaus in the region. The announcement of one Huawei public security project in Xinjiang—made in 2018 through a government website in Urumqi127—quoted a Huawei director as saying, ‘Together with the Public Security Bureau, Huawei will unlock a new era of smart policing and help build a safer, smarter society.’128 In fact, some of Huawei’s promoted ‘success cases’ are Public Security Bureau projects in Xinjiang, such as the Modular Data Center for the Public Security Bureau of Aksu Prefecture in Xinjiang.129 Huawei also provides police in Xinjiang with technical support to help ‘meet the digitization requirements of the public security industry’.130

In May 2019, Huawei signed a strategic agreement with the state-owned media group Xinjiang Broadcasting and Television Network Co. Ltd at Huawei’s headquarters in Shenzhen. The agreement, which aims at maintaining social stability and creating positive public opinion, covered areas including internet infrastructure, smart cities and 5G.131

In 2018, when the Xinjiang Public Security Department and Huawei signed the agreement to establish an ‘intelligent security industry’ innovation lab in Urumqi. Fan Lixin, a Public Security Department official, said at the signing ceremony that Huawei had been supplying reliable technical support for the department.132 In 2016, Xinjiang’s provincial government signed a partnership agreement with Huawei.133 The two sides agreed to jointly develop cloud computing and big-data industries in Xinjiang. As mentioned above, Huawei began to work in cloud computing in Karamay (a Huawei cloud-computing ‘model city’ in Xinjiang)134 as early as 2011 in several sectors, including public security video surveillance.

In 2014, Huawei participated in an anti-terrorism BRI-themed conference in Urumqi as ‘an important participant of’ a program called ‘Safe Xinjiang’—code for a police surveillance system. Huawei was said to have built the police surveillance systems in Karamay and Kashgar prefectures and was praised by the head of Xinjiang provincial police department for its contributions in the Safe Xinjiang program.

Huawei was reportedly able to process and analyse footage quickly and conduct precise searches in the footage databases (for example, of the colour of cars or people and the direction of their movements) to help solve criminal cases.135

Since mass detentions began in Xinjiang over two years ago, state-affiliated technology companies such as those covered in this report have greatly expanded their remit and become a central part of the surveillance state in Xinjiang. Xinjiang’s crackdown on religious and ethnic minorities has been completed across the region. It has used and continues to use several different mechanisms of coercive control, such as arbitrary detention, coerced labour practices136 and at-home forced political indoctrination. Technology companies are intrinsically linked with many of those efforts, as the state’s crackdown offers ample opportunities for incentivised expansion and profitability.137
 

Conclusion

The aim of this report is to promote a more informed debate about the growth of China’s tech giants and to highlight areas where their expansion raises political, geostrategic, ethical and human rights concerns.

The Chinese tech companies in this report enjoy a highly favourable regulatory environment and are unencumbered by privacy and human rights concerns. Many are engaged in deeply unethical behaviour in Xinjiang, where their work directly supports and enables mass human rights abuses.

The CCP’s own policies and official statements make it clear that it perceives the expansion of Chinese technology companies as a crucial component of its wider project of ideological and geopolitical expansion, and that they are not purely commercial actors.138 The PRC’s suite of intelligence and security laws which can compel individuals and entities to participate in intelligence work139, and the CCP committees embedded within the tech companies (Chinese media has reported Huawei has more than 300 for example140) highlight the inextricable links between industry and the Chinese party-state.

These close ties make it difficult for them to be politically neutral actors. For western governments and corporations, developing risk mitigation strategies is essential, particularly when it comes to critical technology areas.

Some of these companies lead the world in cutting-edge technology development, particularly in the AI and surveillance sectors. But this technology development is focused on servicing authoritarian needs, and as these companies go global (an expansion often funded by PRC loans and aid) this technology is going global as well. This alone should give Western policymakers pause.

Increasing technological competition has the potential to deliver many benefits across the spectrum, but the benefits will not always accrue without good policy. If the West is going to continue to support the global expansion of these companies, it should, at a minimum, better understand the spectrum of policy risks and hold these companies to the same levels of accountability and transparency as it does its own corporations.


Acknowledgements

Thank you to Dr Samantha Hoffman and Nathan Ruser for their research contributions to this report and to the broader Mapping China’s Technology Giants project. Thank you to Fergus Hanson, Michael Shoebridge and anonymous peer reviewers for their valuable feedback on report drafts. And thank you to Cheryl Yu and Ed Moore for their research and data collection efforts.

What is ASPI?

The Australian Strategic Policy Institute was formed in 2001 as an independent, non‑partisan think tank. Its core aim is to provide the Australian Government with fresh ideas on Australia’s defence, security and strategic policy choices. ASPI is responsible for informing the public on a range of strategic issues, generating new thinking for government and harnessing strategic thinking internationally.

ASPI International Cyber Policy Centre

ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre (ICPC) is a leading voice in global debates on cyber and emerging technologies and their impact on broader strategic policy. The ICPC informs public debate and supports sound public policy by producing original empirical research, bringing together researchers with diverse expertise, often working together in teams. To develop capability in Australia and our region, the ICPC has a capacity building team that conducts workshops, training programs and large-scale exercises both in Australia and overseas for both the public and private sectors. The ICPC enriches the national debate on cyber and strategic policy by running an
international visits program that brings leading experts to Australia.

Important disclaimer

This publication is designed to provide accurate and authoritative information in relation to the subject matter covered. It is provided with the understanding that the publisher is not engaged in rendering any form of professional or other advice or services. No person should rely on the contents of this publication without first obtaining advice from a qualified professional.

© The Australian Strategic Policy Institute Limited 2019

This publication is subject to copyright. Except as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part of it may in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, microcopying, photocopying, recording or otherwise) be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted without prior written permission. Enquiries should be addressed to the publishers. Notwithstanding the above, educational institutions (including schools, independent colleges, universities and TAFEs) are granted permission to make copies of copyrighted works strictly for educational purposes without explicit permission from ASPI and free of charge.

  1. ‘Chinese police use app to spy on citizens’ smartphones’, Financial Times, 3 July 2019, online. ↩︎
  2. Mapping China’s Tech Giants, ‘Explore a company’, online. ↩︎
  3. China Eximbank is wholly owned by the Chinese Government. More detail can be found in Danielle Cave, Samantha Hoffman, Alex Joske, Mapping China’s technology giants, ASPI, Canberra, 2019, 10, online. ↩︎
  4. Lucas Niewenhuis, ‘1.5 million Muslims are in China’s camps—scholar’, SupChina, 13 March 2019, online. ↩︎
  5. Mapping China’s Tech Giants, ‘Welcome to Mapping China’s Tech Giants’, online. ↩︎
  6. Mapping China’s Tech Giants, ‘How to use this tool’, online. ↩︎
  7. Mapping China’s Tech Giants, ‘Glossary’, online. ↩︎
  8. Science and Technology Committee, ‘Oral evidence: UK telecommunications infrastructure’, HC 2200, House of Commons, 10 June 2019, online. ↩︎

The China Defence Universities Tracker

Exploring the military and security links of China’s universities.

This report accompanies the China Defence Universities Tracker website.

What’s the problem?

The Chinese Communist Party (CCP) is building links between China’s civilian universities, military and security agencies. Those efforts, carried out under a policy of leveraging the civilian sector to maximise military power (known as ‘military–civil fusion’), have accelerated in the past decade.

Research for the China Defence Universities Tracker has determined that greater numbers of Chinese universities are engaged in defence research, training defence scientists, collaborating with the military and cooperating with defence industry conglomerates and are involved in classified research.1

At least 15 civilian universities have been implicated in cyberattacks, illegal exports or espionage.

China’s defence industry conglomerates are supervising agencies of nine universities and have sent thousands of their employees to train abroad.

This raises questions for governments, universities and companies that collaborate with partners in the People’s Republic of China (PRC). There’s a growing risk that collaboration with PRC universities can be leveraged by the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) or security agencies for surveillance, human rights abuses or military purposes.

Universities and governments remain unable to effectively manage risks that come with growing collaboration with PRC entities. There’s little accessible information on the military and security links of PRC universities. This knowledge gap limits the effectiveness of risk-management efforts.

What’s the solution?

Efforts to manage the risks of engaging with PRC universities should involve close collaboration between governments and universities. Both share a concern for protecting national interests, ensuring the integrity of research, preventing engagement from being exploited by rival militaries or for human rights abuses, and increasing the transparency of research collaboration.

The Australian Government should establish a national research integrity office and refine and enforce foreign interference and export controls legislation. It should use the China Defence Universities Tracker to improve the screening of visa applicants and inform decisions to award research funding.

Universities should be proactive in their efforts to concretely improve how research collaboration is managed.

The China Defence Universities Tracker is a tool to help universities and researchers understand institutions in China and avoid harmful collaborations.

Universities can use the recently published Guidelines to counter foreign interference in the Australian university sector to help review their management of collaboration.2 They should introduce clauses into agreements with PRC entities to terminate those agreements in the case of specific ethical concerns or indications of research going towards a military end use.

Universities could demonstrate their commitment to these initiatives by establishing independent research integrity offices that promote transparency and evaluate compliance with ethics, values and security interests, serving as administratively distinct bodies that avoid influence from internal university politics.

Introduction

Military–civil fusion is the CCP’s policy of maximising linkages between the military and the civilian sector to build China’s economic and military strength.3 The policy was promoted by President Hu Jintao in 2007 but has been elevated to a national strategy by President Xi Jinping, who personally oversees the Central Commission for the Development of Military–Civil Fusion (中央军民融合发展委员会).4 It has its roots in efforts dating back to the PRC’s founding, including policies such as military–civil integration and ‘nestling the military in the civil’.5

Many countries seek to leverage private industry and universities to advance their militaries. However, as scholar Lorand Laskai writes, ‘civil–military fusion is more far-reaching and ambitious in scale than the US equivalent, reflecting a large push to fuse the defense and commercial economies.’6

Military–civil fusion in China’s university sector has spurred efforts to increase academe’s integration with defence and security. In 2017, the Party Secretary of Beijing Institute of Technology, a leading university for defence research, wrote that universities should ‘stand at the front line of military–civil fusion’.7

‘National defence technology research requires the participation of universities’, according to the Chinese government agency overseeing efforts to safeguard classified information at universities. The agency describes universities as one of three parts of the national defence science and technology innovation system. Alongside defence conglomerates, which are responsible for large-scale projects and the commercialisation of defence equipment, and defence research organisations, which are institutes run by defence conglomerates or the military that are responsible for breaking through research bottlenecks and developing key components, universities undertake research at the frontier of defence technology.8

Military–civil fusion is tied to the government’s Double First-Class University Plan (世界一流大学和一 流学科建设 or 双一流) to build 98 of China’s best universities into world-class institutions by 2050.9

A 2018 policy document about the plan states that universities should integrate into ‘the military–civil fusion system’ and ‘advance the two-way transfer and transformation of military and civilian technological achievements’.10 The importance of international collaboration and foreign talent to the Double First-Class University Plan means that military–civil fusion, the improvement of China’s universities and research collaboration are becoming inextricable.11

While military–civil fusion doesn’t mean that barriers between the military and other parts of PRC society have vanished, it’s breaking down those barriers in many universities. At least 68 universities are officially described as parts of the defence system or are supervised by China’s defence industry agency, the State Administration of Science, Technology and Industry for National Defense (SASTIND, 国家国防科技工业局).

At the same time, universities around the world are expanding their collaboration with PRC partners. Much of that collaboration is mutually beneficial, but it’s clear that many institutions have not effectively managed risks to human rights, security and research integrity. While universities already have systems in place to manage these issues, they should be revisited and strengthened.

Recent cases have demonstrated gaps in universities’ management of research collaboration. For example, the ASPI International Cyber Policy Centre’s 2018 report Picking flowers, making honey: the Chinese military’s collaboration with foreign universities highlighted concerns about the high level of international research collaboration involving the PLA.12 Between 2007 and 2017, the PLA sent more than 2,500 of its scientists to train and work in overseas universities. Some of those scientists used civilian cover or other forms of deception to travel abroad. All of them were sent out to gain skills and knowledge of value to the Chinese military; all of them are believed to be party members who returned to China when instructed.

This report uses the ASPI International Cyber Policy Centre’s China Defence Universities Tracker to explain how many of the concerns raised by collaboration with the PLA increasingly apply to defence-linked Chinese universities, security organisations and industry conglomerates. The wedding of the military and the civilian in China’s universities has important consequences for policymakers and overseas universities engaged with partners in China.

To help universities, companies and policymakers navigate engagement with research institutions in China, the China Defence Universities Tracker is a database that sorts institutions into categories of very high, high, medium or low risk:

  • 92 institutions in the database have been placed in the ‘very high risk’ category
    • 52 People’s Liberation Army institutions
    • 8 security or intelligence-agency institutions
    • 20 civilian universities
    • China’s 12 leading defence industry conglomerates.
  • 23 institutions—all civilian universities—have been placed in the ‘high risk’ category.
  • 44 institutions—all civilian universities—have been placed in the ‘medium’ or ‘low’ risk categories.

The database is designed to capture the risk that relationships with these entities could be leveraged for military or security purposes, including in ways that contribute to human rights abuses and are against Australia’s interests. It provides overviews of their defence and security links and records any known involvement in espionage or cyberattacks, inclusion on end-user lists that restrict exports to them, and several measures of their involvement in defence research. While this project has uncovered large amounts of previously inaccessible information on PRC universities and research institutions, continued due diligence and research are required.

Research for the tracker was undertaken over the course of 2019. It focused on identifying key indicators of defence and security links at each university and developing reliable methods for evaluating those links. Institutions were included in the project for their military links, security links or known connection to human rights abuses or espionage. This research primarily used online Chinese-language resources from universities or Chinese Government agencies. We have attempted to archive all online sources using the Wayback Machine or archive.today.

China’s civilian defence universities

Many of China’s universities originated as military institutions but have since been developed into civilian universities that are increasingly competitive in global research rankings. However, developments over the past decade highlight the military and security links of more than 60 universities in particular.

The Seven Sons of National Defence

The ‘Seven Sons of National Defence’ (国防七子) are a group of leading universities with deep roots in the military and defence industry. They’re all subordinate to the Ministry of Industry and Information Technology (工业和信息化部), which oversees China’s defence industry through its subordinate agency, SASTIND.

The depth of the Seven Sons’ integration with the military suggests that it would be more accurate to describe them as defence universities than as civilian universities. In fact, they call themselves ‘defence science, technology and industry work units’ or parts of the ‘defence system’.13

Each year, more than 10,000 graduates from the Seven Sons join the defence research sector—just under 30% of their employed graduates. PhD graduates from these universities are particularly sought after, and as many as half of them go into the defence sector (Figure 1).14 State-owned defence conglomerates specialising in aircraft, missiles, warships, armaments and military electronics are among their top employers, alongside high-tech companies such as Huawei and ZTE.15

Figure 1: The percentage of employed 2017 or 2018 graduates of the Seven Sons working in the defence system

Note: Figures for Northwestern Polytechnical University and Harbin Engineering University are for 2017. The remaining figures are for 2018. Source: university graduate employment quality reports (毕业生就业质量年度报告).

The Seven Sons stand at the forefront of defence research in China. Hundreds of their scientists sit on PLA expert advisory committees and assist or even serve in major military projects, such as fighter jet or aircraft carrier programs.16 They dominate the ranks of defence research prize and defence technology patent recipients.17 One Chinese study of military–civil fusion in the university sector estimated that more than half the academics at the Seven Sons have been involved in defence projects.18 All seven have been accredited at the institutional level to participate in research into and the production of top-secret weapons and defence equipment.

They’re also among China’s best-funded universities. In 2016, the Seven Sons spent a total of ¥13.79 billion (A$2.88 billion) on research. In 2018, four of them ranked among China’s top five universities for funding per research staff member.19

Approximately half of their research spending goes towards defence research. Harbin Institute of Technology spent ¥1.973 billion (A$400 million), or 52% of its total research budget, on defence research in 2018.20 Beihang University spends roughly 60% of its research budget on defence research.21

Harbin Institute of Technology’s defence research spending alone is comparable to the Australian Department of Defence’s. The Australian Government’s most recent defence science and technology budget was just under A$469 million. Under current plans, that figure is estimated to decrease to A$418 million by 2023.22

Like the Seven Sons of National Defence, the ‘Seven Sons of the Arms Industry’ (兵工七子) are a group of Chinese universities previously subordinate to the Ministry of Ordnance Industry (兵器工业部), which was dissolved in 1986.23 Two of them—Beijing Institute of Technology and Nanjing University of Science and Technology—are also among the Seven Sons of National Defence (see box). All of them are still involved in researching and developing weapons.

Universities with national defence characteristics

Recent developments have pushed military–civil fusion far beyond the Seven Sons.24 Research for the China Defence Universities Tracker has identified 101 agreements signed between defence industry agency SASTIND (or its predecessor, COSTIND) and other agencies since 1999 to ‘jointly construct’ (共建) 61 universities subordinate to those agencies (see appendix).25 These agreements encompass leading national universities, such as Tsinghua University and Peking University, as well as provincial universities with strong foundations for defence research.

The Tracker also identifies similar agreements that show how defence industry conglomerates, such as China’s leading ballistic missile manufacturer, supervise nine universities.26 SASTIND’s joint-construction agreements have become far more common in recent years.

Fifty-seven of the 101 agreements were signed in the past five years. In 2016 alone at least 38 agreements were finalised (Figure 2).

Figure 2: SASTIND agreements on the ‘joint construction’ of universities (red bars denote agreements signed by SASTIND’s predecessor, COSTIND)

Through the agreements, SASTIND seeks to build institutions into ‘universities with national defence characteristics’ by expanding their involvement in training and research on defence technology and deepening their cooperation with defence companies.27 Specifically, it works to support the establishment of defence research laboratories, to fund defence-related research areas and to facilitate participation in military projects.28 This has led to the establishment of large numbers of defence laboratories and ‘disciplines with national defence characteristics’ (国防特色学科) in civilian universities, mostly in the past decade. More than 150 universities have received security credentials that allow them to participate in classified weapons and defence equipment projects.29

According to a university supervised by SASTIND, the agency aims to support five to eight defence disciplines and establish one or two defence labs in each university it supervises by 2020 (the end of the 13th Five-Year Plan).30 This hasn’t yet come to fruition and is unlikely to be fully achieved. Nonetheless, it may be the largest push to integrate universities into the defence research system since the beginning of China’s reform and opening, covering as many as 53 universities.31

Developing talent for China’s defence industry is an important objective of military-civil fusion in universities. In 2007, the Chinese government established the National Defence Science and Technology Scholarship to encourage high-achieving university students to join the defence sector.32

Every year, the scholarship is given to 2,000 ‘national defence technology students’ who are each sponsored by defence conglomerates or China’s nuclear weapons program to study in designated fields.33 After graduating, they are required to work for their sponsor for five years.34

Defence laboratories

The China Defence Universities Tracker has identified more than 160 defence-focused laboratories in civilian universities. It primarily catalogues three types of defence laboratories:

  • national defence science and technology key laboratories (国防科技重点实验室)
  • national defence key discipline laboratories (国防重点学科实验室)
  • Ministry of Education national defence key laboratories (教育部国防重点实验室).

By 2009, the Chinese Government had established 74 national defence science and technology key laboratories, all of which are jointly supervised by the PLA and SASTIND.35 The China Defence Universities Tracker has identified 39 in civilian universities; others are found in defence conglomerates and PLA units.

National defence science and technology key laboratories are the best funded and most prestigious kind of defence laboratory, holding the same status as state key laboratories. For example, Northwestern Polytechnical University’s national defence science and technology key laboratory for unmanned aerial vehicles has received over ¥420 million (A$87 million) in funding since its establishment in 2001.36

Thirty-six national defence key discipline labs, which are lower in status than national defence science and technology key labs and were first established around 2007, have also been identified.37

Ministry of Education defence laboratories are a previously unstudied kind of defence laboratory. Fifty-three of them have been identified at 32 universities. According to Shandong University, which hosts three of the labs, they are:

… approved by the Ministry of Education and entrusted to universities for their establishment in order to expand indigenous science and technology innovation for national defence, cultivate and concentrate high-level national defence science and technology talent, and engage in academic exchange and cooperation on national defence science and technology.38

One of these labs has been accused of carrying out cyberattacks for the PLA (see ‘Espionage’).

Many of these defence labs obscure their defence links in official translations of their names. National defence science and technology key laboratories often simply call themselves ‘national key laboratories’. For example, the National Key Laboratory of Science and Technology on Micro/Nano Fabrication jointly run by Shanghai Jiao Tong University and Peking University was established by the PLA in 1996.39 National defence key discipline laboratories are often known as ‘fundamental science’ laboratories. Ministry of Education defence labs are almost always referred to as ‘Ministry of Education Laboratory (B-category)’ (教育部重点实验室(B类)) or simply as Ministry of Education labs.

Designated defence research areas SASTIND approves ‘disciplines with national defence characteristics’, such as armament technology and materials science, at universities it supervises after an application process. They’re referred to in the China Defence University Tracker as ‘designated defence research areas’. The tracker identifies more than 400 designated defence research areas in universities. Since 2015, at least 280 of these were approved at 53 universities.40

Defence disciplines reflect each university’s specialities for defence research and serve as stepping stones for the establishment of prestigious defence laboratories. Shenyang Ligong University, one of the ‘Seven Sons of the Arms Industry’ supervised by SASTIND, stated that its defence disciplines are ‘a precursor and foundation for the university to apply to establish national defence key discipline laboratories’.41

It’s difficult to find detailed information on the operation of defence disciplines. However, one university wrote in 2018 that it expected to receive approximately ¥7 million (A$1.4 million) on average to develop each discipline.42 If that figure is representative, it indicates a doubling of the funding allocated to each discipline in comparison to a decade ago.43

Security credentials

‘Security credentials’ refers to the ‘weapons and equipment research and production unit secrecy credentials’ (武器装备科研生产单位保密资格) that are awarded to universities and companies at the institutional level. Security credentials are divided into three tiers: first class, second class and third class—roughly equivalent to top secret, secret and confidential clearances, respectively.44

The issuing of security credentials is overseen by National Administration of State Secrets Protection, the Central Military Commission’s Equipment Development Department and SASTIND, or their local equivalents.45

Security credentials allow their holders to participate in different levels of classified defence- and security-related projects. Universities with security credentials are required to meet certain standards in their protection and management of classified research and personnel.46 The credentials indicate a university’s involvement in defence projects, as well as the sensitivity of that work.

A top-secret security credentials plaque awarded to the Beijing Institute of Technology.

Source: Beijing Institute of Technology, ‘Our university passes the secrecy credentials examination and certification’, 24 April 2006, online.

As of November 2017, more than 150 universities had received security credentials.47 The tracker has identified eight universities with top-secret security credentials.

Military units don’t appear to be subject to this security credentials system but use it to scrutinise those they work with. For example, many procurement notices from the PLA require organisations submitting tenders to hold security credentials.48
 

Case study: The University of Electronic Science and Technology of China

The military links of the Seven Sons of National Defence are more widely recognised than those of an institution such as the University of Electronic Science and Technology of China (UESTC) in Chengdu.

However, UESTC has more in common with the Seven Sons than a typical Chinese university. UESTC’s defence links date back to its earliest days. In 1961, six years after its founding, it was recognised by the CCP Central Committee as one of China’s ‘seven defence industry academies’.49

Since 2000, it’s been the subject of three agreements between defence industry agency SASTIND and the Ministry of Education designed to expand its role in the defence sector.50

In 2006, defence electronics conglomerate China Electronics Technology Group Corporation (CETC) also became one of the university’s supervising agencies.51 As part of its agreement to supervise the university, CETC stated that it would work with the Ministry of Education to support UESTC’s management and reforms, involvement in major research projects, establishment of laboratories and exchanges of personnel. CETC, which is expanding its overseas presence at the same time as its technologies enable human rights abuses in Xinjiang, remains one of the primary employers of UESTC graduates.52

UESTC hosts at least seven laboratories dedicated to defence research and has 10 designated defence research areas related to electronics; signal processing and anti-jamming technology; optics; and radar-absorbing materials.53 In 2017, 16.4% of its graduates who gained employment were working in the defence sector.54 Approximately 30% of its research spending in 2015 went towards defence research.55

UESTC also has links to China’s nuclear weapons program. In 2012, it was added to the US Government’s Entity List, restricting the export of US-made technology to it, as an alias of China’s nuclear weapons facility, the Chinese Academy of Engineering Physics. This indicates that UESTC had acted as a proxy for China’s nuclear weapons program.56 Its High Power Radiation Key Laboratory is jointly run with the Chinese Academy of Engineering Physics.57

The university has also been implicated in the rollout of surveillance technology in Xinjiang, where an estimated 1.5 million ethnic Uygurs and other minorities have disappeared into concentration camps. The dean of its School of Computer Science and Engineering runs a company that supplies video surveillance systems to authorities in Xinjiang.58

UESTC’s international partnerships have deepened despite its links to the military, nuclear weapons and potential human rights abuses. Its collaborations naturally align with its specialisations, which are also its main areas of defence research. For example, in 2016, with the University of Glasgow, it established a joint college in China that offers degrees in electronics.59 UESTC also runs the Joint Fibre Optics Research Centre for Engineering with the University of New South Wales in Australia.60

Espionage

China’s National Intelligence Law requires entities and individuals to cooperate with intelligence operations. However, that doesn’t mean that all PRC entities are equally likely to engage in espionage or related forms of misconduct. Military–civil fusion hasn’t meant that all universities are equally integrated into the military’s efforts. When analysing cases of espionage and illegal export involving Chinese universities, it becomes clear that institutions with strong military and security links are disproportionately implicated in theft and espionage. This can be helpful in establishing a risk-based approach to collaboration with PRC entities.

The China Defence Universities Tracker has identified at least 15 civilian universities that have been linked to espionage, have been implicated in export controls violations or have been identified by the US Government as aliases for China’s nuclear weapons program. Four of the Seven Sons of National Defence have been implicated in espionage or export controls violations. Harbin Engineering University alone has been linked to five cases, including the theft of missile technology from Russia.61

One of the Seven Sons has been accused of collaborating with the Ministry of State Security to steal jet engine technology. In 2018, US authorities arrested an officer from the Jiangsu State Security Bureau, Xu Yanjun, who allegedly sought to steal engine technology from GE Aviation. The US Department of Justice’s indictment of Xu describes how an executive at Nanjing University of Aeronautics and Astronautics (NUAA) helped Xu identify and cultivate overseas targets.

Intelligence officer and part-time NUAA student Xu Yanjun after his arrest.

Source: Gordon Corera, ‘Looking for China’s spies’, BBC News, no date, BBC.

According to the indictment, the NUAA co-conspirator reached out to a GE Aviation engineer, inviting him to give a lecture at the university’s College of Energy and Power Engineering.62 The NUAA official then introduced the engineer to Xu, who used an alias and claimed to be from the Jiangsu Association of Science and Technology. Xu began cultivating the engineer and asked him to share proprietary information about fan blades for jet engines. NUAA has confirmed that Xu was also a part-time postgraduate student at NUAA.63

The establishment of defence laboratories fosters close relationships between researchers and the military that can be used to facilitate and incentivise espionage. For example, Wuhan University’s Ministry of Education Key Laboratory of Aerospace Information Security and Trusted Computing has been accused of carrying out cyberattacks on behalf of the PLA.64 The laboratory is one of the Ministry of Education’s ‘B-category’ laboratories that focuses on defence research and doesn’t appear on Wuhan University’s main list of labs on its website.65 One Taiwanese report, citing unnamed intelligence officials, claimed that an office in Wuhan University is in fact a bureau of the PLA’s signals intelligence agency.66

The same Wuhan University lab has collaborated with and even sent a visiting scholar to an Australian university. A professor alleged to be the lab’s liaison with the PLA has co-authored research with a University of Wollongong cryptographer.67 One of the lab’s associate professors visited the University of Wollongong in 2010, participating in an Australian Research Council project.68

Public and state security links

As the NUAA espionage case shows, some Chinese universities work closely with the Ministry of State Security (MSS), which is China’s civilian intelligence and political security agency. The ministry was established in 1983 by merging units responsible for foreign intelligence, economic espionage, counterintelligence, political security and influence work.69 It has since grown into a well-resourced agency believed to be a prolific perpetrator of cyberattacks and intelligence operations against companies, governments and universities for political influence and economic espionage.70

The MSS operates at least two universities: the University of International Relations71 in Beijing and Jiangnan Social University72 in Suzhou. These universities train intelligence officers and carry out research to support the MSS’s work. The University of International Relations has exchange agreements with universities in Denmark, the United States, France and Japan.73

The MSS also leverages civilian universities for training, research, technical advice and possibly direct participation in cyber espionage. For example, a big-data scientist at Hunan University, which hosts the PLA’s Tianhe-1 supercomputer, serves as a ‘Ministry of State Security specially-appointed expert’.74 A professor at Tianjin University has been awarded a ‘Ministry of State Security Technology Progress Prize’.75 A professor at Southeast University has been awarded two projects under the MSS’s 115 Plan, which is a research funding program.76 Cybersecurity firm ThreatConnect identified links between Southeast University and a hack of Anthem, one of the US’s largest healthcare companies.77

The same attack was separately linked to the MSS by another cybersecurity firm.78 The MSS recruits hackers from top universities such as Harbin Institute of Technology, Beijing University of Posts and Telecommunications and Zhejiang University.79

The Ministry of Public Security (MPS), China’s police agency, is also building links with civilian universities. The China Defence Universities Tracker includes entries on several universities that operate joint laboratories with the MPS. Those laboratories carry out computer science and artificial intelligence research to assist the MPS’s policing capabilities. The ministry’s pivotal role in the abuse of ethnic minorities, religious groups and political dissidents makes it nearly impossible to separate legitimate and illegitimate uses of that research.

The overseas expansion of China’s nuclear weapons program and defence industry

Employees of military aircraft manufacturer AVIC graduate from Cranfield University in 2013.

Source: Zhang Xinguo, ‘Cooperation progress between AVIC & UK universities’, Aviation Industry Corporation of China, 5 May 2016, online.

China’s nuclear weapons program and defence industry have expanded their presence in foreign universities. State-owned defence industry conglomerates have established joint research and training programs in Austria, Australia, the UK, France, Germany and Switzerland. Scientists from China’s nuclear weapons program have been identified in universities across developed countries.

Defence industry

At least four of China’s 12 state-owned defence industry conglomerates (defence state-owned enterprises, or defence SOEs) have a substantial presence in overseas universities. Their work covers military electronics, aviation technology and missiles. These companies seek to increase their access to world-class training, expertise and technology through exchanges and joint laboratories with foreign universities (Table 1). Many of the collaborations involve organisations that are subject to export restrictions by the US Government, raising concerns about the effect they may have on military technology and human rights violations in China.

Table 1: Defence SOE joint laboratories or major investments in foreign universities

AECC = Aero Engine Corporation of China; AVIC = Aviation Industry Corporation of China; BIAM = Beijing Institute for Aeronautical Materials; CALT = China Academy of Launch Vehicle Technology; CETC = China Electronics Technology Group Corporation; COMAC = Commercial Aircraft Corporation of China.

a: Victorian Department of Premier and Cabinet, ‘New hi-tech deal great for Victorian jobs’, media release, 24 October 2019, online.
b: Monash University, ‘Monash University and Commercial Aircraft Corporation of China sign MOU to accelerate aircraft development’, media release, 16 May 2017, online.
c: University of Technology Sydney, ‘New joint IET research centre with CETC’, media release, 26 April 2017, online.
d: University of Manchester, ‘Partnership with the Aero Engine Corporation of China’, media release, no date, online; BIAM – Manchester UTC, About us, no date, online.
e: BIAM – Manchester UTC, Research, no date, online.
f: University of Manchester Aerospace Research Institute, Sino-British Joint Laboratory on Advanced Control Systems Technology, no date, online.
g: China Academy of Launch Vehicle Technology (CALT), Sino-British Advanced Control System Technology Joint Laboratory, 14 May 2016, online (in Chinese).
h: University of Manchester Aerospace Research Institute, Our research, no date, online.
i: CALT, The Rocket Institute has built 4 overseas R&D institutions, 13 May 2016, online.
j: The University of Birmingham is listed as the coordinator of the EMUSIC project. See EMUSIC, Participants, no date, online.
k: EMUSIC, Efficient Manufacturing for Aerospace Components Using Additive Manufacturing, Net Shape HIP and Investment Casting (EMUSIC), no date, online.
l: EMUSIC, EMUSIC mid-term report shows progress being made on improving manufacturing efficiency, 16 January 2018, online.
m: BIAM is a consortium member of EMUSIC. BIAM representatives are listed as project coordinators with members of the University of Birmingham, which is the university that leads the EMUSIC program. See EMUSIC, Contact us, no date, online; EMUSIC, Participants, online; European Commission, ‘Efficient Manufacturing for Aerospace Components using Additive Manufacturing, Net Shape HIP and Investment Casting’, Cordis, no date, online; EMUSIC, ‘Efficient Manufacturing for Aerospace Components Using Additive Manufacturing, Net Shape HIP and Investment Casting’, TRIMIS, no date, online; ‘Efficient Manufacturing for Aerospace Components Using Additive Manufacturing, Net Shape HIP and Investment Casting’, Cimne.com, no date, online.
n: EMUSIC, Efficient Manufacturing for Aerospace Components Using Additive Manufacturing, Net Shape HIP and Investment Casting (EMUSIC).
o: Department of European Affairs, ‘Zhongao Electronic Technology Innovation Center was established in Graz’, news release, Ministry of Commerce, PRC Government, 4 December 2015, online (in Chinese).
p: Das Land Steiermark, ‘Chinese IT giant is becoming a global player from Graz’, news release, 2 November 2016, online (in German).
q: European Sustainable Energy Innovation Alliance, ‘Cooperation with CETC on the internet of things and new energies’, news release, 21 October 2014, online.
r: CALT, Sino-British Joint Laboratory of Advanced Structures and Manufacturing Technology, 14 May 2016, online (in Chinese); University of Exeter, ‘Annual review 2015’, Issue, 5, online.
s: ‘Versarien PLC: Term sheet with Beijing Institute of Graphene Tech’, Financial Times, 15 April 2019, online.
t: University of Manchester, Partnership with the Aero Engine Corporation of China, no date, online.
u: CALT, The Rocket Institute has built 4 overseas R&D institutions; CALVT, Artificial assisted heart overseas research and development institutions, 14 May 2016, online (in Chinese).
v: CALT, The Rocket Institute has built 4 overseas R&D institutions.
w: CALT, Artificial assisted heart overseas research and development institutions.
x: CALT, The Rocket Institute has built 4 overseas R&D institutions; CALVT, Artificial assisted heart overseas research and development institutions.
y: Imperial College London, AVIC Centre for Structural Design and Manufacture, no date, online.
z: University of Strathclyde, Space Mechatronic Systems Technology (SMeSTech) Laboratory, no date, online.
aa: University of Nottingham, ‘Chinese aerospace business funds £3m University Innovation Centre’, media release, August 2012, online.
bb: University of Nottingham, Composites Research Group, no date, online.
cc: The centre was administered by AVIC before the creation of AECC in August 2016 and was called the ‘AVIC Centre for Materials Characterisation, Processing and Modelling’. A formal change of name took place on 12 July 2017. See Imperial College London, AVIC Centre, no date, online; Imperial College London, BIAM – Imperial Centre for Materials Characterisation, Processing and Modelling, Visit of BIAM delegation (31 October 2018), online; Imperial College London, BIAM – Imperial Centre for Materials Characterisation, Processing and Modelling, Events, no date, online.
dd: Imperial College London, BIAM – Imperial Centre for Materials Characterisation, Processing and Modelling, Visit of BIAM delegation (31 October 2018), online.
ee: The centre was administered by AVIC before the creation of AECC in August 2016 and was called the ‘AVIC Centre for Materials Characterisation, Processing and Modelling’. A formal change of name took place on 12 July 2017. See Imperial  College London, AVIC Centre, no date, online; Imperial College London, BIAM – Imperial Centre for Materials Characterisation, Processing and Modelling, Visit of BIAM delegation, 31 October 2018, online; Imperial College London, BIAM – Imperial Centre for Materials Characterisation, Processing and Modelling, Events, no date, online.
ff: Imperial College London, BIAM – Imperial Centre for Materials Characterisation, Processing and Modelling, no date, online.
gg: Imperial College London, BIAM – Imperial Centre for Materials Characterisation, Processing and Modelling, Projects, no date, online.

Missile technology

The China Aerospace Science and Technology Corporation (CASC) and China Aerospace Science and Industry Corporation (CASIC) are the Chinese military’s leading suppliers of missiles, carrier rockets and satellites.80 The conglomerates claim to send dozens of scientists abroad every year to train in countries that include Australia, France, Italy, Japan, Russia, Ukraine, the UK and the US.81

CASC has a significant overseas presence through its subsidiary China Academy of Launch Vehicle Technology (CALT), which develops space launch vehicles and intercontinental ballistic missiles.82 CALVT operates six joint labs in Europe and the UK that do research in areas such as additive manufacturing, aerospace materials and control systems.83

CALT scientists sent to work in its overseas labs are often involved in research on subjects such as hypersonic vehicles, missiles and heat-resistant aerospace materials.84 For example, Wang Huixia, who visited a CALVT joint lab at the University of Manchester in 2018,85 has published on missile flight simulation and missile countermeasures.86

CALT has a record of funding civilian technology with dual-use applications for missile systems. In 2013, it set up an ‘artificial assisted heart overseas research and development institution’ in collaboration with Germany’s RWTH Aachen University and Switzerland’s Northwestern University of Applied Sciences.87 State-owned news agency Xinhua noted in an article on CALT that the technology in artificial hearts is very similar to that in missile control systems.88

Aviation technology

The Aero Engine Corporation of China (AECC) and the Aviation Industry Corporation of China (AVIC) are the primary suppliers of aviation technology to the PLA. AECC develops aircraft engines, while AVIC enjoys a monopoly in the supply of military aircraft to the PLA.89

Both AECC and AVIC have expanded their relationships with foreign universities by establishing joint laboratories, training programs and partnerships in Europe.90

AECC was established to develop China’s own aircraft engine supply chain.91 China’s military aircraft have long depended on other nations’ jet turbine technology, so the CCP hopes to build indigenous capabilities in this area, which may be advanced by its joint labs. An AECC subsidiary, the Beijing Institute for Aeronautical Materials (BIAM), operates three joint laboratories in the UK—two at the University of Manchester and a third at Imperial College London.92 All three labs study aerospace applications of materials such as graphene.93

AVIC has established two joint labs with the UK’s Imperial College London and the University of Nottingham.94 Its lab at Imperial College London focuses on topics related to aircraft design and manufacturing, such as ultralight aviation components and metal forming techniques.95 The lab is headed by a participant in the Chinese Government’s Thousand Talents Plan (a controversial scheme to recruit scientists from abroad), who explained that the university’s collaboration with Chinese companies can help them become ‘technology leaders’.96

The Commercial Aircraft Corporation of China (COMAC), which is described as a defence industry conglomerate by the Chinese Government’s Ministry of Industry and Information Technology, has also expanded its ties with foreign universities.97 Monash University entered into a memorandum of understanding with COMAC in 2017, agreeing to host COMAC researchers and conduct collaborative research on aerospace materials.98 Through this partnership, the university supplied components for COMAC’s flagship aircraft, the C919, which many China analysts believe could be converted into a military surveillance aircraft.99

China’s defence aviation companies are also building ties in Europe and Australia through research collaboration and training programs. More than 700 AVIC engineers and managers have been sent to train at British, Dutch and French universities in the past 10 years.100 By 2020, the conglomerate plans to send a total of 1,200 of its researchers to study at institutions including Cranfield University, the University of Nottingham and the Institut Aéronautique et Spatial in France.101 In 2016, the Australian Research Council awarded A$400,000 to a joint project by the University of Adelaide and AECC on ‘superior rubber-based materials’.102

Military electronics

China Electronics Technology Group Corporation (CETC) is China’s leading manufacturer of military electronics such as radars and drone swarms. The conglomerate is a leading supplier of integrated surveillance systems, facial recognition cameras and mobile applications that have been linked to human rights abuses in Xinjiang.103 Hikvision, a major manufacturer of security cameras, is part of CETC’s stable of subsidiaries.

Since 2014, CETC has expanded its relationships with foreign universities, establishing joint laboratories in Europe and Australia. Its partnership and joint laboratory with Graz University of Technology in Austria, covering electronic information technology, laid the foundations for the establishment of its European headquarters in Graz.104

CETC’s relationship with the University of Technology Sydney (UTS) has attracted significant media scrutiny.105 The two began discussing a formal partnership in 2014 and agreed to establish a joint centre on information and electronics technologies by 2017.106 The centre was originally poised to receive up to A$20 million in funding from CETC over five years. Aside from its research on artificial intelligence, quantum information and big data, the centre was also set up as a training centre for CETC staff.

The partnership is still ongoing after a review in 2019, but UTS reportedly abandoned three of its joint projects with CETC after Australia’s Department of Defence raised concerns.107 Commentators have also drawn attention to the potential for UTS’s collaboration with CETC on ‘public security video analysis’ to contribute to human rights abuses in Xinjiang.108

Nuclear weapons program

The Chinese Academy of Engineering Physics (CAEP) is responsible for research into and the development and manufacturing of China’s nuclear weapons.109 It’s also involved in developing lasers, directed-energy weapons and conventional weapons.110

CAEP is expanding its international presence in order to attract leading talent to assist China’s development of nuclear weapons. Since 2000, CAEP researchers have published more than 1,500 papers with foreign co-authors.

In 2012, CAEP established the Center for High Pressure Science and Technology Advanced Research (HPSTAR) to better leverage foreign talent.111 The Beijing-based centre claims that it’s ‘committed to science without borders’ and uses English as its official language but doesn’t mention on its English-language website that it’s affiliated with CAEP. HPSTAR is run by a Taiwanese-American scientist who was recruited in 2012 through the Chinese Government’s Thousand Talents Plan—a scientific talent recruitment program that CAEP has used to hire at least 57 scientists from abroad.112

CAEP also sends large numbers of its employees to study abroad. In 2015, one of the academy’s officials claimed that hundreds of young CAEP researchers are sent to study abroad every year, which has ‘had clear results for building up young talents’.113

For example, Zhou Tingting, a researcher at CAEP’s Institute of Applied Physics and Computational Mathematics, recently worked as a visiting scholar at Caltech University’s Materials and Process Simulation Center in the US. The institute specialises in design and simulation computation for nuclear warheads and has been involved in at least two espionage cases. It’s been included on the US Government’s Entity List since 1997.114 While at Caltech, Zhou published research on polymer-bonded explosives that was funded by the US Office of Naval Research. Polymer-bonded explosives are used to detonate the cores of nuclear warheads.115

Zhou’s background also illustrates how China’s civilian universities serve as feeder schools for the nuclear weapons program. Before joining CAEP, Zhou studied at Beijing Institute of Technology—one of the Seven Sons of National Defence. As a student, she also visited the same Caltech centre to carry out research on explosives. Her supervisor at the Beijing Institute of Technology was an adviser to the PLA and the government on warheads and hypersonic vehicles.116

Figure 3: China’s twelve Defence Industry Conglomerates

Areas for further research

While the China Defence Universities Tracker includes entries for roughly 160 universities, companies and research institutes, it’s far from comprehensive. We intend to update and expand the tracker when that’s possible. In particular, there’s room for further research on the Chinese Academy of Sciences and its dozens of subordinate research institutes. Twelve of China’s defence conglomerates are included in the database, but their hundreds if not thousands of subsidiaries haven’t been publicly catalogued.

Nor have private companies and other major suppliers of equipment to the military and security apparatus been included in this project. Further research on the role of universities in supporting state surveillance and on companies that develop surveillance technology used in human rights abuses would be valuable.

Engaging with research partners in China

Better managing engagement with research partners in China will help ensure that collaborations align with Australia’s values and interests. A deeper understanding of PRC universities and the CCP will strengthen this engagement. Engagement should be built on robust risk management efforts, rather than on efforts to, on the one hand, cut out or, on the other hand, uncritically embrace interactions with PRC entities. Effective risk management won’t prevent collaboration between Australian universities and China. It won’t affect the vast majority of Chinese students studying in Australia.

Due diligence on research collaboration or visiting scholars and students should primarily take into account:

  • the nature of the engagement, such as the potential uses of a technology
  • the nature of the foreign partner.

University researchers are generally well placed to understand the nature of a technology and different ways a technology could be applied. This, in part, has led to a disproportionate focus on whether or not technologies have military or security applications; that is, whether they’re ‘dual-use’ technologies.

However, it appears that universities have insufficient expertise, resources and processes for understanding foreign research partners. Universities and researchers won’t be able to effectively scrutinise research collaborations without building better understanding of research partners. They should avoid collaborations with Chinese institutions on technologies that are also defence research areas for those institutions or could contribute to human rights abuses. Furthermore, some technology specialists aren’t used to considering ethics, values and security as a standard procedure when carrying out their research. The argument that research that leads to published papers is not of concern doesn’t consider the range of ways in which research, training and expertise can be misused by foreign partners.

Universities should set the bar higher than compliance with the law. As important civil society institutions, they should embody liberal values, especially in their interactions with overseas partners. As recipients of large amounts of public funding, they have an obligation to avoid recklessly harming human rights or national security, such as by training scientists from nuclear weapons programs or working with suppliers of surveillance technology used in Xinjiang. Universities should approach research collaboration as a way to promote ethical compliance, integrity and academic freedom rather than allowing collaborations to compromise their commitment to those values.

Recommendations for universities

1. Assess the situation.

  • Revisit existing collaborations, commissioning independent due diligence of concerning ones.
  • Review existing mechanisms for supervising collaborations and partnerships.
  • Apply particular scrutiny to engagement with high risk entities identified in the China Defence Universities Tracker.

2. Build capacity.

  • Establish an independent research integrity office:
    • The office should report directly to the vice chancellor.
    • It should be resourced to carry out due diligence and compliance work and be able to do country-specific research.
    • It should write annual reviews of research integrity in the university.
    • It should serve as an interface between security agencies and the university.
  • University research integrity offices or relevant staff members should form a working group across the university sector to share information and discuss threats.
  • Dedicate greater resources to due diligence and compliance work, including linguistic and country-specific capabilities.

3. Build a culture of proactive awareness of risks.

  • Hold briefings that are open to all staff on China, research collaboration and security by the government, university due diligence staff and scholars.
  • Encourage researchers to consider unwanted outcomes of research collaborations, such as contributions to human rights abuses.
  • Encourage researchers to consult the China Defence Universities Tracker when they’re considering collaboration or applications from visiting scholars and students.

4. Develop better systems for managing engagement with China.

  • Create general guidelines for informal and formal collaboration with PRC entities.
  • In all agreements with PRC entities, introduce clauses on ethics, academic freedom and security with provisions to immediately terminate partnerships if they’re breached.
  • Establish a travel database for staff that’s accessible to university executives and research contract, due diligence and research integrity staff.
  • Refine the approval process for collaborations with foreign entities:
    • Collaborations should consider risks to the national interest, national security, intellectual property, reputation and human rights.
    • The China Defence Universities Tracker should be used to inform decisions. Universities should avoid collaborating with Chinese institutions on technologies that are also defence research areas for those institutions.
  • Develop a policy on collaboration with foreign militaries, security agencies and defence companies
  • Use the China Defence Universities Tracker to improve the vetting of visiting scholars and students.
    • Visitors from the PLA, defence conglomerates or other high risk entities should be subject to greater scrutiny in light of their defence and security links.

5. Ensure the implementation of supervisory systems.

  • Enforce contracts and policies on conflicts of interest and external employment.
  • Introduce annual reviews of engagement with China and the management of research collaborations.
  • Introduce annual reviews of research integrity across the university.

Recommendations for the Australian Government

1. Increase and refine the allocation of government research funding, strengthening the government’s ability to encourage universities to better manage research collaboration.

  • In general, the government should seek to ensure that its research funding is being used in ways that align with Australia’s values, needs and national interests.
  • Federal funding agencies such as the Australian Research Council and the Defence Science and Technology Group should use the China Defence Universities Tracker to help investigate and consider the foreign military or security links of current and future funding recipients.
  • Federal funding agencies should ensure disclosure of conflicts of interest by grant application assessors.
  • Federal funding agencies should ensure that its policies on conflicts of interest and external employment are being followed by grant recipients.

2. Issue clear and public guidance to universities on specific areas of research with important security, economic or human rights implications that should be protected from unsupervised technology transfer.

  • The University Foreign Interference Taskforce could serve as a platform to begin developing this guidance in consultation with university representatives.

3. Reform the Defence Trade Controls Act 2012, developing solutions to the Act’s failure to control technology transfer to foreign nationals and foreign military personnel in Australia.
 

4. The Australian Federal Police and Department of Defence should enforce the Weapons of Mass Destruction (Prevention of Proliferation) Act 1995, which restricts the provision of services to assist weapons of mass destruction programs.

5. The Department of Home Affairs should incorporate the China Defence Universities Tracker into its screening of visa applicants.

  • PLA officers, PRC defence conglomerate employees and members of PRC security agencies should by default not be given visas if they intend to study dual-use technology in Australia.
  • The military and security links of university researchers, particularly those from universities whose government links have been identified in the China Defence Universities Tracker, should be scrutinised.

6. Establish a national research integrity office.

  • Its remit should cover universities, the Commonwealth Scientific and Industrial Research Organisation, medical research institutes and any other recipients of government research funding
  • It should be mandated to produce public reports evaluating efforts to ensure research integrity across the higher education sector
  • It should be empowered to carry out investigations into research integrity
  • It should produce annual reports on research integrity across Australia
  • It should report to the Education Minister
  • It should conduct outreach to universities and researchers and consult them on the development of research integrity guidelines

7. Encourage the establishment of independent research integrity offices in universities.

  • The government should introduce a start-up funding program for universities seeking to establish independent research integrity offices.

8. Create an annual meeting of education ministers from Five Eyes countries to deepen research collaboration within the alliance and coordinate on research security.

9. Work with Five Eyes partners to establish a joint centre on managing sensitive technologies.

  • It should be resourced to monitor and assess the full course of China’s technology transfer activity, tracking China’s technology priorities and efforts to exploit resources in Five Eyes countries in service of those priorities.
  • It should identify where research on sensitive technologies is being carried out within Five Eyes countries and coordinate both innovation and security efforts.

10. The National Intelligence Community should increase resourcing for efforts to study China’s technology priorities and technology transfer efforts.

Appendix: Universities supervised by SASTIND

  • Anhui University
  • Beijing University of Chemical Technology
  • Central South University
  • Changchun University of Science and Technology
  • Chongqing University
  • Dalian University of Technology
  • East China University of Technology
  • Fuzhou University
  • Guilin University of Electronic Technology
  • Hangzhou Dianzi University
  • Harbin University of Science and Technology
  • Hebei University
  • Hebei University of Science and Technology
  • Hefei University of Technology
  • Heilongjiang Institute of Technology
  • Heilongjiang University
  • Henan University of Science and Technology
  • Huazhong University of Science and Technology
  • Hunan University
  • Hunan University of Science and Technology
  • Jiangsu University of Science and Technology
  • Jilin University
  • Kunming University of Science and Technology
  • Lanzhou University
  • Lanzhou University of Technology
  • Nanchang Hangkong University
  • Nanjing Tech University
  • Nanjing University
  • North China Institute of Aerospace Engineering
  • North China University of Science and Technology
  • North University of China
  • Peking University
  • Shandong University
  • Shandong University of Technology
  • Shanghai Jiaotong University
  • Shanghai University
  • Shenyang Aerospace University
  • Shenyang Ligong University
  • Shijiazhuang Tiedao University
  • Sichuan University
  • Soochow University
  • South China University of Technology
  • Southeast University
  • Southwest University of Science and Technology
  • Sun Yat-Sen University
  • Tianjin Polytechnic University
  • Tianjin University
  • Tsinghua University
  • University of Electronic Science and Technology of China
  • University of Science and Technology Beijing
  • University of Shanghai for Science and Technology
  • University of South China
  • Wuhan Institute of Technology
  • Wuhan University
  • Xi’an Jiaotong University
  • Xi’an Technological University
  • Xiamen University
  • Xiangtan University
  • Xidian University
  • Yanshan University
  • Zhejiang University

Acknowledgements

The author would like to thank Charlie Lyons Jones for his contributions. He would like to thank Fergus Hanson, Michael Shoebridge, Danielle Cave, Audrey Fritz, John Garnaut, Luca Biason and Jichang Lulu for their insights. He would also like to thank the analysts who helped build the China Defence Universities Tracker: Elsa Kania, Audrey Fritz, Charlie Lyons Jones, Samantha Hoffman and others.

What is ASPI?

The Australian Strategic Policy Institute was formed in 2001 as an independent, non‑partisan think tank. Its core aim is to provide the Australian Government with fresh ideas on Australia’s defence, security and strategic policy choices. ASPI is responsible for informing the public on a range of strategic issues, generating new thinking for government and harnessing strategic thinking internationally.

ASPI International Cyber Policy Centre

ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre (ICPC) is a leading voice in global debates on cyber and emerging technologies and their impact on broader strategic policy. The ICPC informs public debate and supports sound public policy by producing original empirical research, bringing together researchers with diverse expertise, often working together in teams.

To develop capability in Australia and our region, the ICPC has a capacity building team that conducts workshops, training programs and large-scale exercises both in Australia and overseas for both the public and private sectors. The ICPC enriches the national debate on cyber and strategic policy by running an international visits program that brings leading experts to Australia.

The work of ICPC would be impossible without the financial support of our partners and sponsors across government, industry and civil society. ASPI is grateful to the US State Department for providing funding for this research project.

Important disclaimer

This publication is designed to provide accurate and authoritative information in relation to the subject matter covered. It is provided with the understanding that the publisher is not engaged in rendering any form of professional or other advice or services. No person should rely on the contents of this publication without first obtaining advice from a qualified professional.

© The Australian Strategic Policy Institute Limited 2019

This publication is subject to copyright. Except as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part of it may in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, microcopying, photocopying, recording or otherwise) be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted without prior written permission. Enquiries should be addressed to the publishers. Notwithstanding the above, educational institutions (including schools, independent colleges, universities and TAFEs) are granted permission to make copies of copyrighted works strictly for educational purposes without explicit permission from ASPI and free of charge.

  1. The China Defence Universities Tracker was developed by a team of analysts at ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre including Alex Joske, Charlie Lyons Jones, Dr Samantha Hoffman, Elsa Kania and Audrey Fritz. ↩︎
  2. University Foreign Interference Taskforce, Guidelines to counter foreign interference in the Australian university sector, Department of Education, Australian Government, November 2019, online. ↩︎
  3. Jun-min ronghe 军民融合 is officially translated as ‘civil–military fusion’ and sometimes as ‘civil–military integration’ or ‘military–civil integration’. However, ‘military–civil fusion’ preserves the original structure of the Chinese phrase, and ‘military–civil integration’ should be more accurately used as a translation of an earlier Chinese Government effort, jun-min jiehe 军民结合. See also Elsa Kania, Battlefield singularity: artificial intelligence, military revolution, and China’s future military power, Center for a New American Security, November 2017, endnote 9, online; Audrey Fritz, China’s evolving conception of civil–military collaboration, Center for Strategic and International Studies, 2 August 2019, online. ↩︎
  4. ‘军民融合发展委成立 军工板块再迎重磅利好’ [Military–civil fusion development commission established; the military–industrial bloc again welcomes great benefits], Xinhua, 23 January 2017, online. ↩︎
  5. ‘我国军民融合产业发展概况’ [The status of my country’s military–civil fusion industry development], China High Tech, 15 April 2019, online. ↩︎
  6. Lorand Laskai, Civil–military fusion: the missing link between China’s technological and military rise, Council on Foreign Relations, January 29, 2018, online. ↩︎
  7. 赵长禄 [Zhao Changlu], ‘大学应站在军民融合的前线’ [Universities should stand at the front line of military–civil fusion], The People’s Daily, 18 March 2017, online. ↩︎
  8. ‘做好军民融合背景下的高校保密工作’ [Doing university secrecy work in the context of military–civil fusion], National Administration of State Secrets Protection, 27 February 2018, online. ↩︎
  9. ‘2018中国双一流大学排行榜,87所跻身全国百强’ [2018 list of China’s double first‑class universities, 87 universities in the top 100 nationally], The People’s Daily, 27 December 2017, online. ↩︎
  10. ‘教育部 财政部 国家发展改革委印发 《关于高等学校加快’双一流’建设的 指导意见》的通知’ [Notice on the Ministry of Education, Ministry of Finance, National Development and Reform Commission releasing ‘Directions and thoughts on hastening the double first‑class development of higher education institutions], chsi.com, 27 August 2018, online. ↩︎
  11. Audrey Fritz, ‘University involvement in military–civilian fusion: the driving force behind achieving the Chinese Dream’, senior thesis submitted to the University of Chicago, 17 April 2019. ↩︎
  12. Alex Joske, Picking flowers, making honey: the Chinese military’s collaboration with foreign universities, ASPI, Canberra, October 2018, online. ↩︎

A new Sino-Russian high-tech partnership

Authoritarian innovation in an era of great-power rivalry

What’s the problem?

Sino-Russian relations have been adapting to an era of great-power rivalry. This complex relationship, categorised as a ‘comprehensive strategic partnership of coordination for a new era’, has continued to evolve as global strategic competition has intensified.1 China and Russia have not only expanded military cooperation but are also undertaking more extensive technological cooperation, including in fifth-generation telecommunications, artificial intelligence (AI), biotechnology and the digital economy.

When Russia and China commemorated the 70th anniversary of the establishment of diplomatic relations between Soviet Union and the People’s Republic of China in October 2019,2 the celebrations highlighted the history of this ‘friendship’ and a positive agenda for contemporary partnership that is pursuing bilateral security, ‘the spirit of innovation’, and ‘cooperation in all areas’.3

Such partnerships show that Beijing and Moscow recognise the potential synergies of joining forces in the development of these dual-use technologies, which possess clear military and commercial significance. This distinct deepening of China–Russia technological collaborations is also a response to increased pressures imposed by the US. Over the past couple of years, US policy has sought to limit Chinese and Russian engagements with the global technological ecosystem, including through sanctions and export controls. Under these geopolitical circumstances, the determination of Chinese and Russian leaders to develop indigenous replacements for foreign, particularly American technologies, from chips to operating systems, has provided further motivation for cooperation.

These advances in authoritarian innovation should provoke concerns for democracies for reasons of security, human rights, and overall competitiveness. Notably, the Chinese and Russian governments are also cooperating on techniques for improved censorship and surveillance and increasingly coordinating on approaches to governance that justify and promote their preferred approach of cyber sovereignty and internet management, to other countries and through international standards and other institutions. Today’s trends in technological collaboration and competition also possess strategic and ideological implications for great-power rivalry.

What’s the solution?

This paper is intended to start an initial mapping and exploration of the expanding cooperative ecosystem involving Moscow and Beijing.4 It will be important to track the trajectory and assess the implications of these Sino-Russian technological collaborations, given the risks and threats that could result from those advances. In a world of globalised innovation, the diffusion of even the most sensitive and strategic technologies, particularly those that are dual-use in nature and driven by commercial developments, will remain inherently challenging to constrain but essential to understand and anticipate.

  • To avoid strategic surprise, it’s important to assess and anticipate these technological advancements by potential adversaries. Like-minded democracies that are concerned about the capabilities of these authoritarian regimes should monitor and evaluate the potential implications of these continuing developments.
  • The US and Australia, along with allies and partners, should monitor and mitigate tech transfer and collaborative research activities that can involve intellectual property (IP) theft and extra-legal activities, including through expanding information-sharing mechanisms. This collaboration should include coordinating on export controls, screening of investments, and restrictions against collaboration with military-linked or otherwise problematic institutions in China and Russia.
  • It’s critical to continue to deepen cooperation and coordination on policy responses to the challenges and opportunities that emerging technologies present. For instance, improvements in sharing data among allies and partners within and beyond the Five Eyes nations could be conducive to advancing the future development of AI in a manner that’s consistent with our ethics and values.
  • Today, like-minded democracies must recognise the threats from advances in and the diffusion of technologies that can be used to empower autocratic regimes. For that reason, it will be vital to mount a more unified response to promulgate norms for the use of next-generation technologies, particularly AI and biotech.

Background: Cold War antecedents to contemporary military-technological cooperation

The history of Sino-Russian technological cooperation can be traced back to the early years of the Cold War. The large-scale assistance provided by the Soviet Union to China in the 1950s involved supplying equipment, technology and expertise for Chinese enterprises, including thousands of highly qualified Soviet specialists working across China.5 Sino-Russian scientific and technical cooperation, ranging from the education of Chinese students in the Soviet Union to joint research and the transfer of scientific information, contributed to China’s development of its own industrial, scientific and technical foundations. Initially, China’s defence industry benefited greatly from the availability of Soviet technology and armaments, which were later reverse-engineered and indigenised. The Sino-Soviet split that started in the late 1950s and lasted through the 1970s interrupted those efforts, which didn’t resume at scale until after the end of the Cold War.6

Russia’s arms sales to China have since recovered to high levels, and China remains fairly reliant upon certain Russian defense technologies. This is exemplified by China’s recent acquisition of the S-400 advanced air defence system,7 for which China’s Central Military Commission Equipment Development Department was sanctioned by the US.8 Traditionally, China has also looked to Russia for access to aero-engines.9 Today, China’s tech sector and defence industry have surpassed Russia in certain sectors and technologies. For instance, China has developed unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs) that are far more advanced than those currently operational in Russia.10 Nonetheless, the Russian military has been unwilling to acquire Chinese UAVs, instead deciding to attempt to develop indigenous counterparts in mid-range and heavy unmanned combat models.11 Nonetheless, for Russia, nearto mid-term access to certain Chinese products, services and experience may become the very lifeline that Russia’s industry, government and military will require in order to wean themselves off high-tech imports12, although even that approach may be challenged by limited availability of Chinese components.13

Underscoring the apparent strength of this evolving relationship, China and Russia have recently elevated their military-to-military relationship. In September 2019, the Russian and Chinese defence ministers agreed to sign official documents to jointly pursue military and military–technical cooperation.14 According to the Russian Defence Minister, ‘the results of the [bilateral] meeting will serve the further development of a comprehensive strategic partnership between Russia and China.’15

Reportedly, Russia plans to aid China in developing a missile defense warning system, according to remarks by President Putin in October 2019.16 At the moment, only the United States and Russian Federation have fully operationalized such technology, and according to Moscow, sharing this technology with Beijing could ‘cardinally increase China’s defense capability’.17 For China, access to Russian lessons learned in new conflicts such as Syria may prove extremely valuable as Beijing digests key data and lessons.18 Of course, this technological cooperation has also extended into joint exercises, including joint air patrols and naval drills.19

A strategic partnership for technological advancement

The strategic partnership between China and Russia has increasingly concentrated on technology and innovation.20 Starting with the state visit of Xi Jinping to Moscow in May 2015, in particular, the Chinese and Russian governments have signed a series of new agreements that concentrate on expanding into new realms of cooperation, including the digital economy.21 In June 2016, China’s Ministry of Science and Technology and Russia’s Ministry of Economic Development signed the ‘Memorandum of Understanding on Launching Cooperation in the Domain of Innovation’.22 With the elevation of the China–Russia relationship as a ‘comprehensive strategic partnership of coordination for a new era’, the notion of these nations as being linked in a ‘science and technology cooperation partnership for shared innovation’ (作共同创新的科技合作伙伴) has been elevated as one of the major pillars of this relationship.23

To some degree, this designation has been primarily rhetorical and symbolic, but it has also corresponded with progress and greater substance over time. The Chinese and Russian governments have launched a number of new forums and mechanisms that are intended to promote deeper collaboration, including fostering joint projects and partnerships among companies. Over time, the Sino-Russian partnership has become more and more institutionalised.24 This policy support for collaboration in innovation has manifested in active initiatives that are just starting to take shape.

This section outlines five areas where the Sino-Russian relationship is deepening, including in dialogues and exchanges, the development of industrial science and technology (S&T) parks, and the expansion of academic cooperation.

Dialogues and exchanges

Concurrently, a growing number of dialogues between Chinese and Russian governments and departments have attempted to promote exchanges and partnerships, and those engagements have also become particularly prominent since 2016. While the initiatives listed below remain relatively nascent, these new mechanisms constitute a network of science, technology, engineering and mathematics (STEM) cooperation that could continue to expand in the years to come and provide the two countries with new vehicles for engagement and information sharing across their respective scientific communities.

  • Starting in 2016, the Russian–Chinese High-Tech Forum has been convened annually. During the 2017 forum, both sides worked on the creation of direct and open dialogue between tech investors of Russia and China, as well as on the expansion and diversification of cooperation in the field of innovations and high technologies.25 During the 2018 forum, proposed initiatives for expanded cooperation included the introduction of new information technologies. This forum wasn’t merely a symbolic indication of interest in cooperation but appeared to produce concrete results, including the signing of a number of bilateral agreements.26 In particular, the Novosibirsk State University of Architecture and Civil Engineering signed an agreement with Chinese partners on the development of technologies for construction and operation in cold conditions.27 The specific projects featured included China’s accession to the Russian project of a synchrotron accelerator.28
  • Beginning in 2017, the Sino-Russian Innovation Dialogue has been convened annually by China’s Ministry of Science and Technology and Russia’s Ministry of Economic Development.29 In the first dialogue, in Beijing, more than 100 Chinese and Russian enterprises participated, from industries that included biomedicine, nanotechnology, new materials, robotics, drones and AI, showcasing their innovative technologies and concluding new agreements for cooperation. During the second dialogue, in Moscow, the Russian and Chinese governments determined the 2019–2024 China–Russia Innovation Cooperation Work Plan.30 Each country regards the plan as an opportunity for its own development, as it combines the advantages of China’s industry, capital and market with the resources, technology and talents of Russia.31 Contemporaneously, forums have been convened in parallel on ‘Investing in Innovations’ and have brought together prominent investors and entrepreneurs.32 When the third dialogue was convened in Shanghai in September 2019, the agenda included a competition in innovation and entrepreneurship, a forum on investment cooperation and a meeting for ‘matchmaking’ projects and investments.33 The 70th anniversary of diplomatic relations will also be commemorated with the Sino-Russian Innovation Cooperation Week.34

Science and technology parks

The establishment of a growing number of Sino-Russian S&T parks has been among the most tangible manifestations of growing cooperation. Moscow and Beijing believe that scientific and industrial parks can create a foundation and an infrastructure that’s critical to sustained bilateral cooperation. Since so many of these efforts remain relatively nascent, it’s too early to gauge their success—yet the growing number of such efforts reflects growing bilateral cooperation.

  • As early as 2006, the Changchun Sino-Russian Science and Technology Park was established as a base for S&T cooperation and innovation. It was founded by the Jilin Provincial Government and the Chinese Academy of Sciences, in cooperation with the Russian Academy of Sciences’ Siberian Branch and the Novosibirsk state of the Russian Federation.35 The park has specialised in creating new opportunities for collaboration and for the transfer and commercialisation of research and technology.36 Over more than a decade, it has built an ‘innovation team’ composed of colleges and universities, scientific research institutions and private enterprises.37
  • In June 2016, the plan for the China–Russia Innovation Park was inaugurated with support from the Shaanxi Provincial Government, the Russian Direct Investment Fund and the Sino-Russian Investment Fund. The park was completed in 2018, with information technology, biomedical and artificial intelligence enterprises invited to take part. According to the development plan, the park aims at research and development of new technologies and the integration of new tech with the social infrastructure of both countries.38
  • Also in June 2016, the Sino-Russian Investment Fund and the Skolkovo Foundation signed an agreement to build a medical robot centre and to manufacture medical robots in China with support from experts at the Russian Academy of Sciences’ School of Design and Technology.39 The state-funded Skolkovo initiative, launched in 2010, is Russia’s leading technology innovation space. The foundation manages many high-tech projects that include deep machine learning and neural network techniques.40
  • In June 2016, the China–Russia Silk Road Innovation Park was established in the Xixian New District of Xian.41 This initiative is framed as an opportunity to construct a modern industrial system as the main line of development, ‘striv[ing] to create an innovation and entrepreneurship centre with the highest degree of openness and the best development environment in the Silk Road Economic Belt’. This park welcomes entrepreneurs from China and Russia.
  • In December 2017, S&T parks from China and Russia agreed to promote the construction of a Sino-Russian high-tech centre at Skolkovo, which aims to become Russia’s Silicon Valley.42 The Skolkovo Foundation, which manages the site, agreed to provide the land, while Tus-Holdings Co Ltd and the Russia–China Investment Fund will jointly finance the project. This high-tech centre is intended to serve as a platform to promote new start-ups, including by attracting promising Chinese companies.
  • In October 2018, the Chinese city of Harbin also emerged as a major centre for Sino-Russian technological cooperation.43 This initiative is co-founded by GEMMA, which is an international economic cooperation organisation registered in Russia, and the Harbin Ministry of Science and Technology.44 At present, 19 companies are resident in the centre, which is expected to expand and receive robust support from the local government. Harbin’s Nangan District has expressed interest in cooperation with Russian research institutes in the field of AI.45
  • The cities of Harbin and Shenzhen have been selected for a new ‘Two Countries, Four Cities’ program, which is intended to unite the potentials of Moscow, Yekaterinburg, Harbin and Shenzhen.46 As of 2019, there are plans for the opening of another Russian innovation centre in the city of Shenzhen—a high-tech park that will concentrate on information technology47—enabling resident companies to enter the China market with their own software and technologies, such as big data and automation systems for mining.48

Joint funds

China and Russia are also increasing investments into special funds for research on advanced technology development.

  • The Russia–China Investment Fund for Regional Development signed on as an anchor investor in two new funds at Skolkovo Ventures to the tune of US$300 million in October 2018.49 This fund will also pour money into Skolkovo’s funds for emerging companies in information technology, which each currently have US$50 million in capital.50
  • The Russia–China Science and Technology Fund was established as a partnership between Russia’s ‘Leader’ management company and Shenzhen Innovation Investment Group to invest as much as 100 million yuan (about US$14 million) into Russian companies looking to enter the China market.51
  • The Chinese and Russian governments have been negotiating to establish the Sino-Russian Joint Innovation Investment Fund.52 In July 2019, the fund was officially established, with the Russian Direct Investment Fund and the China Investment Corporation financing the $1 billion project.53

Contests and competitions

Engagement between the Chinese and Russian S&T sectors has also been promoted through recent contests and competitions that have convened and displayed projects with the aim of facilitating cooperation.

  • In September 2018, the first China–Russia Industry Innovation Competition was convened in Xixian New District.54 The competition focused on the theme of ‘Innovation Drives the Future’, highlighting big data, AI and high-end manufacturing.55 The projects that competed included a flying robot project from Beijing University of Aeronautics and Astronautics and a brain-controlled rehabilitation robot based on virtual reality and functional electrical stimulation.
  • In April 2019, the Roscongress Foundation together with VEB Innovations and the Skolkovo Foundation launched the second round of the EAST BOUND contest, which gives Russian start-ups an opportunity to tell foreign investors about their projects. This time, the contest will support AI developments.56 The finalists spoke at SPIEF–2019 (the St Petersburg International Economic Forum) and presented their projects to a high-profile jury consisting of major investors from the Asia–Pacific region.57

Expansion of academic cooperation

In July 2018, the Russian and Chinese academies of sciences signed a road-map agreement to work on six projects.58 The agreement joins together some of the largest academic and research institutions around the world and includes commitments to expand research collaboration and pursue personnel exchanges. The Chinese Academy of Sciences has more than 67,900 scientists engaged in research activities,59 while the Russian Academy of Sciences includes 550 scientific institutions and research centres across the country employing more than 55,000 scientists.60

These projects include a concentration on brain functions that will include elements of AI.61 The Russian side is motivated by the fact that China occupies a world-leading position in the field of neuroscience,62 including through the launch of the China Brain Project.63 The Russian Academy of Sciences delegation visited laboratories in Shanghai in August 2019 and commented on their counterpart academy’s achievements:

Brain research is a whole range of tasks, starting with genetics and ending with psychophysical functions. This includes the study of neurodegenerative diseases and the creation of artificial intelligence systems based on neuromorphic intelligence. Participation in this project is very important for Russia. China is investing a lot in this and has become a world leader in some areas …64

Priorities for partnership

Chinese–Russian technological cooperation extends across a range of industries, and the degree of engagement and productivity varies across industries and disciplines. As Sino-Russian relations enter this ‘new era’, sectors that have been highly prioritised include, but are not limited to, telecommunications; robotics and AI; biotechnology; new media; and the digital economy.

Next-generation telecommunications

The ongoing feud between the US and China over the Huawei mobile giant has contributed to unexpectedly rapid counterbalancing cooperation between Russia and China. In fact, President Vladimir Putin went on the record about this issue, calling the American pressure on the Chinese company the ‘first technological war of the coming digital age’.65 Encountering greater pressure globally, and this year in particular, Huawei has expanded its engagement with Russia, looking to leverage its STEM expertise through engaging with Russian academia. Since 2018, Huawei has opened centres first in Moscow, St Petersburg and Kazan and then in Novosibirsk and Nizhny Novgorod.66

Huawei also began monitoring the research capabilities of Russian universities, searching for potential joint projects, and in August 2019 the company signed a cooperation agreement on AI with Russia’s National Technology Initiative, which is a state-run program to promote high-tech development in the country.67 Based on a competition run by the Huawei Academy and Huawei Cloud, Russia’s best academic STEM institutions were selected.68 In May 2019, Huawei and the Siberian Branch of the Russian Academy of Sciences outlined areas and means of future cooperation.69

Underscoring its bullishness, China recently announced plans for a fourfold increase in its R&D staff in Russia going forward. In May 2019, the Huawei Innovation Research Program in Russia was launched, and Russian institutions have received 140 technological requests from Huawei in various areas of scientific cooperation.70 By the end of 2019, the company intends to hire 500 people, and within five years it will attract more than 1,000 new specialists.71 Huawei now has two local R&D centres in Moscow and St Petersburg, where 400 and 150 people work, respectively.72 By the end of the year, it plans to open three new R&D centres, and Russia will then be ranked among the top three Huawei R&D centres, after Europe and North America.73 The company plans to engage in close cooperation with Russian scientific communities, universities and other research centres.

At present, Russia doesn’t appear to share deep American concerns about security related to Huawei technology.74 Huawei has started actively expanding its 5G testing in the Russian Federation, partnering with Russia’s Vimplecom to test a 5G pilot area in downtown Moscow starting in August 2019.75 Commentators have stated that Russia, which isn’t considered a technological leader, has ‘the potential to get ahead globally’ now that it has Chinese high-tech enterprises as allies.76 During the summer of 2019 at SPIEF, Huawei continued to discuss with Skolkovo plans to develop 5G network technology at the innovation centre, and also to do research in AI and internet of things (IoT) projects.77

In fact, at that forum, Russia and China outlined a large-scale cooperation program in order to prepare a road map for future investment and cooperation on issues such as cybersecurity and the IoT.78 As US pressure on Huawei continues, there’s even a possibility that the Chinese company might abandon the Android operating system (OS) altogether and replace it with the Russian Avrora OS.79 If this transaction goes through, it would be the first time that a Russian OS has contributed to a significant global telecoms player.

Whether Huawei can become a trusted name in Russia’s tech sector and defence industries remains to be seen. There are also reasons to question whether Russia truly trusts the security of Huawei’s systems, but it may be forced to rely upon them, absent better options. As an illustration of potential complications, in August 2019, Russia’s MiG Corporation, which builds Russia’s fighter jets, was caught in a legal battle with one of its subcontractors over software and hardware equipment.80 The subcontractor in question, Bulat, has been one of Russia’s most active companies in riding the wave of the ‘import substitution’ drive in effect since Western sanctions were imposed on the Russian defence industry. However, in this case, Bulat didn’t offer Russian-made technology; rather, it used Huawei’s servers and processors.81 Although MiG did not say publicly why it didn’t pay Bulat, it appears that the aircraft corporation actually requested Chinese technology for its operations. 82

Big data, robotics and artificial intelligence

For China and Russia, AI has emerged as a new priority in technological cooperation. For instance, the countries are seeking to expand the sharing of big data through the Sino-Russian Big Data Headquarters Base Project,83 while another project has been launched to leverage AI technologies, particularly natural language processing, to facilitate cross-border commercial activities, intended for use by Chinese and Russian businesses.84 China’s Ambassador to Russia, Li Hui, said at an investment forum in the autumn of 2018 that the two countries should increase the quality of bilateral cooperation and emphasise the digital economy as a new growth engine, highlighting opportunities for collaboration in AI, along with big data, the internet and smart cities.85 Ambassador Li emphasised:

Russia has unique strength in technological innovation and has achieved significant innovations in many fields of science and technology. China and Russia have unique economic potential and have rich experience in cooperation in many fields. Strengthening collaboration, promoting mutual investment, actively implementing promising innovation projects, expanding direct links between the scientific, business and financial communities of the two countries is particularly important today.86

This bilateral AI development will benefit from each country’s engineers and entrepreneurs.87 From Russia’s perspective, the combined capabilities of China and Russia could contribute to advancing AI, given the high-tech capabilities of Russia’s R&D sector.88 While Russia’s share of the global AI market is small, that market is growing and maturing.89 In Russia, a number of STEM and political figures have spoken favourably about the potential of bilateral R&D in AI. At the World Robotics Forum in August 2017, Vitaly Nedelskiy, the president of the Russian Robotics Association, delivered a keynote speech in which he emphasised that ‘Russian scientists and Chinese robot companies can join hands and make more breakthroughs in this field of robotics and artificial intelligence. Russia is very willing to cooperate with China in the field of robotics.’90 According to Song Kui, the president of the Contemporary China– Russia Regional Economy Research Institute in northeast China’s Heilongjiang Province, ‘High-tech cooperation including AI will be the next highlight of China–Russia cooperation.’91

In fact, bilateral cooperation in robotics development has some Russian developers and experts cautiously optimistic. According to the chief designer at Android Technologies, the Russian firm behind the FEDOR (Skybot F-850) robot that was launched to the International Space Station on 22 August 2019, ‘medicine may be the most promising for cooperation with China in the field of robotics.’92

However, hinting at potential copyright issues with respect to China, he further clarified:

[M]edical robotics is better protected from some kind of copying, because if we [Russians] implement some components or mechatronic systems here [in China], then we can sell no more than a few pieces … But since medical robotics is protected by technology, protected by the software itself, which is the key, the very methods of working with patients, on the basis of this, this area is more secure and most promising for [Russian] interaction with the Chinese.93

Revealingly, concerns about copying are a constraint but might not impede joint initiatives, given the potential for mutual benefit nonetheless.

Indeed, advances in AI depend upon massive computing capabilities, enough data for machines to learn from, and the human talent to operate those systems.94 Today, China leads the world in AI subcategories such as connected vehicles and facial and audio recognition technologies, while Russia has manifest strengths in industrial automation, defence and security applications, and surveillance.95 Based on recent activities and exchanges, there are a growing number of indications that Chinese–Russian collaboration in AI is a priority that should be expected to expand.

  • In August 2017, the Russian Robotics Association signed agreements with the China Robotics Industry Alliance and the China Electronics Society with support from China’s Minister of Industry and Information Technology and Russia’s Minister of Industrial Trade.96
  • In October 2017, Chinese and Russian experts participated in a bilateral engagement, hosted by the Harbin Institute of Technology and the Engineering University of the Russian Federation, that focused on robotics and intelligent manufacturing, exploring opportunities for future cooperation in those technologies.97
  • In April 2018, Russia hosted the Industrial Robotics Workshop for the first time.98 The workshop participants included the leading suppliers of technology and robotic solutions, including Zhejiang Buddha Technology.99 The Chinese participants noted that the Chinese market in robotics is now stronger than ever and advised Russian colleagues to seek help from the state.100
  • In May 2019, NtechLab, which is one of Russia’s leading developers in AI and facial recognition, and Dahua Technology, which is a Chinese manufacturer of video surveillance solutions, jointly presented a wearable camera with a face recognition function, the potential users of which could include law enforcement agencies and security personnel.101 According to NtechLab, the company sees law enforcement agencies and private security enterprises among its potential customers.102
  • In September 2019, Russian and Chinese partners discussed cooperation in AI at the sixth annual bilateral ‘Invest in Innovation’ forum held in Shanghai. The forum outlined the possibility of a direct dialogue between venture investors and technology companies in Russia and China.103 There, the head of Russian Venture Company (a state investor) noted that ‘artificial intelligence seems to be promising, given the potential of the Chinese market, the results of cooperation, and the accumulated scientific potential of Russia.’104

Biotechnology

Chinese and Russian researchers are exploring opportunities to expand collaboration in the domain of biotechnology. In September 2018, Sistema PJSFC (a publicly traded diversified Russian holding company), CapitalBio Technology (an industry-leading Chinese life science company that develops and commercialises total healthcare solutions), and the Russia–China Investment Fund agreed to create the largest innovative biotechnology laboratory in Russia.105 The laboratory will focus on genetic and molecular research. Junquan Xu, the CEO of CapitalBio Technology, said:

[W]e are honoured to have this opportunity to cooperate with the Russia–China Investment Fund and Sistema … We do believe that the establishment of the joint laboratory will further achieve resource sharing, complementary advantages and improve the medical standards.106

New media and communications

Chinese and Russian interests also converge on issues involving new media. In 2019, Russia intends to submit to the Chinese side a draft program of cooperation in the digital domain.107 China recently hosted the 4th Media Forum of Russia and China in Shanghai with the goal of creating a common digital environment conducive to the development of the media of the two countries, the implementation of joint projects and the strengthening of joint positions in global markets.108 In fact, China’s side discussed joint actions aimed at countering Western pressure against the Russian and Chinese media.109 Both Russia and China aim to develop common approaches and response measures to improve their capacity to promote their point of view—a dynamic that the Chinese Communist Party characterises as ‘discourse power’ (话语权).110 According to Alexey Volin, the Russian Deputy Minister of Digital Development, Telecommunications and Mass Media:

If Twitter, YouTube or Facebook follow the path of throwing out Russian and Chinese media from their environment, then we will have nothing else to do but create new distribution channels, how to think about alternative social networks and instant messengers.111

Such cooperation in new media, internet governance, and propaganda extends from technical to policy-oriented engagements. For instance, at SPIEF–2019, Sogou Inc. (an innovator in research and a leader in China’s internet industry) announced the launch of the world’s first Russian-speaking AI news anchor, which was developed through a partnership with ITAR-TASS, which is Russia’s official news agency, and China’s Xinhua news agency.112 According to the official announcement, the Russian-speaking news anchor features Sogou’s latest advances in speech synthesis, image detection and prediction capabilities, introducing more engaging and interactive content for Russian audiences.113 ‘AI anchors,’ which are starting to become a fixture and feature of China’s media ecosystem, can contribute to the landscape of authoritarian propaganda. During the World Internet Conference in October 2018, China and Russia also plan to sign a treaty involving the Cyberspace Administration of China and Roskomnadzor about ‘combatting illegal internet content.’114

The digital economy

China’s tech giants see business opportunities in Russia’s nascent digital economy. Russia’s data centres are gaining increased capabilities as Chinese companies move into this market. Over the past year, more than 600 Tencent racks have been installed in IXcellerate Moscow One, becoming its largest project. Tencent’s infrastructure will be used for the development of its cloud services and gaming. This project opens up new prospects for Tencent in Russia, which has the highest number of internet users in Europe (about 100 million—a 75% penetration rate).115 All provided services, including the storage and processing of personal data, are expected to be in full compliance with Russian legislation.116 In late 2018, Alibaba Group Holding Ltd started establishing a US$2 billion joint venture with billionaire Alisher Usmanov’s internet services firm Mail.ru Group Ltd to strengthen the Chinese company’s foothold in Russian e-commerce.117 Usmanov is one of Russia’s richest and most powerful businessmen, and his fortunes depend upon the Kremlin’s goodwill as much as on his own business acumen. In this deal, Alibaba signed an accord with Mail.ru to merge their online marketplaces in Russia, which is home to 146 million people. The deal was backed by the Kremlin through the Russian Direct Investment Fund, and the local investors will collectively control the new business.118

Problems in partnership and obstacles to technological development

To date, Sino-Russian cooperation in S&T has encountered some problems. Those issues have included not only insufficient marketisation but also initial Russian reservations about China’s One Belt, One Road initiative, which has been closely linked to scientific and technological collaboration.119 Additionally, there’s evidence that there may still be significant trust issues that impede adopting or acquiring Chinese-made high-tech products for the Russian markets. For example, in a February 2019 interview, Evgeny Dudorov, the CEO of Android Technologies (which built the FEDOR robot), said in a public interview that his company did not want to adopt Chinese robotics parts ‘due to their poor quality’.120

China’s track record over IP theft may be a concern, but it doesn’t seem that Russia is presently as anxious as others about this issue.For instance, Vladimir Lopatin, the Director of the Intellectual Property Department at the Russian Republican Centre for Intellectual Property, sounded a warning about Chinese activities back in 2013:

[T]he prevailing practice of theft and illegal use of Russian intellectual property in the production of counterfeit products by Chinese partners has led to a widespread critical decline in the level of confidence in them from Russian academic and university science centres and enterprises. This is a significant factor in restraining the implementation of strategic initiatives of innovative cooperation between the two countries …121

However, such sentiment does not appear to be so widespread at present. For instance, the Russian media typically concentrates on US–China IP disputes while presenting Sino-Russian high-tech activity in a primarily positive light. Moscow today may be merely resigned, given the long history of Chinese reverse-engineering of Russian defence technologies, but it’s notable that the Chinese Government is publicising promises to enforce IP protection vis-a-vis its Russian counterpart, implying that perhaps a detente has been reached.122 At this point, Russia seems to be more concerned about China possibly stealing its best and brightest scientists—in September 2019, the head of the Russian Academy of Sciences expressed concern that Beijing seems to be successful in starting to attract Russian STEM talent with better pay and work conditions.123 He also seemed concerned that, due to its better organisation and development goals, China was becoming a ‘big brother’ to Russia in not just economic but scientific development and called for a study of China’s overall STEM success.124

At the same time, such bilateral cooperation isn’t immune to the internal politics and certain economic realities in both nations. For instance, in what was obviously an unexpected setback, Tencent admitted back in 2017 it was ‘deeply sorry’ that its social media app WeChat had been blocked in Russia, adding that it was in touch with authorities to try to resolve the issue.125 Russian telecoms watchdog Roskomnadzor listed WeChat on the register of prohibited websites, according to information posted on the regulator’s website. ‘Russian regulations say online service providers have to register with the government, but WeChat doesn’t have the same understanding [of the rules],’ Tencent said in a statement at the time. Equally important is Russia’s ongoing uphill battle in import-substitution of high-tech and industrial components, as a result of the sanctions imposed by the West in 2014 and 2015. Despite significant progress, Russia is still reliant upon Western technology procured by direct or indirect means, and Moscow is not always keen to embrace Chinese high-tech as a substitute.

In Russia, the most lucrative companies are entangled within semi-monoplistic structures close to the Russian Government. Those players are few in number and tend to wield enormous influence in the Russian economy. As a result, the possible high-tech contact nodes between Moscow and Beijing lead through a small number of offices belonging to the most powerful and connected individuals. The true test of the Sino-Russian bilateral relationship concerning high-tech products and services may be in attempting to expand to the medium- and small-sized businesses and enterprises offering the most nimble and capable solutions. For example, the head of Russian Venture Company, a state investor, noted the difficulties in creating tools for a joint venture fund:

We did not resolve the problem of investing in a Russian venture fund. Withdrawing money from China to Russian jurisdictions under an understandable partnership and an understandable instrument is nevertheless difficult.126

Moreover, for both China and Russia, a significant challenge remains: promising young scientists in both countries would prefer to work elsewhere, namely in the US. Some recent polls and anecdotal evidence point to a continuously strong desire for emigration among the best educated, and especially among those with already established international professional relationships.127 This is especially true for Russia. However, as its National Technology Initiative has observed:

We believe that everybody for whom the Californian comfort, sun, wine, mountains and oceans are important has already left Russia. Others realise that the wine, mountains and sea in Sevastopol are just as good.128

For China, the current paradox is that, while Beijing offers plenty of incentives for its STEM community to stay in the country, many researchers choose, in fact, to work overseas, particularly in American institutions.129 The establishment of numerous S&T initiatives outlined in this paper is meant to offset that trend, but the trajectory of so many efforts launched recently remains to be seen.

Conclusions and implications

The Chinese–Russian high-tech partnership may continue to progress in the coming years, as both countries look to leverage each other’s capabilities to advance high-tech developments. China is clearly approaching Russia for its STEM R&D and S&T proficiencies, and Russia seems to be happy to integrate itself more into Chinese high-tech capabilities, and yet it is Beijing that emerges as a dominant player in this bilateral cooperation, while Russia tends to find itself in a position of relative disadvantage. Russia lacks such giants as China’s Baidu, Tencent and Alibaba, which are starting to expand globally, including into the Russian market.130 Nonetheless, as the Russian Government seeks to jump-start its own indigenous innovation, China is seen as a means to an end—and vice versa.

After all, Russian Deputy Prime Minister Maxim Akimov told reporters on the sidelines of the VI Russia–China Expo in Harbin that Russia is interested in cooperation with China in the cybersecurity sphere and in the development of technology solutions: ‘We keep a close eye on the experience of Chinese colleagues.’131

However, the future trajectory of this relationship could be complicated by questions of status and standing, not to mention politics and bureaucracy, as such projects, financing and research accelerate.

Russia may benefit from its embrace of China’s technology prowess and financing, but the full range of risks and potential externalities is still emerging and perhaps poorly understood. As Sino-Russian partnership has deepened, observers of this complex relationship have often anticipated some kind of ‘break’ in the ongoing Russo-Chinese ‘entente’.132 Many commentators find it difficult to believe that countries with such global ambitions and past historical grievances can place much trust in each other.

Certainly, there have been subtle indications of underlying friction, including Russia’s initial reluctance to embrace Xi’s signature One Belt, One Road initiative, to which Moscow has since warmed, or so it seems.

Going forward, high-tech cooperation between Moscow and Beijing appears likely to deepen and accelerate in the near term, based on current trends and initiatives. In a world of globalised innovation, scientific knowledge and advanced technologies have been able to cross borders freely over the past quarter of a century. China and Russia have been able to take advantage of free and open STEM development, from life sciences to information technology and emerging technologies, applying the results to their own distinctive technological ecosystems. Today, however, as new policies and countermeasures are introduced to limit that access, China and Russia are seeking to develop and demonstrate the dividends from a new model for scientific cooperation that relies less and less on foreign, and especially American, expertise and technology, instead seeking independence in innovation and pursuing developments that may have strategic implications.

Policy considerations and recommendations

In response to these trends and emerging challenges, like-minded democracies, particularly the Five Eyes states, should pursue courses of action that include the following measures.

  • Track the trajectory of China–Russia tech collaborations to mitigate the risks of technological surprise and have early warning of future threats. This calls for better awareness of Sino-Russian joint high-tech efforts among the Five Eyes states, in conjunction with allies and partners and relevant stakeholders, that goes beyond the hype of media headlines by developing better expertise on and understanding of the strengths and weaknesses of Russian and Chinese technological developments.
  • Monitor and respond to tech transfer activities that involve IP theft or the extra-legal acquisition of technologies that have dual-use or military potential, including those activities where there is a nexus between companies and universities with Russian and Chinese links. The US and Australia, along with their allies and partners, should coordinate on export controls, screening of investment and restrictions against collaborations with military-linked or otherwise problematic institutions in China and Russia. Otherwise, unilateral responses will prove inadequate to counter the global threat of Chinese industrial espionage, which is undertaken through a range of tech transfer tactics and is truly international in scope at scale.133
  • Deepen cooperation among allies and partners on emerging technologies, including by pursuing improvements in data sharing. The US and Australia should promote greater technological collaboration between Five Eyes governments in the high-tech sectors that are shared priorities in order to maintain an edge relative to competitors. For instance, arrangements for sharing of data among allies and partners could contribute to advances in important applications of AI. To compete, it will be critical to increase funding for STEM and high-tech programs and education in the Five Eyes countries.
  • Promulgate norms and ethical frameworks for the use of next-generation technologies, particularly AI, that are consistent with liberal values and democratic governance. In the process, the US and Australia, along with concerned democracies worldwide, should mount a more coordinated response to Russian and Chinese promotion of the concept of cyber sovereignty as a means of justifying repressive approaches to managing the internet and their advancement of AI for censorship and surveillance.

Acknowledgements

The authors would like to thank Danielle Cave, Fergus Hanson, Alex Joske, Rob Lee and Michael Shoebridge for helpful comments and suggestions on the paper.

What is ASPI?

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  1. ‘China, Russia agree to upgrade relations for new era’, Xinhua, 6 June 2019, online. ↩︎
  2. ‘Russia and China celebrate 70 years of the establishment of diplomatic relations’ [Россия и Китай отмечают 70-летие установления дипотношений], TVC.ru, 30 September 2019, online. ↩︎
  3. Official evening commemorating 70th years of diplomatic relations between Russia and China (Вечер, посвящённый 70-летию установления дипломатических отношений между Россией и Китаем), Official website of the Russian President, June 5, 2019 ↩︎
  4. This paper uses entirely open sources, and there are inherently limitations in the information that is accessible. Nonetheless, we hope this is a useful overview that leverages publicly available information to explore current trends. ↩︎

Joint BBC-ASPI investigation into West Papua information operations

A joint investigation between the BBC and ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre analysed a well-funded and co-ordinated information campaign aimed at distorting the truth about events in Indonesia’s West Papua province, and has identified those responsible for its operation.

The researchers found that the campaign used slanted or factually untrue content (including “news” articles, infographics and videos) to promote narratives supportive of the Indonesian government’s actions in West Papua, and to undermine the pro-independence movement.

In a context like this in which independent media is restricted and verified information is scarce, a disinformation campaign such as the one the researchers uncovered has the potential to have a substantial impact on how the situation is perceived by the international community. This in turn could have implications for policies and decisions made by other governments, and in international forums such as the UN.

Building off earlier research published on Bellingcat, the researchers used open source data and digital forensics to analyse the campaign’s operations across multiple platforms and identify Jakarta-based communications consultancy InsightID as the source of the operation. 

This attribution was then confirmed by Facebook, and later acknowledged by the organisation itself.

A second, smaller campaign was also uncovered. Researchers tracked this campaign back to an individual with political connections. On being approached by the BBC, the individual eventually admitted his role in the campaign but insisted that they had been undertaken in his personal capacity and were not connected to his political work.

The investigation was led by BBC’s open source investigator Benjamin Strick and ASPI International Cyber Policy Centre researcher Elise Thomas and included:

A detailed report outlining the full investigation published on Bellingcat

Coverage of the investigation on the BBC in English and in Indonesian

Engineering global consent: The Chinese Communist Party’s data-driven power expansion

The Chinese party-state engages in data collection on a massive scale as a means of generating information to enhance state security—and, crucially, the political security of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP)—across multiple domains. The party-state intends to shape, manage and control its global operating environment so that public sentiment is favourable to its own interests. The party’s interests are prioritised over simply the Chinese state’s interests or simply the Chinese people’s interests. The effort requires continuous expansion of the party’s power overseas because, according to its own articulation of its threat perceptions, external risks to its power are just as likely—if not more likely—to emerge from outside the People’s Republic of China’s (PRC) borders as from within.

This report explains how the party-state’s tech-enhanced authoritarianism is expanding globally. The effort doesn’t always involve distinctly coercive and overtly invasive technology, such as surveillance cameras. In fact, it often relies on technologies that provide useful services. Those services are designed to bring efficiency to everyday governance and convenience to everyday life. The problem is that it’s not only the customer deploying these technologies—notably those associated with ‘smart cities’, such as ‘internet of things’ (IoT) devices—that derives benefit from their use. Whoever has the opportunity to access the data a product generates and collects can derive value from the data. How the data is processed, and then used, depends on the intent of the actor processing it.