The ADF has long had an important role in providing humanitarian assistance to Pacific island countries (PICs). The force has extraordinary capabilities—people, expertise, training and equipment—in delivering necessary assistance quickly and efficiently.
From Australia’s perspective, the ADF is one of our most important agencies in engaging with our PIC partners, particularly in helping them to develop capabilities to address a range of security challenges. In Australia’s new strategic environment, the ADF can also play an important role in helping to build regional health security as part of a new phase in Australia’s Pacific Step-up.
This paper argues that the Australian Government should consider a new role for the ADF in the Pacific through developing mutually beneficial enduring military health partnerships.3 That would involve the regular rotation of ADF health professionals through partner medical facilities where they would have the opportunity to gain unique frontline experience from local experts, while also sharing their own knowledge and skills. The mutuality of benefits inherent in such an arrangement means that they shouldn’t be considered as traditional humanitarian assistance.
An enhanced role for the ADF in regional health security, properly structured, might ultimately come to be seen alongside the Pacific Patrol Boat Program as a successful example of mutually beneficial partnerships between the ADF and our Pacific neighbours.
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In the past two decades, Australia’s Chinese-language media landscape has undergone fundamental changes that have come at a cost to quality, freedom of speech, privacy and community representation. The diversity of Australia’s Chinese communities, which often trace their roots to Hong Kong, Southeast Asia and Taiwan as well as the People’s Republic of China, isn’t well reflected in the media sector.
Persistent efforts by the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) to engage with and influence Chinese language media in Australia far outmatch the Australian Government’s work in the same space. A handful of outlets generally offer high-quality coverage of a range of issues. However, CCP influence affects all media. It targets individual outlets while also manipulating market incentives through advertising, coercion and WeChat. Four of the 24 Australian media companies studied in this report show evidence of CCP ownership or financial support.
WeChat, a Chinese social media app created by Tencent, may be driving the most substantial and harmful changes ever observed in Australia’s Chinese-language media sector. On the one hand, the app is particularly important to Chinese Australians and helps people stay connected to friends and family in China. It’s used by as many as 3 million users in Australia for a range of purposes including instant messaging.1 It’s also the most popular platform used by Chinese Australians to access news.2 However, WeChat raises concerns because of its record of censorship, information control and surveillance, which align with Beijing’s objectives. Media outlets on WeChat face tight restrictions that facilitate CCP influence by pushing the vast majority of news accounts targeting Australian audiences to register in China. Networks and information sharing within the app are opaque, contributing to the spread of disinformation.
Australian regulations are still evolving to meet the challenges identified in this report, which often mirror problems in the media industry more generally. They haven’t introduced sufficient transparency to the Chinese-language media sector and influence from the CCP. Few Australian Government policies effectively support Chinese-language media and balance or restrict CCP influence in it.
What’s the solution?
The Australian Government should protect Chinese-language media from foreign interference while introducing measures to support the growth of an independent and professional media sector. WeChat is a serious challenge to the health of the sector and to free and open public discourse in Chinese communities, and addressing it must be a core part of the solution.
The government should encourage the establishment and growth of independent media. It should consider expanding Chinese-language services through the ABC and SBS, while also reviewing conflicts of interest and foreign interference risks in each. Greater funding should be allocated to multicultural media, including for the creation of scholarships and training programs for Chinese-language journalists and editors. The government should subsidise syndication from professional, non-CCPcontrolled media outlets.
On WeChat, the government should hold all social media companies to the same set of rules, standards and norms, regardless of their country of origin or ownership. As it does with platforms such as Facebook and Twitter, the government should increase engagement with WeChat through relevant bodies such as the Department of Home Affairs, the Australian Cyber Security Centre, the Office of the Australian Information Commissioner, the Australian Communications and Media Authority, the eSafety Commissioner, the Australian Electoral Commission and the Department of Infrastructure, Transport, Regional Development and Communications. The aim should be to ensure that WeChat is taking clear and measurable steps in 2021 to address concerns and meet the same sets of rules, standards and norms that US social media platforms are held to. This effort should be done in tandem with outreach to like-minded countries. If companies refuse to meet those standards, they shouldn’t be allowed to operate in Australia.3
The government should explore ways to amend or improve the enforcement of legislation such as the Broadcasting Services Act 1995 and the Foreign Influence Transparency Scheme Act 2018 to increase the transparency of foreign ownership of media in any language, regardless of platform.
Introduction
Australia’s Chinese‑language media sector is an important part of our democracy, yet its contours and its challenges are poorly understood.4 Australia is home to large and diverse Chinese communities. According to the 2016 Census, nearly 600,000 Australians spoke Mandarin at home, and more than 280,000 spoke Cantonese.5 Only a minority of Australians with Chinese heritage were born in mainland China—many were born in Australia, Taiwan, Hong Kong or Southeast Asia.6 However, individuals born in mainland China are probably the largest group of WeChat users. Migration from mainland China is likely to remain high, and Australia has been home to large numbers of visiting Chinese students and businesspeople.
It’s been claimed that most Chinese‑language media in Australia are controlled or influenced by Beijing.7 While that’s broadly accurate, past research hasn’t systematically examined the extent and mechanisms of CCP influence over Australian media.8 In particular, the pervasive effects of WeChat on the Chinese media sector haven’t been widely appreciated. Our research identified no significant influence in Australian Chinese‑language media from governments other than China’s.
Growing concerns about the lack of Chinese‑Australian representation in Australian politics, CCP interference in Australia and Australia–China relations highlight the need for policymakers to understand the Chinese‑language media environment. For example, Australian politicians and scholars have questioned WeChat’s role in elections, called out disinformation on the app and complained about the past absence of relevant security advice from the government.9 Marginal seats such as Chisholm and Reid have large Chinese communities, among which Chinese‑language media, particularly through WeChat, have been an important factor in some elections.10
The authors would like to thank John Fitzgerald, Danielle Cave, Louisa Lim, Michael Shoebridge, Peter Jennings and several anonymous peer reviewers who offered their feedback and insights. Audrey Fritz contributed research on media regulation and censorship.
Funding: The Department of Home Affairs provided ASPI with $230k in funding, 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’s sources of funding are identified in our annual report, online at www.aspi.org.au and in the acknowledgements section of individual publications. ASPI remains independent in the content of the research and in all editorial judgements.
ASPI International Cyber Policy Centre
ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre (ICPC) is a leading voice in global debates on cyber, emerging and critical technologies, issues related to information and foreign interference and focuses on the impact these issues have on broader strategic policy. The centre has a growing mixture of expertise and skills with teams of researchers who concentrate on policy, technical analysis, information operations and disinformation, critical and emerging technologies, cyber capacity building, satellite analysis, surveillance and China-related issues.
The ICPC informs public debate in the Indo-Pacific region and supports public policy development by producing original, empirical, data-driven research. The ICPC enriches regional debates by collaborating with research institutes from around the world and by bringing leading global experts to Australia, including through fellowships. To develop capability in Australia and across the Indo-Pacific region, the ICPC has a capacity building team that conducts workshops, training programs and large-scale exercises for the public and private sectors.
We would like to thank all of those who support and contribute to the ICPC with their time, intellect and passion for the topics we work on. If you would like to support the work of the centre please contact: icpc@aspi.org.au
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The ASIS Interviews is a series of interviews with the Director-General of the Australian Secret Intelligence Service, Paul Symon – with bio, transcripts and videos.
For the first time in the 68 year history of Australia’s overseas spy service, the top spy has gone before the camera for a series of video interviews, conducted by the Australian Strategic Policy Institute.
Symon, a former Major General, talks about the purposes and principles of the Australian Secret Intelligence Service and spying in the 21st century.
The interviews were recorded in September & October 2020 and will be released weekly.
This report by ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre and India’s Observer Research Foundation argues that as the India-Australia bilateral relationship continues to grow and evolve, both governments should invest in the construction of a new India–Australia partnership on technology.
The foundation for such a partnership already exists, and further investment areas of complementary interests could stimulate regional momentum in a range of key critical and emerging technology areas including in 5G, Artificial Intelligence, quantum technologies, space technologies and in critical minerals. The report contains 14 policy recommendations that will help build this new technology partnership.
This new report outlines what this new India-Australia technology partnership could look like. It examines the current state of the India–Australia relationship; provides an overview of current technology cooperation and where challenges and roadblocks lie; analyses each state’s competitive and complementary advantages in selected technology areas and highlights opportunities for further collaboration across the areas of 5G, Artificial Intelligence, Quantum technologies, Space technologies and in critical minerals.
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This new ASPI report canvasses the extraordinary recent developments in genome sequencing and genetic engineering, which will transform all biological enterprises, including healthcare, among the most important parts of the global economy. It argues that there is a once-in- generation opportunity for Australia to play a leading role in a major economic and revolution with digital deliverables, capitalising on our high quality biomedical science, agricultural R&D and healthcare systems
The report identifies a number of elements for Australia to realize this opportunity. First and foremost, a national strategic and action plan is required for the collection and integration of genomic, clinical and smart sensor data for healthcare, and the development of advanced analytical software and point-of-care reporting systems, which can be exported to the world. This plan needs to be resourced by the Australian government, as a major public good infrastructure project.
Such information will be part of the very fabric of healthcare and drug development in the future. More broadly, genomic information will be used in infection tracing, customs, quarantine, protection of commercial rights, quality control, provenance, security and policing, among others. It will accelerate the identification of valuable traits in animals, plants and microorganisms. Genetic engineering can now be done with speed, sophistication and precision that were unimaginable just a few years ago, and will enhance the efficiency, quality and range of biological production.
There are resourcing, privacy, vulnerabilities, sensitivities and national security issues to consider, protections to be put in place, and social licenses to be obtained. Big-data analysis skills need be taught in science and engineering, and built into research institutions as well as health, agricultural and environmental management enterprises and agencies.
https://aspi.s3.ap-southeast-2.amazonaws.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/12/15191728/SR159-Biotech_banner.jpg4501350nathanhttps://aspi.s3.ap-southeast-2.amazonaws.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/04/10130806/ASPI-Logo.pngnathan2020-08-27 06:00:002025-03-06 15:05:26Biodata and biotechnology: Opportunity and challenges for Australia
Foreign interference and the Chinese Communist Party’s united front system
What’s the problem?
The Chinese Communist Party (CCP) is strengthening its influence by co-opting representatives of ethnic minority groups, religious movements, and business, science and political groups. It claims the right to speak on behalf of those groups and uses them to claim legitimacy.
These efforts are carried out by the united front system, which is a network of party and state agencies responsible for influencing groups outside the party, particularly those claiming to represent civil society. It manages and expands the United Front, a coalition of entities working towards the party’s goals.1 The CCP’s role in this system’s activities, known as united front work, is often covert or deceptive.2
The united front system’s reach beyond the borders of the People’s Republic of China (PRC)—such as into foreign political parties, diaspora communities and multinational corporations—is an exportation of the CCP’s political system.3 This undermines social cohesion, exacerbates racial tension, influences politics, harms media integrity, facilitates espionage, and increases unsupervised technology transfer.
General Secretary Xi Jinping’s reinvigoration of this system underlines the need for stronger responses to CCP influence and technology-transfer operations around the world. However, governments are still struggling to manage it effectively and there is little publicly available analysis of the united front system. This lack of information can cause Western observers to underestimate the significance of the united front system and to reduce its methods into familiar categories. For example, diplomats might see united front work as ‘public diplomacy’ or ‘propaganda’ but fail to appreciate the extent of related covert activities. Security officials may be alert to criminal activity or espionage while underestimating the significance of open activities that facilitate it. Analysts risk overlooking the interrelated facets of CCP influence that combine to make it effective.4
What’s the solution?
Governments should disrupt the CCP’s capacity to use united front figures and groups as vehicles for covert influence and technology transfer. They should begin by developing analytical capacity for understanding foreign interference. On that basis, they should issue declaratory policy statements that frame efforts to counter it. Countermeasures should involve law enforcement, legislative reform, deterrence and capacity building across relevant areas of government. Governments should mitigate the divisive effect united front work can have on communities through engagement and careful use of language.
Law enforcement, while critically important, shouldn’t be all or even most of the solution. Foreign interference often takes place in a grey area that’s difficult to address through law enforcement actions. Strengthening civil society and media must be a fundamental part of protecting against interference. Policymakers should make measures to raise the transparency of foreign influence a key part of the response.
Introduction
The United Front … is an important magic weapon for strengthening the party’s ruling position … and an important magic weapon for realising the China Dream of the Great Rejuvenation of the Chinese Nation.
—Xi Jinping, at the 2015 Central United Front Work Meeting5
In recent years, groups and individuals linked to the CCP’s United Front have attracted an unprecedented level of scrutiny for their links to political interference, economic espionage and influence on university campuses. In Australia, businessmen who were members of organisations with close ties to the United Front Work Department (UFWD) have been accused of interfering in Australian politics. In the US, at least two senior members of united front groups for scientists have been taken to court over alleged technology theft. Confucius Institutes, which are overseen with heavy involvement from the UFWD, have generated controversy for more than a decade for their effects on academic freedom and influence on universities. Numerous Chinese students and scholars associations, which are united front groups for Chinese international students, have been involved in suppressing academic freedom and mobilising students for nationalistic activities.
The ongoing Covid-19 pandemic has also highlighted overseas united front networks. In Australia, Canada, the UK, the US, Argentina, Japan and the Czech Republic, groups mobilised to gather increasingly scarce medical supplies from around the world and send them to China.6 Those efforts appear linked to directives from the All-China Federation of Returned Overseas Chinese, a united front agency.7 The party’s Central Committee has described the federation as ‘a bridge and a bond for the party and government to connect with overseas Chinese compatriots’.8 After the virus spread globally, united front groups began working with the CCP to donate supplies to the rest of the world and promote the party’s narratives about the pandemic.
Regardless of whether those activities harmed efforts to control the virus, they appeared to take governments by surprise and demonstrate the effectiveness of united front work. The CCP’s attempts to interfere in diaspora communities, influence political systems and covertly access valuable and sensitive technology will only grow as tensions between China and countries around the world develop. As governments begin to confront the CCP’s overseas interference and espionage, understanding the united front system will be crucially important.
This paper dissects the CCP’s united front system and its role in foreign interference. It describes the broad range of agencies and goals of the united front system, rather than focusing only on the UFWD.
It examines how the system is structured, how it operates, and what it seeks to achieve. It reveals how dozens of agencies play a role in the united front system’s efforts to transfer technology, promote propaganda, interfere in political systems and even influence executives of multinational companies.9
The united front system has nearly always been a core system of the CCP.10 For most of its history it’s been led by a member of the Politburo Standing Committee—the party’s top leadership body.
However, Xi has emphasised united front work more than previous leaders, pushing it closer to the position of importance that it occupied in the party’s revolutionary era by elevating its status since 2015. That year, he established high-level bodies and regulations that signalled a greater emphasis on and centralisation of united front work. Later, the Central Committee’s UFWD was expanded by giving it authority over religious, ethnic and Chinese diaspora affairs.11 The united front system and the UFWD in particular have also been given a central role in coordinating policy on Xinjiang, where the darkest side of the party’s political security efforts are on full display.
The CCP originated as a chapter of the Soviet Comintern in 1921. It is itself a product of Lenin’s international united front efforts. In 1922, it began carrying out its own united front work by proposing a united front of supporters of democracy.12
The party credits China’s victory in the Second Sino-Japanese War (1937–1945) to the ‘favourable conditions’ created through its united front with the Kuomintang. This arguably prevented the CCP’s annihilation by shifting the focus of the Kuomintang military from the CCP to Japan.13 It also enabled the party to infiltrate the Kuomintang and subvert it from inside. In the lead-up to the establishment of the PRC in 1949, the party successfully co-opted influential religious figures, intellectuals, engineers and political leaders. Many of them were organised into party-led civil society groups and eight political parties (often referred to as China’s ‘minor parties’ or ‘satellite parties’) that were promised a say in a post-liberation democratic China. Those parties officially accept the leadership of the CCP as a precondition for participation in China’s ‘multiparty cooperation and political consultative system’.
They now serve as platforms for united front work.14
During the ‘reform and opening period’, the United Front played an important role in supporting China’s economic development. Businesspersons, including those from the Chinese diaspora, were encouraged to invest in China and integrated into the United Front through platforms such as the UFWD-run All-China Federation of Industry and Commerce (中华全国工商业联合会).15 According to united front expert Gerry Groot, ‘economic construction required vast numbers of technicians, scientists and administrators’, and groups in the United Front helped reform China’s education system and attract foreign experts and technology.16
To this day, the united front system helps the CCP claim legitimacy, mobilise its supporters and manage perceived threats. It plays a central role in developing policy on highly sensitive issues such as Xinjiang, Tibet, religion and ethnic affairs. It also oversees the CCP-led political model of ‘multiparty cooperation and political consultation’ that’s been in place since 1949.17 This consultation takes place through the annual Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference (CPPCC, 中国人民政治协商 会议), which is chaired by the Politburo Standing Committee member responsible for the united front system and attended by more than 2,000 party-approved representatives from different sectors of PRC society.18
The CCP claims that its system of political consultation and multiparty cooperation is a democratic model.19 However, it operates as a way for the CCP to falsely claim that it represents the full breadth of Chinese society. The CCP serves as China’s ruling party while other groups, such as the eight minor political parties (officially known as ‘democratic parties’) that accept the CCP’s leadership, offer advice to it through the CPPCC. Organisations that claim to speak for different interest groups—the China Association for Science and Technology and the All-China Federation of Returned Overseas Chinese, for example—are official components of the CPPCC.20 In practice, those organisations are controlled by the CCP. Their leaders are often party members, and, historically, some have been manipulated through inducement and coercion, including blackmail.21
In recent years, Xi Jinping has been promoting the United Front’s ‘multiparty cooperation and political consultative system’ as a ‘new type of party system’. It also serves as an inspiration for the CCP’s engagement with political parties around the world.22 A 2018 foreign policy editorial by the People’s Daily claimed that Xi Jinping’s ‘systematic elaboration on the super advantages of China’s party system has enlightened the whole world.’23 The chaos of Western societies shows that the CCP ‘is providing the world with … a China solution on how to seek a better political system’, the piece concluded. This point is echoed in training material for united front cadres, which warns that ‘Western hostile forces’ seek to overthrow the CCP and that their influence on overseas ethnic Chinese must be undone.24
The fact that the United Front is a political model and a way for the party to control political representation—the voices of groups targeted by united front work—means its overseas expansion is an exportation of the CCP’s political system. Overseas united front work taken to its conclusion would give the CCP undue influence over political representation and expression in foreign political systems.
Key terminology
The United Front (统一战线) is a coalition of groups and individuals working towards the CCP’s goals.
United front work (统一战线工作) refers to the CCP’s efforts to strengthen and expand the United Front by influencing and co-opting targets.
The United Front Work Department (中央统一战线工作部) is a CCP Central Committee department that coordinates and carries out united front work.
The united front system (统一战线系统 or 统一战线工作系统) is the grouping of agencies, social organisations, businesses, universities, research institutes and individuals carrying out united front work.
United front work is political work
In the words of the UFWD’s director:
The United Front is a political alliance, and united front work is political work. It must maintain the party’s leadership throughout, having the party’s flag as its flag, the party’s direction as its direction, and the party’s will as its will, uniting and gathering members of each part of the United Front around the party.25
It’s designed to bring a diverse range of groups, and their representatives in particular, under the party’s leadership.26
These activities focus on building relationships. Xi Jinping has emphasised that ‘the United Front is about working on people.’27 Co-opting and manipulating elites, influential individuals and organisations is a way to shape discourse and decision-making.
United front work encompasses a broad spectrum of activity, from espionage to foreign interference, influence and engagement (see box). There’s no clear distinction between overseas and domestic work. Premier Zhou Enlai, one of the PRC’s founding revolutionaries and a pioneer of the CCP’s United Front, advocated ‘using the legal to mask the illegal; deftly integrating the legal and the illegal’ (利用合法掩护非法,合法与非法巧妙结合), ‘nestling intelligence within the United Front’ (寓情报于统战中) and ‘using the United Front to push forth intelligence’ (以统战带动情报).28
The scope of united front work is constantly evolving to reflect the CCP’s global ambitions, assessments of internal threats to its security, and the evolution of Chinese society. Today, the overseas functions of united front work include increasing the CCP’s political influence, interfering in the Chinese diaspora, suppressing dissident movements, building a permissive international environment for a takeover of Taiwan, intelligence gathering, encouraging investment in China, and facilitating technology transfer.
Key united front groups and events linked to foreign interference
The Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference is the peak united front forum, bringing together CCP officials and Chinese elites.
The China Overseas Friendship Association is a group run by the UFWD that recently subsumed the China Overseas Exchange Association.
The China Council for the Promotion of Peaceful National Reunification is an organ of the UFWD with numerous overseas branches.
The All-China Federation of Returned Overseas Chinese is a peak united front body for ethnic Chinese with overseas links.
The Western Returned Scholars Association is the UFWD’s primary body for interacting with ethnic Chinese scholars and scientists.
The Forum on the Global Chinese Language Media is a biennial meeting of overseas Chinese-language media outlets convened by the UFWD.
Chinese students and scholars associations are overseen by Ministry of Education officials and often seek to speak for, influence and monitor Chinese students abroad.
Local equivalents, such as the provincial Guangdong Overseas Friendship Association, exist for most major united front groups.
To those ends, united front work draws on hundreds of thousands of united front figures and thousands of groups, most of which are inside China. This report refers to members of united front groups—organisations guided or controlled by parts of the united front system—as ‘united front figures’. The most readily identifiable united front groups are China-based organisations officially supervised by united front agencies. For example, the China Council for the Promotion of Peaceful National Reunification—which has chapters in at least 91 countries or territories around the world—and the China Overseas Friendship Association are both directed by the UFWD.29 Members of China-based united front groups often run united front groups abroad. Many China-based united front groups have overseas branches.
Citations and Notes
Readers are urged to download the report PDF for the full list of citations and notes.
United front work: a Xi family business
United front work runs deep through Xi Jinping’s life and family history. His father, Xi Zhongxun, was a central figure carrying out united front work directed at Tibet, seeking to influence the Dalai Lama and the Panchen Lama. As a Politburo member in the 1980s, he continued to spend most of his time supervising united front work. He was reportedly seen still wearing a watch given to him by the Dalai Lama three decades earlier.30 Two of Xi Jinping’s siblings were involved in political warfare work for the Chinese military.31
Xi Jinping himself spent 15 years climbing the CCP ranks in Fujian Province—a hotbed of united front and intelligence work targeting Taiwan and the Hokkien-speaking diaspora. In 1995, as a municipal party secretary, he penned a paper on united front work on the Chinese diaspora.32
Two decades later, in 2015, Xi moved to implement many of the ideas he advocated in the paper— greater emphasis on united front work by the party’s leadership and the integration of efforts across the party and bureaucracy. That year, at the Central United Front Work Conference, he repeated Mao Zedong’s famous 1939 description of the United Front as one of three ‘magic weapons’ (法宝) for achieving victory in the communist revolution.33 This was nothing new. Party leaders since the founding of the PRC have consistently run united front conferences and emphasised the United Front as a ‘magic weapon’, with the exception of the Cultural Revolution period.34 But, unlike his predecessors, Xi Jinping has reinvigorated the United Front by launching the greatest reforms of the united front system in at least a generation.
The December 2014 purge of Ling Jihua (令计划), who headed the UFWD and was a close ally of former president Hu Jintao, set the scene for Xi Jinping’s reform of the united front system.35 After positioning Ling as a scapegoat for the department’s problems, Xi began pursuing the ‘Great United Front’ (大统战)—a program for ensuring that united front work is carried out by the entire party and with greater centralisation, coordination and direction.36 He established a ‘leading small group’ for united front work that brought together dozens of agencies to inspect and improve united front work across the country, formally raised the status of the Central United Front Work Conference, reorganised the UFWD, and introduced the first regulations for united front work.37
In his report to the 19th Party Congress, Xi Jinping referred to the United Front as being about drawing the largest concentric circle around the party.38 Under the direction of the united front system’s leaders, agencies of the united front system seek to co-opt influential individuals and groups in a range of areas, including business, politics and science. Party committees, whether in multinational companies, research institutes or embassies, have been directed by Xi to follow the Central Committee’s directions and regulations on united front work.39 Figure 1 shows the system.
Figure 1: The united front system
* Asterisks denote agencies subordinate to the UFWD.
Leadership and agencies
Figure 2: Wang Yang
The united front system’s leader is Wang Yang (汪洋), the fourth-ranked member of the seven-man Politburo Standing Committee, the party’s top leadership body. Wang chairs the most important united front forum: the CPPCC. He also heads the Central United Front Work Leading Small Group.
Sun Chunlan (孙春兰), a Politburo member and vice premier who holds culture, health, sport, religion and education portfolios, may also be involved in supervising the government’s (as opposed to the party’s) contributions to united front work.40 Sun was previously head of the UFWD and currently chairs the council of Confucius Institute Headquarters, overseeing the global Confucius Institute program.41
The presence of State Council Secretary-General Xiao Jie (肖捷) at a recent leading small group event indicates that he may now be responsible for government agencies’ involvement in united front work.42
The status of the UFWD’s director, a key member of the system’s leadership, has been elevated in recent years. You Quan, the current head of the UFWD, is one of seven members of the Central Secretariat, which carries out the Politburo’s day-to-day work.43 His predecessor sat on the Politburo while heading the department.
Leaders of the united front system and representatives of relevant agencies sit in the Central United Front Work Leading Small Group.44 At least 26 agencies were represented in the leading small group’s activities in 2017.45 Agencies involved in united front work include the Propaganda Department, the Organisation Department, the Ministry of Education, the State-owned Assets Supervision and Administration Commission and the Ministry of State Security, which is the PRC’s civilian intelligence agency.46
The United Front Work Department
‘With everyone doing [united front work] together, there must be division of labour’, a senior UFWD official wrote in 2016.47 The UFWD acts as a coordinating agency for united front work. In practice, China’s bureaucracy is famously stovepiped and it’s difficult to determine how successful the UFWD’s coordination efforts are.
The CCP Central Committee has authorised the department to manage all overseas Chinese affairs, religious affairs and ethnic affairs work. Nominally, it oversees actions by other departments, such as the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, in those areas. Since March 2018, it has controlled three relevant government agencies: the Overseas Chinese Affairs Office, the State Ethnic Affairs Commission and the State Administration for Religious Affairs.48
Together with the Taiwan Affairs Office, the UFWD and 11 of its subordinate agencies had more than 600 officials at the level of bureau chief or above in 2016 (Figure 3). Bureau chiefs are ranked just under vice ministers and deputy heads of provincial governments. They’re roughly equivalent to first assistant secretaries in the Australian Public Service or assistant secretaries in the US Government.49
Figure 3: The UFWD’s 12 bureaus
*Asterisks denote unofficially named bureaus. Note: Bureaus 6 and 8–12 were all created after 2015.
The UFWD runs the offices of the central coordination groups on Tibet and Xinjiang affairs and coordinates policy on the two regions.50 The establishment of the UFWD’s Xinjiang Bureau, which doubles as the office of the Central Coordination Group on Xinjiang Work (中央新疆工作协调小组), coincided with the rapid expansion of re-education and detention camps there in 2016. United front work departments are found at lower levels of government across China. Provincial, city and even district party committees typically oversee their own UFWDs.
Internally, the department has 10 leaders, at least six of whom hold ministerial rank or higher (see Appendix 1 for further information about the department’s leaders). It has 12 bureaus, half of which were created after 2015. Bureaucratic changes in 2018 that brought overseas Chinese affairs under the UFWD’s ‘unified management’ also injected dozens if not hundreds of officials with substantial overseas experience into the department.51 Jinan University, Huaqiao University and the Central Institute of Socialism in Beijing are all subordinate to the UFWD and carry out research and training to support its efforts.52 Additionally, the UFWD runs dedicated training facilities, such as the Jixian Mountain Estate (集贤山庄), which is a complex in the outskirts of Beijing used for training China Overseas Friendship Association cadres.53
The department supervises more than 80 ‘civil groups’ at the national level, and more than 3,000 organisations are overseen by local UFWDs (see Appendix 2). Many of them, such as the China Overseas Friendship Association, are officially described as ‘united front system work units’ and operate like bureau-level organs of the UFWD.54 At least two of them have held special consultative status as NGOs in the UN Economic and Social Council.55 In 2014, an official from one of them, the China Association for Preservation and Development of Tibetan Culture (中国西藏文化保护与发展 协会), was barred from a UN human rights hearing after he intimidated a woman testifying about her father, political prisoner Wang Bingzhang.56
Propaganda work by the United Front Work Department
The UFWD commands substantial resources for propaganda efforts targeting the Chinese diaspora. It runs China News Service (中国新闻社), one of the CCP’s largest media networks, which has dozens of overseas bureaus.57
Several overseas Chinese-language media outlets are owned or controlled by the UFWD through China News Service, including Qiaobao (侨报) in the US and Australia’s Pacific Media Group (大洋传 媒集团).58 At least 26 WeChat accounts run by nine Chinese media outlets are in fact registered to a subsidiary of China News Service.59 The accounts operate in all Five Eyes countries, the European Union, Russia, Japan and Brazil. They include accounts registered to Qiaobao and Pacific Media Group, indicating that they may all belong to companies supervised by the UFWD. Many of the accounts appear to have tens of thousands if not hundreds of thousands of followers.
Figure 4: At least 26 overseas Chinese-language media WeChat accounts are registered to a company that’s ultimately owned by the UFWD
China News Service engages with foreign media through its biennial Forum on the Global Chinese Language Media (世界华文媒体论坛). The event has drawn hundreds of overseas media representatives, including some from Australia’s national broadcaster.60 Training classes on topics such as ‘How to tell the Belt and Road Initiative’s story well’ are held on the sidelines of the forum.61
Agencies carrying out united front work
Party committees at all levels must place united front work in an important position.
—Xi Jinping, speaking at the 2015 Central United Front Work Conference62
Party members are expected to play a role in the ‘Great United Front’ by carrying out work in their relevant areas.63 Dozens of party and government agencies are involved in united front work. More and more party committees in state and private companies, universities and research institutes are engaging in united front work. Representatives of the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) also attended the 2015 Central United Front Work Conference, indicating that the military is involved in united front work.64
Education
The Ministry of Education and party committees in Chinese universities lead united front work on campuses.65 The ministry works with the UFWD to hold regular conferences on ‘university united front work’ and maintains its own database of united front work targets, including relatives of overseas Chinese.66 Education officials also study official guidance on united front work and describe the education system as ‘an important battlefield’ for that work.67
Most Chinese universities have UFWDs responsible for the full breadth of united front work.68 For example, Xiamen University’s UFWD oversees religious affairs work at the university, which includes building a database of religious believers, managing student informants and monitoring students’ phones.69 Dalian University of Foreign Languages’ UFWD establishes alumni associations around the world and runs a database of overseas students and alumni as ‘a basis for overseas united front work’.70
Foreign affairs
United front work targeting the Chinese diaspora involves several agencies. Major ‘overseas Chinese affairs’ events are usually presided over by representatives of:
the UFWD (or the Overseas Chinese Affairs Office that it subsumed in 2018)
the National People’s Congress Overseas Chinese Affairs Committee
the CPPCC Hong Kong, Taiwan, Macau and Overseas Chinese Committee
the China Zhi Gong Party (致公党)
the All-China Federation of Returned Overseas Chinese
the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.71
The first five of those organisations are often called the ‘five Overseas Chinese’ (五侨).72 Most, if not all, of China’s embassies have several diplomats tasked with interfering in the diaspora— a kind of activity that’s officially under the ‘unified management’ of the UFWD.73 The decision to place diaspora affairs under the UFWD’s leadership came in March 2018 and ‘effectively resolved the problem of the Overseas Chinese Affairs Office, Ministry of Foreign Affairs and UFWD’s overlapping responsibilities’, according to the People’s Daily.74 Embassies hold meetings with local united front leaders where the leaders receive directions to influence public opinion, such as by coordinating rallies in support of Chinese Government policy or visiting officials.75
Increasing numbers of diplomats responsible for diaspora work now come from the UFWD rather than the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. For example, China’s ambassador to Sri Lanka has a background not in the foreign affairs system but as a united front official.76
Indeed, the UFWD was an important foundation for China’s foreign affairs bureaucracy. The International Liaison Department (the party agency managing party-to-party relations) was formed on the basis of a UFWD bureau in 1951.77 The International Liaison Department still has united front characteristics, although it isn’t known whether any of its activities are guided by the united front system.78 A former head of the department from the 1990s stated that he views its work as an international version of united front work. In an interview, he compared its interactions with foreign political parties to the CPPCC—the primary platform for the United Front’s so-called ‘system of multiparty cooperation and political consultation led by the CCP’.79
Intelligence and political warfare
Intelligence agencies carry out and take advantage of united front work. The networks, status and relationships built through united front work, as well as information gathered through it, facilitate intelligence activity. The integration of intelligence and united front work runs deep through the party’s history: at a 1939 Politburo meeting, CCP leader Zhou Enlai advocated ‘nestling intelligence in the United Front’ and ‘using the United Front to push forth intelligence’.80
The Ministry of State Security (MSS), which is China’s civilian intelligence agency, is involved in and benefits from united front work. Official accounts state that the MSS was created in 1983 by combining parts of four agencies, including the UFWD.81 One of its fronts, the China International Cultural Exchange Center (中国国际文化交流中心), carries out united front work. In 2004, a committee member at the centre said that the scope of its ‘domestic and overseas united front work activities is extremely broad’.82 At the time, its nominal director was a former UFWD minister.83
The China International Cultural Exchange Center may have been an important part of the MSS’s overseas operations. It’s linked to the MSS’s Social Affairs Bureau (社会联络局 or 社会调查局), also known as the 12th bureau. In their book Chinese communist espionage, Peter Mattis and Matthew Brazil describe the bureau as handling ‘MSS contributions to the CCP’s united front work system’.84 One of the bureau’s former chiefs, Mao Guohua (毛国华), was double-hatted as the centre’s secretary-general (Figure 5).85 Mao was the handler of Katrina Leung, a triple agent who successfully gained the trust of the US Federal Bureau of Investigation in the 1980s and 1990s.86
Figure 5: Retired MSS officer Mao Guohua in 2018
Source: ‘前国安部社会调查局局长说, “奉化的长处的短板是。。。。。。”’ [The former chief of the Social Affairs Bureau of the Ministry of State Security said, ‘The shortcomings of Fenghua’s strengths are …’], Sohu, 15 October 2018, online.
Similarly, the political warfare arm of the PLA—the Political Work Department Liaison Bureau (政治工 作部联络局), formerly the Liaison Department of the General Political Department (总参谋政治部联 络部)—has been described by experts as ‘most closely aligned with the united front system’.87 Like the International Liaison Department, this agency uses united front tactics (such as the use of prominent front groups, an emphasis on co-opting influential individuals, and efforts to discredit those who aren’t aligned with the CCP’s goals) but it’s unlikely that it’s part of the institutionalised united front system. The China Association for International Friendly Contact (中国国际友好联络会) is a united-front-style group run by the Liaison Bureau that seeks to build ties with foreign groups and individuals. Those it has interacted with include an Australian mining magnate, a former Australian ambassador to China, a new-age religious movement in Japan, and retired generals and bureaucrats from the US.88
Intelligence officers have used united front positions as cover. The overseas Chinese affairs consul in San Francisco during the 2008 Olympic torch relay was a suspected MSS officer, according to former US intelligence officials.89 Guangdong State Security Bureau Director Zhou Yingshi (周颖石) may have claimed to be a Guangdong UFWD vice minister as a form of cover in the past.90 An officer from the PLA’s Liaison Bureau was concurrently serving as a division head in Guangzhou city’s UFWD.91
There’s also evidence that the UFWD itself has recently carried out clandestine operations involving the handling of people covertly reporting to it. The Taiwanese Government is currently prosecuting a father–son pair who were allegedly recruited by an official from the Fujian Province UFWD.92 The father heads a united-front-linked political party in Taiwan, while his son is a retired lieutenant colonel.
Unverified reports have claimed that, like China’s intelligence agencies, the department is allowed to recruit Taiwanese as agents.93
Groups targeted by united front work
CCP regulations on united front work define 12 broad groups to be targeted:
new social strata individuals (urban professionals)
overseas and returned overseas students
people in Hong Kong and Macau
Taiwanese people and their relatives in the PRC
overseas ethnic Chinese and their relatives in the PRC
any other individuals who need uniting and liaising.94
Work on the targeted groups is designed to bring them under the party’s leadership not merely to neutralise any opposition they may pose, but also to have them serve as platforms for further efforts.
Once groups or individuals have been integrated into the united front system, they can be used to co-opt and influence others. They’re also used to support the party’s claim that it represents and consults various constituencies not just in China but increasingly beyond China’s borders.
There’s no clear distinction between domestic and overseas united front work: all bureaus of the UFWD and all areas of united front work involve overseas activities. This is because the key distinction underlying the United Front is not between domestic and overseas groups, but between the CCP and everyone else.95 For example, the UFWD’s Xinjiang Bureau plays a central role in policy on Xinjiang but is also involved in worldwide efforts to whitewash the CCP’s internment of an estimated 1.5 million people in Xinjiang, primarily ethnic Uyghur Muslims, as an anti-terrorism and vocational training effort.96
State-owned enterprises and research institutions often have mature united front work departments.
For example, Baowu Steel (宝武钢铁), one of the world’s largest steel producers, has an internal UFWD and has established united front organisations for Taiwanese people and ethnic Chinese who have lived abroad.97 The company’s united front work evidently earned it praise—its CEO from 2007 to 2016 has been a UFWD vice minister since 2017.98
Large numbers of leading Chinese scientists were educated abroad and are members of China’s eight minor parties or have no party affiliation, making them another priority of united front work.99 The Chinese Academy of Sciences—one of the world’s largest research organisations, with more than 60,000 researchers—has a UFWD and a united front work leading small group that provides oversight of the academy’s united front work.100
Both Chinese and foreign private enterprises are increasingly targeted by united front work. In 2015, ‘new social strata individuals’—a category covering urban professionals such as managerial staff and NGO workers—became a new focus of united front work because of their growing influence in Chinese society and strong links to the West.101 For example, JD.com, one of the world’s largest e-commerce companies, is an official pilot site for united front work in private companies. In 2018, CEO Richard Liu announced the establishment of two united front groups within JD.com (Figure 6).102
Figure 6: Richard Liu (right) unveiling a plaque for JD.com’s united front work pilot site
‘Multinational companies such as the ‘Big Four’ accounting firms are also targets of united front work.103 Deloitte China established a united front association for young and middle-aged employees in 2016, headed by its CEO.104 At the association’s founding, a Deloitte partner thanked the UFWD for its support and promised: ‘The Deloitte Young and Middle-aged Intellectuals Association will comply with the Trial Regulations on United Front Work’.105
According to a government website, the Shanghai UFWD ‘took a liking’ (看上了) to a Deloitte partner, Jiang Ying, during its visits to Deloitte’s office.106 Senior members of China-based united front organisations are typically selected by local UFWDs. Jiang is now deputy CEO of Deloitte China, is a delegate to the CPPCC and was recently awarded a commendation from the Shanghai UFWD.107
In total, at least eight Deloitte China executives are delegates to the CPPCC or its local equivalents.108
United front structures within multinational companies provide additional channels for influencing the companies beyond party committees. United front groups often target people who aren’t members of the CCP, especially those who have spent time abroad. Under the ‘Trial regulations on united front work’, the UFWD is supposed to direct ‘relevant civil organisations’, such as Deloitte’s united front group, ‘to play a role in Hong Kong, Macau, Taiwan and overseas united front work’.109 After anonymous employees of the Big Four paid for a Hong Kong newspaper ad supporting protests there, all four companies released statements in support of the Chinese Government’s actions and were pressured to fire those responsible for the ad.110
In 2017, Deloitte partnered with the Australian Financial Review for an infrastructure forum in Melbourne, at which a Deloitte China executive who is also a delegate to the Shandong Committee of the CPPCC warned that Australia’s refusal to sign up to the Belt and Road Initiative was hurting business.111 His role in the united front group doesn’t seem to have been disclosed in the conference agenda.
Figure 7: Deloitte China Deputy CEO Jiang Ying at the CPPCC.
Source: ‘德勤声音——全国政协委员蒋颖在两会上踊跃谏言 多份提案吸引媒体高度关注’ [Deloitte’s voice—CPPCC member Vivian Jiang enthusiastically offers advice at the two sessions], Deloitte, no date, online.
Foreign interference and the united front system
This section of the report describes several aspects of united front work abroad, and particularly efforts to influence politics and think tanks, collect data and transfer technology. United front work generally involves covert activity and is a form of interference that aids the CCP’s rise and reduces resistance to its encroachment on sovereignty.112
It will be important for future studies to examine overseas united front work in Asia, North America and Europe. Efforts targeting scientific communities, religious groups and Chinese-language education remain understudied. Outside of Australia, New Zealand and the Czech Republic, there are very few detailed country-specific studies of influence and technology-transfer efforts linked to the united front system.113
Many CCP agencies, such as the International Liaison Department, the MSS, the Chinese People’s Association for Friendship with Foreign Countries and the PLA, engage in their own foreign interference efforts. Those activities often overlap with or take advantage of those of the united front system, and draw on the tradition of united front work, but they’re probably carried out independently.
Political influence
When it seeks to build political influence, united front work primarily targets political actors rather than political systems. Democracies subjected to united front work might retain democratic structures and processes, while representation and political participation are ultimately manipulated by the CCP.
Independent researcher Jichang Lulu has referred to this as a process of ‘repurposing democracy’ (see box).114
Understanding CCP influence, a prerequisite to any sound policy formulation, thus necessitates the analysis of the foreign activities of China’s entire political system, rather than decontextualised aspects of the work of its more familiar agencies. Such analysis would be vitiated by an a priori compartmentalisation guided by, e.g., distinctions between ‘influence’ and ‘interference’, ‘benign’ and ‘malign’, or ‘legal’ and ‘illegal’. While relevant to target-country policy responses, such categories may not be useful in the actors’ Leninist context. A narrow focus on the hostile leaves much influence work unaccounted for. Influence work as described in this study does not seek to disrupt democratic structures, but to repurpose them as tools facilitating the advancement of the policies of a totalitarian, expansionist régime.
—Jichang Lulu, Repurposing democracy: The European Parliament China Friendship Cluster, Sinopsis, 26 November 2019, online.
The role of the CCP in these activities is often covert. United front figures typically deny any links to the united front system. Australian-Chinese businessman and political donor Chau Chak Wing, for example, claimed he had never heard of the UFWD, despite mentioning it in a speech and being pictured meeting with its officials.115
Ethnic Chinese communities are a focus of united front work.116 In activities directed at diaspora communities, the CCP seeks to co-opt, control and install community leaders, community groups, business associations and media. It seeks to collapse the diversity of Chinese communities into a fictional homogeneous and ‘patriotic’ group united under the party’s leadership.117 Successful united front work wedges the party between ethnic Chinese communities and the societies they live in, expanding the party’s control of those communities’ channels for representation and mobilisation.
Members of Chinese communities who want to participate in community activities may unwittingly become associated with united front groups. Combined with the party’s surveillance and censorship of the Chinese social media app WeChat, this has smothered independent Chinese media outlets and community groups.118
Interference in Chinese communities harms genuine and independent political participation in politics by ethnic Chinese. In countries such as Australia, where united front work is quite mature, it’s proven difficult for politicians to avoid associating with united front groups and implicitly legitimising them as representatives of the broader Chinese community.119 For example, both major party candidates for a seat in parliament during the 2019 Australian federal election had reportedly either been members of united front groups or had travelled on united-front-sponsored trips to China.120 Both contenders for leadership of the NSW Labor Party in 2019 had attended events run by united-front-linked groups.121
Case study: Huang Xiangmo
Huang Xiangmo (黄向墨) is one of the most informative cases of united-front-linked influence efforts.
Ironically, his active efforts to influence Australian politics became a catalyst for the Australian Government’s introduction of counter foreign interference legislation and his own expulsion from the country.
Huang, also known by his legal name, Huang Changran (黄畅然), was born in 1969 in a small village in the Chaoshan region of Guangdong Province. According to a hagiographic account of his life published in 2012, he grew up in poverty and left school at an early age.122 Despite that, he worked hard and read widely. In 1998, he was working for the state-owned China Railway Construction Corporation.123 He soon founded a property development company named after his home village, Yuhu, and prospered amid rapid economic growth in the province.124
By 2012, Huang was ranked as China’s 420th richest person, worth an estimated Ұ4.5 billion (roughly A$700 million at the time).125 He also donated generously to public projects—specifically, those favoured by the Jieyang Party Secretary, Chen Hongping (陈弘平), such as the massive Han dynasty-inspired Jieyang Tower in the city’s central square.126 Huang also gained social standing, reflected in his appointment to the Jieyang People’s Political Consultative Conference—the city’s peak united front forum.127
In July 2012, Huang’s allies ran up against the CCP’s anticorruption machine. Party Secretary Chen was taken into the extralegal ‘shuanggui’ investigation process.128 Five years later, Chen received a suspended death sentence for corruption.129 He took down at least six associates, including the Guangzhou Party Secretary, with him.130 Among his sins, the People’s Daily reported, was his obsession with grand cultural and spiritual projects, including the Jieyang Tower and a lavish personal mausoleum.131 The next year, 17 police officials in Jieyang were fired, under suspicion of tipping off suspects about investigations.132
Shortly before the scandal erupted, Huang Xiangmo began relocating to Australia, building an investment portfolio in Sydney and purchasing a $12.8 million mansion. It’s reported that several business associates followed him, buying nearby properties provided they were cheaper and lower down the hill than his. Huang denies being involved in the Jieyang corruption case.133
It would be nearly a decade before Huang was next spotted in the Chinese mainland. However, his connections to Chinese authorities didn’t end with the corruption case and his arrival in Australia.
As early as February 2012, Huang became an honorary president of the Australian Council for the Promotion of the Peaceful Reunification of China (ACPPRC, 澳洲中国和平统一促进会), despite having no known substantial links to Australia before then.134 The reunification council is closely linked to the UFWD-run China Council for the Promotion of Peaceful National Reunification, which promotes the PRC’s annexation of Taiwan.135 Huang eventually became president of the Australian reunification council and a senior director of the UFWD-run China Council.136 The China Council’s president is Wang Yang, the Politburo Standing Committee member who oversees the united front system. Its senior vice president is the UFWD minister.137
As Philip Wen and Lucy Macken wrote in the Sydney Morning Herald in 2016, ‘Huang arrived in Australia in near-total obscurity. But big spending and relentless networking behind closed doors has seen him swiftly ingratiate himself with Australia’s most powerful politicians’.138
After arriving in Australia, Huang hired long-time ACPPRC member Eng Joo Ang (洪永裕) as an adviser to his company. Ang accompanied Huang as he met with former prime minister Kevin Rudd in December 2012 (Figure 8).
Sam Dastyari, then general secretary of the New South Wales Labor Party, also appeared at the meeting.139 Dastyari was known as a prolific fundraiser, and his relationship with and patronage from Huang Xiangmo led to the downfall of both. As Dastyari later said, ‘There is an arms race for donations between the parties. And when you’ve got individuals like Huang who are prepared to fork out millions of dollars they get listened to.’140
Figure 8: Eng Joo Ang, Kevin Rudd, Huang Xiangmo and Sam Dastyari, December 2012
Huang and his companies, associates and employees donated a total of over $3 million to both sides of politics.141 He also stepped in to pay a legal bill for Sam Dastyari, by then a senator.142 Another businessman—a CPPCC delegate and member of the UFWD’s China Overseas Friendship Association— helped Dastyari settle the difference when the senator overspent his parliamentary travel budget.143 Huang also partnered with CCP agencies, including the International Liaison Department, to organise and sponsor parliamentarians to travel to China.144
Former prime minister Rudd was only one in a long list of political figures with whom Huang networked. Huang secured meetings with the prime minister and opposition leader. At least four political figures—a former New South Wales Labor general secretary, a former New South Wales Labor treasurer, a former federal Liberal minister, and a former media adviser to a different federal Liberal minister—were hired by Huang and helped him build influence.145 Senior representatives of both major parties attended his daughter’s wedding in 2016.146
It seems that politicians treated Huang Xiangmo as a wealthy Chinese community leader and didn’t think too much about the political objectives contained in the very name of the reunification council he ran. Rather than alerting politicians to his links to the CCP, Huang’s leadership of united front groups was misinterpreted as a marker of his influence among Chinese-Australians. When Huang took over leadership of the reunification council when its original president died in 2015, senior Liberal Party politician Philip Ruddock appeared to gloss over the council’s founding purpose, remarking that it ‘has a rather strange name … Some people are very interested in the title. My emphasis is always on “peaceful”’.147
Roughly a dozen reunification council members have stood for election or gained jobs as political staffers. Chief among them was Ernest Wong (王国忠), whose predecessor in the New South Wales Legislative Council house was hired by Huang’s company.148 In a 2014 article attributed to him, he copied, word for word, advice on political participation from the Overseas Chinese Affairs Office—a core united front system agency that’s since been absorbed by the UFWD.149 In a line that also appears verbatim in the Overseas Chinese Affairs Office document, the article recommends: ‘[one of the ways for Chinese to participate in politics is] by pushing changes in policy and influencing government positions by working on politicians and elites.’150 Wong held positions in several united front bodies in both China and Australia and was reportedly a target of cultivation by Chinese intelligence officers.151
Consistent with the Overseas Chinese Affairs Office’s guidance, Wong and Huang sought to mentor young Chinese-Australians with political aspirations.152 The pair organised the Australia Young Leadership Forum for Chinese university students, which worked to train future political talent.153
Huang also engaged in philanthropic activities and gave generously to universities. He established centres in two Australian universities: the Australia–China Relations Institute (ACRI) at the University of Technology Sydney and the Australia–China Institute for Arts and Culture at Western Sydney University. Huang claimed to have personally selected a former Australian foreign minister as director of ACRI, which has attracted controversy since its founding in 2014.154 ACRI hosted a senior united front official in 2016 and also organised trips to China, supported by the Propaganda Department, for Australian journalists.155
Figure 9: Huang Xiangmo, surrounded by leaders of the reunification council and the Australia China Economics, Trade and Culture Association, shakes hands with Politburo member and former UFWD director Liu Yandong in 2012
Source: ‘Liu Yandong, member of the Political Bureau of the CPC Central Committee, meets with Australian overseas Chinese’, news release, Yuhu Group, 19 December 2012, online.
Huang caught the Australia Security Intelligence Organisation’s attention by 2015. That year, the agency’s director-general reportedly warned about Huang’s potential links to the CCP in briefings to Australian political parties.156
As investigative journalists began scrutinising Huang’s activities, his transactional dealings with political parties became clearer. In 2016, Huang reportedly withdrew a promised $400,000 donation to the Labor Party after its defence spokesman criticised China’s militarisation of the South China Sea.157
The next week, Senator Dastyari stood beside Huang at a press conference for Chinese-language media and urged Australia to remain neutral in the territorial dispute, which he described as ‘China’s own affair’.158
Dastyari eventually quit politics after it emerged that he’d warned Huang that Huang’s phone was probably bugged.159 Dastyari admitted in 2019 that Huang may have been an ‘agent of influence’ for the Chinese Government.160
Public figures began distancing themselves from Huang and his reunification council as controversy surrounding him grew. Several members had their names removed from the group’s public membership list.161 A Victorian state politician who had previously been a member of the council said, ‘I know what this organisation is about so I keep 100 miles from them.’162 Tim Xu, a former assistant to Huang, testified in 2019 that the reunification council is a front for the CCP.163
According to media reporting, some of Huang’s associates may have been involved in organised criminal activity. In July 2019, it was reported that two of Huang’s reunification council members were running illegal gambling junkets for Crown Casino and involved in money laundering. Huang himself gambled $800 million in one year with Crown Casino.164 In October, the Australian Taxation Office accused him of underpaying tax by $140 million, ordering his assets to be frozen.165
The growing scrutiny of Huang’s activities culminated in his residency in Australia being canceled while he was in Hong Kong. His citizenship application was denied and his residency rescinded after the Australian Security Intelligence Organisation reportedly concluded that he was ‘amenable to conducting acts of foreign interference’.166 Huang later complained to the state-owned Global Times that Australia has ‘the innate characteristics of a giant baby’.167
Huang’s story, however, hasn’t ended. His political donations, some of which were allegedly disguised through proxies, are being investigated by the New South Wales Independent Commission Against Corruption.168 In May 2019, Huang reappeared in mainland China for the first time in years—as a delegate to a united front meeting attended by Xi Jinping.169 In November 2019, Wang Liqiang, a Chinese defector to Australia, alleged that Huang had met with a PLA intelligence officer.170 Wang is now being sued by a former reunification council member.171 Huang’s networks, and united front networks more generally, are still active in Australia, and more than 120 organisations protested his expulsion.172
Recognising united front groups
There’s no foolproof way to identify a united front group, but the following activities may indicate that an organisation is associated with the united front system:
Its executives hold positions in China-based united front groups.
It advocates for the ‘reunification’ of China.
It associates frequently with the local PRC diplomatic mission.
It participates in pro-PRC political rallies.
It hosts visiting CCP officials from the united front system.
It issues statements or holds events in coordination with known united front groups.
Asking a knowledgeable friend in the Chinese community for advice can also be helpful.
Because of the opacity of some aspects of united front work, it’s difficult to know the degree of direction party officials exercise over united front figures. Even within each overseas united front group there appears to be variation in the relationships that members and executives have with PRC officials. To the extent that they’re directed, many of their united front activities are likely to be supervised by provincial or even municipal UFWDs, some of which have a greater overseas focus than the central UFWD.
It’s also possible that a small number of united front figures are ultimately directed by the MSS or PLA as intelligence assets, using united front work as a platform for intelligence activity. The two organisations are better resourced for and more experienced in serious political interference work than the UFWD.173 Both have records of using united front roles as cover. They may also be better positioned to wield leverage over individuals who are wanted for crimes in China.
Nonetheless, many united front figures aren’t acting spontaneously out of patriotic sentiments and an independent desire to please Beijing. Overseas united front figures frequently meet with united front system officials, receive directions and study relevant guidance. A Sydney man reportedly set up the Australian Jiangsu China Council for the Promotion of Peaceful Reunification (澳洲江苏中国和平统一 促进会) at the direction of a senior UFWD official.174 The Australian Guangxi Business Association (澳洲 广西总商会) was reportedly founded in 2011 under the ‘coordination’ of a provincial UFWD.175
When the PLA Navy made a visit to Sydney Harbour on 3 June 2019, a day before the 30th anniversary of the Tiananmen Square massacre, it was met by a welcoming crowd from the Sydney Beijing Association (悉尼北京会) bearing a custom-made banner.176 The visit hadn’t been publicly announced, indicating that the group had been notified beforehand by the Chinese Government.
In July 2015, the president of a Sydney-based association said his group ‘will strengthen its use of Xi Jinping’s spirit at the Central United Front Work Conference to go further in demonstrating our special characteristics’.177
In Australia and Taiwan, the CCP has used organised crime groups to carry out united front work.178
Several cases suggest that criminal activity may be tolerated by the Chinese Government and even used as leverage in exchange for participation in political influence operations.179 For example, media have reported that a prolific gambling junket operator involved in money laundering also runs three prominent united front groups in Melbourne, one of which is officially endorsed by the UFWD, and served as an honorary president of the ACPPRC.180 At the same time, he was a business partner of a former adviser to the Victorian Premier.181
In 2008, Sydney man Frank Hu (胡扬) was charged with importing 250 kilograms of cocaine.182
However, Hu was known to the public as a ‘Chinese community leader’ who was close to the PRC Consulate and ran a cultural association that took parliamentarians on tours of China.183 Similarly, Chang An-lo (张安乐), a Taiwanese gangster also known as ‘White Wolf’, is the founder of the Chinese Unification Promotion Party. The party has been raided by the Taiwan Government as part of investigations into political parties illegally accepting money from the Chinese Government.184
The lack of any clear distinction between domestic and overseas united front work means that changes in how that work is carried out in China could have important implications for foreign interference. While the UFWD has long worked with Chinese security agencies, links between those worlds appear to be deepening.185 In 2018, Ministry of Public Security Vice Minister Shi Jun was reassigned as a UFWD vice minister and now oversees the department’s work on Xinjiang.186 The UFWD plays a central role in the securitisation of Xinjiang, including the disappearance of approximately 1.5 million Uyghurs and other minorities into concentration camps.187 It has worked with the National Counter-Terrorism Office on security in the lead-up to major political meetings and runs campaigns with the MSS and the Ministry of Public Security to crack down on Christianity.188 This may foreshadow an increase in the brazenness, intolerance and intensity of united front work abroad, helped by the party’s increased ability to coordinate and direct that work.189
Case study: The British Chinese Project
The kinds of united front work observed in Australia, the US190 and New Zealand191 can be clearly seen in other Five Eyes countries and across Europe. In the UK, for example, the British Chinese Project (BC Project, 英国华人参政计划) is a group that says it seeks to foster the political participation of ethnic Chinese and build their influence on policy.192 It provides advice to, and acts as the secretariat for, the All-Party Parliamentary Chinese in Britain Group. The parliamentary group had six members in 2018.193
However, the BC Project’s close links to the united front system call into question its independence and ability to genuinely represent ethnic Chinese. Its chair and founder, Christine Lee (李贞驹), is an executive member of the China Overseas Friendship Association and a committee member of the CPPCC, which are both run by the UFWD (Figure 10).194 Lee is also a legal adviser to several Chinese Government organs, including the Chinese Embassy in London, the UFWD’s Overseas Chinese Affairs Office and the All-China Federation of Returned Overseas Chinese.195 Her law firm claims to be the only British one authorised by the Chinese Government to practise as a foreign law firm in China.196
Figure 10: Christine Lee at a 2019 united front meeting for overseas Chinese. United front system leader Wang Yang is seated directly in front of her.
Source: ‘Xi Jinping meets with representatives of the Ninth Conference for Friendship of Overseas Chinese Associations and the Fifth Council of China Overseas Friendship Association’, YouTube, 28 May 2019, online.
Since 2009, Lee has donated hundreds of thousands of pounds to Labour Party shadow secretary of state for international trade Barry Gardiner.197 Reports by The Times in February 2017 scrutinised Lee and Gardiner’s relationship, but appeared to have little effect on their activities.198 Lee’s son, Daniel Wilkes, has worked for Gardiner since 2015.199 Gardiner has been the chair of the All-Party Parliamentary Chinese in Britain Group since its inception in 2011.200
As shadow energy secretary, Gardiner was an outspoken advocate of a controversial proposal for Chinese Government involvement in the Hinkley Point nuclear reactor project. He argued that it was important to sign the agreement to show the UK’s acceptance of Chinese investment, even if it was a bad deal in financial terms.201 The Chinese partner on Hinkley Point, China General Nuclear Power Company (CGNPC), is a state-owned nuclear company that’s been involved in espionage and is subject to a US Government export ban because of its history of diverting nuclear technology to the Chinese military.202 The US Government has warned that CGNPC uses nuclear technology to aid the Chinese military, including through the development of floating nuclear reactors and reactors for submarines.
Technology transfer
The united front system is a central component of the PRC’s legal and illicit technology-transfer efforts.
United front technology-transfer efforts seek to establish or co-opt professional associations with members in universities, governments and private companies. The groups then help recruit overseas scientists and promote technology transfer to China.203 Some of them are also tasked with building databases on overseas scientists.204 The role of the united front system in technology transfer will be detailed in a forthcoming report by the ASPI International Cyber Policy Centre.
Exemplifying the united front system’s involvement in technology-transfer efforts, the UFWD’s Western Returned Scholars Association (WRSA, 欧美同学会) runs the official association for participants in the Thousand Talents Plan (千人计划专家联谊会), which is a flagship CCP talent recruitment program for foreign scientists.205 China’s Minister of Science and Technology from 2007 to 2018 was also a senior united front official and chair of the Zhi Gong Party (致公党), which is a minor party supervised by the UFWD that draws its membership from Chinese who have returned from abroad.206
The party and country respect the choices of overseas students. If you return to China to work, we will open our arms to warmly welcome you. If you stay abroad, we will support you to serve the country through various means. Everyone must remember: no matter where you are, you are sons and daughters of China.
—Xi Jinping, in his speech to the Western Returned Scholars Association, 2013
Some united-front-linked overseas professional associations have been implicated in economic espionage. For example, Yang Chunlai (杨春来), a programmer at a US mercantile exchange company, was convicted in 2015 of trade secret theft after stealing source code to set up a business in China. Yang had been president of the USA Association of Chinese Scientists and Engineers, which frequently meets with united front officials, and served on an advisory committee to the Overseas Chinese Affairs Office.207
In 2006, Yang visited Beijing for a ‘young overseas Chinese leaders’ united front training course.208
During the course, he said that his employer would never outsource work on its proprietary source code, but that ‘everyone is still looking for a suitable entrepreneurial opportunity to return to China.’ Three years after the training course, an opportunity may have presented itself when he met an investment and talent recruitment delegation from a Chinese county government. The source code he later stole, some of which he sent to the county government, was meant to help grow the business he established in the county’s free trade zone.209
More than a dozen groups in Australia are involved in technology transfer and talent recruitment work for the Chinese Government.210 For example, the Federation of Chinese Scholars in Australia (全澳华人专家学者联合会) was established in 2004 to promote scientific exchange between Australia and China. Its organising meeting was held in the PRC Embassy’s Education Office. Speaking at its founding, the Chinese Ambassador expressed her hope that its ‘experts and scholars would be able to transfer advanced technology achievements to China.’211 The federation and many of its members are associated with united front system organs, such as the WRSA.212 Its hundreds of members include several senior university officials and professors, most of whom have joined Chinese government talent recruitment programs.
Data collection
United front work is supported by the united front system’s growing use of information technology.
United front groups can build databases that may support the CCP’s political influence and technology-transfer efforts. For example, the Melbourne Huaxing Arts Group (墨尔本华兴艺术团) writes biannual reports back to the UFWD, keeps a database of political figures, public figures, and community groups, and has internal ‘secrecy regulations’.213 One part of the united front system even claims to hold data on 2.2 million ethnic Chinese scientists abroad.214 The Chinese Government has also provided overseas united front groups with lists of possible members, such as Chinese PhD students in America who have the same home town, to help their expansion.215
United front agencies are encouraged to take advantage of the internet and big data in their work.216
In November 2019, the UFWD partnered with the Central Cyberspace Administration to hold the first-ever meeting for united front work on ‘online figures’ such as social media influencers and live-streamers.217
Think tanks
The UFWD seeks to engage with foreign think tanks through the WRSA, which is the primary united front group for Chinese scientists and scholars who have lived abroad. The association’s secretary-general is a UFWD official, and it’s described as a ‘united front system work unit’.218 The association is active in both influence and technology-transfer efforts. It holds international think tank forums while also playing a key role in the Thousand Talents Plan—a CCP recruitment scheme for overseas scientists that’s been linked to economic espionage.219
One of the WRSA’s most successful activities has been the establishment of the Center for China and Globalization (CCG, 中国与全球化智库), which claims to be an independent think tank.220 The centre is headed by Wang Huiyao (王辉耀), a prominent international commentator who is also an adviser to the UFWD, a member of several united front groups and an important figure in the development of China’s talent recruitment strategy.221
Wang’s united front links first attracted widespread attention when he was scheduled to speak at a May 2018 Wilson Center panel on CCP influence. The event’s description didn’t mention his position in the united front system and claimed that discussions on CCP influence were ‘often poorly defined, exaggerated, and abused.’222 After Senator Marco Rubio wrote a letter to the Wilson Center asking it to disclose Wang’s united front links, Wang pulled out of the panel.223
But, since then, several Australian politicians have been taken to visit the CCG. In both 2018 and 2019, Australian NGO China Matters took several Australian politicians on trips to China, where they met with people from the centre.224 Australia’s then shadow treasurer repeated the CCG’s claim of being China’s largest independent think tank in a press release about the trip.225 On one of these trips, participants were also taken to meet the assistant president of the MSS’s University of International Relations.226 In 2019, Australia’s Trade Minister also gave a speech at the think tank.227
Aside from using the WRSA to engage with think tanks and scholars, united front figures have established and funded overseas think tanks. Thai united front figure Dhanin Chearavanont (谢国民), who is regularly given the seat of honour at major united front events, established Georgetown University’s Initiative for US–China Dialogue on Global Issues.228 A foundation run by Tung Chee-hwa (董建华), a vice chair of the CPPCC and former chief executive of Hong Kong, has funded research at several prominent American think tanks, including the Brookings Institution and the Center for Strategic and International Studies.229 The University of Texas turned down funding from the foundation after commentators highlighted Tung’s united front links.230
Chinese students and scholars associations
Overseas Chinese students, as well as returnees from abroad, have long been a target of united front work. This was reiterated in 2015 when Xi Jinping designated them a ‘new focus of united front work’.231 These efforts seek to maintain the CCP’s influence over Chinese students even when they are overseas and ensure that some can be mobilised when needed.
Chinese students and scholars associations (CSSAs) are the primary platform for united front work on overseas students. Most CSSAs operate under the guidance of Chinese embassies and consulates.232
A 2013 People’s Daily article describes Australian CSSAs as ‘completing their missions … under the direct guidance of the Embassy’s Education Office’.233 Globally, they have become the dominant bodies claiming to represent Chinese students at universities. At the same time as they provide useful services to students, CSSA executives have also been found reporting on dissident students, organising rallies and promotional events in coordination with the Chinese Government and its talent recruitment programs, and enforcing censorship.234
CSSAs primarily interact with Chinese Ministry of Education officials, but there’s evidence that this is a form of united front work carried out by the Ministry of Education. For example, Korea University’s CSSA claims on its website that the UFWD is responsible for ‘overall guidance on overseas student associations’.235 This is supported by a 2013 statement made by China’s Ambassador to Australia, who urged ‘outstanding CSSA cadres’ to study Xi Jinping’s remarks on the 100th anniversary of the founding of the UFWD-run WRSA.236 A UFWD deputy bureau chief was posted as the education attaché in Chicago between 2013 and 2016, indicating substantial overlap between the work of Chinese education officials abroad and UFWD cadres.237 In 2011, the UFWD led a delegation of Ministry of Education and university officials to the UK to study the establishment of associations for Chinese students, meeting with the chairman of the CSSA-UK.238 The CSSA-UK, a peak body for Chinese students in the UK, is a member organisation of the WRSA.239
Recommendations
Responses to united front work must engage governments, civil society and ethnic Chinese communities. They should seek to couple punitive measures for agents of interference with a positive agenda of support for and engagement with communities affected by united front work. Effective efforts to counter foreign interference are essential to protect genuine participation in politics by ethnic Chinese citizens. Counter-interference work can complement engagement with the PRC when carried out properly by helping to ensure that it aligns with national interests and isn’t used as a platform for interference.
This report recommends that governments pursue the following measures.
1. Recognise and understand the problem
Carry out detailed studies of united front work across the country as well as in specific sectors or regions.
Develop analytical capacity in government and the private sector for tracking and responding to foreign interference.
2. Develop high-level guidance and policy on countering foreign interference, issuing statements, policy documents and funding to establish it as a priority across relevant parts of the bureaucracy
3. Raise awareness of united front work and foreign interference
Effectively implement transparency-building measures such as the Foreign Influence Transparency Scheme.
Political leaders should improve how they frame efforts to counter foreign interference, making clear that they are not targeting minority communities, and seek to publicly attribute major cases of foreign interference.
Intelligence agencies should produce regular case studies and public reports on political interference threats, naming and describing the activities of major actors.
Intelligence agencies should increase their outreach to influential figures, such as retired politicians.
Expand intergovernmental channels for discussing foreign interference.
4. Ensure that legislation, resourcing and political will exist to build transparency and prosecute agents of interference
Existing laws and policies on espionage, foreign agents, external employment, conflicts of interest and foreign interference must be enforced.
Laws that introduce criminal offences for foreign interference and seek to expand transparency, such as registers of foreign agents, should be introduced and refined.
Ban foreign political donations where they are currently permitted.
Introduce real-time reporting of political donations.
Agencies responsible for investigating and prosecuting cases of interference must be sufficiently resourced.
Ban accepting support from or providing material support to foreign interference agencies (in addition to intelligence and security agencies).
Australia should reform its defamation laws, such as by introducing a national security defence.
The Australian Public Service should introduce and enforce a unified conflict of interest and external employment policy.
5. Protect those exposing interference
Police should be trained to handle and respond to politically motivated stalking and harassment.
Establish and promote reporting mechanisms for foreign interference.
6. Engage with universities to develop responses to related issues, such as monitoring and mobilisation by Chinese Government-backed student associations, technology transfer, economic coercion and censorship
7. Support and engage Chinese diaspora communities
Politicians and public officials should seek to engage with independent Chinese community groups and avoid legitimising united front groups and figures.
Politicians and public officials should ensure that they use precise language that distinguishes between ethnic Chinese communities, Chinese citizens and the Chinese Communist Party, as explained in John Fitzgerald’s report for ASPI’s International Cyber Policy Centre, Mind your tongue.240
Support new and independent Chinese community groups.
Emerging independent Chinese civil society groups must be priorities for protection from interference.
Security, migration and homeland affairs agencies should hold workshops and produce targeted, multilingual informational materials on interference.
Support independent Chinese-language media.
Ensure the independence of government Chinese-language media, such as Australia’s SBS Mandarin.
Award grants to independent Chinese-language media.
Place government notices in independent Chinese-language media outlets as a way to provide advertising funding to them.
Pay for local outlets to have the right to republish articles from independent Chinese-language media outlets in Hong Kong or Taiwan.
Establish scholarships for Chinese students to study journalism.
Explore ways to ensure freedom of speech and freedom from surveillance on WeChat, including through legislation.
8. Build expertise on China, Chinese people, the CCP and foreign interference
Commission and sponsor research on foreign interference and the CCP.
Fund research institutions to establish courses and workshops on foreign interference and the CCP.
Invest in greater Chinese-language training in schools, universities and government.
9. Deny visas for or expel agents of foreign interference
Visa applications by united front system officials and united front figures should be approached with a presumption of denial.
Foreign nationals, including diplomats, shown to have been involved in foreign interference should be expelled.
Appendix 1: Leaders of the United Front Work Department
You Quan (尤权)
Member of the Central Secretariat and UFWD minister (2017 – present); probably deputy head of the Central United Front Work Leading Small Group
Born in Hebei Province in January 1954
Party Secretary of Fujian Province (2012–2017)
Deputy secretary-general of the State Council (2008–2012)
Chairman of the State Electricity Regulatory Commission (2006–2008)
Ba Te’er (巴特尔)
UFWD deputy minister; vice chairman of the CPPCC; director of the State Ethnic Affairs Commission (2016 – present); member of the Central Committee
Born in Liaoning Province in 1955
Ethnic Mongolian
Deputy Party Secretary of Inner Mongolia (2009–2016)
Zhang Yijiong (张裔炯)
UFWD senior deputy minister (2012 – present), overseeing the day-to-day operation of the department; member of the Central Committee
Born in Shanghai in 1955
Worked in Qinghai Province from 1972 to 2006
Deputy Party Secretary of Tibet (2006–2010)
Secretary of the Political and Legal Affairs Commission of Tibet (2010)
Xu Yousheng (许又声)
UFWD deputy minister; director of the State Council Overseas Chinese Affairs Office (2018 – present); member of the Central Committee
Born in Fujian Province in 1957
Apart from a period in the Party Committee of Hunan Province (2012–2017), has worked mostly in the Overseas Chinese Affairs Office since 1982
Xu Lejiang (徐乐江)
UFWD deputy minister; party secretary and senior deputy chairman of the All-China Federation of Industry and Commerce (2017 – present); member of the Central Committee
Born in Shandong Province in 1959
Worked in China Baowu Steel Group, one of the world’s largest steel manufacturers from 1982 to 2016; chairman and party secretary from 2014 to 2016
Ministry of Industry and Information Technology vice minister (2016–2017)
Wang Zuo’an (王作安)
UFWD deputy minister (2018 – present); director of the State Administration for Religious Affairs
Born in Jiangsu Province in 1958
UFWD policy researcher (1983–1987)
State Administration for Religious Affairs official (1987–present)
Author of China’s religious issues and policies (中国的宗教问题和宗教政策) (2002
Tan Tianxing (谭天星)
UFWD deputy minister (2018 – present), responsible for international united front work.
Born in Hunan Province in 1963
Worked in the Overseas Chinese Affairs Office and the All-China Federation of Returned Overseas Chinese from 1991 to 2018
Attaché at the Chinese Embassy in Washington DC (1998–2002)
PhD in history from Peking University (1991)
Author of Reflections on history (历史的思考) (2015)
Shi Jun (侍俊)
UFWD deputy minister (2018 – present); director of the Office of the Central Coordinating Small Group on Xinjiang Work (中央新疆工 作协调小组).
Born in Jiangsu Province in 1962
Worked in Sichuan Province from 1978 to 2016
Party Secretary of Ngaba County (2007–2012); oversaw a crackdown on Tibetan Buddhism that led to a wave of self-immolations
Sichuan Province Public Security Bureau chief (2013–2015)
Central Political and Legal Commission deputy secretary-general (2016–2017)
Ministry of Public Security vice minister (2017–2018)
Zhou Xiaoying (周小莹)
Central Commission for Discipline Inspection representative in the UFWD (2018 – present); member of the Central Committee
Born in Yunnan Province in 1960
Worked in Qinghai Province (1975–2008)
Central Commission for Discipline Inspection representative in the State Ethnic Affairs Commission (2016–2018)
Zou Xiaodong (邹晓东)
UFWD vice minister (2018 – present); National People’s Congress delegate; responsible for united front work on intellectuals, scientists and universities
Born in Shandong Province in 1967
Worked and studied at Zhejiang University (1984–2018), apart from a period as deputy director of the Zhejiang Provincial Organisation Department (2016–2017)
Party Secretary of Zhejiang University (2017–2018)
Sources: All information and images taken from the UFWD’s website, online or Joske, The Central United Front Work Leading Small Group: institutionalising united front work, Sinopsis, 23 July 2019, online.
Appendix 2: National-level social organisations run by the UFWD or its subordinate agencies
The Ministry of Civil Affairs’ database of officially registered social organisations recorded the groups listed here in August 2019.241 These groups claim to be NGOs but are registered under various united front agencies.
On 11 August 2019, in addition to the organisations listed here, the Ministry of Civil Affairs database also recorded 5,432 organisations registered to local religious affairs bureaus, 3,089 registered to local UFWDs, 324 registered to local returned overseas Chinese federations (归国华侨联合会 )and 288 registered to local overseas Chinese affairs offices (侨务办公室).
Registered under the United Front Work Department
China Warmth Project Foundation (中华同心温暖工程基金会)
Elion Green Foundation (亿利公益基金会)
Oceanwide Foundation (泛海公益基金会)
China Overseas Study Talent Development Foundation (中国留学人才发展基金会)
Across the Strait Taiwanese Exchange Association (两岸台胞民间交流促进会)
China Foundation for Guangcai Program (中国光彩事业基金会)
China Glory Society (中国光彩事业促进会)
China Association for Preservation and Development of Tibetan Culture (中国西藏文化保护与发展协会)
China Sun Yat-sen Cultural Exchange Association (中华中山文化交流协会)
China Civil Chamber of Commerce (中国民间商会)
Wu Zuoren International Foundation of Fine Arts (吴作人国际美术基金会)
China Council for the Promotion of Peaceful National Reunification (中国和平统一促进会)
Alumni Association of the Huangpu Military Academy (黄埔军校同学会)
China Overseas Friendship Association (中华海外联谊会)
China Association of Zen Tea (中国茶禅学会)
China Research Association of the 1911 Revolution (中国辛亥革命研究会)
Chinese Private Economy Research Association (中国民营经济研究会)
Chou Pei-yuan Foundation (周培源基金会)
China United Front Theory Research Association (中国统一战线理论研究会)
Taiwan Scholar Association (台湾同学会)
Western Returned Scholars Association / Overseas-educated Scholars Association of China (欧美同学会/中国留学人员联谊会)
China Siyuan Foundation for Poverty Alleviation (中华思源工程扶贫基金会)
The UFWD also runs the All-China Federation of Industry and Commerce (中华全国工商业联合会), the All-China Federation of Taiwan Compatriots (中华全国台湾同胞联谊会), the China Soong Ching Ling Foundation (中国宋庆龄基金会) and the China Vocational Education Association (中华职业教育 社); however, these are referred to as ‘united front system work units’ and are not social organisations registered under the Ministry of Civil Affairs.242
Registered under the State Administration for Religious Affairs
Buddhist Compassion Relief Tzu Chi Foundation (慈济慈善事业基金会)
China Religious Culture Communication Association (中华宗教文化交流协会)
Buddhist Association of China (中国佛教协会)
Bishops Conference of the Catholic Church in China (中国天主教主教团)
National Committee of Three-Self Patriotic Movement of the Protestant Churches in China (中国基督教三自爱国运动委员会)
China Christian Council (中国基督教协会)
China Islamic Association (中国伊斯兰教协会)
Chinese Patriotic Catholic Association (中国天主教爱国会)
Taoist Association of China (中国道教协会)
Young Men’s Christian Association of China(中华基督教青年会全国协会 )
Young Women’s Christian Association of China (中华基督教女青年会全国协会)
Registered under the All-China Federation of Industry and Commerce
China Cultural Chamber of Commerce for the Private Sector (中国民营文化产业商会)
National Federation of Industry and Agriculture Industry Chamber of Commerce (全联农业产业商会)
China Chamber of Commerce for Metallurgical Enterprises (全联冶金商会)
China Environment Service Industry Association (全联环境服务业商会)
China Real Estate Chamber of Commerce (全联房地产商会)
China Education Investors Chamber of Commerce (全联民办教育出资者商会)
China International Chamber of Commerce for the Private Sector (中国民营经济国际合作商会)
China Science and Technology Equipment Industry Chamber of Commerce (全联科技装备业商会)
China Mergers and Acquisitions Association (全联并购公会)
Chamber of Folk Culture Artefacts and Artworks (全联民间文物艺术品商会)
China Book Trade Chamber of Commerce (全联书业商会)
China New Energy Chamber of Commerce (全联新能源商会)
China Chamber of Tourism (全联旅游业商会)
China Urban Infrastructure Chamber of Commerce (全联城市基础设施商会)
China–Africa Business Council (中非民间商会)
Registered under the Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference
Silk Road Planning Research Center (丝路规划研究中心)
China Institute of Theory on the Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference (中国人民政协理论研究会)
China Economic and Social Council (中国经济社会理事会)
China Committee on Religion and Peace (中国宗教界和平委员会)
Registered under the Overseas Chinese Affairs Office
China Overseas Exchange Association (中国海外交流协会)—now merged with China Overseas Friendship Association
China World Association for Chinese Literatures (中国世界华文文学学会)
Alumni Association of Huaqiao University (华侨大学校友会)
Heren Foundation (河仁慈善基金会)
China Language Education Foundation (中国华文教育基金会)
Registered under the All-China Federation of Returned Overseas Chinese
Overseas Chinese History Society of China (中国华侨历史学会)
Jinlongyu Charity Foundation (金龙鱼慈善公益基金会)
Silijiren Foundation (思利及人公益基金会)
Huang Yicong Charity Foundation (黄奕聪慈善基金会)
China Federation of Overseas Chinese Entrepreneurs (中国侨商联合会)
Overseas Chinese Charity Foundation of China (中国华侨公益基金会)
Overseas Chinese Literature and Art Association (中国华侨文学艺术家协会)
China Society of Overseas Chinese Photographers (中国华侨摄影学会)
China Association for International Cultural Exchanges with Overseas Chinese (中国华侨国际文化交流促进会)
Registered under the State Ethnic Affairs Commission
Alumni Association of the High School Affiliated to Minzu University of China (中央民族大学附中校友会)
Minzu University of China Alumni Association (中央民族大学校友会)
Chinese Association for Mongolian Studies (中国蒙古学学会)
China Ethnic Medicine Association (中国民族医药协会)
China Promoting Minority Culture & Art Association (中国少数民族文化艺术促进会)
Nationalities Unity and Progress Association of China (中华民族团结进步协会)
National Architecture Institute of China (中国民族建筑研究会)
Association for Promotion of West China Research and Development (中国西部研究与发展促进会)
China Ethnic Minorities’ Association for External Exchanges (中国少数民族对外交流协会)
Chinese Association for Ethnic Policy (中国民族政策研究会)
Korean-Chinese Scientists and Engineers Association (中国朝鲜族科技工作者协会 / 중국조선족과학기술자협회)
China Korean Language Society (中国朝鲜语学会)
Taiwanese Ethnic Minorities Research Association (台湾少数民族研究会)
China Association for Preservation of Ethnic Minorities’ Relics (中国少数民族文物保护协会)
China Korean Minority History Association (中国朝鲜民族史学会)
Academic Society of the History of Philosophical and Social Ideas in Chinese Minorities (中国少数民族哲学及社会思想史学会)
China Union of Anthropological and Ethnological Sciences (中国人类学民族学研究会)
China Mongolian Studies Association (中国蒙古语文学会)
Economic Promotion Association of Longhai & Lanxin Railway (陇海兰新经济促进会)
Research Association of Bilingual Education for Chinese Minorities (中国少数民族双语教学研究会)
China Association of Ethnic Economy (中国少数民族经济研究会)
Citations and Notes
Readers are urged to download the report PDF for the full list of citations and notes.
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank Peter Mattis, John Garnaut, Lin Li, Jichang Lulu, Clive Hamilton, Robert Suettinger, Danielle Cave, Michael Shoebridge, Peter Jennings, Fergus Hanson, Fergus Ryan, Matt Schrader and Gerry Groot for their feedback and insights. In particular, Peter Mattis helped formulate the concept for this paper and I benefited enormously from related discussions with him. I would also like to thank Nathan Ruser for creating the map in Figure 4.
The Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Kingdom of the Netherlands provided ASPI with AUD80,000 of funding, which was used towards this report.
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First published June 2020.
ISSN 2209-9689 (online), ISSN 2209-9670 (print)
In 2019, I studied and discussed the concept of the united front system together with Peter Mattis, then a visiting fellow at ASPI, and am deeply indebted to him for his analysis and insight on this issue. ↩︎
The Australian Security Intelligence Organisation Act 1979 (online) defines acts of foreign interference as activities taken on behalf of or in collaboration with a foreign power that involve a threat to any person or are clandestine or deceptive and carried out for intelligence purposes, for influencing government or political processes, or are otherwise detrimental to Australia’s interests. ↩︎
Xi Jinping, ‘Secure a decisive victory in building a moderately prosperous society in all respects and strive for the great success of socialism with Chinese characteristics for a new era’, speech delivered at the 19th National Congress of the CCP, 18 October 2017, online; See, for example, a former head of the CCP International Liaison Department’s comparison between domestic united front work and the CCP’s interactions with political parties around the world, discussed in Martin Hala, Jichang Lulu, The CCP’s model of social control goes global, Sinopsis, 20 December 2018, online. Julia Bowie and Nathanael Callan of the Center for Advanced China Research have also argued that China is offering the Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference (CPPCC), the primary platform for the United Front, as a political model for other countries. See Julia Bowie, Nathanael Callan, China’s ‘new type of party system’: a ‘multiparty’ system for foreign consumption, Center for Advanced China Research, 21 August 2018, online. ↩︎
This point has also been made by independent researcher Jichang Lulu. See Jichang Lulu, Repurposing democracy: The European Parliament China Friendship Cluster, Sinopsis, 26 November 2019, online. ↩︎
Guo Lunde [郭伦德], ‘习近平引领统战工作进入新时代’ [Xi Jinping leads united front work into the new era], www.tibet.cn, 12 December 2017, online. ↩︎
‘海 外 华媒为战“疫”加油!’ [Overseas Chinese media cheers us on in the battle against the virus], ACFROC, 10 March 2020, online; ‘旅日侨团及华商华企侧援祖国疫情阻击战’ [Overseas Chinese groups in Japan as well as Chinese businesspersons and companies help the Fatherland’s battle against the virus], ACFROC, 7 February 2020, online; ‘悉尼华星艺术团团长余俊武:把抗疫之爱讲给世界听’ [Sydney Huaxing Arts Troupe leader Yu Junwu: Let the whole world hear our love in fighting the virus], ACFROC, 7 May 2020, online. ↩︎
‘中国侨联关于号召海内外侨胞为打赢“新型冠状病毒感染的肺炎”防控阻击战捐赠款物的倡议书’ [Proposal from the All‑China Federation of Returned Overseas Chinese on rallying overseas and domestic Chinese compatriots for donations to achieve victory in the battle to prevent and stop the pneumonia spread by a novel coronavirus], Consulate‑General of the People’s Republic of China in Melbourne, 26 January 2020, online; ↩︎
‘中共中央印发《深化党和国家机构改革方案》’ [The CCP Central Committee issues ‘plan for deepening the party and state’s institutional reform’], Xinhua, 21 March 2018, online. ↩︎
Other forms of influence work carried out by the CCP, such as that carried out by the International Liaison Department, might not sit within the united front system, but can be described as using ‘united front tactics’ when they draw on the doctrines and principles of united front work. For example, united front tactics could involve the heavy use of front organisations and proxies, an emphasis on claiming representative power, and an emphasis on building interpersonal relationships with key representatives of targeted groups. Most Chinese party and state agencies run united front‑style groups that serve to co‑opt civil society and act as proxies for the CCP. For example, the International Liaison Department runs the Chinese Association for International Understanding (中国国际交流协会). ↩︎
The Cultural Revolution may have been the only extended period in which the party’s united front work largely stopped. ↩︎
‘中共中央印发《深化党和国家机构改革方案》’ [The CCP Central Committee issues ‘plan for deepening the party and state’s institutional reform’], Xinhua. ↩︎
‘关于“民主的联合战线”的议决案’ [About the ‘democratic united front’ decision], 中国共产党历次全国代表大会数据库 [Database of the CCP’s congresses], n.d., online. ↩︎
‘西安事变的由来’ [Origins of the Xi’an Incident], 中国统一战线新闻网[China United Front Online], 8 May 2014, online; 党政干部统一战线知识读本 [Party and government cadre: united front knowledge reader], 华文出版社 [Huawen Press], 2014, 35. ↩︎
China’s eight minor parties were formed in the years before 1949, but are all socialist and have ‘accepted the leadership of the Chinese Communist Party’. For a detailed study of these parties and the United Front, see Gerry Groot’s Managing transitions, 2004. The eight minor parties are the Jiusan Society, the China Democratic League, the China National Democratic Construction Association, the China Association for Promoting Democracy, the Chinese Peasants’ and Workers’ Democratic Party, the Revolutionary Committee of the Chinese Kuomintang, the China Zhi Gong Party, and the Taiwan Democratic Self‑Government League. These parties have different constituencies; for example, the China Zhi Gong Party was established in San Francisco as an alliance of overseas secret societies, and its members are overseas and returned overseas Chinese. See ‘中国共产党领导的多党合作是我国政治制度的一个特点和优点’ [Our country’s political system of multiparty cooperation under the CCP’s leadership is a special characteristic and advantage], 中央统战部网站[Central United Front Work Department], 8 January 2009, online; ‘中国共产党领导的多党合作和政治协商制度’ [The system of political consultation and multiparty cooperation under the leadership of the CCP], 中国政府网综合 [PRC Government Online], 27 July 2017, online. ↩︎
Gerry Groot, ‘Managing transitions: the Chinese Communist Party’s united front work, minor parties and groups, hegemony and corporatism’, PhD thesis, December 1997, online, 332–334. ↩︎
Groot, ‘Managing transitions: the Chinese Communist Party’s united front work, minor parties and groups, hegemony and corporatism’, 329, 340–341. ↩︎
党政干部统一战线知识读本 [Party and government cadre: united front knowledge reader], Huawen chubanshe, 2014, 80–104. ↩︎
See Groot, ‘Managing transitions: the Chinese Communist Party’s united front work, minor parties and groups, hegemony and corporatism’, 156–163, for a discussion of the CPPCC’s creation in 1948. ↩︎
Officially, the consultative system is ‘a democratic form and an institutional channel through which many things can be discussed and negotiated in a proper way’. See ‘What is a “new type of party system”?’, China.org.cn, 23 March 2018, online; In 2012, an American united front group specialising in educational exchanges even held what it claimed to be the world’s first ‘model CPPCC’ event: ‘Recap: The Ameson Foundation holds world’s first model CPPCC event’, Ameson, 2 August 2012, online. ↩︎
‘人民政协的组成和性质’ [The CPPCC’s make‑up and character], CPPCC, 14 September 2011, online. ↩︎
Hu Zhi’an [胡治安], ‘知名民主人士的中共党籍问题’ [The issue of CCP membership of well‑known democratic figures], Yanhuang chunqiu, online; Xiao Yu [萧雨], ‘解密时刻: 统战内幕—前中共干部亲述’ [Declassified moment: inside the United Front—a former CCP cadre’s own account], Voice of America, 23 June 2017, online. ↩︎
‘中国共产党的对外交往——访中联部原部长朱良’ [The CCP’s external engagement—interview with former International Liaison Department minister Zhu Liang], China National Radio, n.d., online; European scholars Martin Hála and Jichang Lulu have called the International Liaison Department a ‘new comintern’, expanding its activities to foreign ‘bourgeois’ parties: Martin Hála, Jichang Lulu, A new Comintern for the new era: the CCP International Department from Bucharest to Reykjavik, Sinopsis, 16 August 2018, online. ↩︎
Zhong Sheng, [钟声], ‘Op‑ed: China’s new type of party system enlightens world’, People’s Daily, 12 March 2018, online. ↩︎
Toshi Yoshihara, A profile of China’s United Front Work Department, Center for Strategic and Budgetary Assessments, May 2018, 46–48, online. ↩︎
https://aspi.s3.ap-southeast-2.amazonaws.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/03/25192739/PB32-The-Party-speaks-for-you_banner.jpg4501350nathanhttps://aspi.s3.ap-southeast-2.amazonaws.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/04/10130806/ASPI-Logo.pngnathan2020-06-09 06:00:002025-03-25 19:29:00The party speaks for you
Australia’s implementation of women, peace and security examines the benefits of Australia strengthening its implementation of the women, peace and security agenda to bolster its regional stability and national security efforts.
Since its formal establishment by the UN Security Council in October 2000, the women, peace and security agenda has become the central framework through which to advocate for women’s participation across all peace and security decision-making processes, to promote the rights of women and girls in conflict and crisis settings, and for the integration of gender perspectives into conflict prevention, resolution and post-conflict rebuilding efforts and throughout disaster and crisis responses. The agenda, when implemented holistically, can also complement states’ national security efforts and strategies aimed at promoting regional stability.
The report highlights that while Australia has a positive story to tell particularly about its mainstreaming of the agenda across the Australian Defence Force, within international operations of the Australian Federal Police (AFP) and in its aid program. There are, however, significant inconsistencies and resourcing gaps in how Australia approaches the implementation of its commitments on the women, peace and security agenda.
https://aspi.s3.ap-southeast-2.amazonaws.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/12/13173623/SR152-Australias-Implementation-WPS_banner.jpg4501350nathanhttps://aspi.s3.ap-southeast-2.amazonaws.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/04/10130806/ASPI-Logo.pngnathan2020-02-19 06:00:002024-12-13 17:39:33Australia’s implementation of women, peace and security: Promoting regional security
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:
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.
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‘Chinese police use app to spy on citizens’ smartphones’, Financial Times, 3 July 2019, online. ↩︎
Mapping China’s Tech Giants, ‘Explore a company’, online. ↩︎
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. ↩︎
Lucas Niewenhuis, ‘1.5 million Muslims are in China’s camps—scholar’, SupChina, 13 March 2019, online. ↩︎
Science and Technology Committee, ‘Oral evidence: UK telecommunications infrastructure’, HC 2200, House of Commons, 10 June 2019, online. ↩︎
https://aspi.s3.ap-southeast-2.amazonaws.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/03/20174922/chitech-banner-v2.jpg5541663nathanhttps://aspi.s3.ap-southeast-2.amazonaws.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/04/10130806/ASPI-Logo.pngnathan2019-11-28 06:00:002025-03-20 17:55:53Mapping more of China’s tech giants: AI and surveillance
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.
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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. ↩︎
University Foreign Interference Taskforce, Guidelines to counter foreign interference in the Australian university sector, Department of Education, Australian Government, November 2019, online. ↩︎
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. ↩︎
‘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. ↩︎
‘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. ↩︎
Lorand Laskai, Civil–military fusion: the missing link between China’s technological and military rise, Council on Foreign Relations, January 29, 2018, online. ↩︎
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. ↩︎
‘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. ↩︎
‘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. ↩︎
‘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. ↩︎
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. ↩︎
Alex Joske, Picking flowers, making honey: the Chinese military’s collaboration with foreign universities, ASPI, Canberra, October 2018, online. ↩︎
https://aspi.s3.ap-southeast-2.amazonaws.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/03/27173249/PB-23.2019-China-Defence-Uni-Tracker_banner.jpg4501350nathanhttps://aspi.s3.ap-southeast-2.amazonaws.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/04/10130806/ASPI-Logo.pngnathan2019-11-25 06:00:002025-03-27 17:36:56The China Defence Universities Tracker
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.
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‘China, Russia agree to upgrade relations for new era’, Xinhua, 6 June 2019, online. ↩︎
‘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. ↩︎
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 ↩︎
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. ↩︎
https://aspi.s3.ap-southeast-2.amazonaws.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/03/24172529/New-Sino-Russian-partnership_PB22.2019-staticBanner.jpg4501350nathanhttps://aspi.s3.ap-southeast-2.amazonaws.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/04/10130806/ASPI-Logo.pngnathan2019-10-29 06:00:002025-03-24 17:28:57A new Sino-Russian high-tech partnership