Executive Summary:

• The Chinese Communist Party (CCP) expects trusted overseas Chinese leaders to internalize broad political guidance and act proactively rather than waiting for direct instructions.

• Overseas Chinese association leaders are encouraged to embed themselves in host-country political, business, and social networks while remaining oriented toward the Party’s agenda. Their local standing can provide Beijing with access, credibility, relationships, and channels for promoting its narratives and supporting objectives including “national rejuvenation” and unification with Taiwan.

• Beijing treats overseas Chinese associations as two-way economic and political conduits: bringing talent, technology, capital, and commercial connections into the People’s Republic of China (PRC) while helping Chinese firms expand abroad.

• Shi Qianping, president of the U.S. Federation of Chinese American Entrepreneurs, illustrates how political networking, business facilitation, and united front work can operate through the same intermediaries: He has facilitated travel to the PRC for former New York state government employee Linda Sun and co-hosted a conference in Texas for PRC and U.S. petroleum companies.

In July, the Overseas Chinese Affairs Office of the State Council convened the 11th Conference for Friendship of Overseas Chinese Associations (第十一届世界华侨华人社团联谊大会). The conference communicated political and organizational goals to leaders of overseas Chinese associations (China Brief, August 7). Wang Huning (王沪宁), chairman of Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference (CPPCC), and Li Ganjie (李干杰), head of the United Front Work Department (UFWD), emphasized the importance of overseas Chinese work. They framed this work in terms of General Secretary Xi Jinping’s formulation of a shared “root, soul, and dream” (“根” “魂” “梦”), which defines the Chinese nation as the common “root” of Chinese people at home and abroad, Chinese culture as their common “soul,” and national rejuvenation as their common “dream” (Xinhua, July 13; Dangjian, August 3).

Shi Qianping (施乾平), president of the U.S. Federation of Chinese American Entrepreneurs (美国华人企业家联合会), published a reflection after attending the conference (People’s Political Consultative Conference Net, July 22). Shi is a CPPCC National Committee member and a standing committee member of the All-China Federation of Returned Overseas Chinese (ACFROC), a constituent body of the Party’s united front system (Western Returned Scholars Association, July 22).

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His article offers a concise account of how the Party expects selected overseas Chinese to operate in their countries of residence. First, the Party doesn’t always give direct orders. Overseas Chinese are expected to carry out Party objectives themselves. Shi stated that he will transform the central leadership’s trust and care into “an inner driving force” (内在动力) and will “take an active role” (主动地) to facilitate exchanges and connect the People’s Republic of China (PRC) with the rest of the world. In 2022, after studying Xi’s speech at the Central United Front Work Conference, he also stated that he will “act on his own accord” (自觉) as a builder of pro-PRC forces and strive to contribute to united front work, which he understood as a “magic weapon” (法宝) to “defeat the enemy and achieve victory” (克敌制胜) (ACFROC, July 30, 2022). His statements show how overseas Chinese leaders are expected to behave as self-motivated actors who translate broad political guidance into their own initiatives.

Second, overseas Chinese are expected to embed themselves in the host country while using that position to advance Beijing’s objectives. In Shi’s reflections after the conference, he stated that they should “take root in local mainstream society” (扎根当地主流社会) and “integrate deeply into mainstream circles” (深度融入主流圈层) while “keeping the nation at heart and shouldering one’s responsibilities” (心怀家国、扛起责任) and supporting national rejuvenation and “the great task of peaceful reunification” (和平统一大业) by “integrating the development of overseas Chinese associations and one’s individual career into the broader national development agenda” (把侨社发展、个人事业融入国家发展大局). This combination is the dual mandate of cultivating standing within a host society while remaining politically oriented toward and organizationally useful to the Party’s agenda. The former creates the relationships, credibility, and access through which overseas leaders can channel resources back to the PRC, promote the Party’s narratives, and facilitate its external objectives.

Third, overseas Chinese are expected to act as a two-way conduit for the Party. A global network of overseas Chinese associations, numbering in the thousands according to Jamestown’s research (and in the tens of thousands according to some Party sources) act as resources for the PRC’s domestic development and international expansion (Liu & van Dongen, 2016; China Brief, February 11). [1] Shi identified three specific tasks that this work comprises: bringing overseas “talent, technology, capital, and channels” (人才、技术、资本、渠道) into the PRC; helping Chinese companies and brands establish themselves abroad; and aligning overseas leaders’ businesses with local and national PRC development plans. Overseas associations are presented not only as cultural or representative bodies who bring PRC propaganda abroad, but also as intermediaries capable of directing investment, expertise, market access, and commercial relationships both ways.

Putting the Model into Practice

The activities of the U.S. Federation of Chinese American Entrepreneurs appear consistent with Shi’s reflection. At its 2016 launch in New York, Shi declared that the organization would serve as a “political-business platform” (政商平台) (Sino-US Times, September 20, 2016). ACFROC chairman Lin Jun (林军) and PRC Deputy Consul General Qiu Jian (邱舰) attended the ceremony. In May 2017, the organization co-hosted the “7th Annual US-China Petroleum Forum” (第七届中美石油化工企业合作论坛) in Houston. More than 20 PRC petroleum companies and over ten U.S. companies reportedly participated in discussions concerning technological cooperation, investment opportunities, and commercial partnerships (FD media, May 14, 2017). These activities illustrate the two sides of Shi’s model: establishing political and commercial networks in the United States while creating channels through which PRC companies and institutions can obtain foreign technology, investment, and market access.

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Shi’s personal activities provide a further example of this brokerage role. During the 2025 trial of former New York state official Linda Sun (孙雯) and her husband, Chris Hu (胡骁), prosecutors presented evidence that Shi helped Hu pursue a proposed seafood import-export project in Shandong. Shi contacted officials in Qingdao, Weihai, and Yantai and accompanied Hu during meetings in those cities. He also arranged Sun’s accommodation when she traveled to Beijing to attend and speak at an ACFROC meeting in early 2018 (World Journal, December 2, 2025). (Sun and Hu’s case is currently pending a retrial.)

Conclusion

Shi Qianping’s statements and activities illustrate the practical role that Beijing envisions for overseas association leaders connected to the united front system. Such figures are encouraged to establish themselves within host-country political and commercial networks while maintaining organizational ties to PRC united front institutions and mobilizing those networks in support of the Party’s economic and political objectives. The Party’s priorities are internalized by trusted intermediaries who can identify opportunities, cultivate relationships, and connect actors across jurisdictions on their own initiative.

This article originally appeared in China Brief Notes. Check it out here!

Cheryl Yu is a Fellow in China Studies at The Jamestown Foundation.

Notes

[1] Regarding the “tens of thousands” figure, the paper cited here cites Ganbu xuexiao, Qiaowu gongzuo gailun, p. 57. Hong Liu and Els van Dongen, “China’s Diaspora Policies as a New Mode of Transnational Governance,” Journal of Contemporary China 25, no. 102 (2016): 805–21, https://doi.org/10.1080/10670564.2016.1184894.

Executive Summary:

• A June exercise conducted by Southern Theater Command minesweepers and drones shows how the People’s Liberation Army Navy (PLAN) would use both unmanned and manned vessels in Mine Countermeasures (MCM) operations.

• The PLAN views the use of drones such as Unmanned Surface Vehicles (USVs) and Unmanned Underwater Vehicles (UUVs) as a force multiplier that would enhance their three-dimensional MCM system.

• The integration of drones into MCM operations is part of the PLAN’s efforts to implement intelligent warfare, but the branch would encounter issues in doing so.

The People’s Liberation Army (PLA) Southern Theater Command’s 10th Minesweeping Squadron conducted an exercise along the coast near Jiangmen, Guangdong, in late June. The exercise involved at least one Type 081A minesweeper, the Taishan, and one Type 082II, the Kaiping, conducting various minesweeping drills under complex electromagnetic conditions both during the day and night. These drills included detecting simulated mines using visual methods and H/TJM-01 Unmanned Underwater Vehicles (UUVs), launching depth charges, and firing the 30mm autocannons at targets. At least one Type 529 minesweeping Unmanned Surface Vehicle (USV) that was controlled by the Type 082II, as well as two Type 073 Amphibious Transport Docks, provided support to the other ships (CCTV13, June 20). At least two USVs equipped with new mine-neutralization charges were also used, which were first unveiled during the military parade to mark the 80th anniversary of the end of World War II in September 2025 (China Brief, August 28, 2025).

The exercise shows that the PLA Navy (PLAN) is advancing its integration of various drones to conduct Mine Countermeasures (MCM) missions as part of wider efforts to incorporate intelligent warfare into its operations.

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Drones a Force Multiplier for Minesweeping

The PLAN views the use of drones for mine clearance operations as a force multiplier that would enable the service to more effectively conduct these missions. This force multiplier concept is based on the view that unmanned systems are a new type of combat force and would be key in future MCM operations (Xu, Liu, Xiao, et al, 2022). [1] For example, the PLAN introduced both the H/TJM-01 UUV and Type 529 USV in the early 2000s and 2010s to enhance their mine-clearing capabilities by providing them with additional detection and clearance options. The drones also provide the PLAN with the ability to increase the capabilities of their three-dimensional MCM system that consists of aerial, surface, and underwater platforms that would conduct integrated minesweeping and hunting missions in the various naval operations they conduct during future conflicts (Wang, 2022). [2]

These unmanned systems would be crucial because they would act as connectors between the three levels that make up the MCM system. The use of these systems, however, also reflects the PLAN’s view that new technologies could be leveraged to increase capabilities in areas in which the branch is deficient. The PLAN understands that mine-clearance operations are inherently dangerous and seeks to incorporate technologies, such as new materials, detection methods, and intelligent control systems, to reduce these risks (Cheng and Xu, 2019). [3]

Drone-Integrated MCM Operations in Intelligent Warfare Face Obstacles

The continued emphasis on unmanned systems in MCM operations is part of PLAN efforts to enhance its intelligent warfare capabilities. The PLAN is integrating intelligent warfare into its operations by using Manned-Unmanned Teams (MUM-T) that would consist of various drones and operators (PLA Daily, June 21). This combination would greatly enhance the PLAN’s capabilities in the various operations it conducts, including MCM. For example, the minesweeping squadrons are incorporating new USVs and UUVs that would use the PLA concept of “human strategic guidance + machine tactical execution” (人类战略指导+机器战术执行) (PLA Daily, March 31). The drones would likely be used to both conduct minesweeping operations and be a connector that provides information sharing and other types of assistance to the three levels. Additionally, the USVs and UUVs would have the ability to conduct autonomous operations if certain aspects of the mission, such as the risk of using manned minesweeping assets, are high (PLA Daily, May 9).

The PLAN would likely encounter obstacles when trying to incorporate the new drones into their MCM operations. These include the challenges of integrating and operating the drones for intelligent warfare and, most substantially, the increased emphasis that the Chinese Communist Party places on controlling all aspects of military operations. The Northern Theater Command’s 11th Minesweeping Squadron encountered issues in learning how to operate new drones and a command system during an exercise. The members emphasized that the party organization’s cohesion and combat effectiveness should be stronger compared to the necessity of learning to operate the drones and associated systems as well as coordinate operations (PLA Daily, March 31). This emphasis on party control also bled into the unit’s training plan, which included lessons to ensure that decisions about drones were made under party guidance. Another obstacle is the lack of understanding surrounding intelligent warfare and its operational requirements in a future conflict (PLA Daily, May 9, 2023). The lack of understanding could lead to units emphasizing tactics instead of technology, which would hinder their ability to employ intelligent warfare.

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Conclusion

The continued integration of drones in the PLAN’s three-dimensional MCM systems illustrates how the service is developing its intelligent warfare capabilities. The PLAN views the integration of drones into its mine-clearance operations at all levels as important since it would enable them to leverage key aspects of the intelligent warfare concept, such as using artificial intelligence and big data. Furthermore, the PLAN views the drones as a necessary force multiplier that could be used to enhance their MCM operations while reducing the number of risks posed to its personnel.

The PLAN believes that current and future drones will be leveraged in these areas to successfully conduct MCM operations. Its ability to incorporate the drones into its method of conducting intelligent warfare, however, would likely be hindered by several obstacles, such as the emphasis on party control and the ability to understand the fields that make up the concept.

This article originally appeared in China Brief Notes. Check it out here!

Joaquin Camarena is a former United States Marine Corps intelligence analyst who runs Sino Talk, an entity devoted to monitoring the PLA’s developing capabilities. His main focuses are PLAN and PLANMC expeditionary capabilities and PLA modernization efforts.

Notes

[1] Xu Tongle [徐同乐], Liu Fang [刘方], Xiao Yujie [肖玉杰], Wang Shen [王慎], Bai Yihui [白一惠], and Luo Rong [罗荣], “Foreign Unmanned Equipment and Technology Development in Mine Countermeasures [国外无人反水雷装备及技术发展],” Acta Armamentarii [兵工学报], no. S2 [2022]: 64–70, DOI: 10.12382/bgxb.2022.B019.

[2] Wang Song [王松], “Discussion on Application of Unmanned Underwater Vehicle in MCM [无人水下航行器在反水雷中的应用探讨],” Digital Ocean & Underwater Warfare [数字海洋与水下攻防] 5, no. 3 [2022]: 260–265, DOI: 10.19838/j.issn.2096-5753.2022.03.012.

[3] Sun Cheng [孙诚] and Xu Yang [徐阳], “Discussion on the Future Development of Mine Countermeasures Support Ships in China [我国未来发展反水雷支援舰的探讨],” Ship Electronic Engineering [舰船电子工程] 39, no. 7 [2019]: 4–6, 112, DOI: 10.3969/j.issn.1672-9730.2019.07.002.

Executive Summary:

• New additions to the Politburo Standing Committee, Central Committee, and Central Military Commission at the 21st Party Congress in 2027 are expected to follow General Secretary Xi Jinping’s agenda, and decisions for promotions will follow cadres’ proven ability to do so rather than any novel ideas they may hold.

• Although Xi will almost certainly stay in power, the Politburo Standing Committee will likely observe the “seven up, eight down” norm, under which members to retire at 68. This would mean a complete overhaul, with the exception of First Vice Premier Ding Xuexiang.

• No cadres have been promoted directly into the Politburo Standing Committee from the Central Committee since Xi himself, so any new members are likely already members of the Politburo. Prospective candidates include Shanghai Party Secretary Chen Jining, vice premiers Liu Guozhong and Zhang Guoqing, Tianjin Party Secretary Chen Min’er, and Head of the CCP Propaganda Department Li Shulei.

• Promotions to the roughly 200-member Central Committee might also provide glimpses of a post-Xi CCP, as members of the so-called “seventh generation” of Party leaders (i.e. those born in the 1970s) begin to accede to this key Party body.

Chinese politics has lapsed into the dull continuum of General Secretary Xi Jinping’s idealized “long rule and perennial stability” (长治久安) (People’s Daily, August 5, 2022). Observers of the People’s Republic of China (PRC) are consequently shifting their gaze to the Chinese Communist Party’s (CCP) 21st National Congress—which is scheduled for some time in October or November 2027—for signs of change. Xi, who first rose to power in 2012, is likely to stay in power after this five-yearly congress. He may remain paramount leader at least until the subsequent congress in 2032, when he will be 79 years old (The Diplomat, February 5).

The capstone political event is also the moment when the Party ushers in a new Central Committee, Politburo, and Politburo Standing Committee (ThinkChina, March 16; Congressional Research Service, April 27). Preparations for personnel changes are likely already underway, with Xi overseeing the whole process. It is not known at this stage who will end up populating the various high-level bodies following the congress, but it is possible to highlight names that are currently circulating and suggest individuals who have a high chance of selection.

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New Standing Committee Will Toe Xi’s Line

Xi is set to dominate personnel movements at the 21st Party Congress much in the same way that he controlled the 20th Party Congress in 2022 (China Leadership Monitor, December 2025). Primary focus will be on changes to the Politburo Standing Committee. In accordance with the Party norm commonly referred to as “seven up, eight down” (七上八下), in which cadres aged 67 and below can remain in office or be promoted, but those who have reached the age of 68 must retire, all incumbents except First Vice Premier Ding Xuexiang (丁薛祥) are set to retire. For example, Premier Li Qiang (李强), second-ranked after Xi on the Politburo Standing Committee, is expected to retire since he will be 68 by the time of the Congress (Storm Media, August 2). This norm has been consistently observed for Politburo Standing Committee members—though not Party leaders—since the 16th Party Congress in 2002 (Ling Li, December 15, 2022). Some commentators, however, speculate that it may not hold at the 21st Party Congress (Wenxue City, May 5). Based on personnel decisions made during the 20th Party Congress in 2022, it appears that the same norms do not apply to either the wider Politburo or the Central Military Commission. [1]

At the upcoming congress, there may be as many as five slots open on the Politburo Standing Committee. Traditionally, this would present an opportunity for Beijing to bring in unfamiliar faces, and maybe even novel governance ideas. Under Xi, however, this is unlikely. Party favorites for potential promotion include eligible members of the incumbent Politburo, which Xi licked into shape at the previous congress, such as Shanghai Party Secretary Chen Jining (陈吉宁), vice premiers Liu Guozhong (刘国中) and Zhang Guoqing (张国清), Tianjin Party Secretary Chen Min’er (陈敏尔), and Head of the CCP Propaganda Department Li Shulei (李书磊) (Wenxue City, May 5). [2] It is unlikely—though not impossible—that anyone will be elevated to the Politburo Standing Committee from outside the current politburo. None have managed this feat in the Xi era, and the last to do so were Xi himself, alongside Li Keqiang (李克强) in 2007.

A number of the CCP’s fast-rising stars are tipped to be inducted to the Central Committee, which consists of roughly 200 members, as well as other important offices. These “seventh generation” (第七代) politicians have typically first gained ministerial or vice-ministerial status under Xi. They include Lu Dongliang (卢东亮), governor of Shanxi Province; Zhuge Yujie (诸葛宇杰), deputy Party secretary of Hubei Province; and Guo Ningning (郭宁宁), deputy Party secretary of Fujian Province. Mainland media have focused on their achievements as factory managers, scientific talents or local-level administrators (South China Morning Post, December 6, 2022; People’s Daily, May 23, 2025; RTI News, April 10). Zhuge and Guo have both long been seen as contenders for high office (Wall Street Journal, October 23, 2022; China Brief, December 16, 2022; CNA, October 16, 2023).

Another rising star, Wei Tao (韦韬), chairman of the Guangxi Autonomous Region, was promoted to full Central Committee membership at the Fourth Plenary Session of the 20th Central Committee in October 2025, along with ten others (Xinhua, October 23, 2025). As a current full Central Committee member, Wei, who was also the vice-governor of Shanxi Province from 2021–2025, has the best potential for promotion. Although none of them has been identified as a potential successor of Xi, one or two of this distinguished group could be inducted into the Politburo at the 21st Party Congress.

The political views of these individuals are less clear, though to remain in power and further gain promotion at the 21st and 22nd Party congresses, these potentates will simply have to continue implementing Xi’s agenda rather than exhibiting any entrepreneurial ability.

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Uncertainty Surrounds Military Leadership

During his third term in power, Xi has overseen a dramatic purge of the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) officer class, with at least 36 generals and lieutenant generals and 65 officers removed, missing, or potentially having fallen into disgrace (CSIS, February 24). This will pose problems at the 21st Party Congress, where roughly 20 percent of CCP central committees traditionally have comprised officers of the PLA or the Party’s paramilitary organization, the People’s Armed Police. It is unclear whether Xi will choose to continue this trend, especially given that he has reduced the Central Military Commission (CMC)—already slimmed down to seven individuals at the last two Party congresses—to just himself as chairman and Zhang Shengmin (张升民) as vice chair: the two previous vice chairs and three of the four members who began their terms in 2022 are now in jail (China Brief, January 26).

Xi’s distrust of the military following the historic purges of recent years may lead him to slow-walk promotions (China Brief, April 16). His decision in early July to promote two lieutenant generals to full generals—with Zhang Shuguang (张曙光) also promoted to Secretary of the CMC Discipline Inspection Commission—suggests he is seeking to balance this caution with the necessity of filling vacant posts in order to maintain his modernization agenda (Xinhua, July 3; China Brief; The Diplomat, July 6).

Conclusion

Uncertainly still clouds the Chinese body politic. While it is almost certain that Xi will remain in power until at least 2032, his constant demands for loyalty, coupled with the persistent purges that indicate those demands remain unheeded, suggest chinks in the supreme leader’s armament.

Any “seventh generation” leaders promoted at the next party congress will have to continue to be faithful implementers of Xi’s policy agenda. Their increased power and relative youthfulness, however, could cast them as key figures in a potential post-Xi PRC, and thus worth keeping an eye on. For the time being, the supreme leader resorting to various means to get rid of those he perceives as his enemies is a factor that could jeopardize the stability and solid control over the polity he seeks in order to maintain the PRC’s pursuit of global preeminence. His power is therefore never absolute.

This article originally appeared in China Brief Notes. Check it out here!

Dr. Willy Wo-Lap Lam is a Senior Fellow at The Jamestown Foundation, and a regular contributor to China Brief.

Notes

[1] Note that retirement norms in the Chinese Party-state are not uniform. In the Central Military Commission (CMC), for instance, vice chairmen can remain on active duty until they are 70 years old but all other senior leaders, including CMC members, service commanders, and theater command commanders must retire at age 65. There are, of course, exceptions that prove the rule (DGI, July 17, 2018; China Brief, January 17, 2025).

[2] Chen Jining is seen as part of the “Tsinghua Clique,” a group of cadres tied to Xi from his time at the university. Chen Min’er, meanwhile, is seen as part of the “Zhejiang Clique”—or “New Zhijiang Army” (之江新军)—a group of cadres who worked with Xi during his time working in the province.

Executive Summary:

• The People’s Republic of China (PRC) enforces many product rules domestically without extending them to goods that leave the country. These cases span distinct ministerial jurisdictions, encompassing fentanyl precursors, flavored e-cigarettes, toxic children’s products, and large language models (LLMs).

• These trades share a similar factual structure. After judging a product as inherently harmful, unsafe above a specific threshold, or useful to the Party-state while detrimental to the public, the government regulates its domestic sale and applies the same rules in full to imports, yet leaves the export virtually unrestricted.

• The first three cases illustrate this regulatory asymmetry. Fentanyl precursors faced strict domestic controls, but kept reaching North America despite Beijing’s capacity to halt them. Flavored e-cigarettes, entirely banned internally, are exported en masse. Children’s goods that fail the PRC’s own safety standards are freely shipped to foreign consumers.

• LLMs present a variant of this structure. While non-PRC models lacking proper regulatory filing cannot lawfully serve PRC users, PRC open-weight models operate abroad without barrier, carrying the Party-state’s censorship and political narratives to global users.

On July 10, the China Securities Regulatory Commission (CSRC) cleared the mainland filing required for Shein’s Hong Kong listing, approving the issuance of up to around 340 million shares (CSRC, July 10). Beijing granted this clearance while the European Commission was investigating the platform for selling childlike sex dolls and other illegal products, and as the Seoul Metropolitan Government ordered the removal of children’s goods from Shein for violating chemical safety limits (European Commission, February 17; Seoul Metropolitan Government, June 30).

The Chinese regime operates an asymmetric model that seeks to prevent valuable resources from leaving its borders while courting the same resources to enter from abroad (China Brief, May 15, June 25, July 11, August 7). The other side of this asymmetry is what Beijing does with products it has already deemed problematic. Current regulations classify products such as fentanyl precursors, flavored e-cigarettes, children’s products containing harmful chemicals, and large language models (LLMs) as inherently harmful, unsafe above a threshold, or politically advantageous to the Party-state despite the public harm they may cause. These classifications underpin restrictions on the domestic sale or consumption of these products, but goods bound for export are not scrutinized in the same way, nor do they face the same rigid restrictions as do imports from overseas.

One consequence of this regulatory asymmetry is that the Party-state permits the seamless export of a number of goods that it actively restricts from its domestic market. These products then become another jurisdiction’s problem.

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Control of Fentanyl Precursors Weaponized

The People’s Republic of China (PRC) enforces comprehensive domestic controls over fentanyl and its precursors. The State Council claims to have scheduled all such substances as early as April 2019, making it “the first country in the world to impose full control” on them (State Council Information Office, March 5, 2025). To close remaining regulatory gaps, six central government departments added 4-anilinopiperidine (4-AP), an early-stage fentanyl precursor; 1-boc-4-AP, its chemically protected form; and norfentanyl, an immediate fentanyl precursor, to the precursor-chemical regulations in August 2024 (Ministry of Emergency Management, August 8, 2024). In July 2025, regulations on the early-stage fentanyl precursor 4-piperidone and its protected derivative, 1-boc-4-piperidone went into effect (Ministry of Commerce [MOFCOM], June 20, 2025). By that point, Beijing had scheduled almost every internationally controlled fentanyl precursor within its borders (International Narcotics Control Board, accessed August 4).

Beijing’s tool for stopping the shipment of precursor chemicals overseas has existed for over 20 years. A 2005 administrative order allows five departments to require entities to apply for a license to export designated chemicals to designated countries. Myanmar and Laos were listed from the start, followed later by Afghanistan, and by 2024, 41 chemicals required licenses for export (Ministry of Justice, August 1, 2005; MOFCOM, April 23, 2024). The United States, Mexico, and Canada remained absent from the regime. Even as international controls tightened, precursors manufactured in the PRC continued flowing uninterrupted to Mexican laboratories supplying the American market (Drug Enforcement Administration, May 15, 2025).

Beijing likely weaponizes export controls as diplomatic leverage. Just 11 days after President Xi Jinping met President Donald Trump at the 2025 Busan summit, five departments finally added the United States, Mexico, and Canada to the list, restricting 13 chemicals from export (MOFCOM, November 10, 2025). A similar pattern emerged following the leaders’ recent meeting in Beijing. Within eight days of the summit, three new chemicals were added to the list (MOFCOM, May 22). The Chinese Party-state possesses decisive control over precursor supply chains and clear knowledge of their lethal end-use. Yet in recent years it has activated enforcement mechanisms only following instances of high-level diplomacy, during which it pursued transactional exchanges.

Flavored E-Cigarette Products Drift Abroad

Chinese regulators announced the “Administrative Measures for E-Cigarettes” (电子烟管理办法) in March 2022, which added certain restrictions on the sale of e-cigarettes domestically (State Tobacco Monopoly Administration, March 11, 2022). Along with a nationwide standard implemented later that year, it prohibited the sale of e-cigarettes to minors and near educational facilities, based on the Law on the Protection of Minors (未成年人保护法), among other restrictions (National Public Service Platform for Standards Information, April 8, 2022).

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Beijing’s regulatory framework for exports appears equally strict. Article 33 of the same Measures provides guidance on e-cigarette products for export, noting that they must conform to the laws, regulations, and standards of destination countries and that PRC laws, regulations, and standards will prevail in instances where such countries have no relevant instruments of their own (State Tobacco Monopoly Administration, March 11, 2022). Regulators can also track the destination of exported devices. A 2023 guideline requires exporters to declare shipments truthfully to customs and to file documentation with the national platform within 30 days of that declaration (MOFCOM, July 18, 2023).

These requirements are not consistently applied, however, judging by available reporting. In 2024, millions of PRC-manufactured e-cigarettes entered the United States illegally. PRC customs officially recorded RMB 26 billion ($3.6 billion) in e-cigarette shipments to the United States. U.S. customs recorded only $333 million arriving, revealing a discrepancy of approximately ninety percent (Reuters, June 23, 2025). This violated U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA) controls on e-cigarettes that until May 2026 barred nearly all flavored devices (there are now 45 e-cigarettes that can be sold lawfully within the United States) (FDA, accessed August 5). As such, it also violated article 33 of the PRC measures, which explicitly requires exporters to comply with destination laws.

The PRC possesses all relevant documents and data necessary to halt such exports, including export declarations, customs records, and tax documents covered under article 33. The market regulator has real enforcement power. Despite evidence supporting faulty exports, however, no enforcement action against exporters appears to have been made public as of August 2026.

Children’s Product Standards Ignore Export Parcels

In 2024, a new domestic standard tightened preexisting restrictions on the presence of harmful chemicals in children’s footwear that had been in place since 2014 (National Public Service Platform for Standards Information, May 28, 2024). [1] The following year, six central government departments launched a three-year campaign on children’s product safety that made reducing excessive levels of phthalates in children’s footwear a priority issue. Regulators routinely sample inventory, impound noncompliant stock, and issue corrective orders (Xinhua, July 25, 2025).

Regulators enforce these standards on domestic sales, but goods sent to overseas buyers fall outside the scope of enforcement. A pair of children’s sandals cut in the same factory from identical materials faces almost no inspection once designated for export. The legal responsibility falls on the exporter, who faces limited accountability from regulators in foreign export markets, and limited oversight from domestic inspection apparatus. Imported children’s goods sold to PRC consumers, by contrast, fall under the same national standards as domestic products. Inspectors in South Korea recently found that five of 21 PRC-made items sold on the platforms Shein, AliExpress, and Temu failed safety standards, including children’s sandals containing phthalates at over 280 times the legal limit (Seoul News Communication, June 30). South Korea caps these chemicals at the same limit set by the PRC. Products like the sandals remain in circulation largely because PRC regulators ignore export parcels. Greenpeace Germany similarly found that 18 of 56 Shein garments tested, including children’s clothing, contained chemicals above the European Union’s legal limits (Greenpeace, November 20, 2025). Although the suspensions of duty-free treatment for low-value parcels have raised the cost of that channel, PRC goods from these platforms continue to flow into American and European households (Federal Register, August 5, 2025; Council of the European Union, December 12, 2025).

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Large Language Models Show Another Side of the Asymmetry

The PRC’s exports of LLMs present a digital variant of this asymmetry. While LLMs are not physical goods, the Party-state is using the dissemination of Chinese LLMs as an opportunity to embed its social governance objectives in a virtual product. The 2023 “Interim Measures for the Administration of Generative Artificial Intelligence Services” (生成式人工智能服务管理暂行办法) bar output harming national unity or social order. The mandate requires providers serving the PRC public to register their models with the regulator (Cyberspace Administration of China, July 13, 2023). Foreign models like ChatGPT, Claude, and Gemini remain unregistered and blocked. Conversely, PRC developers build models like DeepSeek, Kimi, and Qwen to these internal specifications before deploying them globally, which produces measurably different behavior on political questions. [2]

For the Party-state, LLMs are critical in both internal stability maintenance (维稳) and external propaganda activities. Systems built to these specifications carry political biases in line with those of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP), compromising the information environment for any user relying on them. Unfiltered non-PRC models pose a direct threat to this information monopoly, prompting their categorical exclusion from the lives of PRC citizens. For instance, an audit of DeepSeek by researchers at the University of Southern California finds that the model’s internal chain of thought is systematically suppressed or rewritten before the censored answer is sent to the user. [3] By mandating the encoding of political guardrails into the underlying weights, the CCP seeks to ensure censorship prevails even when open-weight models are deployed abroad. At the same time, U.S. models that are not built to comply with the Party’s censorship requirements cannot operate within the PRC, creating an additional point of asymmetry between the two systems.

Conclusion

Beijing knows certain goods harm its people and builds strict domestic controls accordingly. Yet it continues to permit their export, whether through legitimate trade or by failing to restrict the illegal export of harmful goods. In 2009, before taking power, Xi Jinping publicly declared, “First, China does not export revolution; second, it does not export famine and poverty; and third, it does not mess around with you” (中国一不输出革命，二不输出饥饿和贫困，三不去折腾你们) (CCTV, February 13, 2009). The preceding cases suggest that the PRC does “mess around” with its trade partners. While these cases span different bureaucracies and legal regimes, all four share a similar logic. For each product, the state demonstrates its regulatory capacity by enforcing restrictions within its domestic market—a level of control that it does not appear to extend to products bound for export.

Policymakers in destination countries face a trap. Import bans, product recalls, and entity lists merely mitigate the damage of individual products, but they have yet to meaningfully stem inbound flows of these products. This is because PRC policymakers have largely proven unwilling to enforce their own regulations on exporters. Until Beijing proves more willing to enforce its laws on PRC goods irrespective of their target destinations, it will continue to export harmful products to the rest of the world.

This article originally appeared in China Brief. Check it out here!

Christopher Nye is a Non-Resident Fellow at The Jamestown Foundation. He previously served as a Professor and directed a university think tank in China. He holds a Ph.D. in Law and specializes in Chinese legal institutions, elite politics, U.S.-China technology competition, and local governance.

Charles Sun is a China-focused policy analyst specializing in technology governance and the political economy of elite-state relations. He is a Yale Sinovation Fellow at the Yale School of Management and was a visiting fellow at the Shorenstein Asia-Pacific Research Center (APARC), Stanford University. His Stanford research introduced the Proactive Elite Alignment Theory (PEAT) framework for analyzing anticipatory compliance in China’s tech sector. He holds master’s degrees from Stanford University and Columbia University.

Notes

[1] The new standard caps phthalate plasticizers at 0.1 percent by mass, adds two more restricted chemicals, and tightens lead and hexavalent chromium limits.

[2] A comparative study using 145 political questions found PRC-developed models produced significantly higher refusal rates, shorter answers, and lower accuracy compared to foreign counterparts, with gaps narrowing on less sensitive prompts. This isolates intentional ideological design from general technological limits. See Jennifer Pan and Xu Xu, “Political Censorship in Large Language Models Originating from China,” PNAS Nexus 5, no. 2 (February 17, 2026), https://doi.org/10.1093/pnasnexus/pgag013.

[3] See Peiran Qiu, Siyi Zhou, and Emilio Ferrara, “Information Suppression in Large Language Models: Auditing, Quantifying, and Characterizing Censorship in DeepSeek,” Information Sciences 724 (January 2026): 122702, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.ins.2025.122702. The study compares the model’s chain of thought with its published answer and finds the reasoning suppressed or rewritten on sensitive topics rather than simply absent.

Executive Summary:

• Beijing is converging on a “tiered governance” approach to open weight models, under which basic capabilities would be released freely, frontier capabilities would face security review, and the most sensitive models would be confined to only domestic use.

• Support for open weights is a deliberate response to constraints. It offsets a compute deficit that leaves the People’s Republic of China (PRC) roughly two years behind the United States according to leading Chinese AI founders, gives domestic chipmakers a model to optimize against, and exploits the absence of any U.S. legal tools for regulating published weights.

• Open weights serve Beijing’s security priorities, which treat sovereignty and development as core components of its expansive view of national security. Possession of the weights is what allows government, financial, and military users to run models offline on classified data, free from a foreign provider that could cut off access at any time.

On July 16, the People’s Republic of China’s (PRC) artificial intelligence (AI) startup Moonshot AI (月之暗面) released its latest model, Kimi K3. In blind developer testing it beat every rival on a leaderboard for frontend coding (The Decoder, July 16; Tom’s Hardware, July 17). Dean Ball, a former senior policy advisor for AI and emerging technology in the White House who now heads strategic futures at OpenAI, wrote on social media that he was surprised Beijing still allows a model this capable to release with open weights (X/@deanwball, July 17). On July 27, Moonshot uploaded the full weights one day ahead of schedule (Hugging Face, accessed July 30).

A communist party-state that prioritizes control yet tolerates and encourages open weight models may look strange. Beijing’s bet on open weights, however, is part of a national strategy in which supporting open weights acts as a hedge against U.S. computing export bans, widens its domestic AI chip manufacturing ecosystem, and brings PRC technical standards to Global South countries. Beijing has not ignored the security risks that open weight models may have, and may introduce a “tiered governance” (分级管理) framework to balance these risks going forward.

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A Gift to the Global South

At the World Artificial Intelligence Conference (世界人工智能大会) in Shanghai in July, 29 countries signed on as founding members of a new World AI Cooperation Organization (世界人工智能合作组织). Headquartered in Shanghai, this new institution aims to close the “intelligence gap” (智能鸿沟) for developing countries, through a set of promises detailed in Xi’s speech to the conference and an eight-point Action Plan from the National Development and Reform Commission (Belt and Road Portal; Xinhua; NDRC, July 17; China Brief, August 2, 2025, July 22, August 12).

The approach resembles one Beijing took more than a decade ago when it established the Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank (AIIB). As in 2014, Beijing is creating a multilateral institution that will provide resources to support the development of Global South countries before Washington or other geopolitical actors propose an alternative. With the AIIB, the key resource was development finance; with WAICO, the main provision is model access. Unlike the complex processes involved in releasing financing to fund projects, however, this time, the benefits have already been handed over. Downloads of PRC open models surpassed downloads of U.S. models for the first time in 2025, and uptake across Africa and Latin America has been quick (RAND, January 14; MIT Technology Review, April 21). Singapore’s national AI program built a recent model on Alibaba’s Qwen (Reuters, January 24). And Qwen has since spawned more than 100,000 derivatives on Hugging Face, making it the largest model ecosystem on that platform (U.S.-China Economic and Security Review Commission [USCC], March 23).

The PRC’s interest in supporting Global South countries is evident across government documents, media commentary, and academic publications. Along with mentions in both Xi’s speech at the WAIC and the NDRC’s eight-point action plan, the 2023 Global AI Governance Initiative called for “[e]fforts to conduct international cooperation with and provide assistance to developing countries, to bridge the gap in AI and its governance capacity” (面向发展中国家的国际合作与援助，不断弥合智能鸿沟和治理能力差距), and the State Council’s 2025 “AI+” action plan called for “helping Global South countries strengthen their AI capabilities” (帮助全球南方国家加强人工智能能力建设) (Office of the Central Cyberspace Affairs Commission, October 18, 2023; State Council, August 27, 2025). Numerous articles in official media reiterate these points (People’s Daily, August 2, 2025, July 20, July 24).

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One recent academic article is more explicit about the strings that are attached to Beijing’s offer of high-performance open weights models as a form of “digital public good” (数字公共产品). Zhang Huibin (张惠彬), a professor at Southwest University of Political Science and Law (西南政法大学), argues that it will lead countries to “naturally accept the technical standards and governance norms that come with it” (同时自然接受与之配套的技术标准和治理规范). Zhang calls this approach “using technology to carry rules” (以技术带规则) and appreciates that it is “more sustainable and more persuasive than exporting rules on their own” (比单纯的规则输出更具可持续性和说服力) (Zhang and Xu, June 2026). [1]

Open Weights Suit Beijing’s Compute Lag

Beijing is betting on open weights because it lags the United States in terms of computing power. DeepSeek founder Liang Wenfeng (梁文峰) told investors in May that the PRC has only five percent of U.S. compute, a gap that puts it two years behind (Github, accessed August 1). Tang Jie (唐杰), a cofounder of Zhipu AI (智谱; also known as Z.ai), has made a similar point, stating that the gap between PRC and American large models in terms of both performance and compute may not have narrowed at all (PEdaily, January 11). In terms of capital expenditure, that gap may even be widening: the four largest U.S. technology companies spent at least $350 billion on AI in 2025, while their Chinese counterparts together invested under $40 billion (USCC, March 23).

Beijing cannot pile up hardware in the way its peer competitor does, so it compensates in software, releasing its models and letting developers around the world improve them. This offsets some of the U.S. export controls on advanced AI chips. Zheng Xiaolong (郑晓龙) of the Chinese Academy of Sciences describes the result as a PRC path in which “the government sets the stage, the market operates, and research does the heavy lifting” (政府搭台，市场运作，科研攻坚), securing technological autonomy while activating a global innovation network via an open-source community (People’s Tribune, June 18, 2025).

Open weights can also solve problems for PRC domestic AI chips. Liang says that domestic products are “rapidly dismantling” (快速瓦解) the moat Nvidia’s CUDA ecosystem has been able to maintain until now, though production capacity remains a constraint, with four Huawei chips needed to match the capability of a single Nvidia one (Github, accessed August 1). When the weights are published, domestic chipmakers can optimize for the model directly, which decouples software from hardware. Washington can control exports of advanced chips, but it cannot impact the software ecosystem growing around PRC chips.

Washington currently has no legal tool for controlling model weights. The Framework for Artificial Intelligence Diffusion, issued in January 2025, imposed a worldwide licensing requirement on the weights of advanced closed-weight models while leaving models whose weights had been published untouched (Federal Register, January 15, 2025). The rule was rescinded two days before it was due to take effect, however, and no alternative has appeared to replace it (Akin, May 16, 2025). PRC legal scholars have noticed. In their view, uploading weights to platforms like Hugging Face now still counts as publishing the weights under U.S. laws, which permits PRC models to “spread around the world without and barriers and become a source of technological spillover that the American regulatory system finds hard to block” (能够在全球范围内无障碍扩散，成为美国监管体系中难以堵截的科技溢出源) (Zhang and Xu, June 2026). [2]

Even without a push from Beijing, PRC firms have their own reasons to go with open weights. Li Zixuan (李子玄), Director of Product and genAI Strategy at Zhipu, says the company’s flagship model was closed-source in 2024, but the release of DeepSeek’s R1 model led to a change in the Zhipu leadership’s mindset. He said in an interview that “[w]e realized that you can be really famous for open sourcing your model while getting some business return through API or other collaborations. You need to expand the cake first and then take a bite of it.” He added that the choice also involves gaining trust. As a PRC company, he says, Zhipu has to be open or it will not get into the American market at all, since “people just don’t accept your API” (ChinaTalk, November 21, 2025). [3]

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Tiered Approach to Balance Security and Development Goals

On face value, releasing open weights models still appears antithetical to the aims of an authoritarian regime. Once the weights are published they cannot be recalled, and after the files have been modified and passed along, neither the developer nor the regulator can see where they went. PRC scholars recognize this. Gu Lingyun (辜凌云) of Beijing University’s School of Intelligence Science and Technology voiced the same worry at a roundtable convened in May by the Intellectual Property Court of the Supreme People’s Court (PRC Supreme Court, May 24).

Resolving this apparent contradiction requires understanding Beijing’s conception of security, which is expansive and its deeply integrated with development and sovereignty (Wang, 2022). [4] At the same roundtable, Gu Lingyun described open weights in the PRC as “digital infrastructure carrying implications for sovereignty” (具有主权意涵的数字基础设施) (PRC Supreme Court, May 24). Relying on foreign closed models means handing critical systems over to an external black box. Data leaves the country, oversight is impossible, and users are vulnerable to the model’s proprietor who can cut off service at any time. Switching to a domestic closed model solves the first two of these challenges, but not the third (Zhang and Xu, June 2026). [5] For Beijing, only possession of the weights allows the government, finance, and military to deploy models entirely offline and to test and fine-tune on classified data. Viewed in this way, open weights align with Beijing’s national security priorities perfectly well.

The current scale of the PRC’s most advanced models also means that publishing the weights changes little, according to a senior machine learning engineer at Zhipu (Author’s interview, July 17). This is because most people lack the compute to deploy the models at any scale that would threaten PRC national security, and the one actor with that capacity, the United States, already fields stronger models of its own.

Beijing has not left open weight models entirely uncontrolled. Several prominent experts have argued in recent years for tiered and classified regulation, including Zhang Huibin, Zhou Hui (周辉) of the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences, who led the drafting group for the Model Law on Artificial Intelligence (人工智能示范法); and Zhang Linghan (张凌寒), director of the Institute of AI Law at China University of Political Science and Law. [6] Some scholars, such as Huang Li (黄丽), go further. In research supported by a major National Social Science Fund project, Huang calls for the government to create a negative list for open-sourcing models that carry national security risks, under which any model whose weights could be used to work out how to synthesize the components of biological or chemical weapons, or whose published parameters could be used to find system vulnerabilities, should be barred from publishing weights (Huang, 2026). [7]

The idea of a tiered classification system is beginning to gain traction. At the Supreme People’s Court roundtable mentioned above, Chen Bing (陈兵) of Nankai University proposed a three-tier scheme of controls. Under Chen’s proposal, basic and general-purpose open-source technology would be handled through a regulatory filing process; strategic and frontier open-source technology would face substantive export controls and be required to undergo security assessment; and core technology bearing on national security would in principle not be open-sourced at all, or would be opened only in a limited way within a strictly controlled scope (PRC Supreme Court, May 24). By late July this logic was being explained to ordinary audiences nationwide by Yuyuan Tantian (玉渊谭天), a commentary account run by CCTV (Sina Finance, July 27).

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Conclusion

Beijing’s choice for supporting open-weight models is a calculated strategy. Its domestic chips need real applications to mature, and its main competitor, the United States, has no good instrument now for controlling weights. Security concerns have not yet altered this decision, because Beijing’s view of security places importance on sovereignty and development, which open-weight models currently support. What risk remains is likely to be handled by a tiered regulatory system. For now, such as system remains a conversation among legal scholars and in the Party’s mouthpiece, but it appears to be gaining support. Although it has not yet made its way into legislation, the Ministry of Commerce has already convened Alibaba, ByteDance, and Zhipu to discuss limits on the most advanced models, and officials at those meetings raised the idea of treating the leakage or theft of AI technology as an offence under the National Security Law (Reuters, July 7).

This article originally appeared in China Brief. Check it out here!

Sunny Cheung is a Fellow for China Studies at The Jamestown Foundation.

Shijie Wang is a Deputy Editor for China Brief.

Notes

[1] Zhang Huibin [张惠彬] and Xu Lei [许蕾], “ From Open-Source Code to Open Weights: The Logical Evolution of Large Model Weight Opening and China’s Regulatory Approach [从代码开源到权重开放：大模型权重开放的逻辑变迁与中国规制路径],” Journal of University of Electronic Science and Technology of China (Social Sciences Edition) [电子科技大学学报（社科版）] 28, no. 3 (June 2026): 43–54, https://doi.org/10.14071/j.1008-8105(2026)-3007.

[2] Ibid. These views from PRC legal scholars all date from the first half of this year. By July, the discussion in Washington had shifted toward banning open-weight models by country of origin and requiring country-of-origin labeling (see Tech Startups, July 22); Supra 1.

[3] However, open weights are not yet a consensus position inside PRC technology elites. ByteDance keeps its Doubao (豆包) models closed. Alibaba has open-sourced most of the Qwen family while holding Qwen 3 Max back as a closed model sold through its API. PRC media described a disagreement inside Alibaba in January 2026, with the technical team arguing for releasing weights in full and management placing more weight on API revenue, a split that may have contributed to the departure of then Alibaba Cloud CTO Zhou Jingren (周靖人) (The Paper, January 30).

[4] Wang, Howard. 2023. “‘Security Is a Prerequisite for Development’: Consensus-Building toward a New Top Priority in the Chinese Communist Party.” Journal of Contemporary China 32 (142): 525–39. doi:10.1080/10670564.2022.2108681.

[5] Supra [1].

[6] The Model Law on Artificial Intelligence is a product of independent research at the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences instead of a legislative text drafted at the request of the NPC Standing Committee or the State Council. It came out of a major research project at the academy, “A Survey of the State of Ethical Review and Regulatory Institution Building for Artificial Intelligence in China” (中国人工智能伦理审查和监管制度建设状况调研). Its full title has always carried the words “expert draft for suggestions” (专家建议稿), and it is positioned as a reference for future legislation (see China Law Net, September 7, 2023; 21st Century Business Herald, April 16, 2024). Zhou Hui [周辉], “Legal Governance of Open-Source Artificial Intelligence Models [开源人工智能模型的法律治理],” Journal of Shanghai Jiao Tong University (Philosophy and Social Sciences) [上海交通大学学报（哲学社会科学版）] 32, no. 8 (2024): 18–33; Zhang Linghan [张凌寒] and He Jiaxin [何佳欣], “Legal Safeguards for Responsible Innovation in Open-Source Artificial Intelligence [开源人工智能负责任创新的法律保障],” Law-Based Society [法治社会], no. 3 (2025): 32–48; Zhang and Xu, “From Open-Source Code to Open Weights,” 50–51.

[7] Huang Li [黄丽], “ Uncertainty Risk Governance of Open Source Large Models [开源大模型的不确定风险治理],” Science and Technology Management Research [科技管理研究], no. 9 (2026): 181–189.

Executive Summary:

• In the People’s Republic of China (PRC), cultural security is one element among 20 that constitute comprehensive national security. Advancing cultural security is therefore critical to ensuring Party and state security.

• The Ethnic Unity Law is the Party-state’s latest attempt to codify and internationalize “cultural security” as a critical component of the primacy of regime security.

• While the Ethnic Unity Law is the most recent example, other laws that relate to cultural security, such as the Cybersecurity Law and Anti-Foreign Sanctions Law, also maintain an extraterritorial reach.

• Cultural security guides the PRC’s foreign policy more broadly, justifying Beijing’s competition with the West. This pattern emerges in Chinese sources as well as through Beijing’s inclusion of cultural security concepts in bilateral agreements and UN resolutions.

In late July, the Shanghai Cooperation Organization convened in Kyrgyzstan for its annual Foreign Ministers’ Council Meeting. A report by the Xinhua Research Institute published following the summit stated that the multilateral institution “will continue to expand the scope of security cooperation by placing greater emphasis on cooperation in such nontraditional security fields as climate change, energy security, food security, cybersecurity, ecological security, digital security, and cultural security” (上合组织将继续拓展安全合作领域，重视气候变化、能源安全、粮食安全、网络安全、生态安全、数字安全、文化安全等非传统安全领域合作) (Xinhua, July 27, [a], [b]). This apparent endorsement by other countries of Beijing’s sprawling conception of security—and of cultural security in particular—is key to its efforts to ensure its own national security by shaping norms, laws, and behavior beyond its borders.

The Law of the People’s Republic of China on Promoting Ethnic Unity and Progress (Ethnic Unity Law), which took effect on July 1, represents another attempt to ensure Beijing’s broader security (Xinhua, March 12). [1] The law combines and codifies years of policy and practice concerning ethnic minority groups, notably in Xinjiang and Tibet, but also throughout the PRC more broadly. The law’s potential impact on the rights of ethnic minority groups and its extraterritorial reach represent a further step in the internationalization of the PRC’s cultural security, which it executes through a mutually reinforcing blend of law, statecraft, and multilateral diplomacy. This has significant implications for the domestic security and diplomatic influence of democracies, as Beijing more confidently pursues its cultural security agenda across multilateral organizations to strengthen support for its preferred international norms, and limit scope for international criticism.

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Cultural Security Within ‘Comprehensive National Security’

Cultural security is just one of more than 20 components of General Secretary Xi Jinping’s concept of “comprehensive” (总体) national security, of which political (i.e. regime) security is paramount. The concept’s components, which combine traditional and non-traditional domains and approaches, are closely interrelated and overlapping. For example, cultural security and cybersecurity both address concerns around online narratives about the PRC (Xinhua, April 15, 2015; Liu and Liu, November 18, 2024; National Data Center, April 15). [2] Party literature equates cultural security to both national security (because culture is the “soul” (灵魂) of the Chinese nation) and ideological security (because cultural integrity is guaranteed by faithful adherence to CCP ideology—in particular, Xi Jinping Thought on Culture) (Qiushi, July 18, 2022, January 3, 2025). Its central importance to the Party is underscored in fears over “cultural nihilism” (文化虚无主义), through which Western cultural influence (and a lack of Chinese cultural confidence) threatens the Party’s political survival by undermining Chinese civilization (China Brief, March 28, 2025).

Article 23 of China’s 2015 National Security Law provides a legal grounding for cultural security, identifying socialist culture and values, traditional Chinese cultures, resilience against “negative” (不良) cultural influences, and ensuring the ideological and cultural dominance of the state (National People’s Congress [NPC], July 1, 2015). The new Ethnic Unity Law, which contains 44 mentions of “culture,” extends that legal grounding to encompass perceived violations of ethnic unity, as the Party defines it (PRC Supreme People’s Procuratorate [SPP], March 13). Article 63 of the law extends Beijing’s overseas reach to include foreign actors it perceives to foment ethnic disunity and, by extension, undermine the PRC’s social stability and national security (Central Government, July 1, 2015).

Translated into policy, cultural security operates on the basis of these laws both internally and externally—since the early 2000s, the Party has used cultural security to “occupy the battleground of the media” and “to resist Western hostile forces’ cultural colonial expansion” (PLA Daily, December 13, 2000). [3] Internally, it ensures people of all backgrounds prioritize allegiance to the “Chinese nation” (中华民族) and state above other aspects of identity, and to prevent the dissemination of incorrect thought and foreign interference that could undermine ideological security. Guidance published on the 2026 Ethnic Unity Law refers to the concept of the “Chinese nation,” first introduced through a constitutional amendment in 2018, as a superseding organizing principle around which members of all ethnic groups should cohere; it is a Han-centric and exclusive definition of what it constitutes to be “Chinese” (Ethnic Affairs Commission, May 25).

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The aim of these policies is to insulate the PRC and the CCP against unwanted influences that could foment greater threats to national security, such as separatism and terrorism, as well as anything that may undermine the Party’s ideological authority. In practice, it involves managing ethnic relations, cultural heritage, and national identity issues, as well as controlling information to ensure ideological security. Examples include the widespread detention and “reeducation” of members of ethnic minority groups, and calls from top-level Chinese officials, notably Xi Jinping, for the “Sinicization” (中国化) of religion, calling for religious groups in the PRC to adopt Chinese and socialist principles and safeguard national security (Taiwan Work Office of the CPC Central Committee, December 6, 2021; Xinjiang Police Files, accessed August 11). Overseas, this means silencing diaspora activists and organizations that contradict the Party’s narratives and priorities. Given how the Party defines cultural security, it is unsurprising that it treats overseas dissent and criticism in the same way as sanctions, cyberattacks, and espionage.

Externalizing Security Through Law

The Ethnic Unity Law has taken effect amid a wider effort by Beijing to internationalize its national security priorities by introducing extraterritorial clauses into largely domestic-facing laws. Article 63 of the law states that foreign institutions and individuals whom Beijing judges to be undermining ethnic unity shall be held legally responsible (SPP, March 13). This aligns with other recent laws that have sought to strengthen the Chinese authorities’ capabilities to enforce security priorities overseas and specifically account for entities perceived to work against PRC national security and interests. One prominent example is the Cybersecurity Law, Article 77 of which empowers authorities to pursue overseas actors for actions deemed harmful to cybersecurity (NPC, December 29, 2025). This law also closely touches on cultural security: article 13 prohibits any individual or organization from creating or propagating information that undermines national unity or disrupts social order.

The PRC previously pursued its security priorities overseas largely through the Anti-Foreign Sanctions Law, which has been used widely to prosecute overseas critics. A notable example is the 2023 sanctioning of the U.S. intelligence firm Kharon and its researchers, which were designated due to their work on Xinjiang, with the sanctions framed in part as a response to the U.S. spreading “false stories” (虚假叙事) about Xinjiang intended to “smear and defame” (污蔑抹黑) the PRC (Ministry of Foreign Affairs, December 26, 2024). While delivered under the PRC’s sanctions regime, this case illustrates Beijing’s willingness to penalize actors it considers to be spreading information contrary to its own narratives and harmful to its ethnic policy.

Such cases demonstrate precedent for the extraterritorial pursuit of those deemed to harm the PRC’s cultural security. The growing raft of extraterritorial laws will increasingly empower authorities with both the legal framework and capacity to enforce the PRC’s comprehensive national security concept and pursue its cultural security priorities through both formal and unofficial channels.

Cultural Security Goes Global

The Ethnic Unity Law has brought cultural security into the PRC’s suite of extraterritorial laws, but it also sits within a much broader strategy of externalizing Beijing’s cultural security. Given that cultural security focuses heavily on limiting the proliferation of external ideas and influences, it has driven much of Beijing’s policy in recent years intended to weaken the ability of democracies to criticize it. The online and offline influence operations and united front work through which Beijing pursues these objectives within democracies, as well as its transnational repression to control its critics, are well-documented (The Jamestown Foundation, January 12, 2025, February 11, March 6). These unofficial approaches continue amid an increasingly formalized strategy to build international support for cultural security.

Xi Jinping’s Global Civilization Initiative (GCI) is the primary vehicle through which the PRC is attempting to internationalize cultural security norms through diplomatic means. An official Party publication states that the GCI provides the “ideological foundation” (思想基础) for different countries to achieve cultural security (Feng Yangli, September 10, 2025). [4] It is also an instrument of the PRC’s “discourse power” (话语权) that Beijing uses to undermine the position of the United States, the West, and a universalist conception of human rights (China Brief, January 6). As the head of the China Media Group said in 2023 following the official promulgation of Xi Jinping Thought on Culture, the PRC must “win the international public opinion and cognitive wars” (South China Morning Post, October 15, 2023; China Brief, October 20, 2023). These efforts also include funding cultural protection and restoration projects in other countries, with the express intent of promoting the PRC as a guarantor of cultural security and supplanting what the CCP perceives to be Western ideological hegemony (Xing & Yan, July 31, 2024). [5]

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Beijing has achieved some success operationalizing the concept. For instance, it managed to pass a resolution based on the GCI at the United Nations General Assembly in 2024 (Permanent Mission of the PRC to the UN, June 7, 2024). It also deploys civilizational language in bilateral engagements, which surfaces in the text of bilateral agreements, such as a recent joint statement in which Serbia endorsed all four of Beijing’s global initiatives (Embassy of the PRC in the Kingdom of Norway, May 25). Chinese officials often encourage foreign representatives and officials to think of China as a civilization, rather than a country (Author’s interview, July 2026). This framing suggests an effort to promote the idea that the standards expected of a regular state should not be applied to the PRC, and that its actions should be perceived as serving an entire culture or segment of humanity organized within a unit higher than that of a single country. This language extends to Beijing’s international engagement. Xi Jinping’s recent speeches have been laden with language referring to relationships between civilizations, rather than states (Qiushi, October 15, 2025). The objective, in part, is to quell attempts by external actors to interfere with the PRC’s internal affairs by entrenching non-interference as a more concrete international norm.

Such efforts bolster the PRC’s long-term efforts to build a stronger consensus for non-interference in internal affairs. These efforts are visible in the language of Chinese officials, who have argued that asserting extraterritorial jurisdiction against foreign entities working against PRC interests is a normal legislative practice consistent with the basic principles of international law (State Council Information Office, June 26). For Beijing, the apparent contradiction in invoking principles of non-interference and sovereignty to justify extraterritorial enforcement is not accidental, as it views prosecution of overseas critics as legitimate, defensive actions against threats to its cultural—and therefore domestic national—security.

Conclusion

The recent passing of the Ethnic Unity Law means there have not yet been any visible, public cases of its extraterritorial clauses being applied, but other cases illustrate that Beijing can and will seek to invoke and enforce the global aspects of its laws. The extraterritorial clauses within the Ethnic Unity Law therefore signal a clearer intent and confidence by Beijing to pursue its cultural security priorities abroad. While Beijing has strong precedent for sanctioning its critics, the growing trend of extraterritoriality means that a much more proactive approach may be taken, including sanctions, trials in absentia, extradition, and the use of international crime cooperation channels. At the same time, Beijing’s wider cultural security strategy to build consensus against criticism may mean that, internationally, the pursuit of critics overseas is increasingly seen as normal and justified.

This article originally appeared in China Brief. Check it out here!

James Jennion is a British foreign policy analyst. He began his career advising the UK Foreign Affairs Committee on China and Indo-Pacific policy, and has since worked for and with a range of international organizations including Amnesty International, the International Rescue Committee, and the OSCE. He is an Associate Fellow of the British Foreign Policy Group and a Research Associate of the China Strategic Risks Institute. He writes in an individual capacity.

Notes

[1] China Brief has previously covered various aspects of the law (China Brief, March 27, April 2, May 6, May 15).

[2] Liu Yuejin [刘跃进] and Liu Liming [刘黎明], “What National Security Includes and Does Not Include [国家安全包括什么不包括什么],” Journal of the Central Party School (National Academy of Governance) [中共中央党校（国家行政学院）学报] 28, no. 4 (2024): 98–107.

[3] Kong Lingtong and Luo Xiaobing, “Discuss National Security Strategy Realities [研讨国家安全战略的现实问题],” PLA Daily archive, December 13, 2000. Cited in Samantha Hoffman, China’s Mobilization State, The Jamestown Foundation, 2026 (forthcoming), p. 165.

[4] Feng Yangli [冯颜利], “The contemporary value and global significance of the Global Civilization Initiative [全球文明倡议的时代价值与世界意义],” Contemporary World [当代世界], 2025(8).

[5] Xing Lijuan [邢丽菊], Yan Chuanruolan [鄢传若斓] “Chinese Cultural Security and Path in View of Changes Unseen in a Century [百年变局视域下的中国文化安全与路径].” Modern International Relations [现代国际关系], 2024(7).

Executive Summary:

● Lithuania faces sustained Russian hybrid pressure that blends cyber, informational, economic, and kinetic tactics. This alters peacetime assumptions and makes resilience, infrastructure protection, and rapid decision-making core defense priorities.

● The Nordic-Baltic region is becoming a central arena of European security regardless of the war’s outcome, making stronger regional cooperation, sustained support for Ukraine, military readiness, and faster institutional adaptation essential to credible deterrence.

● Building a layered defense around immediate national resistance, rapid regional reinforcement, and North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) and European capabilities will help Lithuania prepare for a Russian threat.

● Lessons from Ukraine, including the acceleration of counter-drone systems, defense production, mobilization, and infrastructure resilience, are essential to preparing Lithuania for potential conflict with Russia.

● Lithuania’s security depends less on individual capabilities than on creating an integrated defense ecosystem linking military forces, government, businesses, infrastructure, and civil society—and adapting faster than Russia’s evolving threats.

Lithuania’s security environment has fundamentally changed over the past decade. Public and institutional thinking, however, has not fully adapted. Lithuania is no longer operating in peacetime. Alongside sustained Russian rhetoric about a future conventional invasion, Lithuania is already facing an ongoing hostile campaign below the threshold of open conflict, eroding the distinction between peace and war.^[1]

Those actions go beyond traditional hybrid tools such as disinformation or cyber operations. They are combining informational, psychological, economic, and physical pressure, including sabotage, disruptions of critical infrastructure, Global Positioning System (GPS) interference, drone incursions, instrumentalized migration, and influence operations. In essence, the Baltics are being tested across multiple domains simultaneously, with Russia operating according to wartime logic by probing vulnerabilities, measuring response times, and assessing political will.^[2]

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Challenges for Lithuania’s Defense

The key challenge is getting Lithuania to fully recognize the nature of the threat from Russia. Much of the state and society still interpret Russian hybrid warfare through a peacetime lens, creating a dangerous mismatch with Russia’s logic of long-term confrontation.

Russia’s objective is not likely the immediate seizure of Lithuanian territory. Its strategy is incremental, aimed at weakening target states internally—politically, psychologically, and institutionally—before any overt military phase.^[3] In this sense, the initial real target is the state’s ability to function and society’s resilience.

Hybrid warfare is also becoming more kinetic. Across the Baltic region, this is visible in cable damage, sabotage, GPS disruption, and drone activity.^[4] The grey zone is no longer abstract—it produces tangible economic and societal effects.

Drones are a particularly important emerging factor. In general, low-altitude airspace is becoming a contested domain where civilian and military security overlap. Traditional air defense systems—which, in Lithuania, are still in development—are not optimized for small drones, and institutional responsibilities remain fragmented.^[5] This exposes a critical vulnerability in Lithuania’s defense posture.

Beyond the military dimension, critical infrastructure has become a central battlefield. Energy, communications, logistics, ports, data cables, water and food systems, and emergency services are high-value targets whose disruption can rapidly undermine civilian life and military readiness.^[6]

The informational dimension remains equally important but is continuously insufficiently addressed. Russia seeks to generate panic, erode trust in allies, diminish support for Ukraine, and promote narratives of inevitability and weakness.

Another structural issue is the gap between the concept of “total defense” and its practical implementation. Questions remain about whether citizens, reserves, businesses, and critical sectors are ready to act in synchronization in the first hours of a crisis.^[7]

Lithuania’s vulnerability lies both in its military capabilities and in the speed of decision-making. Delays, bureaucratic inertia, and slow transitions from analysis to action can be more damaging than specific capability gaps.

Lithuania faces a security environment in which the boundaries between war and peace, the military and civilian domains, and physical and informational threats are blurred. The core challenge is to adapt thinking, accelerate decision-making, and align the state, the private sector, and society with the realities of modern conflict.

Long-term impact on Nordic-Baltic security

The long-term security outlook for the Nordic-Baltic region is shaped by three scenarios: a prolonged war in Ukraine or an end to the war on terms broadly favorable to either Russia or Ukraine. All point to one reality: the Baltic Sea region is becoming central to European security—both as a shield and a frontline of Russian pressure.^[8]

A prolonged war in Ukraine creates a strategic paradox. It eventually gives the region time to strengthen its military posture by building ammunition stocks, improving mobility, further integrating Finland and Sweden into the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), and expanding air and missile defense. At the same time, it risks strategic fatigue across Europe, weakening political focus, straining budgets, and eroding public support. The region is becoming more resilient, but resilience alone is insufficient without sustained leadership.^[9]

In this prolonged war scenario, Russia is likely to intensify hybrid pressure to continue testing NATO cohesion and exploit the gap between the speed of threat evolution and institutional response. This exposes a broader structural issue. Europe’s defense adaptation remains too slow, with industrial scale yet to grow, delayed procurement, and insufficient deployment of key capabilities.

If Russia were defeated, the immediate conventional threat would diminish, but not disappear. Russia would most probably retain an imperialist appetite, intelligence, cyber, and influence capabilities, shifting the threat toward hybrid pressure, internal instability, and spillover risks rather than direct military confrontation.^{[10] [11]} Simultaneously, a weakened Russia could create a longer-term opportunity if internal transformation occurs, though this remains uncertain and dependent on developments inside Russia.^[12]

A Ukrainian defeat would have the most severe consequences. It would validate Russian coercion, weaken Western credibility, and likely embolden further escalation.^[13] Pressure on the Nordic-Baltic region would intensify through cyberattacks, disinformation, sabotage, and weaponized migration. At the same time, vulnerabilities such as Baltic Sea infrastructure, Estonia’s Narva, and the Suwałki corridor would become focal points of strategic pressure.

Across all scenarios, the Baltic Sea region is emerging as a central arena of strategic competition. NATO has already adapted by strengthening the eastern flank and integrating Finland and Sweden, but the fundamental challenge remains the mismatch between fast-moving threats and slower institutional response.

For the Nordic-Baltic region, long-term security will depend on stronger capabilities alongside strategic coherence, faster decision-making, deeper regional cooperation, and sustained support for Ukraine. Nevertheless, the region is no longer NATO’s weakest link—it is becoming one of its most important pillars and one of its most exposed.^[14]

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A Weakened Russia Could Work to Lithuania’s Advantage

A weakened Russia does not automatically make Lithuania safer. It creates a temporary strategic window that can either be turned into long-term security gains or wasted. Russian weakness would not be permanent. It is a transitional phase that benefits those who act quickly.

Historically, Lithuania has advanced most when Russia was weakened or internally constrained. Regained independence in 1918 and again in 1990–1991, as well as NATO accession in 2002–2004, all of which occurred during periods when Russia was unable to resist effectively. This shows a consistent pattern in which strategic opportunities emerge when Russia is distracted or weakened.

A weaker Russia can only temporarily reduce the conventional military threat. Degraded forces, limited equipment, and logistical constraints may lower the risk of large-scale aggression. This advantage, however, is not self-sustaining. If Lithuania and Europe fail to strengthen defense and resilience during this period, Russia’s capabilities can recover. The key factor is not Russia’s weakness itself, but how it is used.

Lithuania, together with allies, has a clear path to turn this situation into a long-term advantage. First, continued energy decoupling will eliminate Russian leverage.^[15] Second, strengthened transport and military mobility will ensure rapid reinforcement and resilient logistics. Third, a sustained allied military presence would turn temporary deployments into long-term deterrence.

Lithuania can shape the broader environment by supporting sanctions and export controls to limit Russia’s military recovery. It can also promote democratic initiatives, independent media, and historical awareness related to Russia, contributing to long-term change. Strengthening a post-imperial regional vision—based on sovereignty and rules rather than spheres of influence—remains equally important.

A weakened Russia may become more active in hybrid warfare. While conventional capabilities may decline, activities such as cyberattacks, sabotage, disinformation, and covert influence could intensify. Border pressure, including the instrumentalization of migration and infrastructure disruption, may increase. The threat becomes less visible but more persistent and harder to attribute. This creates a dual reality. There would be a lower risk of immediate large-scale invasion, but a higher intensity of grey-zone conflict.

The main risk is misinterpreting Russian weakness as lasting stability. Historically, periods of weakness have been followed by recovery and renewed assertiveness.^[16] If Europe reduces vigilance or defense efforts, the opportunity may be lost. If, however, Lithuania and its allies strengthen deterrence, infrastructure protection, and political unity, they can shift the balance more permanently.

The key question is not whether Russia weakens. It is whether Lithuania and its allies act decisively while it does. A weakened Russia offers a rare chance to reinforce security and shape the regional order, but only if used quickly and effectively. Otherwise, it may become just a pause before the next confrontation.

Implications for the Transatlantic Community and Lithuania’s Likely Paths

Russia’s war against Ukraine has become a central test for the transatlantic community. It is no longer just a regional conflict, but a systemic question of whether the United States and Europe can turn their combined power into effective strategic outcomes. For Lithuania, the result will directly shape its security, deterrence credibility, and the future European order.

At its core, war tests transatlantic credibility. While large-scale support for Ukraine shows strong capacity, delays, fragmented procurement, and uneven burden-sharing reveal structural weaknesses. The key issue is whether the transatlantic community can sustain long-term commitment and achieve tangible results.

For Lithuania, the stakes are high. A weak Western outcome would embolden Russia and undermine deterrence on NATO’s eastern flank. A strong outcome based on a rules-based order would reinforce regional security and Lithuania’s position.

The war is also reshaping the transatlantic balance. Lithuania follows a dual approach of maintaining strong U.S. engagement while supporting a stronger European defense role.^[17] The United States remains essential for deterrence, intelligence, and advanced capabilities. At the same time, Lithuania is investing in European defense by taking on greater responsibility through higher defense spending, stronger industry, improved mobility, and deeper regional cooperation, especially within the Nordic-Baltic-Polish framework.^{[18] [19] [20]}

Ukraine has also broadened the concept of security. Modern defense now includes energy resilience, cybersecurity, protection of critical infrastructure, industrial capacity, and the use of emerging technologies such as drones. Societal resilience, the ability to endure and function under pressure, has become equally important. Lithuania is promoting this integrated understanding of security within NATO and the European Union.

Lithuania’s priorities are clear. First, it continues strong support for Ukraine as a direct investment in its own security.^[21] Second, it works to keep the United States deeply engaged in Europe.^[22] Third, it strengthens regional defense cooperation with Nordic, Baltic, and Polish partners.^[23] Fourth, Lithuania supports expanding European defense production, recognizing that industrial capacity is critical to sustained military effectiveness. Fifth, it invests in resilience against hybrid threats, including cyber defense, disinformation, and infrastructure protection.^[24] Finally, it reduces vulnerabilities in key sectors such as energy, logistics, and communications.

Overall, Lithuania is positioning itself not only as a security consumer but as an active contributor to transatlantic strategy. The war has accelerated this shift, reinforcing the need for proactive engagement and strategic clarity.^[25]

In this sense, Russia’s war against Ukraine is not just a deep crisis, but a defining moment. It will determine whether the transatlantic community can adapt to a new security environment and whether Lithuania can secure its place within a stronger and more resilient system.

Lithuania’s Options in the Case of Delayed or Insufficient NATO Response

NATO’s collective defense remains central to Lithuania’s security.^[26] Planning, however, will need to consider scenarios in which its response is delayed or insufficient. In such cases, security would depend on pre-prepared national and regional measures capable of functioning under pressure.

If NATO’s response is delayed, Lithuania’s first line of defense is immediate national resistance. The aim would not be a decisive victory alone, but to prevent a rapid fait accompli, maintain state continuity, and buy time for allied support. This requires rapid mobilization, the use of pre-prepared defensive positions and engineering obstacles, and resilient command structures that can operate under disruption. Civil resistance would also play a key role, making the country harder to subdue and strengthening deterrence.^[27]

In the early phase, the most immediate external support would likely come from regional partners. Poland, the Nordic-Baltic states, and the U.K.-led Joint Expeditionary Force (JEF) could provide faster military and logistical assistance due to geographic proximity. The German contingent would play a more dominant role in the absence of a NATO response.^[28] Existing regional cooperation focused on mobility, interoperability, and joint planning would become critical. Air defense coordination, Baltic Sea security, and the protection of transport routes would be central tasks.^[29]

If NATO underperformance became a longer-term pattern, Lithuania would need to strengthen European and regional defense structures. This would not replace NATO but complement it through deeper defense industry integration, increased stockpiles, higher readiness, and stronger bilateral partnerships, especially with Germany and Poland. The deployment of the German brigade in Lithuania already reflects this shift toward a more permanent allied presence.^[30]

At the regional level, a more defined Nordic-Baltic defense framework could enhance coordination, align threat perceptions, and enable faster decision-making during crises.

All these options depend on preparation before a crisis. An effective response requires sufficient ammunition, resilient infrastructure, reliable mobilization systems, and robust command and cyber capabilities. Societal preparedness is equally important. Civil protection, public awareness, and the ability to function under stress are key elements of total defense. Lithuania has already taken steps in this direction, including increased defense spending and a stronger focus on mobilization and civil resilience.^[31]

Uncertainty about NATO’s response underscores the importance of national and regional capacity. Lithuania’s defense must be layered—national resistance for immediate response, regional cooperation for rapid reinforcement, and European integration for long-term strength.

Lithuania Adjusts to New Threats

Lithuania’s adaptation to evolving warfare has been uneven and instructive. It has developed a relatively strong practical model for resilience, yet remains in a transitional phase in drone warfare and low-altitude threats. The key question is no longer whether Lithuania is adapting, but whether it is doing so fast enough and with sufficient conceptual clarity.

The first adjustment is the recognition that Lithuania operates under continuous pressure rather than stable peacetime conditions.^[32] Russian and Belarusian pressure is constant—informational, cyber, and physical—aimed at weakening state cohesion and societal resilience. This recognition, however, still needs to be more explicit and institutionalized. Without clearly defining the situation as an ongoing hybrid conflict, responses risk remaining reactive and fragmented.

Lithuania’s strongest progress has been in hybrid resilience. It has built a practical model based on centralized coordination, shared situational awareness, and whole-of-government crisis management. The establishment of the National Crisis Management Center within the Office of Government marked an important step toward real-time monitoring and coordinated response across institutions.^{[33] [34]} In parallel, Lithuania has treated the information environment as a strategic space, focusing on identifying malign influence, strengthening media literacy, and integrating national efforts with EU and NATO frameworks.

This progress is not matched in the domain of drones.^[35] Russia’s war against Ukraine has shown that modern conflict takes place in low-altitude airspace, where traditional air defense is less effective. Drones are already part of the Baltic security reality, as reflected in NATO activities such as Eastern Sentry and Baltic Sentry, European Commission initiatives, and Estonia’s decision to redirect funding toward air defense and unmanned systems.^{[36] [37]} Lithuania is improving but is still catching up on this shift.

A key requirement is a dedicated national program for low- and very-low-altitude air defense and counter-drone systems. This must go beyond procurement and define priorities, responsibilities, timelines, and integration with NATO structures, while also improving public communication. The gap today is not only technological, but also strategic and organizational.

Drone threats cannot be solved through isolated technological solutions. A comprehensive low-altitude security ecosystem covering detection, identification, decision-making, neutralization, incident management, and communication is needed. This system would need to be interagency and regional. The aforementioned European initiatives, such as a coordinated “drone wall,” point in the right direction but remain in an embryonic stage.^[38]

Equally critical is the speed of adaptation. Traditional defense planning cycles are too slow for the pace of modern warfare. Lithuania needs a rapid adaptation model that includes quickly testing and scaling solutions, integrating civilian and military technologies, and learning directly from Ukraine’s battlefield experience. This also requires stronger links between defense and innovation ecosystems, including local production and the development of dual-use technologies. It is already happening, albeit too slowly. The challenge is not only to add capabilities, but to transform the system by aligning institutions, technologies, and society with the realities of modern conflict.

Lithuania’s Potential Defense Reforms

Lithuania’s defense is already moving toward systemic adaptation to a changing security environment. The war against Ukraine, Russia’s hybrid tactics, and the rise of drones highlight the core need for defense built on speed, integration, resilience, and immediate response capability.

First, Lithuania could conceptually internalize that it may need to fight from the first moment of a crisis.^[39] NATO reinforcements remain essential strategically, but frontline states should be able to absorb and delay an aggressor independently. This requires pre-positioned munitions, fortified defensive lines, resilient logistics, faster, regularly tested mobilization systems, and command structures capable of operating amid disruption.

Second, Lithuania is continuously pressing to preserve strong U.S. engagement and presence while preparing for a more European-centered defense.^[40] Given uncertainties in U.S. political continuity and global commitments, deeper cooperation with Nordic-Baltic and Polish partners and strengthened regional frameworks such as the Nordic-Baltic 8 (NB8), the Nordic Defence Cooperation (NORDEFCO), and the Joint Expeditionary Force (JEF) would be beneficial for Lithuania. At the same time, EU instruments should be used more effectively to improve military mobility, logistics, and defense industrial capacity. The aim is to complement NATO and ensure regional defense credibility even with reduced U.S. involvement.^[41]

Third, defense planning should still shift from platform-centric to system-centric logic. Traditional capabilities such as armor and artillery remain necessary but are no longer sufficient. Modern warfare depends on interconnected systems, including drones, counter-drone technologies, electronic warfare, air and missile defense, long-range fires, and real-time intelligence. Estonia’s recent reallocation of resources toward these areas, as mentioned above, illustrates this shift and offers a model for Lithuania.

Fourth, Lithuania’s defense is already in the process of integrating with an industrial and technological policy focused on drones, sensors, lasers, and dual-use technologies, but this effort must be scaled up.^[42] The ability to produce, repair, and adapt domestically is ever more decisive. Cooperation with Ukraine, especially in defense production, offers a practical approach: build locally, test in real conditions, and scale rapidly.

Fifth, Lithuanian defense planning has already begun to incorporate Ukrainian battlefield experience systematically. Ukraine represents the most advanced real-world example of modern warfare, including drone operations, electronic warfare, and rapid adaptation cycles; without integrating these lessons into doctrine, procurement, and training, new defense systems risk becoming outdated.

Sixth, accelerating the creation of a comprehensive low-altitude defense ecosystem would greatly aid Lithuania’s defense. The growing role of drones exposes gaps in traditional defense systems. Addressing this requires a full chain—from detection and identification to decision-making and neutralization—integrated across military and civilian institutions and coordinated with NATO and EU partners.

Seventh, decision-making speed must become a central reform priority. A key vulnerability lies not only in capabilities, but in slow procedures. If adversaries act in wartime logic while institutions follow peacetime processes, even strong capabilities may fail. Reform would therefore need to prioritize faster procurement, experimentation, decentralized decision-making, and reduced bureaucracy.

Eighth, Lithuania has already taken important steps, including strengthening air defense, integrating counter-drone measures, increasing defense spending to 5.38 percent of GDP, and improving regional cooperation.^[43] The scale and pace of these efforts, however, still lag behind the rapidly evolving threat environment.

Lithuania’s defense would need to aim to be difficult to defeat quickly. This requires strong territorial defense, prepared reserves, societal resilience, and the ability to operate under degraded conditions. NATO presence significantly enhances deterrence, but credibility begins with national capacity to resist and endure. In this context, the National Defense Volunteer Forces (KASP) and the Lithuanian Riflemen’s Union (Šaulių sąjunga) play a key role by strengthening territorial defense, supporting mobilization, and anchoring civil resistance within society.^[44]

Resilience of Civil Society, Civil Defense, and Critical Infrastructure

Russia’s war against Ukraine shows that resilience is now central to national security.^[45] The key question is not only military strength but also whether a state can continue to function under pressure by maintaining energy, communication, governance, and social cohesion. Lithuania must move from a conceptual approach to a fully operational, system-wide resilience model.

First, Lithuania’s “total defense” must become a functioning system. This means stronger reserve training, clear mobilization plans, defined institutional roles, and deeper integration of businesses and civil actors. Lithuania could accomplish this by making joint crisis planning between the public and private sectors routine. Without full integration, total defense remains incomplete.

Civil defense measures such as training, evacuation planning, shelters, warning systems, and crisis communication becoming standard governance elements would be a step toward normalizing preparedness. This preparedness could include large-scale exercises with the military, as well as with energy, transport, food supply, municipalities, and emergency services. Without stress-testing these systems, societal functioning may collapse even if military defense holds.

Civil society itself is an essential aspect of defense infrastructure. Organizations such as the Riflemen’s Union, volunteers, and local commandant office networks play a direct role in logistics, order, and morale. Resilience, therefore, depends on community preparedness, business continuity, and public information literacy. Society is not passive; it is an active component of defense.^[46]

Redundancy, speed, and coordination are key in protecting critical infrastructure. This includes securing energy, communications, and transport systems, as well as developing backup systems and robust cybersecurity measures. Lithuania has made progress, such as electricity synchronization, but must expand efforts and coordinate regionally within the EU and NATO frameworks.^[47] Clear response mechanisms, such as those for Baltic Sea cable incidents, are essential.

Cyber resilience is equally critical. Since all sectors depend on digital systems, disruptions can cascade across the economy and security. Investment not only in regulation but also in skills, the workforce, and technological capacity, especially for businesses, is essential for Lithuania’s cyber resilience. Cybersecurity is a core element of economic and societal stability.^[48]

Information resilience is another aspect. The goal is not to counter every false claim, but to prevent fear, confusion, and loss of trust. This requires media literacy, targeted communication, and platform responsibility. The main risk is long-term erosion of societal cohesion.^[49]

Finally, drone threats are a growing threat to civil defense. Drones now affect not only the battlefield but also infrastructure and public safety. Lithuania needs coordinated systems across military and civilian institutions to cover detection, response, and attribution. Fragmentation in this area remains a key vulnerability and should be addressed in line with EU initiatives.^[50]

Resilience is a continuous, system-wide function. Military defense, civil preparedness, infrastructure protection, and societal stability are all connected in resilience. A resilient Lithuania would be significantly harder to destabilize, even under sustained hybrid pressure.

Conclusion

Lithuania’s security is no longer only about preventing invasion alone. It rests on the ability to function, resist, and endure under continuous military, economic, and psychological pressure. Russia’s strategy has already shifted to constant, multi-layered hybrid pressure with growing kinetic elements.

The problem is not the threat itself, but the speed of its evolution. Hybrid warfare has moved beyond cyber and information domains into sabotage, infrastructure attacks, drones, and coercion.

Fragmented responses are no longer enough. More spending or capabilities alone will not solve the problem. The establishment of a single, integrated security system that actually works in practice, not just on paper, is an essential step. This system would combine military defense, rapid decision-making, infrastructure protection, air defense, reserves, and full integration of business and society. Speed is now decisive. Slow institutions are a bigger risk than limited capabilities.

The conflict in Ukraine shows that wars can be won across systems as well as on battlefields, and that those who adapt faster gain the advantage.

The core question is simple: can Lithuania adapt faster than the threat evolves? If yes, it strengthens both its own security and Europe’s. If not, the gap between threats and response becomes the main vulnerability. The objective is clear: not to make Lithuania impossible to attack, but to make it impossible to break.

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^[1] Defence Intelligence and Security Service under the Ministry of National Defence and State Security Department of the Republic of Lithuania, 2026 National Threat Assessment (2026), https://kam.lt/wp-content/uploads/2026/03/2026-National-Threat-Assessment.pdf.

^[2] Eitvydas Bajarūnas, “The Hybrid Threat Imperative: Deterring Russia Before It Is Too Late,” Center for European Policy Analysis, December 2, 2025, https://cepa.org/comprehensive-reports/the-hybrid-threat-imperative-deterring-russia-before-it-is-too-late/.

^[3] Mario Baumann and Katri Pynnöniemi, “European Security in the Era of Hybrid Warfare,” German Council on Foreign Relations, November 5, 2025, https://dgap.org/en/research/publications/european-security-era-hybrid-warfare.

^[4] Anna J. Davis, “Russia Targets NATO Frontline States,” The Jamestown Foundation, January 16, 2026, https://jamestown.org/russia-targets-nato-frontline-states/.

^[5] Jake Epstein, “A NATO Fighter Wing Showed Up for Front-Line Air Patrols with Drone Defenses for the First Time,” Business Insider, January 24, 2026, https://www.businessinsider.com/nato-pilots-brought-drone-defenses-air-policing-mission-first-time-2026-1.

^[6] North Atlantic Treaty Organization, “Resilience, Civil Preparedness and Article 3,” updated November 13, 2024, https://www.nato.int/en/what-we-do/deterrence-and-defence/resilience-civil-preparedness-and-article-3; North Atlantic Treaty Organization, “NATO Secretary General Engages Industry on Critical Undersea Infrastructure,” May 5, 2023, https://www.nato.int/en/news-and-events/articles/news/2023/05/05/nato-secretary-general-engages-industry-on-critical-undersea-infrastructure.

^[7] Gintaras Labutis, “Strengthening the Critical Infrastructures in Lithuania: From Protection towards Resilience,” in Democratic Resilience in the Baltics, vol. 1 of Baltic Security and Defense (Cham, Switzerland: Springer, 2025), 239–257, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-99286-5_14.

^[8] Minna Ålander, “A Region in the Making: The Nordic-Baltic Alignment,” International Centre for Defence and Security, June 4, 2025, https://icds.ee/en/a-region-in-the-making-the-nordic-baltic-alignment/.

^[9] Eitvydas Bajarūnas, “Europe’s Vital Nordic-Baltic Shield,” Center for European Policy Analysis, March 31, 2025, https://cepa.org/article/europes-vital-nordic-baltic-shield/.

^[10] Seth G. Jones, “Russia’s Shadow War against the West,” Center for Strategic and International Studies, March 18, 2025, https://www.csis.org/analysis/russias-shadow-war-against-west.

^[11] Mario Baumann and Katri Pynnöniemi, “European Security in the Era of Hybrid Warfare,” German Council on Foreign Relations, November 5, 2025, https://dgap.org/en/research/publications/european-security-era-hybrid-warfare.

^[12] Maksym Beznosiuk and William Dixon, “Russia’s Imperial Retreat Is Europe’s Strategic Opportunity,” Carnegie Europe, March 19, 2026, https://carnegieendowment.org/europe/strategic-europe/2026/03/russias-imperial-retreat-is-europes-strategic-opportunity.

^[13] Eric Rosenbach et al., “Russian Threats to NATO’s Eastern Flank: Scenarios, Strategy, and Policy for European Security,” Belfer Center for Science and International Affairs, Harvard Kennedy School, February 5, 2026, https://www.belfercenter.org/research-analysis/russia-nato-baltics-scenarios-europe-security.

^[14] Eitvydas Bajarūnas, “Europe’s Vital Nordic-Baltic Shield,” Center for European Policy Analysis, March 31, 2025, https://cepa.org/article/europes-vital-nordic-baltic-shield/.

^[15] European Commission, “Baltic States Join the European Continental Electricity Grid after Fully Disconnecting from Russian and Belarussian Networks,” press release IP/25/436, February 9, 2025, https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/en/ip_25_436.

^[16] Marina Diakonova et al., “How Russia’s Long History of Conflict and Other Shocks Affects Its Economic Growth,” Centre for Economic Policy Research, April 11, 2023, https://cepr.org/voxeu/columns/how-russias-long-history-conflict-and-other-shocks-affects-its-economic-growth.

^[17] Ramūnas Vilpišauskas, “Lithuania’s Transatlantic Dilemma: How to Maintain U.S. Interest in Baltic Security?,” in The United States and the Future of Europe, ed. M. Kaeding, J. Pollak, and P. Schmidt (Cham: Springer, 2025), https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-83350-2_17.

^[18] Ministry of National Defence of the Republic of Lithuania, “Implementation of the National Defence Budget,” updated June 11, 2026, https://kam.lt/en/facts-and-trends/implementation-of-the-national-defence-budget/.

^[19] Jakub Bornio, “Poland Increases Engagement with Baltic and Nordic Countries,” The Jamestown Foundation, February 2, 2026, https://jamestown.org/poland-increases-engagement-with-baltic-and-nordic-countries/.

^[20] Chris Patkin, “Lithuania Tops NATO With Defense Spending Above 5% of GDP,” AdriaDefense, July 31, 2026. https://www.adriadefense.com/lithuania-tops-nato-with-defense-spending-above-5-of-gdp/.

^[21] Ministry of National Defence of the Republic of Lithuania, “Lithuania and Ukraine Signs Letter of Intent on Developing the BRAVE Lithuania Programme,” June 2, 2026, https://kam.lt/en/lithuania-and-ukraine-signs-letter-of-intent-on-developing-the-brave-lithuania-programme/.

^[22] Justas Kazlauskas, “Tragic Fate of U.S. Soldiers in Lithuania Highlights Growing European Security Concerns,” The Jamestown Foundation, March 31, 2025, https://jamestown.org/tragic-fate-of-u-s-soldiers-in-lithuania-highlights-growing-european-security-concerns/; Jeffery M. Fritz, “President Nausėda Affirms Ironclad U.S.-Lithuania Defense Ties,” U.S. Army, April 10, 2026, https://www.army.mil/article/291616/president_nauseda_affirms_ironclad_u_s_lithuania_defense_ties.

^[23] Jakub Bornio, “Poland Increases Engagement with Baltic and Nordic Countries,” The Jamestown Foundation, February 2, 2026, https://jamestown.org/poland-increases-engagement-with-baltic-and-nordic-countries/.

^[24] Chris Patkin, “Lithuania Tops NATO With Defense Spending Above 5% of GDP,” AdriaDefense, July 31, 2026. https://www.adriadefense.com/lithuania-tops-nato-with-defense-spending-above-5-of-gdp/.

^[25] Tomas Janeliūnas, “Security on NATO’s Edge: How Transatlantic Policy Shifts Affect Lithuania,” Geopolitics and Security Studies Center, March 9, 2026, https://www.gssc.lt/en/publication/security-on-natos-edge-how-transatlantic-policy-shifts-affect-lithuania/.

^[26] Kristi Raik and Margarita Šešelgytė, “Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania” in The Nations of NATO: Shaping the Alliance’s Relevance and Cohesion, ed. Ryan C. Hendrickson and Jonathan P. Olson (New York: Oxford University Press, 2022), 279–99, https://doi.org/10.1093/oso/9780192855534.003.0013.

^[27] Ministry of National Defence of the Republic of Lithuania, “Strategic Provisions,” February 9, 2023, https://kam.lt/en/strategic-provisions/.

^[28] Justas Kazlauskas, “Lithuania Welcomes German Brigade,” The Jamestown Foundation, June 5, 2025. https://jamestown.org/lithuania-welcomes-german-brigade/.

^[29] Heinrich Brauss, Ben Hodges, and Julian Lindley-French, “Military Mobility Project Appendix 1: Nordic-Baltic Route,” Center for European Policy Analysis, March 3, 2021, https://cepa.org/article/military-mobility-project-appendix-1-nordic-baltic-route/.

^[30] Ministry of National Defence of the Republic of Lithuania, “German Brigade in Lithuania,” accessed May 19, 2026, https://kam.lt/en/german-brigade-in-lithuania/.

^[31] Ministry of National Defence of the Republic of Lithuania, “Civil Resilience,” accessed May 19, 2026, https://kam.lt/en/civil-resilience/.

^[32] Mario Baumann and Katri Pynnöniemi, “European Security in the Era of Hybrid Warfare,” German Council on Foreign Relations, November 5, 2025, https://dgap.org/en/research/publications/european-security-era-hybrid-warfare.

^[33] Government of the Republic of Lithuania, “Lithuania’s new crisis management model presented at Baltic States Centres of Government Meeting,” January 17, 2023, https://lrv.lt/en/news/lithuanias-new-crisis-management-model-presented-at-baltic-states-centres-of-government-meeting/.

^[34] Gintaras Labutis, “Strengthening the Critical Infrastructures in Lithuania: From Protection towards Resilience,” in Democratic Resilience in the Baltics, vol. 1 of Baltic Security and Defense (Cham, Switzerland: Springer, 2025), 239–257, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-99286-5_14.

^[35] Joanna Hyndle-Hussein and Kamil Kłysiński, “Belarusian balloons prompt emergency situation in Lithuania,” Centre for Eastern Studies, December 9, 2025, https://www.osw.waw.pl/en/publikacje/analyses/2025-12-09/belarusian-balloons-prompt-emergency-situation-lithuania.

^[36] NATO Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe, “Baltic Sentry,” accessed May 19, 2026, https://shape.nato.int/operations/operations-and-missions/baltic-sentry.

^[37] Marko Tooming et al., “Estonia halts €500 million combat vehicle procurement to fund air defense,” Estonian Public Broadcasting Company, April 9, 2026, https://news.err.ee/1609991037/estonia-halts-500-million-combat-vehicle-procurement-to-fund-air-defense.

^[38] European Commission, “Commission Presents Action Plan to Counter Drone Threats,” press release IP/26/364, April 17, 2026, https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/en/ip_26_364.

^[39] Ministry of National Defence of the Republic of Lithuania, “Strategic Provisions,” accessed May 19, 2026, https://kam.lt/en/strategic-provisions/.

^[40] Jeffery M. Fritz, “President Nausėda Affirms Ironclad U.S.-Lithuania Defense Ties,” U.S. Army, April 10, 2026, https://www.army.mil/article/291616/president_nauseda_affirms_ironclad_u_s_lithuania_defense_ties.

^[41] Minna Ålander, “A Region in the Making: The Nordic-Baltic Alignment,” International Centre for Defence and Security, June 4, 2025, https://icds.ee/en/a-region-in-the-making-the-nordic-baltic-alignment/.

^[42] Invest Lithuania, “Defence in Lithuania: Advancing Innovation and Global Security,” accessed May 19, 2026, https://investlithuania.com/defence/.

^[43] Ministry of National Defence of the Republic of Lithuania, “Implementation of the National Defence Budget,” updated June 11, 2026, https://kam.lt/en/facts-and-trends/implementation-of-the-national-defence-budget/.

^[44] Benas Gerdžiūnas, “A hedgehog in Russia’s throat? Understanding Lithuania’s citizen army,” New Eastern Europe, October 2, 2024, https://neweasterneurope.eu/2024/10/02/a-hedgehog-in-russias-throat-understanding-lithuanias-citizen-army/.

^[45] Scott Murphy, Kathleen McInnis, and Iryna Nykorak, “Whole of Society Resilience Lessons from Russia-Ukraine,” Center for Strategic and International Studies, April 17, 2025, https://www.csis.org/analysis/whole-society-resilience-lessons-russia-ukraine-conflict-focus.

^[46] Simona Uksaitė, “Civil Resistance Campaigns in Lithuania: How Does the Ministry of National Defense Implement Advertising Campaign Strategies?” Vilnius University Open Series (2025): 126–142, https://doi.org/10.15388/K-ir-I.2025.8.

^[47] BNS, “Baltics synchronise their power grids with Western Europe,” Lithuanian National Radio and Television, February 10, 2025, https://www.lrt.lt/en/news-in-english/19/2482909/baltics-synchronise-their-power-grids-with-western-europe.

^[48] Ministry of National Defence of the Republic of Lithuania, “Cybersecurity and strengthening civil-military cooperation are the two factors that play a significant role in enhancing total defence, says Vice Minister of National Defence T. Godliauskas,” June 16, 2025, https://kam.lt/en/cybersecurity-and-strengthening-civil-military-cooperation-are-the-two-factors-that-play-a-significant-role-in-enhancing-total-defence-says-vice-minister-of-national-defence-t-godliauskas/.

^[49] Government of the Republic of Lithuania, “Chancellor of the Government Stresses the Importance of Social Platforms Responsibility and a Stronger Role for States at OECD Conference on Combating Disinformation,” November 13, 2023, https://lrv.lt/en/news/chancellor-of-the-government-stresses-the-importance-of-social-platforms-responsibility-and-a-stronger-role-for-states-at-oecd-conference-on-combating-disinformation/.

^[50] European Commission, “Commission Presents Action Plan to Counter Drone Threats,” press release IP/26/364, April 17, 2026, https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/en/ip_26_364.

Executive Summary:

• The People’s Republic of China (PRC) and Russia are entering a new phase of institutionalized interdependence, built through unprecedented systemic coordination and guided by Beijing’s ambition to transform the geopolitical foundations of global order. The latest summit and surrounding activity show this agenda being embedded across economic, political, scientific, informational, security, and military domains, with energy, trade, and defense cooperation operating as components of a much broader strategic architecture.

• The connective tissue of this emerging bloc is being built through interlocking institutions and infrastructure. Railways, customs systems, industrial standards, research networks, elite training, media cooperation, and security mechanisms are binding the two states together while creating continental arteries capable of moving resources inward and PRC goods, technology, personnel, and coercive support outward—including under sanctions, blockade, or wartime conditions.

• This integration is also increasing Beijing’s capacity to set the relationship’s operational agenda and exercise political influence inside Moscow. The PRC increasingly supplies the doctrine, technology, standards, financing, and institutional architecture through which Russian capabilities are organized, while expanding its access to Russian elite formation, regulatory practice, scientific development, information systems, and internal-security institutions.

• The same coordinating approach is becoming characteristic of PRC relations across Eurasia and the Shanghai Cooperation Organization. By connecting formally sovereign states through overlapping logistical, political, security, and knowledge systems, Beijing can build an alliance-equivalent formation without formal alliance commitments. Future net assessments must therefore evaluate these opaque connections as components of a wider strategic formation—and measure their combined strategic depth, sanctions resilience, internal control capacity, and war-making power accordingly.

Strategic cooperation between Russia and the People’s Republic of China (PRC) is reaching new levels, as a variety of recent activities attest. Most prominent is a meeting between Foreign Minister Wang Yi (王毅) and his counterpart Sergey Lavrov on July 24, at which Wang said that both sides should “plan for the next stage of high-level exchanges, maintain the momentum of pragmatic cooperation, and enhance the resolve and resilience of cooperation” (谋划好下阶段高层交往，延续务实合作增长态势，增强合作定力和韧性) (People’s Daily, July 25).

Earlier in the month, the two countries celebrated the 25th anniversary of their bilateral Treaty of Good Neighborliness and Friendly Cooperation. Several events and conferences were held to mark the occasion, which fell amid joint naval patrols and drills that began on July 13 and concluded on July 30 (CCTV, July 22; PLA Daily, July 30). Underscoring the breadth of cooperation, a prominent Russian academic interviewed by Xinhua said that the two countries “share highly aligned strategic goals and interests” (战略目标与利益高度契合) and that there was “enormous potential” (有巨大发展潜力) for coordinated development in political, economic, cultural, and international affairs (Xinhua, July 16).

The anniversary was made all the more significant by Russian president Vladimir Putin’s May 20 state visit to Beijing, at which he and General Secretary Xi Jinping recommitted to the treaty (Xinhua, May 20). During the summit, the two also issued parallel statements on strategic coordination and international order, and oversaw the signing of 20 new cooperation documents. This proliferation of institutional connections is reminiscent—not in degree of control, but in organizational form—of the former Soviet Union’s relationships with its satellite states: formally sovereign governments connected through parallel political, security, military, economic, infrastructural, and knowledge systems. These connections are becoming the connective tissue of an emerging PRC-led bloc order spanning Eurasia.

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While Beijing is in control, and there is real and growing asymmetry between the two countries, excessive focus on Moscow as a weakened “junior partner” that fights costly wars, supplies discounted energy, and repeatedly seeks concessions from Beijing misses both the integration now taking place and the strategic assets Russia still contributes. Moscow remains a nuclear power possessing substantial military capacity, territorial depth, energy and mineral resources, and a willingness to absorb escalation risks that Beijing prefers to avoid directly. A better model of the relationship sees it building on the “rapid thickening of coordination” that had already produced a functional Eurasian architecture spanning finance, technology, energy, and geopolitical power projection, but with Moscow now supplying “praetorian” power within an increasingly Beijing-designed bloc architecture intended to remake international order (China Brief, March 20).

From Strategic Partnership to Alternative Global Order

The Xi–Putin summit reaffirmed a common strategic purpose but also expanded the mechanisms through which it could be transmitted across both states and converted into coordinated action (Xinhua, May 20). Vice premiers responsible for bilateral mechanisms reported on investment, energy, trade, Northeast China–Russian Far East cooperation, and people-to-people exchanges, while the two foreign ministers briefed the leaders on coordination in international and regional affairs. Xi described the relationship as entering “a new stage of greater accomplishment and faster development” (更有作为、更快发展的新阶段) and called on the two governments to upgrade cooperation in a range of areas. The presence of senior officials indicated that implementation would extend across the Party center, State Council, diplomacy, industrial planning, investment, and people-to-people mechanisms. [1]

Beijing framed Putin’s visit as the opening of a new phase in a relationship that had reached its “historical highest level” (历史最高水平). On May 21, Foreign Ministry spokesperson Guo Jiakun (郭嘉昆) called the talks “in-depth, friendly, and fruitful” (深入友好、富有成果的会谈), and described the summit as a “new starting point” (新起点) for building higher-quality political trust, mutually beneficial cooperation, people-to-people connectivity, and international coordination aimed at reforming global governance (Ministry of Foreign Affairs [MFA], May 21). The same briefing exposed the limits and asymmetry of that integration. Asked whether the visit had advanced the Power of Siberia 2 gas pipeline, Guo indicated no agreement, saying only that energy cooperation would continue on the basis of mutual benefit. Beijing thus advertised a relationship at a historic high while remaining noncommittal on Moscow’s most sought-after energy project (MFA, May 21; Eurasia Daily Monitor, June 16).

The contrast over Power of Siberia 2 indicates that cooperation is deepening most rapidly where it serves Beijing’s institutional architecture and international agenda. The principal expression of that agenda was the much longer joint statement through which Xi and Putin extended and expanded their 2001 treaty (Xinhua, May 20). The original treaty chiefly stabilized the post-Cold War relationship through non-aggression, sovereignty, border security, crisis consultation, and generic cooperation (MFA, July 16, 2001). The 2026 statement filled that foundation with a denser program driven by “head-of-state diplomacy” (元首外交) and extending to encompass military activity, among a range of other efforts, effectively repurposing the relationship’s stabilizing treaty foundation as a platform for institutional integration.

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Beijing’s strategic intent is to build a PRC-led bloc capable of replacing the U.S.-led order with its own “multipolar” (多极化) vision. The joint statement on “Promoting a Multipolar World and a New Type of International Relations” (倡导世界多极化和新型国际关系的联合声明) makes this clear (Xinhua, May 20). It follows a lineage of PRC–Russia declarations contesting U.S.-led globalization, NATO, and liberal-democratic norms, including statements on multipolarity and a new international order, international order in the 21st century, major world issues, and international relations in a new era (United Nations Digital Library, 1997; Consulate-General of the PRC to San Francisco, July 1, 2005; MFA, July 4, 2017; President of Russia, February 4, 2022). The 2026 summit thus joined the institutional deepening of the bilateral relationship to a decades-long effort to construct an alternative international order.

The statement cast both countries as founders of the United Nations, permanent UN Security Council members, and “important forces” (重要力量) in a multipolar world beset by challenges implicitly blamed on the United States. [2]Within that diagnosis emerged a division of labor in which Russian security concepts were enmeshed with Xi’s “Four Global Initiatives” (四大全球倡议). The statement called for “equal and indivisible security” (安全平等且不可分割), opposed alliance expansion, hybrid war, and proxy war, and urged “balanced, effective, and sustainable” (均衡、有效、可持续) global and regional security architectures (Xinhua, May 20). It also opposed forcing sovereign states to abandon neutrality, tracking Moscow’s objections to NATO enlargement and Western guarantees to Ukraine.

Those Russian priorities form the coercive core and praetorian capacity within Beijing’s broader program to provide the world with an alternative structure of rules, institutions, values, and development norms. The statement defended each country’s “independent choice of development path and development model” (自主选择的发展道路和发展模式), rejecting any one-size-fits-all approach, and emphasized civilizational and value diversity while opposing politicizing human rights. It also grounded global governance in sovereignty, international law, multilateralism, people-centered principles, and action.

Forging a Continental System for the Long Emergency

The agreements concluded during Putin’s visit and by senior PRC emissaries dispatched before and after it show Beijing driving implementation across both states’ economic, infrastructural, informational, legal, and military systems. Beyond the two joint statements, 40 cooperation documents were signed or announced (see tables 1 and 2). Relatively few concerned the commodity trade traditionally anchoring the relationship, instead emphasizing the connective systems needed to reorganize Russian capabilities around an increasingly PRC-directed Eurasian order: transport, industrial and scientific capacity, regulatory coordination, elite training, information management, and coercive power.

Implementation has partly focused on insulating trade and investment from external actions. On May 18, National Development and Reform Commission (NDRC) deputy director Zhou Haibing (周海兵) and Russian deputy economic development minister Dmitry Ilichev convened the China–Russia Investment Cooperation Committee to advance bilateral projects (NDRC, May 21). Two days later, commerce minister Wang Wentao (王文涛) and Russian economic development minister Maxim Reshetnikov pledged to “jointly resist unilateral coercive measures and trade protectionism” (共同抵制单边胁迫措施和贸易保护主义) (PRC Ministry of Commerce, May 21). Their statement opposed restrictions imposed in the name of national security, environmental protection, or climate policy and said negotiations with third countries “should not target the other side” (不应针对另一方)—a response to U.S. and allied sanctions, trade restrictions, and supply-chain standards.

Beijing also used the summit to build logistical corridors and the institutional, scientific, and technological networks that operate them. Agreements covered a second standard-gauge track on the Manzhouli–Zabaikalsk railway, customs training, agricultural inspection, antitrust and intellectual-property coordination, industrial production, nuclear science, software, artificial intelligence (AI), Beidou satellite navigation, technical standards, and urban development (China Brief, May 1; MFA, May 21). The largest category—roughly one third of the package—concerned education, research, media, and elite formation. It linked the Central Party School with the Russian Presidential Academy, paired universities through joint institutes and degree programs, and expanded cooperation among major state-media organizations. The package thus connected physical infrastructure with the procedures, technologies, expertise, personnel, and narratives needed to operate a common system (see tables 1 and 2).

The omissions were equally revealing. Rather than delivering Moscow’s desired commodity or financial windfall, the summit integrated Russian infrastructure, science, industry, regulation, elite training, and information into PRC networks. Only one document explicitly concerned energy—green certificates—and none announced a major oil or gas project, banking accord, or currency-settlement initiative.

Beijing effectively used the summit to determine which connections to deepen and which Russian capabilities would serve a wider architecture whose technological, institutional, and normative direction it could determine. The emerging model moves beyond the 2025 project of building parallel systems to one in which expanded rail, customs, and border capacity will principally move PRC machinery, manufactured goods, and technology outward while carrying Russian energy, minerals, and agricultural commodities into the PRC (China Brief, May 14, 2025). Moscow supplies territory and resources; Beijing increasingly supplies the equipment, standards, capital goods, and demand that infuse the system with economic and technological ballast.

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Turning Coordinated Power Against Japan

The most concerning development in the bilateral relationship is the deepening of military and security cooperation. Official statements on military cooperation link closer interoperability to political support for each state’s confrontation with the U.S.-led order. At the PRC Ministry of National Defense’s first monthly press conference after the summit, spokesperson Jiang Bin (蒋斌) chose to answer a question on Russia first, pledging to improve cooperation mechanisms; expand exercises, training, and maritime and air patrols; provide “firm mutual support” (坚定相互支持) on core interests; and raise strategic coordination to “a new level” (迈上新台阶) (PRC Ministry of Defense, May 28).

In both words and actions, it is increasingly clear that the two countries are going beyond their treaty commitment to “not target third countries” (不针对第三国). On July 24, foreign ministers Wang Yi and Lavrov agreed that their two countries must “never allow Japan to rearm” (绝不允许日本重新武装) (People’s Daily, July 25). And the July Joint Sea-2026 (海上联合-2026) naval drills and related patrols show those commitments becoming operational. The two forces practiced reconnaissance, air and missile defense, and anti-ship strikes before patrolling into the Pacific (State Council Information Office, July 6). Near Okinotori, a PRC destroyer then conducted the first publicly disclosed Chinese live-fire training inside waters Japan claims as its exclusive economic zone (USNI News, July 22). This provided only the latest evidence that Russia is helping Beijing stretch Japanese surveillance and air-defense resources via more frequent and intrusive joint activities, pressuring a central U.S. ally. [3]

On the security front, Central Political and Legal Affairs Commission Secretary Chen Wenqing (陈文清) traveled to Moscow in late May to present Xi’s Global Security Initiative to Russian Security Council Secretary Sergei Shoigu as the answer to rampant “hegemonism and Cold War thinking” (霸权主义与冷战思维甚嚣尘上), “countercurrents” (逆流) against globalization, and rising technological risks (People’s Daily, May 30). This placed bilateral coordination within Beijing’s program for global and regional security governance.

Bureaucratic commitments followed. Public Security Minister Wang Xiaohong (王小洪) and Chief Justice of the Russian Supreme Court Igor Krasnov agreed to deepen cooperation against transnational crime and coordinate through multilateral platforms. In Moscow, National People’s Congress Chairman Zhao Leji (赵乐际) called for the leaders’ agreements and major projects to “take effect” (落实见效) and for wider exchanges on national security, AI, and foreign-related rule of law, which senior officials connected through parallel mechanisms (People’s Daily, May 31).

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Conclusion

The Russian agreements show that Beijing is building a continental system designed to function under sanctions, blockade, and war. Under this system, energy and raw materials move inward while Chinese goods, technology, standards, personnel, and coercive support move outward. Through adjoining projects, these arteries could also sustain North Korea, Iran, and potentially Southeast Asian states. The “Hormuz dilemma” captures only one vulnerability addressed; the larger purpose is strategic durability. Russia is pivotal because it straddles Eurasia, supplies military power, resources, territory, and risk tolerance, and shares Beijing’s historical familiarity with the organizational forms through which socialist states mobilized for prolonged geopolitical conflict.

Beijing’s deeper wager is that it can recreate those forms without the brittleness that destroyed the Soviet Union. Rather than a single formal empire, it is assembling parallel military, security, logistical, scientific, educational, and informational systems around a PRC core, while sovereign partners supply differentiated praetorian functions. The PLA’s reported training of Russian specialists is emblematic of how Beijing is both drawing upon Russian coercive power and helping reproduce it (Reuters, July 1). Future net assessments must discard the shibboleth that the PRC “does not have alliances” and evaluate these opaque connections by their functions in crisis and war: distributing strategic depth, sustaining internal control, regenerating coercive power, and operating together. Xi appears to believe he has perfected geopolitical socialism—making warfighting and internal survivability mutually reinforcing and building a political organism capable of enduring the long emergency of the 21st century.

This article originally appeared in China Brief. Check it out here!

Dr. Matthew Johnson is a Senior Fellow at the Jamestown Foundation.

Notes

[1] These officials included Cai Qi (蔡奇), Ding Xuexiang (丁薛祥), Wang Yi (王毅), He Lifeng (何立峰), Zhang Guoqing (张国清), and Shen Yiqin (谌贻琴).

[2] These include “unilateral coercion, hegemonism, bloc confrontation, and neo-colonialism” (单边胁迫、霸权主义、阵营对抗及新殖民主义), as well as fragmentation and a return to the “law of the jungle” (丛林法则).

[3] Japan has recorded repeated PRC–Russian naval activity since 2021 and ten joint long-range bomber patrols since 2019, nine over the Sea of Japan (Japan Times, June 28). Annual bomber patrols in 2019–2021 became twice-yearly operations in 2022–2024. In December 2025, bombers passed through the Okinawa–Miyako gap into the Pacific off Shikoku for the first time, accompanied by PRC fighters. On June 27, 2026, a larger formation repeated the route with Chinese H-6 and Russian Tu-95 bombers, Russian Tu-142 maritime-patrol aircraft, and fighters from both countries (Japan Joint Staff, June 28). Although the aircraft remained in international airspace, the route now penetrates Japan’s southwestern approaches and Pacific flank.

Executive Summary:

• The 2026 World AI Conference (WAIC), which featured remarks from Xi Jinping, highlighted the People’s Republic of China’s (PRC) pitch for global artificial intelligence (AI) governance and cooperation.

• Since its launch in 2018, the WAIC has evolved with the PRC’s AI ambitions. Launched soon after the release of the country’s first AI development plan in 2017, it has reflected policies contained in Shanghai’s AI action plan for 2019–2021 and national-level global governance initiatives announced since 2022.

• The 2026 WAIC marks a turning point for the PRC’s AI development, as models from Chinese companies like DeepSeek and Moonshot AI start to gain traction globally. Authorities also used the conference to launch a World AI Cooperation Organization, signifying the PRC’s growing comfort in pitching non-Western governance objectives to the world and especially the Global South.

The 2026 World Artificial Intelligence Conference (WAIC; 世界人工智能大会), held in Shanghai in July, was the first time that Chinese leader Xi Jinping attended and delivered remarks at the annual event. The conference has tracked the steadfast development of the country’s approach to artificial intelligence (AI) since its inaugural summit in 2018, which took place soon after the release of the New Generation Artificial Intelligence Development Plan (新一代人工智能发展规划), one of the PRC’s earliest AI strategies. The latest conference reflected the growing prominence that the Chinese leadership places on AI (PRC Government, July 20, 2017; China Brief, October 1, 2025).

Over the years, the WAIC has also grown alongside the country’s increasing international influence and is now an important vehicle for promoting its technological might. Previous conferences have featured high-level speakers like Jack Ma, Elon Musk, and Henry Kissinger. Having emerged as a result of the PRC’s domestic AI policy, it has slowly merged into a medium for Beijing’s bid for global AI leadership and governance abroad, evidenced by both government strategies and conference programming and attendance.

The WAIC emerged from Domestic AI Policy and Development

The formation of the WAIC can be seen as a direct result of the PRC’s early recognition of AI as a “strategic technology” (战略性技术) and its designation by PRC leaders as an “important strategic opportunity” (重大战略机遇). The government translated this top-level assessment into multiple AI policies and strategies starting from the mid-2010s, ultimately giving rise to the WAIC.

Beijing had already bet on the development of advanced technologies prior to the establishment of the WAIC. In 2015, the “Made in China 2025” (中国制造2025) sought to address the economic challenge presented by “significant gaps in independent innovation capabilities, resource utilization efficiency, level of industrial structure, degree of informatization, and quality and efficiency” (在自主创新能力、资源利用效率、产业结构水平、信息化程度、质量效益等方面差距明显) (State Council, May 8, 2015; CSET, March 8, 2022). The plan did not explicitly refer to AI at the time, but it did refer to intelligent, smart, and Internet technologies, laying the groundwork for future AI documents.

The PRC’s first dedicated AI strategy, the 2017 New Generation AI Development Plan, called for aligning domestic AI development with global developments, as well as providing a “new, important point of economic growth” (新的重要经济增长点), by 2020. Additional targets included significant technological breakthroughs in AI while making AI integral to the Chinese economy by 2025, and becoming the “world’s primary AI innovation center” (世界主要人工智能创新中心) by 2030 (PRC Government Net, July 20, 2017). Beyond technological advances, the plan also recognized the importance of standards and regulations for building a global AI power, an emerging area of focus for the PRC government.

Shanghai, the host of the WAIC, quickly fell in line with this broader central initiative. Several months after the national government launched its development plan, the city government published a set of implementation opinions on “Promoting the Development of the Next-Generation Artificial Intelligence in the City” (本市推动新一代人工智能发展) (Shanghai Municipal Government, October 26, 2017). In this initial document, the city envisioned leveraging Shanghai’s status as a domestic and international hub for finance, innovation, and business to build a new AI ecosystem and innovation hub, something that it further cemented in its subsequent action plan for 2019–2021. This plan also made use of the WAIC as a vehicle to implement national AI policy, calling for using it as one of a number of “hub-type innovation platforms” (枢纽型创新平台) and to help “organize and gather global innovation resources” (组织汇聚全球创新资源) (Shanghai Municipal Economy and Informatization Commission, September 13, 2019).

These strategies indicate the swift uptake and adoption of Beijing’s policy guidance through provincial and municipal implementation, with Shanghai at the forefront as a major hub. New strategies have proliferated in the years since in line with technological advances, with multiple AI governance documents released. Beyond focusing on domestic integration and development efforts, however, the PRC government has also turned outward to promote its approach to AI.

WAIC Broadcasts AI policy and Governance

Long before Xi Jinping’s speech at the WAIC, the conference had already established itself as a leading forum on AI conversation both within the PRC and globally. In 2018, Shanghai’s then deputy mayor, Wu Qing (吴清), held a press conference alongside other municipal officials to introduce the new platform. They signaled the city’s national and international ambitions for the conference, noting that it was co-hosted and approved by multiple government bodies, including the State Council and the Ministry of Industry and Information Technology, and that attendees for its first edition would include representatives of leading domestic and global companies, researchers, and technology leaders (Shanghai Municipal Science and Technology Commission, July 5, 2017). Its central-level imprimatur was indicated by Xi sending a congratulatory letter upon the opening of the conference, in which he wrote that AI was a “development opportunity” (发展机遇), but one that would bring “new issues” (新课题) in areas such as law, security, employment, ethics, and governance. This, he added, would require “deepened cooperation and joint exploration among all countries” (需要各国深化合作、共同探讨) (Xinhua, September 17, 2018).

Over the ensuing eight years, the WAIC’s grew into its role as an instrument for disseminating the PRC’s domestic and international vision for AI. For example, in 2024, the WAIC officially issued a Shanghai Declaration, in which signatories agreed to “promoting AI development,” “maintaining AI safety,” “developing the AI governance system,” “strengthening public participation and improving literacy,” and “improving quality of life and increasing social well-being,” in line with other Chinese government documents during that time (Ministry of Foreign Affairs, July 4, 2024). At the 2025 conference, a “Global AI Governance Action Plan” was released that featured 13 points spanning the development of AI and its infrastructure to establishing norms of using AI (Permanent Mission of the PRC to the United Nations, July 17, 2025). The PRC also used that conference to call for the establishment of an AI cooperation organization, laying the groundwork for the “World AI Cooperation Organization” (WAICO) unveiled at this year’s event. WAICO, which is headquartered in Shanghai, launched with 29 countries as founding members (Xinhua, July 17).

The WAIC’s growing international outlook has taken place alongside a decline in U.S. representation, mirroring the shift in global AI cooperation and dialogue. In 2019, Jack Ma—the founder of Alibaba and Ant Group—took the stage to debate the future of AI development and capabilities with Elon Musk. The two found common ground on areas like AI’s impact on population (YouTube/New China TV, August 29, 2019). Musk remained a high-level participant of the WAIC until 2025. Between 2019 and 2025, other notable speakers included Baidu’s Robin Li (李彦宏), Tencent’s Pony Ma (马化腾), former U.S. Secretary of State Henry Kissinger, Kai-Fu Lee, Geoffrey Hinton, Harry Shum (沈向洋). Former Google CEO Eric Schmidt, another high-profile attendee, was quoted by Xinhua at the 2025 WAIC as saying that when he visited the PRC in 2023, he felt that it “had not yet fully recognized the potential and power of AI” (还没完全认识到人工智能的潜力和力量), but that the recent “tremendous progress” (巨大进步) of Chinese AI models have achieved “remarkable results” (显著成绩) (Xinhua, August 11, 2025).

None of these Western technologists or former officials were present at the 2026 WAIC, although an opening address by United Nations Secretary-General António Guterres officially cemented the WAIC’s international reach (United Nations, July 17). The theme of the conference, “Intelligent Partners, Co-Creating the Future,” reflects Beijing’s growing confidence in pitching an alternative, non-Western global order to the rest of the world, and to the Global South in particular, in tandem with Beijing’s strategic documents on global AI governance and cooperation as well as its broader initiatives like the Global Governance Initiative (China Brief, June 26). This pitch appears to be paying off, as the conference’s online audience grew from around 253 million viewers in 2020 to over 2 billion by 2024, according to WAIC (Artificial Intelligence International Institute, accessed August 11).

Conclusion

In almost a decade, the WAIC has changed from an emerging forum for publicizing the PRC’s domestic policy to a global platform designed to promote its global vision. It has also become an emblem for the PRC’s broader AI ambitions.

The 2026 iteration, which led to the establishment of the WAICO, comes at a pivotal point in time. PRC companies have made significant strides in AI development, from DeepSeek’s January 2025 release of its breakthrough R-1 model to the release on the eve of the conference of Moonshot AI’s powerful new model, Kimi K3 (Kimi, July 16). These developments make the WAIC even more salient for analysts, leaders, and technology companies alike, as it serves not only as a convening ground but as a platform to exhibit the latest offerings from Chinese companies.

Beijing has realized that technological strength must go hand-in-hand with domestic and global AI diffusion. Xi made this clear in his speech at the WAIC, promising to “further support global AI development and advance global AI capacity building,” including through providing developing countries with 5,000 opportunities in AI training and seminar programs, offering concrete steps for how to turn the PRC’s bid for AI leadership from theory into practice (Xinhua, July 18). Little is currently known about the WAICO or how it will complement the PRC’s global AI governance vision, but its development and potential expansion to include more member states will provide useful indicators of the country’s influence and impact in shaping global approaches to AI in the months ahead.

This article originally appeared in China Brief. Check it out here!

Lea Thome is the Schwarzman Fellow at the Wilson Center, affiliated with the Kissinger Institute on China and the United States. She holds a master’s degree in Global Affairs as a Schwarzman Scholar from Tsinghua University in Beijing, China. She specializes in China’s maritime expansion through ports and bases.

Executive Summary:

• To establish sovereignty over ideas, the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) has since 2022 made the construction of an “autonomous knowledge system” an explicit objective, aiming to produce concepts and theories distinct from Western ones and capable of explaining the governance and social reality of the People’s Republic of China (PRC).

• The effort is directed at the level of objectives and distributed at the level of content. The center supplies the goal and the label, while ministries, funding bodies, universities, associations, publishers, and individual scholars each write it into the one part of the academic system they control.

• The consequence is expansion outpacing content. Institutional forms multiply well ahead of the concepts meant to fill them, because disciplines, colleges, degree points, journals, and textbook series can be created by decision and concepts cannot. Every instrument the Party-state controls is institutional, and institutions can require, fund, and reward original theory without being able to supply it. Four years on, the record therefore is highly uneven.

In December 2025 the Ministry of Public Security argued that police work should favor domestic dog breeds such as the Kunming dog over German Shepherds and Rottweilers, framing the shift as a response to “global competition in police dog technology” (全球警犬技术竞争) and a means of fostering “independent control” (自主可控) of police dog breed resources within the People’s Republic of China (PRC) (Xinhua, December 18, 2025). As reporting by Reuters noted, however, the Kunming dog is not indigenous to the PRC, but the product of decades of artificial breeding from Alsatians and local dogs at a specialist canine center in Yunnan in the 1950s (Reuters, December 19).

The episode is illustrative of a much larger trend. Speaking at Renmin University in April 2022, General Secretary Xi Jinping declared that accelerating the construction of philosophy and social sciences with Chinese characteristics is a matter of “constructing China’s autonomous knowledge system” (建构中国自主的知识体系) (People’s Daily, April 26, 2022). Scholars describe the “autonomous knowledge system” (AKS) as cognition of the laws governing human society formed endogenously from China’s own historical and contemporary practical experience (Yu & Huang, 2023). [1] To justify its emergence, Xi used the same speech to argue that Chinese socialism had “raised a large number of new problems” (出了大量 … 的新问题) amid the acceleration of “great changes unseen in a century” (世界百年未有之大变局), casting inherited, largely Western frameworks as ill-equipped to address them. Another rationale is civilizational: Wang Yiwei (王义桅) of Renmin University argues that the ground of an autonomous system is Chinese civilization itself, which he describes as “independent and autonomous, continuous, and constantly renewing itself” (独立自主、连续不断、苟日新日日新) (Beijing Daily, June 6, 2022). [2]

Calls to build an AKS date back to the Marxist Theory Research and Construction Project launched in 2004, but institutional efforts only began in 2019, when the Ministry of Education launched a New Liberal Arts initiative alongside parallel programs in engineering, medicine, and agriculture (Study Times, May 5, 2023). A dedicated work conference followed in November 2020, which led to the creation of interdisciplinary programs, laboratories, and curricular reforms (Guangming Daily, October 18, 2024). The AKS is therefore not strictly new, but its expansion in recent years has accelerated.

Management of the system is supervised by bodies that sit within the Party’s propaganda system, such as the National Office for Philosophy and Social Sciences (全国哲学社会科学工作办公室) (NOPSS, January 26, 2024). Responsibility for writing the concept into individual components of the academic system, however, falls to ministries, funding bodies, universities, associations, publishers, and scholars. As a result, political incentives and imperatives have enabled the AKS to become embedded across the education system in a short space of time.

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Sites of Knowledge Production

The government has brought numerous academic disciplines under the expanding umbrella of the AKS. The Ministry of Education’s primary contribution is the creation of new “first-level disciplines” (一级学科), the level at which degree-granting authority is assigned. Three created in a September 2022 catalog revision have been framed in AKS terms: CCP History and Party-building (中共党史党建学), Discipline Inspection and Supervision Studies (纪检监察学), and Area Studies (区域国别学) (State Council Academic Degrees Committee and Ministry of Education, September 13, 2022). The latter is rapidly expanding as a discipline. Area studies centers grew from 395 to 453 across 186 universities between 2017–2024 (Chinese Social Sciences Today [CSST], February 23, 2024, December 9, 2025). National Security Studies (国家安全学) had been created in December 2020 as one of the two founding first-level disciplines of a new interdisciplinary category, alongside Integrated Circuit Science and Engineering (集成电路科学与工程). From 2022 onward, scholars began calling for the construction of an autonomous national security knowledge system, thereby appropriating it for the AKS (CSST, October 18, 2022).

Universities provide organizational homes for these disciplines. By the end of 2024, CCP History and Party-building consisted of 39 research institutes, 14 doctoral and 30 master’s programs, and four specialized master’s programs in Party affairs management, on the discipline alliance’s own roster (Renmin University CCP History and Party-building Research Center, January 2, 2025). [3] Renmin University unveiled the country’s first dedicated CCP History and Party-building college in March 2023 (CSST, March 24, 2023). By mid-2026, ten schools had been established. [4] The Ministry has also built a network of philosophy and social science laboratories, launched in December 2021 with a first batch of 30 and expanded to 55 by November 2025 (Ministry of Education [MOE], December 12, 2021; Guangming Daily, May 12).

Scholars stake out new territory within the frame. Zhou Ping (周平) of Yunnan University presents “ethnopolitics” (民族政治学) as a branch of political science that has already built a theoretical system and counts as “an important achievement of autonomous knowledge production in political science” (政治学自主性知识生产的一项重要成果) (Guangming Daily, April 7, 2023). Zhou is not alone. Calls to establish the AKS in different disciplines have proliferated, from diplomatic studies to history, public finance and taxation, and even Trade Union Studies (Workers’ Daily, August 22, 2022; CSST, January 31, 2023; Qiushi, October 16, 2025, October 30, 2025).

The bodies that certify such claims are staffed by the same people who make them. Under rules issued in December 2025, meeting-based review of new doctoral degree authorizations is entrusted to “discipline review groups” (学科评议组) or professional-degree steering committees, though final approval remains with the State Council Academic Degrees Committee. These rules relax conditions for programs deemed to serve central policy decisions and national security priorities (State Council Academic Degrees Committee, December 4, 2025). One scholar who sits on one of these steering committees is Yang Fengcheng (杨凤城) of Renmin University. Yang submitted a proposal to establish CCP history and Party building as a first-level discipline and went on, as a member of that discipline’s review group, to help draft and implement its construction scheme (Guangming Daily, April 16).

Steering Knowledge Production

Once sites exist for the production of “autonomous knowledge,” a distributed process directs production through funding agencies, universities, disciplinary associations, and institutions such as the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences (CASS).

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Funding agencies set priorities. By May 2026, the Ministry of Education’s Major Special Projects in Research on Philosophy and Social Science with Chinese Characteristics (中国特色哲学社会科学研究重大专项) had approved projects across all 29 first-level philosophy and social science disciplines, involving more than 100 universities (MOE, May 16). These are organized as coordinated clusters: in political science, Peking University’s Wang Puqu (王浦劬) serves as general convener of an AKS initiative comprising seven major projects led by scholars from several universities and research institutions (Fudan Development Institute, November 17, 2025). The program publishes no per-grant figure; the Ministry’s parallel Major Key-Tackling Project tender for 2025 sets awards between renminbi (RMB) 500,000–800,000 ($75–120,000). At the national level, the National Social Science Fund named major basic theoretical problems bearing on the AKS among problem types constituting the “main thrust” (主攻方向) of its 2025 major-project call (National Office for Philosophy and Social Sciences, May 26, 2025). CASS’s Philosophy and Social Science Innovation Project, meanwhile, was the recipient of a research-institution appropriation of almost RMB 2 billion ($300 million) in 2025 (CASS, March 2025).

Provinces and universities add their own money, though the figures come from the funders’ own retrospectives. Guangdong, for example, budgeted RMB 450,000 ($67,000) in 2025 for 15 projects explicitly devoted to constructing AKSs in economics, political science, and law (Jinan University, May 30, 2025). Shanghai, meanwhile, reports assembling 58 research teams under a dedicated Major Research on the AKS program (Jiefang Daily, May 17). Since 2023, Nankai University has invested more than RMB 10 million ($1.5 million) in textbook development, providing RMB 50,000–100,000 ($7,500–15,000) in matching funds for each national-level project, and its Political Economy of Socialism with Chinese Characteristics, published in December 2024 and now in use at more than 80 universities, is presented as a step toward building an AKS in economics (China Education Daily, April 3).

Disciplinary associations are among the most active actors. In November 2023, the “China Society of Supervision” (中国监察学会) was renamed the “China Discipline Inspection and Supervision Association” (CDISA; 中国纪检监察协会), following the creation of a new discipline, Discipline Inspection and Supervision Studies, in 2022 (CDISA, April 15, 2024). In June 2024, it established a discipline-construction branch that was mandated with building disciplinary, academic, discourse, and knowledge systems (China University of Political Science and Law, June 12, 2024). Its designated supervising body is the Central Commission for Discipline Inspection and the National Supervisory Commission (CCDI-NSC), while it is registered with the Ministry of Civil Affairs; amendments to its charter require approval from both bodies. Alliances perform a parallel function: the CCP History and Party-building Discipline Construction Alliance, announced at Renmin University in November 2023, issued a five-point initiative covering autonomous knowledge, disciplinary, academic, discourse, and talent-training systems (CSST, November 17, 2023).

Institutions then define what good AKS scholarship looks like. A separate University Alliance for Constructing China’s AKS (建构中国自主的知识体系大学联盟), founded at Renmin University in April 2023, runs a quarterly results-release event vetted by a committee drawn from academia, publishing, and the central media (Renmin University, November 25, 2024).

Reproducing Knowledge

Degree pathways follow, so that core “autonomous” knowledge can “enter the minds” (进头脑) of students (Guangming Online, May 14). Dedicated schemes have been set up to cultivate talent for AKS construction. These include CASS’s Youth Launch Plan (青启计划), which supported 193 young scholars in 2024, as well as the Cultivate-the-Distant Plan (培远计划), which lets scholars under 50 set their own topics and “undertake no assessment tasks for five years” (5年内无须承担考核任务) (CASS, January 23, 2025; China Youth Daily, December 29, 2025; CSST, May 18).

The Ministry of Education has targeted the creation of thousands of textbooks to “accelerate the creation of an AKS” (加快自主知识体系). As of early 2026, the draft list contained 3,404 titles. Though substantial, this is well short of its aim of 1,000 key and 5,000 selected undergraduate textbooks (MOE, November 20, 2023; China Education Online, January 19). [5] Other institutions have added to the corpus of educational resources. The Educational Science Publishing House launched an RMB 10 million ($1.5 million) China Pedagogy AKS publishing program (China Youth Daily, December 22, 2025). The most elaborate case is a nine-volume unified textbook set for Discipline Inspection and Supervision Studies, jointly organized by the CCDI-NSC and the Ministry of Education and published in early 2026 (China Education Daily, February 13). A Handbook of the Chinese Legal Studies AKS (中国法学自主知识体系学科手册) distills the signature concepts of 22 branches of law (MOE, May 16).

Scholars supply the specific vocabulary, from “incremental democracy” (增量民主) in political science to “interethnic political integration” (族际政治整合) in ethnopolitics (Guangming Daily, April 7, 2023). [6] The most cited candidates elsewhere, however, come from older fields with prior empirical cores rather than from the four disciplines built by institutional fiat.

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Expansion Outpaces Innovation

The construction of the AKS faces several problems. The first concerns uneven institutional development. While infrastructure has expanded rapidly, talent cultivation is lagging. A 2023 survey found that the flagship discipline of Party History was contracting, even as the center created a first-level discipline for it. Over roughly a decade, institutions offering it at the master’s level fell from 96 to 71, and those offering it for doctoral students dropped from 26 to 20. In 2021, only 11 doctoral programs enrolled anyone at all (Theory China, August 12, 2023). Area Studies shows the opposite pattern: rapid expansion and clustered applications have prompted debate over possible talent oversupply, although some scholars argue that high-level supply remains inadequate and that the more immediate risk is homogenization (China Brief, May 29). The only institution formally approved to offer the discipline as an undergraduate major, Beijing Foreign Studies University, reportedly did not recruit students externally in 2025 (Shanghai Observer, September 13, 2025).

Intellectual autonomy is a second strain. Xie Tao (谢韬), dean of the School of International Relations at Beijing Foreign Studies University, observes that area studies lacks “an independent theoretical system, and therefore … needs to borrow the theories of mature disciplines such as political science, history, economics, and sociology” (可以说先天缺乏独立的理论体系，因而…需要借用政治学、历史学、经济学、社会学等成熟学科的理论). [7] One account of the reform-era debate over the philosophy textbook system observes that understanding of Marxist philosophy in the PRC “has still not managed to depart from the ontological horizon of Western dualism” (依然未能出离西方二元论的存在论视域). [8]A related weakness is fragmentation: Xu Yong (徐勇) of Central China Normal University is reported as arguing that indigenous concepts risk remaining “concept orphans” (概念孤儿), and that the task is to link them through hub concepts into a “concept family” (概念家族) (CSST, November 14, 2023). The diagnosis is not universally shared in this form. The philosopher Yang Guorong (杨国荣) warns against both “explaining China through China alone” (以中释中) and the opposite extreme of treating Western doctrines as a universal standard. [9] Finding the right balance between indigenization and continued openness is therefore a challenge.

Third, the incentives are administrative rather than epistemic, and they can work against the project. The 2023 survey’s first finding is that academic evaluation negatively affects enthusiasm, resulting in “insufficient endogenous motivation” (内生动力不足). Because CCP History and Party-building overlaps with the established discipline of Marxist Theory, and results and teaching staff cannot be counted twice in evaluation, this leaves many universities with little incentive to apply to teach both (Theory China, August 12, 2023). Cheng Meidong (程美东), who directs Peking University’s Research Center for CCP History, warns that unless method, path, and purpose are clarified, “it is easy to turn the construction of China’s AKS into ‘piling in all at once,’ campaign-style scholarship” (就容易把建构中国自主的知识体系搞成“一哄而上”的运动式学术研究) (Hubei Daily, May 25). Once funds and support dry up, so might scholarship.

Conclusion

Four years after Xi Jinping first articulated the concept, the AKS has evolved from a political formula into an institutional project that increasingly permeates the PRC’s system of knowledge production. This approach rests on a wager familiar from other domains of the Party-state’s statecraft: if you build the institutions, the substance comes. Whether that logic transfers from bridges and power grids to concepts remains an open question. While the AKS’s objectives are set centrally, its content is filled in from many directions at once. The Ministry of Education creates disciplinary jurisdictions, funding bodies redirect research agendas, universities establish organizational homes, associations convene and certify, publishers develop teaching materials, and scholars elaborate concepts and canonical works. None of this is independent of the state, and the propaganda system supplies the coordination. While this explains the speed of institutional construction, it also helps explain why institutional expansion has so far outpaced theoretical innovation: the Party-state’s apparatus can produce institutions and its instruments can compel attempts at theoretical innovation, but it cannot secure their success.

This decentralized process helps explain the project’s uneven development. Different disciplines have advanced at different speeds, and many of the concepts intended to replace Western frameworks continue to rely on them. The AKS is therefore best understood as an ongoing process of institutional construction. Its future significance depends less on the political prominence of the formula than on whether the institutions and scholars it has assembled ultimately generate durable theories and concepts that are accepted beyond the institutional apparatus sustaining them.

This article originally appeared in China Brief. Check it out here!

Jean Christopher Mittelstaedt is Associate Professor of Modern Chinese studies at the University of Zurich.

Notes

[1] Yu Jianxing [郁建兴] and Huang Biao [黄飚], “Constructing China’s Autonomous Knowledge System and Its Global Significance [建构中国自主知识体系及其世界意义],” CASS Journal of Political Science [政治学研究], no. 3 (2023), p.15.

[2] Wang Yiwei, deputy director of Renmin University’s Institute of Xi Jinping Thought on Socialism with Chinese Characteristics for a New Era, addresses the obvious objection that Marxism is itself a Western tradition. He argues the two resonate: dialectical materialism is described not as an import but as having “found in China a civilizational carrier 5,000 years unbroken” (在中国寻找到五千年连续不断的文明载体). The emphasis throughout is that the ground of the system is Chinese civilization, with Marxism as the tradition that resonates with it.

[3] The 14 doctoral programs counted here are current authorizations under the new first-level discipline, and are a different object from the 20 legacy doctoral points and the 11 that admitted students in 2021, both cited later from the 2023 survey.

[4] The ten schools are at Renmin University, Inner Mongolia Normal University, Yulin College, Jinggangshan University, Yan’an University, Shaanxi University of Science and Technology, Yunnan Normal University, Shandong Normal University, Jiaxing University, and Southwestern University of Finance and Economics.

[5] The 3,404 figure is not on the landing page but buried in the page’s metadata.

[6] Fang Lei [方雷] and Lu Teng [卢腾], “Knowledge Production in the Conceptual System of Contemporary Chinese Political Science [当代中国政治学概念体系的知识生产],” CASS Journal of Political Science [政治学研究], no. 2 (2025), p.120: “the concept of ‘incremental democracy’ is a theoretical summation of how China, through reform, creates new political increments and thereby comprehensively advances the process of national democracy” (“增量民主”概念则是对中国通过改革创造新的政治增量，从而全面推进国家民主进程的理论概括).

[7] Xie Tao [谢韬], “Area Studies: From Serving National Strategic Needs to Constructing an Autonomous Knowledge System [区域国别研究：从服务国家战略需求到建构自主知识体系],” Journal of Tsinghua University (Philosophy and Social Sciences) 39, no. 3 (2024), p.45.

[8] Liu Xiongwei [刘雄伟], “Li Dazhao’s Philosophical Thought and the Construction of an Autonomous Knowledge System in Contemporary Chinese Philosophy [李大钊哲学思想与当代中国哲学自主知识体系构建],” Ningxia Social Sciences [宁夏社会科学], no. 4 (2025), p.20. Liu frames the observation as a persisting condition of the reform era, and relates it to the debate over the philosophy textbook system (在反思哲学教科书体系的过程中).

[9] Yang Guorong [杨国荣], “Constructing China’s Autonomous Philosophical Knowledge System: A Possible Path [建构中国自主的哲学知识体系：可能之道],” Philosophical Analysis [哲学分析]14, no. 2 (2023): 160. Yang warns symmetrically against the opposite extreme of treating Western doctrines as a universal standard.

Executive Summary:

• Under Ahmad Masoud, the National Resistance Front (NRF) has expanded beyond its Tajik origins, and now aims to unify anti-Taliban Afghans through international efforts such as the Vienna Process.

• The NRF seeks to exploit the Taliban’s internal ideological fractures, costly conflicts with Pakistan, and international backlash over oppressive women’s policies.

• The NRF faces challenges from the Taliban’s growing diplomatic normalization with neighboring states, while controversies over Masoud’s legacy hinder a stabilizing political solution.

The National Resistance Front (NRF) traces its origins to the Northern Alliance, which was led by the well-known Tajik commander Ahmad Shah Masoud. Masoud was one of the key figures in the campaign against the Taliban in the 1990s. The movement was originally mostly ethnically homogeneous, as its membership was largely composed of Tajik tribesmen (E-ir.info, July 8, 2022). During the offensive phase against the Taliban after October 2001, however, the movement expanded its membership to include non-Tajik members. The Northern Alliance responded to ethno-regional political dynamics but was largely shaped by Tajik-centric interests. Its main regional sponsor was also Tajikistan, although Dushanbe’s posture was always more cautious than that of other Central Asian countries because of its fragile internal security conditions (see The Monitor, November 9, 2000; January 11, 2001).

Masoud’s son, Ahmad Masoud, began his political and militant career as CEO of the Masoud Foundation in 2016 (Asia Plus, July 7, 2022). In 2019, however, he officially launched his own political movement to oppose the Taliban (Stars and Stripes, September 5, 2019). Unlike his father, the younger Masoud has been able to extend his organization beyond a Tajik-centric paradigm by presenting himself as a unifying figure for anti-Taliban Afghans inside and outside the country (see Militant Leadership Monitor, December 5, 2022). In this role, he could serve as a focal point for efforts to unify different factions of the Afghan diaspora into a broader political framework for a post-Taliban Afghanistan.

Internationalizing the Anti-Taliban Struggle

This process of internationalizing the anti-Taliban struggle reached a new phase with the birth of the Vienna Process for a Democratic Afghanistan in April 2022. This event brought together several members of the Afghan diaspora and opposition leaders “to discuss together about human rights, women’s education and democratic perspectives,” according to the initiative’s website. This episode contributed significantly to Masoud’s political career by making him the de facto leader of the Afghan resistance (Arab News, June 22, 2024; Afghanistan International, April 22, 2025).

Masoud’s political role is likely to grow because of the Taliban’s own internal weaknesses in Afghanistan. A few fault lines present current opportunities for exploitation. First, rather than being a monolithic movement, the Taliban is a movement marked by tribal and ideological fractures. The most famous of these is the Akhundzada-Haqqani divide, which has important implications for Taliban leadership (Military & Security, March 17, 2023). Second, the de facto Taliban government is currently engaged in an asymmetric confrontation with Pakistan, a conflict that has thus far proved considerably more costly for the Afghan side (BBC, May 12). Third, international pressure on the Taliban’s restrictive policies toward women is intensifying after the fatal shootings of two demonstrators in Herat and the arrest of 30 women, also in Herat, for allegedly violating the Taliban’s dress codes for women (UN News, June 11). The NRF may view these crises as opportunities to consolidate its political power and establish itself as a viable opposition force.

Assessing Taliban Control

At the same time, the Taliban’s control of Afghanistan appears to be more stable than it was in the past. Unlike 20 years ago, the group maintains stable diplomatic relations with all its neighbors. Central Asian countries have gradually normalized their relations with the Islamic Emirate, especially through joint economic initiatives and infrastructure projects. The culmination of this steady normalization is the Afghanistan–Central Asia Consultative initiative, which aims to enhance regional exchanges and mobility (Afghan Ministry of Foreign Affairs, April 5). Although Central Asian states still do not treat Afghanistan as an entirely stable or reliable country, their pragmatic posture is a significant shift compared to the past. Russia is the only country that has officially recognized the Taliban thus far, however, and Moscow appears to be seeking to enhance its military partnership with the Islamic Emirate (amu.tv, May 28; Economics & Energy, May 28).

The Masouds’ Legacy and Legitimacy

Ahmad Shah Masoud’s controversial legacy poses concrete threats to the younger Masoud’s legitimacy inside Afghanistan. While the Masoud name provides an immediate basis for anti-Taliban mobilization, it also evokes memories of abuses and war crimes committed against specific Afghan communities—such as the Hazara—during the civil war that followed the Soviet withdrawal in 1989 (Human Rights Watch, January 1, 2005; Hazara International, January 30, 2011).

No formal apology has yet been issued by Masoud’s son, which raises questions about his ability to reconcile the political needs of the Afghan diaspora with those of Afghanistan’s inhabitants. Furthermore, Masoud’s ability to contain the threat from other jihadist groups remains to be seen. It is difficult to establish, for example, whether the NRF has the capacity and resources to contain Islamic State in Khorasan Province’s (ISKP) attacks (KabulNow, July 30).

Conclusion

The NRF appears to be the only Afghan political movement actively challenging the Taliban. It has not, however, demonstrated that it can provide a long-standing and stabilizing political solution for the country. No Afghan opposition organization has yet developed a sufficiently unifying posture, continuing to weaken any anti-Taliban political strategy.

The article was originally published in Terrorism Monitor

Andrea Serino is an independent analyst who holds an active collaboration with the Pakistani geopolitical platform TheKhorasanDiary. He holds a Master’s degree in Philosophy from the University of Turin, specializing in Political Philosophy and its intersections with Geopolitical Developments in the Broader Middle East. His research focuses on jihadist movements, exploring both Western political thought and the intellectual traditions of the Eastern world. He can be reached by email at: andreaserino3@gmail.com.

Executive Summary:

• Taiwan is showing resilience in the face of headwinds ranging from domestic politic strife, increased military pressure from the People’s Republic of China (PRC), and uncertainty regarding U.S. political support.

• Taiwan’s semiconductor sector is benefitting massively from the global artificial intelligence (AI) boom. Its gains contributed to Taiwan posting almost 13 percent quarterly GDP growth and reaching record stock market highs.

• In a bid to strengthen its relationship with the United States, Taiwan is investing $265 billion into American semiconductor manufacturing through Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Corporation (TSMC). Taiwan has also hosted multiple high profile bipartisan congressional visits since the beginning of 2026.

• Domestic political strife, now centered around a proposed drone procurement bill, may affect U.S. assessments of Taiwan’s will to fight. Taiwan is also waiting for the Trump administration to approve a delayed $14 billion arms sale, which will be critical to its defense against a potential military campaign by the PRC.

Taiwan today faces an unusually difficult geopolitical environment in which multifaceted pressure from a militarily powerful People’s Republic of China (PRC) is mounting, domestic political strife is undermining defense readiness, and support from the United States is inconsistent. Taiwan has dealt with each of these challenges separately in the past, but this is the first time it must grapple with all three simultaneously.

Despite the difficult geopolitical situation, Taiwan has shown impressive resilience. The island nation has become a leader in producing hardware for artificial intelligence (AI), which has made it the world’s fastest growing advanced economy. At the same time, Taiwanese officials have quietly worked with their American counterparts to deepen ties. The missing piece of the puzzle is its military resilience: legislation to support Taiwan’s drone industry remains stalled and a large U.S. arms sales package is still pending. These delays continue to raise questions about Taiwan’s defense readiness.

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AI-Fueled Surge

As the world’s chief producer of advanced semiconductors, Taiwan is benefiting hugely from the AI boom, arguably more than any other country. In the second quarter of the year, the Taiwanese economy grew at a torrid clip of almost 13 percent. This was the third consecutive quarter of double-digit expansion and the briskest quarterly rate since 1988. Taiwan’s Directorate General of Budget Accounting and Statistics (行政院主計總處) forecasts annual GDP growth this year to reach 9.6 percent, which would be the best performance since 2010 (National Statistics, Republic of China (Taiwan), accessed August 5).

Taiwan’s foundry-centric semiconductor manufacturing model, best encapsulated by the Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Company (TSMC), has never been more effective. Fabless designers at the vanguard of AI hardware, including U.S.-based Nvidia, AMD, and Broadcom, all rely on TSMC to fabricate their most advanced chips. Their demand for AI chips led TSMC to post record profits for the fifth consecutive quarter in July, with net income of roughly $22 billion. The company is projecting revenue to grow 40 percent this year to more than $171 billion (Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Corporation [TSMC], accessed August 5).

The semiconductor sector’s robust growth has coincided with Taiwan’s stock exchange reaching a new all-time high. After the TAIEX reached 48,218 points in late June, the market cooled somewhat in the following weeks, before rallying back to roughly 43,000 points in early August (Unique Business News, June 23; Commercial Times, August 4). [1] This has apparently spurred a new wave of retail investors in Taiwan, where the number of people with brokerage accounts rose to a record 14.6 million in July, with investors under 30 accounting for nearly two-thirds of the increase over June (Taiwan Stock Exchange [TWSE], accessed August 5).

Deepening Ties With the United States

In tandem with its robust economic growth, Taiwan has managed to quietly strengthen ties with the United States this year. Taipei has done so by focusing on strategic industries in line with Trump administration priorities and avoiding criticism of President Trump, who has prioritized U.S.–PRC relations.

For the Trump administration, Taiwan’s AI capabilities are among its most attractive assets. Taiwan is leveraging this competitive advantage effectively through both government-to-government initiatives and massive private investment. At the sixth Taiwan–U.S. Economic Prosperity Partnership Dialogue in February, the two countries agreed to a “strategic alignment for AI development” (AI發展戰略對接) (Taiwan Ministry of Digital Affairs, February 2). In July, TSMC announced it would invest an additional $100 billion in its Arizona production facilities, bringing its total investment to $265 billion (UDN, July 17).

Drones are another area in which the United States and Taiwan are enhancing cooperation, though with more modest results than AI. In June, Taiwan’s semi-governmental Industrial Technology Research Institute (ITRI; 工業技術研究院) joined the Green UAS certification program of the Washington-based nonprofit Association for Uncrewed Vehicle Systems International (AUVSI), which verifies supply chain and cybersecurity compliance for commercial drones. The certification will facilitate the entry of more Taiwanese drone makers into the U.S. market (Industrial Technology Research Institute, June 4).

Bipartisan congressional delegations have made three visits to Taiwan so far in 2026, signaling continuity in the bilateral relationship at a crucial time. Drones came to the fore during the most recent visit (July 30–August 1), which was led by Representative Young Kim (R-CA). This time, the context was Taiwan’s strained domestic politics and a stalled $6.6 billion drone procurement bill (Focus Taiwan, June 18). In a meeting with Taiwan President Lai Ching-te (賴清德), Kim noted the intensifying military threat the PRC poses to Taiwan and urged Taipei to pass necessary legislation to support its drone industry, which has been delayed more than six months. [2] “Deterrence takes two to tango, so help us help you,” she said (Office of the President of the Republic of China (Taiwan), July 31). After her meeting with Lai, Kim told reporters, “We hope that the Legislative Yuan can send a strong demand signal to build and buy as many drones as possible, and do it quickly” (Taipei Times, August 1).

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The Art of the Delay

Representative Kim’s comments well embody the sentiment among U.S. lawmakers that Taiwan needs to move quicker on drone legislation. While congressional support for Taiwan remains strong, the inability of the ruling and opposition parties to find a modus vivendi on the issue is causing some strain in the bilateral relationship. Skeptics of the U.S. security commitment to Taiwan can point to the drone issue and argue that Taipei does not take its own defense seriously, and therefore is not worth risking American blood and treasure to defend.

At the same time, the Trump administration has so far declined to approve a new arms sale to Taiwan, for undisclosed reasons. The package, estimated at $14 billion, has been delayed since early 2026. President Trump described the package as a “very good negotiating chip for us” with the PRC during a May Fox News interview, heightening speculation that his administration may withhold it as a result of PRC pressure (Taipei Times, May 18).

Republican lawmakers, however, say that the White House will approve the arms sale before long. Representative Michael McCaul (R-TX), said at the Ketagalan Forum in Taipei on August 4 that he was “confident the president will forward soon another package to Congress with an additional $14 billion in critical military defense articles” (Focus Taiwan; Office of the President of the Republic of China (Taiwan), August 4).

Conclusion

Taiwan has shown impressive resilience in a challenging geopolitical environment. Its centrality to the AI industry has helped it avoid the fractiousness that has characterized the Trump administration’s approach to its other allies and partners. Strong congressional support suggests Trump will greenlight the $14 billion arms sale, though likely not before Chinese leader Xi Jinping’s expected September 24 state visit to Washington (Fox News, July 23).

All eyes will be carefully watching the progress of drone legislation through the Legislative Yuan in the meantime.

Unlike the arms sale, this is entirely under Taiwan’s control. Whether it can pass smoothly—and inclusive of sufficient financial support for the industry—will be taken as a signal about Taipei’s commitment to military modernization.

This article originally appeared in China Brief Notes. Check it out here!

Matthew Fulco is a journalist and geopolitical analyst. He worked in Taipei from 2014–2022 and Shanghai from 2009–2014, and is now based in the United States. He formerly served as a Taiwan Contributor for the Economist Intelligence Unit and his writing has frequently appeared in The Japan Times and AmCham Taiwan’s Taiwan Business Topics magazine.

Notes

[1] The TAIEX stands for the Taiwan Stock Exchange Capitalization Weighted Stock Index. It is the primary stock market index for companies listed on the Taiwan Stock Exchange (TWSE).

[2] The “more than 6 months delay” refers to the drone procurement efforts that were cut as part of the original special defense budget proposed in late 2025 (China Brief, May 29). A new special defense budget bill targeting domestic drone procurement was proposed by Taiwan’s Ministry of National Defense in late June and remains stalled in the Legislative Yuan (Focus Taiwan, June 18).

Executive Summary

• Ittehad-ul-Mujahideen Pakistan (IMP) is emerging as a serious militant threat, with the potential to rival Tehreek-e-Taliban Pakistan (TTP). The alliance has integrated fragmented jihadist factions, incorporated drone technology, developed a more sophisticated media narrative, and carried out coordinated attacks targeting state security forces.

• Beyond kinetic operations, IMP is adapting its propaganda by combining jihadist, anti-Western, and nationalist themes. This hybrid ideological narrative frames violence in moral and political terms, seeks to enhance recruitment, and aims to cultivate local support, including among economically stable segments of the population.

• IMP’s emerging operational capabilities, cross-border linkages, growing rivalry with TTP, and reported coordination with Jamaat-ul-Ahrar and Baloch insurgent groups point to a dangerous shift in Pakistan’s militant landscape.

Ittehad-ul-Mujahideen Pakistan (IMP)—an alliance comprising the Hafiz Gul Bahadur Group (HGBG), Harakat Inqilab-e-Islami Pakistan (HIIP), and Lashkar-e-Islam (LeI)—has significantly altered Pakistan’s militant landscape, particularly in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa province. Since its formation on April 11, 2025, IMP has evolved into an umbrella alliance, rather than functioning as a distinct organization. It includes fragmented militant factions that coordinate operations, share intelligence, run organized digital campaigns, publish propaganda, and use drones alongside kinetic attacks against state security forces (X/@Sameer1249134, June 28).

HGBG is the most experienced and dominant faction among the groups under IMP’s umbrella. The group is directly associated with Hafiz Gul Bahadur, who is regarded as more dangerous than Tehreek-e-Taliban Pakistan (TTP, or “Pakistani Taliban”) chief Mufti Noor Wali Mehsud. Bahadur is known to be particularly capable of conducting high-profile operations, coordinating with allied groups for intelligence sharing, and sustaining influence. One prominent Pakistani security analyst argued that Bahadur is Mufti Noor Wali Mehsud’s “master” in militant tactics and is far more dangerous (X/@AbdullahKhan333, June 30). The formation of IMP has further expanded Bahadur’s influence, operational reach, and organizational infrastructure in the former Federally Administered Tribal Areas (FATA) and adjacent borderlands.

Ideology and Operations

IMP’s rhetoric deliberately combines anti-Western sentiment, nationalist framing, and jihadist ideology to create a more nuanced and effective narrative for organizational and operational purposes. Media accounts affiliated with the group’s factions, particularly Inqilab-e-Islami Pakistan, have actively published materials and updated audiences on IMP’s activities. Posts frequently include footage of attacks, fighter training, preparatory sessions, and audio and video speeches by key figures on Islamist, jihadist, and insurgent themes (X/@IIP_media1, June 13). Despite its broader anti-Western rhetoric, IMP appears to avoid recruiting foreign jihadist elements or openly aligning with transnational militant groups. This approach may reflect an understanding with the Afghan Taliban, which remains sensitive to cross-border outreach by other militant groups.

IMP has also displayed increasingly sophisticated operational capabilities, combining integrated attacks with the dissemination of insurgent propaganda. In the first half of 2026, the group has adopted a more organized and calculated strategy to target security forces. This involved improvised explosive device (IED) attacks, rocket fire, sniper shootings, assaults on checkpoints, ambushes of security convoys, and quadcopter drone attacks (X/@PakistanPulse_N; X/@SalahddinA10994, June 28).

The group often incorporates drone-enabled attacks into its kinetic operations to gain tactical advantages against poorly equipped security forces. These drones are modified to carry and drop small explosive payloads and grenades on checkpoints and security vehicles, enabling more precise attacks. This adaptation reflects a broader regional trend in militant warfare (X/@PakistanPulse_N, June 17).

The screenshot shows an IMP claim of a quadcopter drone attack on a security checkpoint in Mir Ali, North Waziristan, in which one security personnel was reportedly killed, and the checkpoint was partially damaged.

In July 2025, IMP claimed more than 90 militant attacks against security forces across Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. Reports also suggest that June 2025 alone witnessed a sharp rise in militant attacks and counterterrorism operations by security forces. HGBG was the leading militant faction carrying out fatal attacks against security personnel. HGBG currently operates four suicide camps, with allied IMP factions also providing manpower to intensify attacks and expand militant influence (Khorasan Diary, January 8). Operations in 2026 have so far signaled a continuation in these trends. Most attacks carried out and claimed by IMP involve suicide bombers, coordinated armed fighters, drone use, and engagement tactics, including the following:

• On June 28, HGBG carried out a suicide attack in Mir Ali that killed 13 security personnel and wounded 29 others (Dawn News, June 28).

• On May 10, IMP released an infographic report on its 10 days of operations from April 28 to May 8, claiming that 48 security personnel were killed and 34 injured. IMP also claimed to have destroyed three security posts, three military vehicles, and one solar system in these attacks (X/@PakistanPulse_N, May 10).

• On May 19, IMP released another infographic report on its 10 days of operational activity from May 9 to May 18, claiming that 60 security personnel were killed and 25 injured (X/@PakistanPulse_N, May 19). This report also referred to an attack on a police station in Bannu, Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, in which more than 15 policemen were killed (Express Tribune, May 10).

Narratives and Digital Warfare

IMP is not focused solely on the kinetic front. It is also active on the digital front, where it seeks to target opponents, disseminate propaganda, strengthen its narrative, and achieve psychological superiority through a sophisticated media apparatus. Many social media accounts affiliated with IMP and its sub-factions—including Lashkar-e-Islam, Inqilab-e-Islami Pakistan, and HGBG—actively post, share, and amplify examples of the group’s ideology, attacks, speeches, and publications.

In May, Inqilab-e-Islami media, affiliated with Inqilab-e-Islami Pakistan, shared a manifesto-style pamphlet aimed at reaching a broader audience. IMP’s core ideology and narrative strongly condemn the West and depict Pakistan’s army as an enemy. The pamphlet blends militant and jihadist discourse with anti-imperialism, nationalism, and populism, portraying Pakistan as a slave of the West and presenting a three-part ideological strategy to overcome the existing crisis: invitation, training, and armed jihad (X/@IIP_Media1, May 21). The document frames the group’s militant activities in moral terms and seeks to justify violence.

The pamphlet also portrays the movement as a morally disciplined force, friendly to local populations, and a true ideological descendant of Indian Islamic revivalist and jihadist figures. These figures include Syed Ahmad Shaheed, an anti-colonial activist and prominent Deobandi; Jamiat Ulama-e-Hind leader Maulana Mahmud Hasan Deobandi (alias Sheikh-ul-Hind); and the Afghan Taliban’s first supreme leader, Mullah Muhammad Omar. The pamphlet further presents the group’s goal as the establishment of an Islamic system of governance in Pakistan. Such a narrative combines homeland nationalism in Pakistan with themes of sacrifice, martyrdom, and Islamic sharia, drawing heavily from the Afghan Taliban’s narrative of jihad and Islamism.

Friction within TTP

Pakistan’s militant landscape is also being reshaped by emerging tensions among fragmented TTP factions. IMP’s role and significance have grown as fissures within TTP became more visible. On May 20, Jamaat-ul-Ahrar’s Umati group clashed with Kazim—TTP’s local commander in Kurram—resulting in the deaths of around 18 Jamaat-ul-Ahrar militants, including Commander Mumtaz. Jamaat-ul-Ahrar’s leadership had already blamed Mufti Noor Wali for involvement in the August 2022 assassination of Jamaat-ul-Ahrar leader Abdul Wali, also known as Omar Khalid Khorasani, in Barmal district, Paktika (BBC Urdu Service, May 22, 2022).

The latest episode in Kurram further damaged relations between TTP and Jamaat-ul-Ahrar. The latter instructed its fighters not to trust TTP and has moved closer to IMP. There is now a possibility that Jamaat-ul-Ahrar could join the IMP alliance. If this occurs, TTP could lose significant influence in Pakistan, while existing friction among militant groups could increase localized violence over influence, recruitment, resources, and dominance.

Conclusion

The emergence of IMP reveals a more lethal transformation in Pakistan’s militant landscape. Militancy has become increasingly decentralized, and actors adapt drone technology and digital media in more sophisticated ways. IMP has moved beyond conventional insurgent patterns and is developing into a hybrid militant network capable of challenging state authority in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa’s conflict-affected areas. In this context, IMP is gaining importance as a trusted alliance for fragmented and disgruntled TTP factions, enabling the group to expand its militant network, influence, and control in volatile areas of the province and beyond.

The article was originally published in Terrorism Monitor

Rahim Nasar is a PhD American Studies researcher at the Area Study Centre, Quaid-i-Azam University, Islamabad. Rahim focuses on regional political, security, & strategic affairs. He also appears on National and International media as a security & political analyst. He posts on X/ @RahimNasari, and can be reached at Rahim.nasar@yahoo.com

Executive Summary:

• The Chinese Communist Party’s (CCP) recent restructuring of its space sector illustrates the implementation of its “new-style whole-of-nation system” for innovation, again using the space program as a leading test bed for new approaches to manage high-risk, high-reward investments.

• The People’s Republic of China (PRC) has announced further integration of its crewed and robotic lunar exploration programs, and set up separate offices to support and regulate the commercial space sector and the deep space exploration and science program. Together, these new offices align the PRC’s space governance with broader CCP priorities to strengthen Party leadership while expanding the role of basic research and market-driven innovation.

• These changes are intended to improve coordination ahead of the PRC’s first attempt at a crewed lunar landing before 2030, while positioning the space sector to be a “pillar” of national economic development. Although the restructuring may improve efficiency, it also creates potential risks in organizational complexity for the PRC. For the United States, it provides some information transparency but also increased competition for leadership.

On April 9, when providing an update on the arrival of its next lunar exploration probe to the Wenchang Launch Center, the People’s Liberation Army’s (PLA) China Manned Space Engineering (CMSE; 中国载人航天工程) office stated that it would deepen the integration of the crewed and robotic lunar missions “in order to leverage the strength of the new-style whole-of-nation system” (为充分发挥新型举国体制优势) (CCTV, April 10). Some western researchers had been anticipating this move. Domestic media in the People’s Republic of China (PRC), however, were surprised with CMSE’s casual announcement that it seemed to be absorbing the robotic lunar program, formerly managed by the Chinese National Space Administration (CNSA; 国家航天局) (CASI, July 25, 2022; Guancha, April 17). [1]

CMSE provided more detail in a May 23 press conference. In response to Chinese media requests for information, a spokesperson for the office explained that it was integrating existing crewed lunar landing and uncrewed lunar exploration initiatives across three dimensions: missions, resources, and teams. He said that this integrated effort would be designated as the “Lunar Exploration Program” (月球探测工程) (CMSE, May 23). Given that related organizations within the space sector already cooperate, deeper integration in this case most likely refers to joint planning on schedules and resources beyond mission critical systems, such as support systems, similar to NASA’s regrouping for the Artemis Program (NASA, November 15, 2021).

Deeper coordination is logical. The two remaining China Lunar Exploration Program missions are increasingly related to preparations for the PRC’s first attempt at a crewed lunar landing before 2030. The first, Chang’e 7, will launch before the end of 2026, while Chang’e 8 is set to launch before 2029 (CNSA, April 24, 2025; Xinhua, July 13). It is too early, however, to determine if the PRC will set up a new organization under CMSE to coordinate or simply continue the historical leading small group structure (CASI, July 25, 2022). [2]

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New Whole-of-Nation System Starts With Space Sector Reorganization

The “new-style whole-of-nation system” is a Party doctrine formalized in 2022 initiating a national mobilization and an institutional framework for long-term competitiveness (CCP Members Net, September 8, 2022; Guangming Daily, September 30, 2022; China Brief, June 16, 2025). Party documents describe it as an initiative led by scientific research and market forces, and flowing multi-directionally among academic, civilian, and military players (Naughton et al., July 2023; People’s Daily, August 23, 2024). [3] To lead implementation of the new innovation system, the CCP also established a new Central Science and Technology Commission (中央科技委员会) (21st Century Business Herald, April 8, 2023). The space sector has been central to this system from its first references in central-level planning documents in advance of the 14th Five-Year Plan (2021–2025). In 2019, General Secretary Xi Jinping credited it for the Chang’e 4 and Chang’e 5 lunar missions, which included the PRC’s first soft landing on the far side of the moon (Beijing Daily, July 15, 2019).

The only similarity between the new and old whole-of-nation innovation efforts is the role of the space sector, which will again be the test bed for developing new mechanisms that reliably manage high-risk, high-reward investments and timelines. A Chinese media commentator argued that nationwide mobilization and investment into science and technology is “the only way” (唯一选项) for the PRC’s crewed lunar program to succeed. As evidence, he cited the U.S. decision in the 1960s to merge the U.S. Army and U.S. Air Force rocket programs and establish NASA (Guancha, April 17). The new system is otherwise unlike past efforts, like the “Two Bombs, One Satellite” (两弹一星) program that successfully achieved a limited number of high-priority objectives using technology absorption and reverse engineering. It instead will command resources across the PRC’s now vast economy to go beyond parity in existing technologies and attempt to get ahead in a larger category of emerging sectors (People’s Daily, August 23, 2024). It will emphasize original innovation over incremental innovation, and “curve overtaking” (弯道超车)—blending the best innovation practices with “Chinese characteristics” (Xinhua, June 9, 2014; CCP Members Net, September 8, 2022; China Economic Weekly, April 3, 2023).

Space integration efforts to date have included not just merging the crewed and robotic lunar programs, but also several additional sectoral and organizational changes. After the fourth plenary session of the CCP Central Committee in November 2025, the PRC designated the aerospace sector a “pillar industry” (支柱产业), a historical term for sectors that support national development, usually large upstream or infrastructure-linked industries (People’s Daily, October 23, 2025; CCTV, April 11). This is a significant designation. While space has long been a national strategic priority, it will now underpin the national economy and, like the transportation and petrochemical sectors, will get preferential treatment for longer planning horizons (RAND, June 11). [4]

CMSE has also opened the astronaut program to civilian applicants and designated the Chinese Space Station (CSS) a “national space lab” (国家太空实验室) to enable broader usage and experimentation in space (YouTube/中国新闻社, March 10, 2021; CASI, August 2023; CMSE, January 8). [5] As of Shenzhou-13, which launched in late 2021, six non-PLA astronauts have entered the CSS (CMSE, October 29, 2024; Author research, 2026). A former PLA lab under the CSS also has been redesignated a non-PLA state national lab (CASI, October 2025). [6]

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Efforts to support space science are also expanding. In line with the CCP’s formalization of the new system in 2022, Anhui Province, CNSA, and the University of Science and Technology of China accepted China Lunar Exploration Program Chief Designer Wu Weiren’s (吴伟仁) proposal for a Deep Space Exploration Lab (DSEL). This lab will support space science programs like the Tiandu test satellites in lunar orbit and the Tianwen exploration missions, which are currently distinct from the Chang’e program (State Council Information Office [SCIO], February 27, 2022; STDaily, May 28, 2025). The Tianwen program includes Mars exploration, as well as the ongoing Tianwen-2 asteroid sample return mission that is set to return in 2027 (State Administration of Science, Technology, and Industry for National Defense, September 23, 2025).

As a new space organization, DSEL builds on momentum from the Tianwen-1 Mars orbiter and lander that launched at the end of the 13th five-year plan period in 2020. The lab will jointly implement many of the new initiatives outlined in the first “National Mid- and Long-term Plan for Space Science in China (2024–2050)” (国家空间科学中长期发展规划(2024—2050年)) (CNSA, October 15, 2024; China Brief, November 5, 2024). It will also lead the PRC’s first planned planetary defense mission, announced in the country’s last space white paper (SCIO, January 28, 2022; China Science Daily, September 5, 2025). Wu Weiren and other DSEL leadership have echoed the CCP’s language for a whole-of-nation system. For instance, speeches at the inaugural Deep Space Economy and Industry Development Conference in 2025 referenced collaboration mechanisms like “government leadership + market participation” (政府牵引+市场参与) and “national team + private sector” (国家队+民营) models (China Space News, November 11, 2025).

The PRC has made other sectoral and regulatory adjustments to support the other leading force in the whole-of-nation system: the market. Since State Council guidance opened several strategic sectors to private investment for the first time in 2014, to include space launch and remote sensing, the country’s commercial space sector has steadily grown (SCIO, November 16, 2014). The trend is likely to persist. In 2023, the government designated the commercial space sector a “strategic and emerging industry” (战略性新兴产业)—distinct from a “pillar” industry—which has unlocked state preferential policies and provincial investment (National Development and Reform Commission, December 22, 2023). Chinese regulators define “commercial space projects” (商业航天项目) as those “not included in national or military research plans and not using central government funds” (未列入国家和军队科研计划，未使用中央财政资金) (CNSA, July 16, 2025). To streamline regulation, in late 2025, CNSA announced it had established a Commercial Space Department (国家航天局商业航天司) (Xinhua, November 29, 2025). CNSA’s new director, Shan Zhongde (单忠德), has also echoed the importance of the Party’s new-style whole-of-nation system in recent roundtables with the commercial space sector (People’s Finance News, April 27; Eastmoney, April May 5).

Figure 1: Restructured Chinese Space Organizations

The PRC’s adjusted space program reflects lessons it has learned from the historical and current U.S. space program. For instance, it seems to be following the U.S. model for a first crewed lunar landing with a “whole-of-nation” strategy initially reliant on military astronauts. The first U.S. civilian astronaut to participate in a crewed lunar mission was Harrison “Jack” Schmitt during the last Apollo 17 mission in 1972. Unlike the United States during the space race, however, the PRC is attempting a lunar landing while at the same time growing a strong Earth orbit astronaut program. CMSE plans to host its first international astronaut at the CSS later this year (CMSE, May 23). Its announcement that it is more deeply integrating the crewed and robotic lunar exploration programs may help it focus on lunar orbit, but may indicate possible capacity and safety shortfalls at the CSS. An alternative possibility is that the now six civilian astronauts can take a larger role in CSS management and deepen international science collaboration.

There are opportunities and risks for the United States from this reorganization. One positive is that it brings more clarity to when and where to get relevant information. With CMSE in charge of lunar coordination, it will have a larger speaking role at televised State Council briefings, not only niche CMSE Shenzhou briefings. The PRC’s increasing differentiation of and support for its exploration, science, and commercial space programs, however, may also expand future space competition beyond strategic national programs to commercial and human capital competitiveness.

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Coordination, Commercialization, and Securitization Could Signal Further Changes

The PRC’s last significant bureaucratic change to its space program was the creation of CNSA in 1993. At least three signals will likely indicate its next significant space governance reorganization. The first is closer DSEL coordination with CMSE. The PRC plans a crewed Mars mission for the late 2040s (CASI, May 2025). [7] DSEL’s robotic Mars missions will probably need to more deeply align with planning for CMSE’s crewed Mars mission well in advance. Relatedly, to coordinate the ground segment and support DSEL planetary defense mission planning, the CNSA established a new Asteroid Monitoring and Early Warning Research Center (国家航天局小行星监测预警研究中心) in June 2026 (CNSA, July 2). Asteroid early warning is necessary for crews on the Moon and Mars, and the United States in the past considered a crewed asteroid mission (NASA JPL, April 10, 2013).

The second is further commercialization of the CSS. If CNSA’s Commercial Space Department takes on a larger role in facilitating more non-state-owned enterprise commercial participation, that could indicate that the PRC can more quickly commercialize the CSS as an orbital national lab and further compete with the International Space Station’s incremental commercialization plans (U.S. Government Accountability Office, June 17).

The third is subsuming CMSE under the PLA Aerospace Force (ASF). The Central Military Commission (CMC) formalized the ASF in April 2024 as just one of many changes in how the country administers its national space program (China Brief, April 26, 2024, July 11, 2025). Chinese astronauts wear CMC patches, not ASF patches, and a shift would be significant for astronauts in Earth and lunar orbit (Author research, 2026). While the ASF may claim a need for enhanced monitoring in lunar orbit for national security space situational awareness (SSA), this is consistent with global practice (CIA, October 6, 1967, October 7, 2019; Cong Dianwei et al., October 17, 2025). [8] The establishment of a new Lunar Exploration Program probably includes the China Aerospace Science and Technology Corporation’s Queqiao lunar communication relay team, but also potentially the Chinese Academy of Sciences’ distant retrograde orbit (DRO) satellite team. The DRO satellites have a role in lunar navigation, space science, and probably cislunar space SSA (Chinese Academy of Sciences, April 16, 2025). If the DRO satellite team stops being transparent in their scientific progress, this could indicate a larger ASF role.

Conclusion

The CCP’s “new-style whole-of-nation” innovation system extends beyond the national space program, and its success across the various sectors will likely be mixed. The recent establishment of new space program management offices, however, illustrates that this system is more than a slogan, and that the Party is being more proactive. The creation of program offices to provide dedicated support and regulation for the commercial space sector and deep space exploration and science efforts will most likely propel rather than burden those burgeoning sectors. This added clarity and professionalization will also support PRC efforts to build international partnerships. For example, Chang’e 7 will launch with international payloads from Egypt, Bahrain, Italy, Russia, Switzerland, Thailand, and the Hawaii-based International Lunar Observatory Association (Xinhua, April 24, 2024).

The growth of the PRC’s space program has largely maintained a successful track record, with no human casualties and increasingly sophisticated technologies. Its decision to merge the crewed and robotic lunar space programs is probably intended to enable focus and better coordination, but it could also potentially result in an overburdened CMSE and safety culture shortfalls in CSS management.

Opinions, conclusions, and recommendations expressed or implied within are solely those of the author and do not necessarily represent the views of Air University, the Department of the Air Force, the Department of Defense, or any other U.S. government agency.

This article originally appeared in China Brief. Check it out here!

Kristin Burke is the Senior Space and Counterspace Researcher at the China Aerospace Studies Institute (CASI), under the U.S. Air Force’s Air University. Prior to joining CASI she was a Deputy National Intelligence Officer for Space at the Office for the Director of National Intelligence and a China Science and Technology Analyst at the U.S. Department of State. She is proficient in Mandarin and studying aerospace engineering.

Notes

[1] Kristin Burke, Understanding China’s Space Leading Small Groups—The Best Way to Determine the PLA’s Influence(United States Air Force China Aerospace Studies Institute (CASI), July 2022), https://www.airuniversity.af.edu/Portals/10/CASI/documents/Research/CASI%20Articles/2022-07-25%20China’s%20Space%20Leading%20Small%20Groups.pdf.

[2] Ibid.

[3] Barry Naughton, Tai Ming Cheung, Siwen Xiao, Yaosheng Xu, and Yujing Yang, “Reorganization of China’s Science and Technology System,” (U.S. Institute on Global Conflict and Cooperation, July 2023), https://ucigcc.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/08/Naughton-et-al-Working-Paper-Reorg-v1-8.22.23.pdf.

[4] Gerard Dipippo, Jonathon Sine, and Benjamin Lenain, “China’s Techno-Industrial Strategy in the Xi Era: Producing under pressure”, (The RAND Corporation, June 12026), https://www.rand.org/content/dam/rand/pubs/research_reports/RRA4000/RRA4012-1/RAND_RRA4012-1.pdf.

[5] Kristin Burke, “Trends That Impact Perceptions of the Chinese Space Program,” (United States Air Force China Aerospace Studies Institute (CASI), August 2023), https://www.airuniversity.af.edu/Portals/10/CASI/documents/Research/Space/2023-08-28%20Trends%20That%20Impact%20Perceptions%20of%20the%20Chinese%20Space%20Program.pdf.

[6] Matthew Bruzzese, “China’s Defense S&T Key Lab System 2025 Update,” (United States Air Force China Aerospace Studies Institute (CASI), October 2025), p. 234-238, https://www.airuniversity.af.edu/CASI/Display/Article/4255775/chinas-defense-st-key-lab-system-2025-update/.

[7] Kristin Burke, “The Real Space Race: China Will Send a Crew to Orbit Mars by 2050,” (United States Air Force China Aerospace Studies Institute (CASI), May 2025), https://www.airuniversity.af.edu/Portals/10/CASI/documents/Research/Space/2025-05-05%20The%20Real%20Space%20Race%20China%20Will%20Send%20a%20Crew%20to%20Orbit%20Mars%20by%202050.pdf?ver=5pT8gZsloeqXRiv3F43GnA%3d%3d.

[8] C. Dianwei, W. Yitian, T. Fei and Z. Jiayi, “Review of Classification and Application on Deep Space Surveying and Mapping,” 2025 IEEE 11th International Conference on Control Science and Systems Engineering (ICCSSE), Beijing, China, 2025, pp. 42–48, doi: 10.1109/ICCSSE67426.2025.11552521.

Executive Summary

• Al-Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula’s (AQAP) May propaganda campaign reflects an effort to offset reduced battlefield prominence in Yemen by attaching itself to Jama’at Nusrat al-Islam wal-Muslimin’s (JNIM) momentum in the Sahel.

• The campaign points to recalibration rather than decline, with AQAP sustaining relevance through reputational association, Inspire-branded incitement, and affiliate-to-affiliate reinforcement.

• AQAP’s renewed Inspire output shows a shift from spectacular plots toward lower-cost lone-actor violence that remains difficult to prevent and can produce disproportionate political and psychological effects.

In May, al-Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula (AQAP) put forth a narrative of connection to the Sahel—3,000 miles away from its base in Yemen. In a statement titled “Congratulations and Blessings to Our Brothers in the African Sahel,” AQAP praised Jama’at Nusrat al-Islam wal-Muslimin (JNIM) for its recent offensives. The group expressed hope that scenes similar to the Taliban’s takeover of Kabul in 2021 would one day be witnessed in Bamako and elsewhere.

The same month, AQAP’s English-language publication Inspire encouraged lone actor attacks against Western and Israeli interests (X/@MaadAlzekri, May 8, [a], [b]). Another AQAP-linked media outlet circulated Eid al-Adha images from Yemen, demonstrating continued local presence despite reduced attack claims (Substack/DanieleGarofaloMonitoring, June 2). Collectively, the communiques suggest recalibration rather than decline: AQAP is offsetting its reduced battlefield prominence in Yemen through external operations rhetoric, inter-affiliate solidarity, and association with JNIM’s gains.

AQAP’s Rise and Retreat in Yemen

AQAP has become one of al-Qaeda’s most dangerous affiliates, combining local insurgency with ambitions to strike Western targets. The group was formed in 2009 through the merger of al-Qaeda’s Saudi and Yemeni branches. It has since been linked to the 2009 Underwear Bomber plot, the 2010 Printer Cartridge Bomb plot, the 2015 Charlie Hebdo attack, and the 2019 Pensacola shooting (sanaacenter.org, April 17, 2019). Inspire, launched in 2010, made AQAP al-Qaeda’s leading English-language media producer. Yemen’s civil war later allowed AQAP to seize Mukalla, generate revenue through looting, taxation, and port activity, and embed locally through Ansar al-Sharia (Saba News, June 21, 2016). Its 2016 expulsion marked the beginning of a long contraction driven by military pressure, U.S. strikes, leadership losses, and infiltration (ACLED, April 6, 2023; sanaacenter.org, October 13, 2023).

AQAP today bears little resemblance to the force that governed Mukalla. It administers no major population centers, receives less international attention, and has not demonstrated the sustained external plotting capability that made it notorious 15 years ago. Its attacks remain concentrated in Abyan, Shabwah, Ma’rib, and Hadramawt. The group, however, retains an estimated 3,000 fighters, significant financial resources, maritime ambitions, al-Shabaab links, and revived English-language propaganda (UN Monitoring Team, February 4). AQAP has maintained relevance through external messaging and propaganda despite declining operational activity.

Since late 2022, AQAP’s main battlefield enemy has been Southern Transitional Council (STC)-aligned forces, while direct AQAP-Houthi hostilities have largely stopped. The STC collapse following its failed December 2025 offensive and the subsequent Saudi-backed counteroffensive stripped it of nearly all territorial holdings in southern Yemen by January (Yemen Monitor, January 2; mecouncil.org, January 14). This opened space for AQAP and removed its local enemy, forcing a recalibration of priorities (South24, January 4; ACLED, February 12).

AQAP’s May Messaging Shows Recalibration

AQAP’s recent messaging highlights the growing centrality of the Sahel and JNIM within al-Qaeda’s global narrative. First, AQAP is preserving relevance during a period of reduced operational engagement in Yemen. In jihadist circles, restraint can look like weakness. By praising JNIM, AQAP shows that it remains attentive to developments and present in al-Qaeda’s transnational conversation even when its local tempo is low (Substack/DanieleGarofaloMonitoring, May 17).

Second, AQAP is borrowing momentum from the Sahel. JNIM offers al-Qaeda its strongest narrative of insurgent expansion, giving AQAP a battlefield success story it cannot presently produce from Yemen (Authors’ Interview, June 23). [1] Its reference to the Taliban’s capture of Kabul is deliberate. The narrative frames the Sahel as another long-war theater where patient insurgency, rural penetration, state exhaustion, and pressure on security forces could eventually produce political collapse (Authors’ Interview, June 25). [2]

Third, AQAP is trying to preserve its historic role as al-Qaeda’s transnational propaganda leader (Sawab Center, October 7, 2022). Its emphasis on lone-actor attacks compensates for reduced operational activity in Yemen by shifting attention from theatrical, planned plots to lower-cost violence by self-initiated attackers. Such attacks require less organizational capacity, are harder to detect, and can still generate disproportionate political, media, and psychological effects.

Fourth, the campaign reinforces cohesion across al-Qaeda’s dispersed network. Under AQAP leader Saad bin Atef al-Awlaki, AQAP’s praise for JNIM is best understood as symbolic alignment and lateral reinforcement. It is not, however, proof of direct operational coordination. Al-Shabaab’s later praise for both JNIM and AQAP further reflects this affiliate-to-affiliate validation (X/@Mucagcebe, May 27).

Conclusion

Al-Qaeda’s geographical focus has evolved. In the early 2010s, AQAP made Yemen central to the international jihadist threat through external plots, territorial ambition, and English-language propaganda. In 2026, that momentum lies increasingly in the Sahel. As Yemen grows quieter, the group is using JNIM’s battlefield gains to sustain its own claim to relevance, while Inspire keeps its external operations identity alive. The result is not an AQAP resurgence on the scale of its earlier years, but a strategy to prevent marginalization due to reduced battlefield activity.

Notes:

[1] Authors’ interview with Abdul Rahim, Senior Research Fellow, International Centre for Political Violence and Terrorism Research (ICPVTR), S. Rajaratnam School of International Studies (RSIS), Nanyang Technological University, Singapore, June 23, 2026.

[2] Authors’ interview with Dr. Aamer Raza, Professor of Political Science, University of Peshawar, Peshawar, Pakistan, June 25, 2026.

The article was originally published in Terrorism Monitor

Elsa Chandio is a Research Fellow at the Center for Research and Security Studies (CRSS) in Islamabad, where her work spans militant violence, migration, and the gendered dimensions of conflict, with a particular focus on Pakistan–Afghanistan security dynamics.

Mustafa Malik is Director of Monitoring, Evaluation, and Learning (MEL) and a countering violent extremism (CVE) expert at the Center for Research and Security Studies (CRSS) in Islamabad. His work centers on counter-radicalization, youth resilience, and social cohesion, with an emphasis on cross-border peacebuilding and multitrack diplomacy between Pakistan and Afghanistan.

Executive Summary:

• On July 31, the State Council of the People’s Republic of China (PRC) issued the Regulations on Exit and Entry Administration, effective September 15. It adds three grounds for barring citizens from leaving, using a catch-all clause in its parent statute for its legal basis.

• The regulations tighten exit restrictions in three ways: officials can refuse travel documents, impose a formal exit ban, or dissuade a traveler at the border.

• Preventing people from leaving the PRC is a precondition for controlling the flow of other factors, such as capital, technology, and data. Under the new regulations, the exit ban for violating export controls and technology trade rules carries no time limit.

• Exit control also serves transnational repression. Beijing uses it against targets abroad by holding their relatives at home, and against naturalized U.S. citizens and foreigners inside the country.

The State Council released the Regulations on Exit and Entry Administration (国务院关于出境入境管理的规定) on July 31. Also known as Order No. 841, the regulations derive their legal authority from the 2012 Exit and Entry Administration Law (出境入境管理法), and will be effective as of September 15 (National Immigration Administration [NIA], June 30, 2012; Xinhua, State Council, July 31). The new rules are part of a growing set of instruments that seek to tighten control over the movement of people across the borders of the People’s Republic of China (PRC). In this case, they create additional grounds for barring citizens from leaving the PRC mainland.

Citizens have never had the legal right to leave the PRC; it has always been a permission granted by the state (China Brief, May 29). This is despite the 1954 Constitution guaranteeing citizens “freedom of residence and freedom to change their residence” (居住和迁徙的自由)—a provision that disappeared from later versions (Constitution of the PRC, 1954; 2019). Beijing is prioritizing control of departures more than the movement of money or technology, since limiting personal mobility has the simultaneous effect of limiting monetary and technological mobility (China Brief, May 15). Exit controls are also exploited for transnational repression, and raise the risk of travel for anyone Beijing deems problematic.

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Document Checks, Exit Bans, and Dissuasion Tighten Controls

When a citizen attempts to leave the PRC, they are siphoned through three administrative checkpoints. Order No. 841 tightens all of them (Xinhua, July 31). First, authorities may demand documents, materials, and electronic data to verify that an applicant’s stated purpose for travel is “true and lawful” (真实、合法), according to Article 3. If officials find falsehoods, they may reject the document or disallow the applicant’s departure. Truthfulness is left undefined and there are no recourse mechanisms.

Second, the state can formally exit ban individuals. Article 4 of the new regulations lays out three kinds of exit bans. Under the first provision, fraudulently obtaining a travel document, illegally exiting, or entering the country will lead to a ban of between six months and three years after an administrative detention. [1] The next kind of ban applies to citizens who “engage in” (从事) activities overseas that the state deems to be illegal or as harming the PRC’s national security and interests. The ban is also between six months and three years and starts from the date of their return. No foreign conviction or domestic legal case is required, but the vague definitions are likely to encompass lawful advocacy on sensitive issues like Xinjiang or Tibet, or online criticism of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP). [2]

The other reason for imposing an exit ban is for violations of export controls and technology trade rules that may harm industrial or technological security. Such actions can lead to an indefinite ban, to be decided on by the Ministry of Commerce. Article 12 of the Exit and Entry Administration Law already allowed such bans on national security grounds, and Articles 16 and 17 of State Council orders No. 834 and 835, respectively, list exit bans among measures against organizations and individuals, foreign nationals included, who fail to meet supply chain security obligations or resist countersanctions enforcement, with no judicial process or criminal predicate required (Xinhua, April 7, April 13).

Third, the state will actively dissuade citizens from attempting to leave the country. Article 2 of the new regulations directs immigration officers to remind citizens bound for high-risk destinations to exercise caution and, where necessary, to dissuade them. This duty falls on the officer, whose decision cannot be refused. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MFA), the Ministry of Culture and Tourism (MCT), and overseas diplomatic missions are tasked with issuing alerts for dissuading travel to certain destinations, but the regulations provide no guidance on how to rate potential destinations.

Political considerations are likely to inform decision-making. For instance, the MCT in November 2025 advised against travel to Japan, days after Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi told the Diet that a Taiwan contingency could threaten Japan’s survival (MCT, November 15, 2025). The MFA reaffirmed that warning on March 26 (MFA, March 26). Russia, by contrast, has drawn no travel caution guidance, notwithstanding its full-scale invasion of Ukraine, even though Article 2 of the regulations names war and armed conflict as the first risk factor.

Outbound Controls Used to Coerce Foreigners

Controlling the movement of people is what makes Beijing’s other outbound controls work. The Regulations on Outbound Investment, effective July 1, attach jurisdiction to an investor’s place of residence, which keeps offshore assets in reach (State Council, June 1; China Brief, July 11). By ensuring that an investor is physically present in the PRC, authorities can much more easily control the flow of other goods. For instance, Article 13 of the outbound investment regulations bars investors from moving controlled goods, technology, services, and data abroad, and treats the cross-border dispatch of technical personnel, overseas work assignments, remote technical guidance, and cross-border training as forms of transfer. By expanding the state’s ability to restrict people from leaving the PRC, the new regulations further empower the state to control those other flows.

Personnel control has transnational implications, and can be used to coerce those beyond PRC borders. A U.S. State Department advisory states that relatives of those under investigation, including minors, may face exit bans, and family members unaware of the proceedings can become entangled (U.S. Department of State, November 27, 2024). In one case, Chinese police at Shanghai’s airport in August 2022 prevented a woman, Xie Fang (谢芳), from leaving the country. They told her that while she was innocent, she could not leave until her husband, a former bookseller in Florida suspected of writing articles online that were critical of the CCP, returned to the PRC (AP, January 31, 2023).

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Foreign nationals are not protected. Cynthia and Victor Liu, both U.S. citizens, were barred from exiting the PRC from June 2018 until September 2021, in an effort to force their fugitive father’s return (BBC, September 28, 2021). The MFA defended those bans by saying that anyone suspected of crimes, whatever their nationality, may be stopped from leaving (CNN, September 28, 2021). Beijing does not recognize dual nationality, and Mao Chenyue (茅晨月), a Wells Fargo managing director barred from leaving the PRC in July 2025, is a naturalized U.S. citizen born in Shanghai (MFA, July 21, 2025).

The new regulations are most dangerous for PRC citizens holding U.S. permanent residence. One who returns and is deemed to have harmed national security abroad faces an exit ban of at least six months. An absence that long disrupts the continuous residence required for U.S. naturalization, and an absence of a year or more invalidates the green card as a travel document (U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services, September 12, 2025).

Conclusion

The PRC’s new Regulations on Exit and Entry Administration strengthen Beijing’s controls on outbound capital, technology, and data by keeping individuals inside the PRC. They expand previous legal powers in further coercive ways. The U.S. State Department has repeatedly issued travel advisories regarding the PRC. Caution is especially warranted now, as anyone who enters the country can be held there, regardless of citizenship, though people of Chinese descent face the highest exposure, whatever passport they carry.

This article originally appeared in China Brief Notes. Check it out here!

Christopher Nye is a Non-Resident Fellow at The Jamestown Foundation. He previously served as a Professor and directed a university think tank in China. He holds a Ph.D. in Law and specializes in Chinese legal institutions, elite politics, U.S.-China technology competition, and local governance.

Charles Sun is a China-focused policy analyst specializing in technology governance and the political economy of elite-state relations. He is a Yale Sinovation Fellow at the Yale School of Management and was a visiting fellow at the Shorenstein Asia-Pacific Research Center (APARC), Stanford University. His Stanford research introduced the Proactive Elite Alignment Theory (PEAT) framework for analyzing anticipatory compliance in China’s tech sector. He holds master’s degrees from Stanford University and Columbia University.

Notes

[1] National Immigration Administration (NIA) standards treat a fabricated travel purpose as fraud, and Article 73 of the Exit and Entry Administration Law imposes detention of up to 15 days without judicial review. Along with article 3, a disputed travel purpose can lead to individuals waiting years before being allowed to leave the PRC.

[2] A person banned on this basis may be left without any route of relief. Article 6 of the new regulations requires the deciding authority to give written notice of the facts, grounds, and available remedy, but excuses it where national security or a criminal investigation may be affected. A ban for harm to national security and interests falls inside that exception, and the person has nothing to appeal against and no record that the state ever acted.

Executive Summary:

• Reconstituted Russian forces may next attack Estonia if its war against Ukraine subsides into a stalemate. Estonia’s proximity to Russia, large Russian-speaking minority, and limited conventional military capabilities make it a potential target for future Russian military aggression.

• Seizure of the Russian-speaking majority area in and around Narva using unmarked forces and fabricated separatism or a larger offensive through Lithuania to link Russia’s Kaliningrad exclave with mainland Russia toisolate the Baltic States are the two most likely scenarios for a Russian invasion of Estonia.

• The war against Ukraine can teach Estonia how to better prepare for potential aggression from Russia through Ukraine’s example of expanding its ground forces, extending conscription, and investing in tanks, mechanized infantry, drones, artillery, and air defenses.

• Effective deterrence would benefit from the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) stationing a full combat brigade in Estonia. It would also benefit from NATO air and naval support being readily available, alongside stronger interoperability among the Alliance and help financing Estonia’s defense modernization.

After more than four and a half years of war, a decisive Russian victory in Ukraine appears more unlikely than ever. Desperate to achieve a major success and in fulfillment of an imperialist vision he has championed for years, Russian President Vladimir Putin may well turn next to Estonia, a former Soviet republic on the North Atlantic Treaty Organization’s (NATO’s) border with Russia. Badly damaged in Ukraine, the Russian armed forces will not be ready for such an adventure for the next few years. Once reconstituted, however, their offensive use against neighboring states—Estonia above all—is a legitimate possibility.^[1]

The Strategic Setting

Located on the southern coast of the Gulf of Finland, Estonia shares a 294-kilometer-long (182-mile-long) border with Russia. Its easternmost city, Narva, is only 136 kilometers (84.5 miles) from St. Petersburg. Formerly a possession of the Holy Roman Empire and later the Kingdom of Sweden, Estonia was incorporated into the Russian Empire in 1710 following the Great Northern War. Estonia enjoyed brief independence from 1918 to 1940 before being reoccupied by Soviet troops and remaining part of the Soviet Union until the end of the Cold War. Between 1945 and 1989, the presence of ethnic Russians in Estonia increased from 3 percent to 39 percent as part of a deliberate “Russification” policy.^[2]Since its independence in 1991, Estonia has grown into a modern functioning democracy with a thriving economy and robust institutions. A member state of both NATO and the European Union, Estonia has a population of 1.4 million, 21 percent of whom are today ethnic Russians, and 4.5 percent of whom are resident non-citizens.^[3] Most ethnic Russians live in Tallinn, the capital, and in Ida-Viru, Estonia’s northeastern province centered on Narva.

Since Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, Estonia has approached its Russian-speaking minority and Soviet legacy as a security variable rather than a simple demographic fact. Estonia, a frequent target of Russian influence operations, has wrestled with effectively integrating its ethnic Russian citizens, many of whom hold Russian passports and do not speak Estonian. A recent constitutional amendment stripped third-country permanent residents of Estonia, mostly Russians and Belarusians who lack Estonian citizenship, of the right to vote in local elections.^[4] In December 2022, the Riigikogu—Estonia’s unicameral parliament—mandated that all education fully transition to the Estonian language by 2030. The parliament made this law in response to debates about how to integrate the country’s large Russian-speaking population, considering the security threat from Russia following the Kremlin’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine.^[5] In August 2022, Estonia removed six Soviet war memorials in and around Narva. The Estonian Prime Minister at the time, Kaja Kallas, who currently serves as the EU High Representative for Foreign Affairs and Security Policy, explained the decision, saying, “No one wants to see our militant and hostile neighbor foment tensions in our home.”^[6] In 2007, the government moved the Soviet-era Bronze Soldier of Tallinn from the city center, sparking days of rioting, largely by ethnic Russians, and more than 1,000 arrests. The 2022 removal of Soviet memorials in response to Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine despite past blowback from similar decisions demonstrates Tallinn’s resolve to remove Soviet symbols and thereby limit Russian influence.

Estonian defense spending exceeds 3 percent and is increasing. Its small population and tiny GDP of $47 billion, however, mean that external support is essential for its defense. Its armed forces consist of a small active brigade, one reserve brigade, and no tanks or fighter aircraft; its navy consists of a handful of coastal patrol craft. A U.K.-led NATO battalion battle group based in Tapa is also present as a deterrent. In 2022, NATO committed to stationing brigades in threatened eastern flank states “where and when required,” but that promise never fully materialized.^[7] A NATO Air Policing activity is located at Amari Air Base in Estonia, and border fortifications are being constructed but will take time.^[8]

With such a small and poorly equipped military, Estonia depends on NATO’s Article 5 security guarantees to deter possible Russian aggression. That threat is looming. As Jamestown analyst Pavel Luzin opined in February 2024, “Russia is thinking seriously about a combat operation in the Baltic region.”^[9] Estonia explicitly revised its National Security Concept in 2023 in response to this threat. Discussing the new concept, Kallas put it openly, saying, “The main threat to our security comes from Russia.”^[10]

The Threat

As the conflict in Ukraine subsides into an uneasy stalemate, Nordic and Baltic defense and intelligence chiefs consistently warn that the chances of further Russian aggression are mounting.^[11] On numerous occasions, Putin has expressed a desire to reincorporate former imperial territories in support of “oppressed” Russian minorities. This is a real threat given the pattern of Russian aggression in Georgia and Ukraine and large-scale hybrid operations across the region.^[12] Although the Russian armed forces have taken severe losses in Ukraine, force generation is underway on a large scale, with some sources reporting as many as 15 new Russian divisions forming.^[13] Some experts estimate that renewed Russian aggression targeting the Baltic States could take place in the next two to five years.^[14]

There are at least two likely scenarios for a Russian invasion of Estonia. In the first, Russian paramilitary troops, special operations soldiers, and intelligence officers without markings would enter eastern Estonia to carve out a separatist enclave.^[15] Using this cover story, Russian operatives backed by armed forces would occupy the area around Narva and Lake Peipus. “Separatists” would then set up a mock government and “vote” for reincorporation into the Russian Federation, as seen in Donetsk and Luhansk oblasts and Crimea. The operational objective would be to test NATO’s resolve, to intimidate and destabilize a neighbor and former imperial possession, and to set conditions for possible future aggression against the Baltic States.^[16] Removing a thriving Western democracy from its doorstep, with the added possibility of fracturing a divided NATO, makes this an attractive option.^[17]

Estonian authorities would surely act quickly in response to this threat, alerting military and police forces, mobilizing reserves, stiffening cyber defenses, and calling for immediate Article 4 and Article 5 consultations under the Washington Treaty. Should actual fighting break out, which is likely, Russia would likely swiftly escalate and introduce combat troops under the pretext of assisting ethnic Russians seeking “self-determination.” Local Estonian active and reserve forces and police might be able to deal with smaller incursions, but a sophisticated operation backed by Main Directorate of the Russian General Staff (GRU) and special operations troops, supported by Russian airpower and conventional forces such as the 76th Guards Air Assault (VDV) Division in nearby Pskov and the 6th Combined Arms Army (6CAA) in St. Petersburg, would exceed their capabilities.^[18] Russia’s 6CAA is home-based in the Leningrad Military District, but is currently deployed in Ukraine. If Russia prepares to invade Narva, 6CAA would likely redeploy to Leningrad for reconstitution and be available for operations within two to five years. The lone NATO Enhanced Forward Presence battalion in Estonia is not enough to materially alter the balance of forces. In this circumstance, Russia might consider following up on its success by attempting to occupy the entire country.

NATO intervention in strength should Russian troops enter Estonian territory is uncertain. In spring 2025, senior national security officials from Sweden, Finland, and Norway said that their countries are more likely to send air and naval support than they are to send ground forces or risk direct confrontation with Putin because of the small size of their active-duty armed forces (Author’s Interviews, Spring 2025). They also expressed worry that Russian aggression against the Baltics could spread into their territories, in which case they would need their ground forces at home. Given the proximity of Russian forces, it is unlikely that strong NATO ground reinforcements would arrive in time.

Large Russian forces may not be required if they only face the Estonian military. Estonia currently fields one small active brigade, a small reserve brigade, local territorial defense units, and no tanks. The lone Enhanced Forward Presence (eFP) battalion—a NATO initiative established after Russia’s 2014 annexation of Crimea to strengthen deterrence in Eastern Europe—does not add a decisive element to the balance of forces. Russian forces are much larger and are located nearby. Russia’s 6CAA and 76th VDV Division constitute a manpower advantage over Estonian forces on the order of nine to one and still leave 11 Russian CAAs and approximately 12 VDV brigades uncommitted.^[19] Substantive NATO reinforcements would need to come from far away. A Russian incursion into Estonia would expose cleavages within NATO and compel neighboring Baltic and Nordic states to reassess their relations with the Russian Federation, thereby altering the security environment in severe and negative ways. Follow-on offensive operations throughout the Baltic region would then be likely.

A second possibility is a much larger incursion by Russian forces through Lithuania to seize the Baltic States and link up with the Russian exclave of Kaliningrad—home of the Baltic Fleet.^{[20] [21]} If successful, such an operation would cut off Latvia and Estonia, reestablish Russian control of the Baltic, fracture the NATO alliance, and profoundly alter the European and North Atlantic security environment. In this scenario, the reconstituted Russian 1st Guards Tank Army (1GTA) would attack from the Moscow Military District, with its main effort astride the Minsk–Vilnius–Kaunas–Kaliningrad axis and a supporting effort along the Pskov–Riga axis.^[22] As described above, 6CAA would conduct offensive operations to seize Tallinn, remove the government, and establish a Russian protectorate. Here, the prospect of meaningful NATO reinforcements is even more remote, as available forces would likely be committed to Lithuania. Russian forces described are likely sufficient to succeed under present circumstances, leaving some 80–90 percent of the Russian military for Ukraine and other contingencies.^[23]

These scenarios are not likely now, when the war against Ukraine is absorbing the bulk of Russian forces. As that conflict subsides into something like the frozen conflict of 2014–2022, and as Russia stands up new formations, however, Putin may well look elsewhere for military success—particularly as U.S. commitment to NATO and Article 5 is seen to waver.^[24] This is certainly the view of a growing number of experts.^[25] Given Russia’s record of attacking its neighbors in this century, the frequency and intensity of Russian propaganda and disinformation (which regularly trumpets the theme of conflict with the West), the high volume of hybrid events directed against the Baltics and the increasing militarization of the Russian economy and society, prudence suggests—and even demands—that the Russian threat to Estonia be taken seriously.

Estonia’s Lessons Learned

Estonia is a world leader in cyber, civil defense, and resilience, with a technologically advanced population, strong institutions, and a stable, democratically elected government. Admission to NATO and integration into European security structures have improved the quality of the Estonian armed forces, which are absorbing key lessons from the conflict in Ukraine. Even so, there is much Estonia could do to enhance its security posture.

The first challenge is to increase the size of Estonia’s ground forces and equip them for high-intensity combat against Russian forces. At present, they are likely too small and lightly equipped to defend successfully, especially when NATO reinforcements may take many weeks to arrive. The current military organization, the “Estonian Division,” consists of a small regular brigade and a reserve brigade, augmented with limited enablers.^[26] Excellent South Korean K9 155mm self-propelled howitzers are being fielded, but these units currently field only two maneuver battalions each and lack main battle tanks and mechanized infantry fighting vehicles.^[27]

Estonian ground forces would ideally field a full-time, regular division of three brigades, each comprised of a tank battalion, two mechanized infantry battalions, and artillery, reconnaissance, air defense, engineer, unmanned aerial vehicles (UAV), logistics, and special troops battalions, augmented by a second, similarly organized reserve division capable of full mobilization in 72 hours.^[28] Territorial defense forces, liberally equipped with anti-tank weapons, Man-Portable Air-Defense Systems (MANPADS), and drones, can play important roles in delaying and disrupting advancing Russian forces and securing critical infrastructure. A small corps-level headquarters with appropriate enablers would be required for command and control.^[29]

These potential enhancements to Estonia’s military would amount to a regular ground force of 20,000, with a reserve establishment of approximately 50,000. With a population of 1.4 million, this equates to some 5 percent of Estonia’s population in military active duty or reserve status—a reasonable proportion given the threat. With 456,000 citizens fit for military service and 13,200 males eligible for conscription each year, Estonian demographics can support a military establishment of this size.^[30]

In the air and at sea, Estonia would need to rely on external assistance, as the capital expenditures required to procure combat aircraft and warships are beyond its means. Small coastal craft and anti-ship missiles are the best acquisition bets for the small Estonian navy, hopefully with naval assistance from Sweden and other NATO neighbors. NATO airpower and high-altitude air and ballistic missile defense early in the conflict will be essential.^[31] Given its limited financial resources, low-cost weapons that can be produced en masse and employed at scale would be beneficial for Estonia to focus on.^[32]

To generate these forces and ensure a trained reserve, Estonia could overhaul its system of military conscription. Today, the annual intake of recruits is small, and the term of service is only 12 months, ensuring constant turnover in standing formations and a limited ability to replace combat casualties.^[33] By increasing the term of conscription to 24 months on active duty and doubling the annual intake of conscripts from 3,600 to 7,200, full manning of the regular division can be supported. Each year, 7,200 soldiers can then be discharged into the reserve division, with older cohorts moving into the territorial defense formations after an additional three years or so. For reservists, regular mobilization exercises and annual refresher training of approximately 45 days could be required.

Standing and reserve forces of this size, if properly trained, equipped, and led, constitute an effective deterrent capable of taking on an initial attacking force of 6CAA and the 76th Air Assault Division, buying time for reinforcements to arrive. Estonian soldiers can be counted on to offer fierce and sustained defense. Russian forces, however, are highly combat-experienced and are supported by some of the world’s best drone and electronic warfare units, as well as very strong artillery and combat aviation. Their mass, geographic proximity, and advanced cyber, hybrid, and disinformation capabilities give them clear advantages in any potential conflict.

Here, terrain offers both opportunities and challenges for Estonian commanders. A lack of strategic depth and generally flat topography favor the Russian attacker. Conversely, a sparse road net, major obstacles such as the Narva River and Lake Peipus, and a heavily forested landscape marked by peat bogs and marshland favor the Estonian defense. A “Baltic Defense Line” is under construction that, when completed, will present a layered defense of bunkers, anti-tank obstacles, and minefields. The two main axes of advance—the E20 highway from Narva to Tallinn and the E77 running north toward Tartu—include multiple bridges that, if destroyed, will slow attacking forces.^[34]

The Estonian government is well aware of the threat and understands that there is a window of time before Russian forces are reconstituted. The challenge now is to complete the defense program before that window closes. That means completing planned field fortifications, accelerating the delivery of drones and air defense, building out active and reserve forces and the munitions they require, and mechanizing the regular and reserve divisions. Accomplishing all this in the next two to five years will be a heavy lift. Without question, Estonia will need outside help.

Where Estonia Needs Help

The first and most pressing need is for NATO to station a full combat brigade with enablers in Estonia. Waiting until an invasion begins ignores time, distance, and correlation of forces factors that are determinative. NATO ground reinforcements would need to alert, assemble, and move hundreds of miles to reach the scene, a process that will take weeks and even months, with every chance that Estonia will have fallen by then. A strong Alliance air and naval response, begun early upon receipt of strategic indicators, will be imperative. Financial help for critical defense investments is another urgent need, as Estonia’s GDP is far too small to fund its defense requirements. A declaratory policy that Russian aggression in the Baltic region will result in the closure of the Baltic straits to all Russian commercial maritime traffic can materially help with deterrence, as approximately 60 percent of Russian energy exports transit the Baltic Sea.^[35] Regular exercises and emphasis on standardization and interoperability can also reinforce alliance commitments and credibility. Without this assistance, Estonia can offer stout and determined resistance, but a successful defense is unlikely.

Conclusion

Estonia provides an excellent example of a small, self-reliant NATO ally committed to its own defense and willing to shoulder more than a fair share of its defense burden. It cannot face down the threat of Russian aggression alone. This is precisely why Estonia sought NATO membership, and why NATO’s assurance of collective defense would need to be honored with concrete steps. The Russian Federation has repeatedly demonstrated a willingness to use military force and to run risks to achieve its stated objectives. The threat is real. Solutions are available, but they require political will and prompt action. The alternative is grim, with consequences that extend far beyond Estonia.

^[1] Richard D. Hooker Jr., “Putin’s Next Move? Five Russian Attack Scenarios Europe Must Prepare For,” Atlantic Council, February 12, 2026, https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/putins-next-move-five-russian-attack-scenarios-europe-must-prepare-for/.

^[2] Archana Upadhyay, “Borderland Geopolitics In Estonia,” World Affairs: The Journal of International Issues, Vol. 21, No.3, 2017), 163, https://www.jstor.org/stable/48531360.

^[3] Eoin Micheál McNamara, “Estonia’s Road to Comprehensive Security,” Heinrich Böll Foundation, July 24, 2025, https://pl.boell.org/en/2025/07/24/estonias-road-comprehensive-security.

^[4] Iida-Mai Einmaa, “How Will the Stripping of Voting Rights Affect Integration in Estonia?,” ERR News, March 31, 2025, https://news.err.ee/1609649165/how-will-the-stripping-of-voting-rights-affect-integration-in-estonia.

^[5] Ministry of Education and Research of Estonia, “Transition to Estonian-Language Education,” accessed July 6, 2026, https://www.hm.ee/en/node/234.

^[6] Euronews with AP, “Estonia to Remove Soviet-Era Monuments to ‘Ensure Public Order,’” Euronews, August 16, 2022, https://www.euronews.com/2022/08/16/estonia-to-remove-soviet-era-monuments-to-ensure-public-order.

^[7] North Atlantic Treaty Organization, “Madrid Summit Declaration,” June 29, 2022, https://www.nato.int/cps/en/natohq/official_texts_196951.htm.

^[8] Leevi Lillemäe, “40-Kilometer Anti-Tank Ditch to Be Built on Estonia’s Southeastern Border,” ERR News, August 16, 2025, https://news.err.ee/1609801725/40-kilometer-anti-tank-ditch-to-be-built-on-estonia-s-southeastern-border.

^[9] Pavel Luzin, “Russia Reorganizes Military Districts,” The Jamestown Foundation, February 29, 2024, https://jamestown.org/russia-reorganizes-military-districts/.

^[10] Government of Estonia, “Government Updated National Security Concept of Estonia,” accessed July 6, 2026, https://www.valitsus.ee/en/news/government-updated-national-security-concept-estonia.

^[11] Andrew Michta and Joslyn Brodfuehrer, “NATO-Russia Dynamics: Prospects for Reconstitution of Russian Military Power,” Atlantic Council, September 19, 2024, https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/nato-russia-dynamics-prospects-for-reconstitution-of-russian-military-power/.

^[12] Fiona Hill and Angela Stent, “The World Putin Wants,” Foreign Affairs, August 25, 2022, https://www.foreignaffairs.com/russian-federation/world-putin-wants-fiona-hill-angela-stent.

^[13] Thomas Grove, “The Russian Military Moves That Have Europe on Edge,” Wall Street Journal, April 27, 2025, https://www.wsj.com/world/europe/russian-military-europe-threat-2c4d8b3e.

^[14] Ben Barry, “Defending Europe Without the United States: Costs and Consequences,” International Institute for Strategic Studies, May 15, 2025, https://www.iiss.org/research-paper/2025/05/defending-europe-without-the-united-states-costs-and-consequences/.

^[15] Archana Upadhyay, “Borderland Geopolitics in Estonia: The Case of Narva—The Russian Majority Enclave,” World Affairs 21, no. 3 (Autumn 2017): “In the national perception, Narva has acquired the image of the regional ‘other’ inhabited by fifth columnists with pro-Russian sympathies. The city’s ethno-linguistic ‘Russian-ness’ within an ethnic Estonian nationalizing state, sharing borders with the neighboring Russian-kindred state raises concerns about security challenges emanating from this borderland amidst rising geopolitical tensions between Russia and NATO,” 167.

^[16] Liliana Oleniak, “Russia May Try to Seize Part of Estonia—Politico,” RBC-Ukraine, December 26, 2024, https://newsukraine.rbc.ua/news/russia-may-try-to-seize-part-of-estonia-politico-1735214959.html.

^[17] Eric Rosenbach, Carlo Giannone, Slavina Ancheva, Luc Hillion, Ethan Lee, and Lukasz Kolodziej, Russian Threats to NATO’s Eastern Flank: Scenarios, Strategy, and Policy for European Security (Cambridge, MA: Belfer Center for Science and International Affairs, Harvard Kennedy School, February 5, 2026), https://www.belfercenter.org/research-analysis/russia-nato-baltics-scenarios-europe-security.

^[18] 6CAA’s principal maneuver formations today are the 68^th and 69^th Guards Motor Rifle Divisions, supported by powerful artillery, missile, air defense, engineer, electronic warfare and other enablers.

^[19] Richard D. Hooker Jr., How to Defend the Baltic States (Vilnius: General Jonas Žemaitis Military Academy of Lithuania, 2021), https://www.gssc.lt/wp-content/uploads/2021/02/165_162_Hooker_proof.pdf.

^[20] Richard D. Hooker Jr., “How to Defend the Baltic States,” The Jamestown Foundation, October 17, 2019, https://jamestown.org/wp-content/uploads/How-to-Defend-the-Baltic-States-full-web.pdf.

^[21] R. D. Hooker Jr., “Major Theatre War: Russia Attacks the Baltic States,” Royal United Services Institute (RUSI), March 25, 2021, https://www.rusi.org/explore-our-research/publications/rusi-journal/major-theatre-war-russia-attacks-baltic-states.

^[22] 1GTA currently includes the 4th Guards Tank Division, the 2nd Guards Motor Rifle Division, the 47th Tank Division and the 27th Independent Guards Motor Rifle Brigade, along with standard enablers.

^[23] Sten Hankewitz, “US Institute Recommends Two-Year Conscription for the Baltic States,” Estonian World, November 1, 2019, https://estonianworld.com/security/us-institute-recommends-two-year-conscription-for-the-baltic-states/; Richard D. Hooker Jr. with Max Molot, Building a Stronger Europe: A Companion to the Belfer Center Task Force Report on a New Transatlantic Bargain (Cambridge, MA: Belfer Center for Science and International Affairs, Harvard Kennedy School, February 2025), https://www.belfercenter.org/sites/default/files/2025-02/Belfer_Building%20a%20Stronger%20Europe_Companion%20Report_1.2.pdf.

^[24] Frances Mao, “Can Europe Still Count on the US Coming to Its Defence?” BBC News, February 25, 2025, https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/c0l1w1w41xzo.

^[25] David Cattler, “Signals from the North: What Nordic and Baltic Intelligence Assessments Reveal About Russia,” International Centre for Defence and Security, March 20, 2026, https://icds.ee/en/signals-from-the-north-what-nordic-and-baltic-intelligence-assessments-reveal-about-russia/.

^[26] Lukas Milevski, “The Evolution of Baltic Military Divisions,” Foreign Policy Research Institute, December 27, 2024, https://www.fpri.org/article/2024/12/the-evolution-of-baltic-military-divisions/.

^[27] The Swedish CV90 family of tactical vehicles could be an excellent candidate to equip Estonian formations.

^[28] The special troops battalion would include headquarters, signal, electronic warfare, medical, and nuclear, biological, and chemical (NBC) companies. The reserve division should be led by full-time, regular commanders, and senior noncommissioned officers from company level and above.

^[29] This headquarters would command all regular, reserve, and territorial defense forces and include appropriate enablers. These enablers include tubed and rocket artillery, air defense, signal, engineer, intelligence, logistics, medical, electronic warfare (EW), unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs), and NBC.

^[30] Global Firepower, “2026 Estonia Military Strength,” Global Firepower, last reviewed January 20, 2026, https://www.globalfirepower.com/country-military-strength-detail.php?country_id=estonia.

^[31] Paul Cormarie and John Hoehn, “Sweden, Finland, and NATO’s First-Class Airpower Upgrade,” Modern War Institute, April 19, 2024, https://mwi.westpoint.edu/sweden-finland-and-natos-first-class-airpower-upgrade/.

^[32] T. X. Hammes, “The Melians’ Revenge,” Atlantic Council, June 27, 2019, https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/content-series/defense-industrialist/the-melians-revenge/.

^[33] Piotr Szymanski, “Universal, Selective and Lottery-Based: Conscription in the Nordic and Baltic States,” Centre for Eastern Studies, August 23, 2024, https://www.osw.waw.pl/en/publikacje/osw-commentary/2024-09-23/universal-selective-and-lottery-based-conscription-nordic-and.

^[34] Jennifer Kavanagh and Jeremy Shapiro, “The Bear in the Baltics: Reassessing the Russian Threat in Estonia,” European Council on Foreign Relations, December 18, 2025, https://ecfr.eu/publication/the-bear-in-the-baltics-reassessing-the-russian-threat-in-estonia/.

^[35] Anton Fillipov, “Why the EU Still Fails to Restrict Russian Oil Exports and What Should Be Done Instead,” European Pravda, December 20, 2024, https://www.eurointegration.com.ua/eng/articles/2024/12/20/7201059/.

Executive Summary:

• Since returning to power in 2021, the Taliban have centralized control over Afghanistan’s trillion-dollar mineral wealth, treating it as a primary revenue source rather than a foundation for national development.

• The mining sector operates with severe opacity and resembles the group’s former insurgent financing methods, with revenues allegedly captured by elite networks instead of being transparently deposited into state accounts.

• The Taliban’s extractive practices prioritize short-term gains over sustainability, resulting in severe social and environmental consequences, including dangerous child labor, resource depletion, and the forced displacement of local communities.

In late June, the Taliban leadership deployed around 1,000 special forces officers to Badakhshan in an effort to tighten control over the province’s mines and bring them more directly under the authority of the Taliban leadership (Afghanistan International, June 22). This was not the first time the Taliban used coercive measures to consolidate control over Afghanistan’s mineral resources. Since the Taliban returned to power in August 2021, mining has become one of the group’s most important sources of revenue (Tolo News, January 16). Rather than developing the sector through transparent governance and accountable institutions, however, the Taliban have centralized resource extraction in ways that resemble their insurgent financing practices during the war in Afghanistan following the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks.

Afghanistan’s Minerals & Taliban’s Extraction Strategy

The U.S. Geological Survey estimates that Afghanistan’s mineral wealth may exceed $1 trillion, and more than 1,400 deposits have been identified across the country’s 34 provinces (Geopolitical Monitor, June 6, 2025). These deposits include zinc, lead, copper, antimony, lithium, rare earths, cobalt, and other critical minerals. They have, therefore, attracted the attention of regional and global powers, including the People’s Republic of China (PRC), India, Pakistan, and the United States (The Interpreter, April 28).

The Taliban have awarded at least 205 mining contracts to more than 150 companies, and in September 2023 they announced new mining deals worth more than $6.5 billion (Centre for Information Resilience, June 26, 2024). In May 2024, the Taliban-controlled Ministry of Mines and Petroleum claimed it had secured more than $7 billion in investments from the PRC, Qatar, Türkiye, Iran, and the United Kingdom, although the details of these contracts remain undisclosed (Hasht-e-Subh Daily, June 1, 2024). Despite such high-profile international engagement, the Taliban continue to manage critical minerals less as a long-term state development project than as a centralized revenue enterprise.

To fund its insurgency, the Taliban generated significant revenue by taxing mining operations, controlling transportation routes, and collecting fees from traders (BBC, August 28, 2021). Since the Taliban assumed power in 2021, many of these practices have been institutionalized. Licenses are often issued through opaque channels, while access to contracts and mining revenues is reportedly shaped by ties to Taliban leaders, foreign intermediaries, and loyalist networks (Eurasian Review, January 8). Afghanistan’s suspension from the Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative (EITI) in June 2024 further underscored the absence of credible transparency and accountability mechanisms in the mining sector (Global Initiative Against Transnational Organized Crime, January 8, 2025).

Transparency, Accountability and Mineral Resource Governance

The lack of transparency has deepened since Hedayatullah Badri—a UN-sanctioned Taliban member—was appointed Minister of Mines and Petroleum in July 2024. After his appointment, the ministry sharply reduced public reporting on mining sales. Official figures indicate that more than 95 percent of reported 2024 mining revenue was disclosed during the first seven months of that year, while only around $1 million in revenue was publicly reported over the following five months (Amu TV, January 4, 2025). This decline in reporting has intensified public concerns over whether Afghanistan’s mineral wealth is being used for public welfare or captured by elite Taliban networks.

In many cases, mining revenue appears to be diverted to individuals rather than deposited transparently into state accounts. Afghan observers have described the presence of a “mineral mafia” within the Taliban that collects taxes, royalties, licensing fees, and direct payments from miners, transporters, exporters, and local traders (Arab News, September 13, 2023). In some areas, operators have little choice but to comply with Taliban demands if they wish to continue their activities (RFE/RL, June 16, 2022; Afghanistan Analysts Network, April 16, 2023).

Nangarhar province—rich in chromite, talc, and nephrite—has received the highest number of mining contracts issued by the Taliban. Its talc deposits were the subject of a 2018 Global Witness report, which found that almost all Afghan talc generated revenue for the Taliban when the group was still operating as an insurgent network. Recent open-source analysis indicates that the Taliban’s post-2021 contract network has reinforced the province’s importance in the group’s extractive economy (Hasht-e-Subh Daily, May 13, 2023; Centre for Information Resilience, June 25, 2024).

Ecological and Social Costs

The Taliban’s mining economy also carries social and environmental costs. Although mining has revived some commercial activity, the sector consumes scarce resources, such as water, and is associated with dangerous labor practices. Children as young as eight years old have been documented working in coal mines in northern Afghanistan without machinery or protective equipment (NPR, December 21, 2022; Financial Times, June 26, 2024).

The use of child labor reflects a pattern common to militant and insurgent economies. Vulnerable populations are exploited to reduce costs and sustain revenue-generating activities. The Taliban’s disregard for environmental safeguards is consistent with militant groups’ tendency to prioritize short-term extraction over sustainable governance.

The Taliban have also used force and coercion to acquire land and settle disputes over mineral sites. In northern provinces such as Badakhshan and Takhar, gold extraction has expanded under Taliban-linked local leaders, while communities have complained of displacement and exclusion from the profits. In some cases, competition over mines has produced deadly clashes, including disputes connected to Chinese-backed mining interests (RFE/RL, January 11). The June deployment to Badakhshan therefore fits a broader pattern: mining is not merely an economic sector for the Taliban, but a mechanism of political control, patronage distribution, and internal power management.

Conclusion

Afghanistan’s mineral resources could support the country’s long-term economic recovery if they were managed in the public interest. Under the Taliban, however, growing evidence suggests that these resources are being treated primarily as sources of revenue, patronage, and private gain rather than as a foundation for national development. If this trajectory continues, Afghanistan risks deepening economic fragility and reinforcing governance based on extraction rather than institution-building.

The article was originally published in Terrorism Monitor

Dr. Sadia Sulaiman is an Associate Professor at the Area Study Centre, Quaid-i-Azam University (QAU), Islamabad, Pakistan. She earned her PhD in Strategic Studies from the S. Rajaratnam School of International Studies (RSIS), Nanyang Technological University, Singapore. Her areas of specialization include post-conflict reconstruction, terrorism, extremism and countering violent extremism, governance reforms, peace and conflict studies, South and Central Asian geopolitics, diplomatic history and US foreign policy. Dr. Sulaiman is the author of three books.

Executive Summary:

• Two important conferences on overseas Chinese affairs work in July signaled that the Party’s united front work is set to ramp up in the coming years, as Beijing aims to deepen political control over the 60 million citizens who live outside the People’s Republic of China (PRC).

• On July 13, politburo standing committee member Wang Huning told the 400 assembled delegates from 140 countries and regions at 11th World Conference of Overseas Chinese Associations that they must promote national unification. Many of the delegates interviewed affirmed their plans to work to support this key Party priority upon returning to their respective countries of residence.

• At the National Conference on Overseas Chinese Affairs Work—the first since 2017—United Front Work Department head Li Ganjie delivered Chinese leader Xi Jinping’s instructions on this “long-term and strategic task of the Party and the State.” These focused in particular on leveraging the talents and the commercial networks of overseas Chinese to support the domestic economic progress.

July 2026 was an important month for the Chinese Communist Party’s (CCP) overseas united front work. On July 13, the 11th World Conference of Overseas Chinese Associations (第十一届世界华侨华人社团联谊大会) began in Beijing, with over 400 invitees—all leaders of overseas Chinese associations—streaming in from 140 countries and regions. The conferences were attended by both Wang Huning (王沪宁), who heads the National Committee of the Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference (CPPCC) and sits on the politburo standing committee, and Li Ganjie (李干杰), a member of the politburo who runs the Party’s United Front Work Department (Xinhua, July 13). Two weeks later, on July 27–8, Beijing hosted another event, the National Conference on Overseas Chinese Affairs Work (全国侨务工作会议). Wang and Li were both in attendance again, and both delivered remarks (Xinhua, July 28).

The confluence of these two events was “no coincidence” (并非偶然), as commentators in the People’s Republic of China (PRC) observed, yet neither has received much coverage in non-Chinese media (Shaanxi Institute of Socialism, July 30). The latter event was particularly notable. It was the first such conference held since 2017, and so the first since the 2018 organizational reforms under which the Party’s united front work departments at all levels subsumed their corresponding overseas Chinese affairs offices (China Brief, April 28, 2018, October 7, 2024; People’s Daily, February 18, 2017, July 27). As such, it provided a rare platform for the Party to shape overseas united front work for the years ahead, incorporating feedback canvassed from the visiting overseas Chinese leaders earlier in the month.

At these conferences, the Party leadership delivered Xi’s “important instructions” (重要指示) on “what overseas Chinese affairs work should do and how it should be done in the new era” (新时代侨务工作做什么、怎么做), according to Yan Miao (晏淼), Director of the United Front Work Department’s Overseas Chinese Affairs Bureau (People’s Daily Overseas Edition, July 29). In practice, these instructions will lead to an expansion of united front work—including political work—beyond the PRC’s borders, further efforts to standardize and deepen coordination between overseas organizations, and more work to make it easier for overseas Chinese to increase their commercial engagement with the PRC.

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Political Work for Political Goals

The principal concern for foreign governments when it comes to overseas Chinese affairs work is that it is inherently political. While it is undoubtedly the case that a great deal of the activities of overseas Chinese organizations is legitimate and has real and positive effects in terms of providing community, resources, and services to PRC nationals living overseas, this is not the principal reason for this work.

The clearest clue to the political purpose of overseas Chinese affairs work is the involvement of the highest levels of the Party in managing it. As state media points out, Xi Jinping views overseas Chinese affairs as a “matter of great national importance” (国之大者) (Xinhua, July 28). And as almost every article covering the two conferences makes sure to note, overseas Chinese affairs work is a “long-term and strategic task of the Party and the State” (党和国家一项长期性、战略性工作) (People’s Daily, July 27). The “Regulations on the United Front Work of the CCP” (中国共产党统一战线工作条例) also make this clear, stipulating that the main task of overseas united front work is to “strengthen ideological and political guidance” (加强思想政治引领) (Xinhua, January 5, 2021).

Some Chinese scholars are even more explicit about the political nature of this work, and about its increasing importance today. In an article for China Youth Daily, which is published by the Central Committee of the Communist Youth League of China, Wu Xingchen (吴星辰), a professor at Tianjin Academy of Socialism, writes that overseas Chinese affairs work is “first and foremost political work; its political nature is its primary attribute” (首先是政治工作，政治性是其第一属). Wu goes on to argue that this work is even more necessary in the new era, where it “must more consciously serve the central tasks of the Party and the country” (必须更加自觉服务党和国家中心大局). In his view, this is now starting to happen. He says that this work has “already transcended the traditional meaning of managing overseas Chinese affairs, becoming an important strategic fulcrum for the united front to unite people’s hearts and gather strength in the new era” (已经超越传统意义上的侨务事务管理，成为新时代统一战线凝聚人心、汇聚力量的重要战略支点) (China Youth Daily, August 3).

The political benefits for the Party that could come from exerting more influence on overseas Chinese are substantial. By its own count, there are more than 60 million overseas Chinese across nearly 200 countries and regions, as well as more than 40 million “returned overseas Chinese and relatives of overseas Chinese” (归侨侨眷) in the PRC. For the Party, these 100 million people constitute assets to be deployed in service of national goals: they are a “valuable resource” (宝贵资源), according to Xi, who speaks approvingly of their value for increasing the country’s wealth and power, often praising the “abundant economic power, rich intellectual resources, and extensive business networks” (雄厚的经济实力、丰富的智力资源、广泛的商业人脉) of the “vast number of overseas Chinese” (广大海外侨胞) (People’s Daily, July 27).

In the Party’s eyes, overseas Chinese affairs work is channeled toward achieving its principal goal: realizing the great rejuvenation of the Chinese nation, which Xi Jinping has long evinced is “the common dream of all Chinese people at home and abroad” (海内外中华儿女共同的梦), and from which overseas Chinese “cannot and will not be absent” (海外侨胞不能也不会缺席). To this end, overseas Chinese affairs has been tied explicitly to a number of the Party’s seven national development strategies, which are enshrined in the Party Charter (Party Members Net, October 22, 2022; China Brief, September 26, 2025). The People’s Daily notes that local governments and relevant departments have closely integrated the promotion of overseas Chinese affairs with the Rejuvenation through Science and Education Development Strategy (科教兴国战略), the Talent Strong Country Development Strategy (人才强国战略), and the Innovation-Driven Development Strategy (创新驱动发展战略) (People’s Daily, July 27, [1], [2]).

One of the most concerning aspects of national rejuvenation as a policy goal is that it includes what the Party calls “China’s unification” (中国统一), or the “unification of the ancestral homeland” (祖国统一) as a necessary condition for its achievement (People’s Daily Overseas Edition, July 29). In practice, this means the annexation of Taiwan. The Party sees Taiwan—which the PRC has never controlled—as the “core of its core interests” (核心利益中的核心), and unification features prominently not just in its messaging to overseas Chinese groups, but also in the messaging of those groups themselves (Xinhua, May 7). For instance, a senior official in the China Zhigong Party (致公党) recently noted that Xi had emphasized the need to “actively serve the great cause of national unification” (积极服务祖国统一大业), and that his party would “fully leverage its extensive overseas connections, unite overseas Chinese, returned overseas Chinese, their families, and students studying abroad” (充分发挥同海外联系广泛的优势，团结海外侨胞、归侨侨眷和留学人员) in its pursuit (People’s Daily Overseas Edition, July 29). Similarly, Zhang Changbao (张常豹), president of the French Association for the Promotion of Peaceful Reunification of China (法国中国和平统一促进会会长), who attended the conference in July, said that it had “strengthened his determination and confidence in promoting China’s unification” (坚定了促进中国统一的决心和信心) (China News Network, July 17).

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Building a Stronger United Front

Much of the discourse surrounding the two conferences in July focused on practical ways in which overseas Chinese affairs work could be improved. An article in Quishi lays out some current weaknesses. Noting that the grassroots workforce is relatively insufficient, it calls for strengthening coordination, innovating new working methods, and building more diverse platforms and approaches for providing services to overseas Chinese. (Qiushi, July 29). Some suggestions from the first conference focused on improving the institutions and organizations that are part of the wider united front system. For instance, Zheng Jinbiao (郑金标), an overseas Chinese leader based in France, said that he planned to promote the “standardized development” (规范发展) of overseas Chinese associations (Europe Times, July 15). Others focused instead on attracting more talent and youth. One article says that this is a “key focus” (关注重点)for major overseas Chinese organizations (WeChat/Fujian Overseas Chinese Daily, July 16).

Many of the policy directives that have come out of the conferences seek to encourage overseas Chinese to do more business with the PRC. This would lead to direct economic benefits for the PRC, but it would also help to “better unite the hearts and efforts of overseas Chinese” (更好凝聚侨心侨力). In other words, it would create additional points of leverage for the Party (People’s Daily, July 27). To this end, a lot of coverage focuses on the Foreign Investment Law and related regulations, improving support for overseas Chinese-funded enterprises, developing the Shantou Overseas Chinese Economic and Cultural Cooperation Pilot Zone in Guangdong, building industrial clusters and innovation bases catering to the overseas Chinese business community, encouraging overseas Chinese to participate in the One Belt One Road (OBOR) initiative, and other similar proposals.

Beijing hopes that by extending these preferential policies, it can then “leverage geographical and kinship advantages” (发挥地缘、亲缘优势) to pursue its strategic goals domestically, and externally that it can “guide” (引导) overseas Chinese to “convey China’s voice well” (传递好中国声音) by toeing the Party’s propaganda line (CPPCC, November 10, 2025; People’s Daily, July 27).

Conclusion

The 11th World Conference of Overseas Chinese Associations and the National Conference on Overseas Chinese Affairs were landmark events in the development of the Party’s overseas united front work. All indicators from these events of the last few weeks point toward an aggressive expansion of this work in the months and years ahead. The readouts of the conferences and related commentaries are unambiguous in portraying overseas Chinese affairs work as political work on behalf of the Party and in support of its broader strategic ambitions.

That neither of these events have received attention outside of the PRC suggests that much of the Party’s overseas influence work continues to operate without an appropriate level of scrutiny. The Party believes that all overseas Chinese are unofficial ambassadors for the PRC, are “committed to high-level scientific and technological self-reliance and innovation” (锚定高水平科技自立自强，矢志创新攻关), and must present a “trustworthy, lovable, and respectable image of China” (可信、可爱、可敬的中国形象). The Party does not speak for all of those individuals, and Xi Jinping’s “China Dream” is not shared as widely as he might wish. For now, however, he appears to feel as though the Party’s efforts are paying off.

This article originally appeared in China Brief. Check it out here!

Arran Hope is the editor of China Brief at The Jamestown Foundation, where he also has responsibility for additional China-related publications and programming. His writings analyzing political developments in the People’s Republic of China have informed U.S. government reports and appear on university course syllabi. He has also appeared on panels at the Hudson Institute and has testified in front of U.S. state senators.

Executive Summary:

• Ahvazi Arab militancy remains a low-level threat in Khuzestan, with no mass uprising despite recent factional attacks and Israeli airstrikes affecting the region.

• A broader rebellion is constrained by Tehran’s strong coercive capacity, fragmented militant groups, fears of collective punishment, and unrest driven largely by socioeconomic grievances rather than militant ideology.

• The most likely near-term threat to Iran in the province is not widespread insurgency, but isolated sabotage and opportunistic strikes against Iranian security, energy, or industrial targets.

Arab separatist militancy in Iran’s Khuzestan province remains a low-level but strategically sensitive threat amid the U.S.–Israeli campaign against Iran. In March, the previously obscure group, Ahwaz Falcons, attacked an Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) installation in the provincial capital, Ahvaz. Another faction, the Ahwaz Freedom Brigades, reportedly announced a rebellion against Tehran (YouTube/@AlArabyTV, March 5). These claims are worth monitoring because Khuzestan is one of Iran’s most securitized provinces: it is oil-rich, borders Iraq, contains key military and industrial infrastructure, and has a large Arab population with longstanding grievances against the Persian-dominated state (The Guardian, March 6).

The province has also been directly affected by the current conflict. Witnesses reported explosions and fighter-jet activity in Ahvaz in March and April, including airstrikes around the city (Iran International, March 19; Iran International, March 22; Iran International, April 7). Israeli strikes hit Khuzestan Steel near Ahvaz on March 27, and Iranian media stated that the company later halted production after its steelmaking units were struck (Al Jazeera, March 30). These attacks demonstrate that Khuzestan has become part of the conflict geography, although they have not produced a mass Arab uprising.

The latest claims recommence previous waves of Ahvazi militant activity. The most significant precedent was the September 2018 attack on a military parade in Ahvaz, which killed 25 people. Attribution was contested, with both an Ahvazi Arab opposition network and Islamic State claiming responsibility, but neither providing conclusive proof (aawsat.com, September 22, 2018). Iran subsequently focused on the Arab Struggle Movement for the Liberation of Ahwaz (ASMLA) and later executed Swedish–Iranian dissident Habib Chaab in 2023 after accusing him of leading the group and being involved in attacks (Iran International, May 6, 2023). This explains Tehran’s heightened sensitivity to any Ahvazi activity today.

The absence of a broader rebellion in the province reflects several constraints against the militants. First, Tehran’s coercive capacity in Khuzestan is especially strong because the province is vital to Iran’s energy, border, and internal security interests. Second, Ahvazi armed groups appear fragmented, with much of their activity occurring through exile networks, propaganda statements, or small cells rather than a durable insurgent command (thearabweekly.com, November 10, 2018). Third, fear of collective punishment remains significant because Iran has prosecuted and executed individuals accused of separatist or foreign-backed activity in the southwest (iranhr.net, June 18, 2019). Fourth, the ongoing war will not automatically generate a rebellion, just as it has not led to civilian protests in major cities. External strikes can weaken state assets, but they can also intensify militarization and make local rebels or civilian activists vulnerable to accusations of collaboration with Israel or the United States. Lastly, Khuzestan’s unrest is driven as much by socioeconomic grievance as separatist ideology. Grievances include persistent water shortages, pollution, unemployment, discrimination, and the extraction of oil wealth without perceived local benefit, and are therefore not inherently connected to the current geopolitical conflict.

Ahvazi Arab militancy has not evolved into a mass uprising or rebellion, despite external strikes on military and industrial targets in Khuzestan. Tehran’s dense security presence in the province would certainly lead to a maximally harsh counter-insurgency reaction in any case. The more plausible near-term threat to the Islamic Republic in the province is not necessarily a widespread insurgency rebellion, but isolated attacks, sabotage, or other opportunistic strikes against the IRGC, police, energy, or industrial targets.

The article was originally published in Terrorism Monitor

Jacob Zenn is the Editor of Terrorism Monitor and Militant Leadership Monitor, Senior Fellow on African and Eurasian Affairs at The Jamestown Foundation, and an Adjunct Assistant Professor at Georgetown University’s Security Studies Program. He is the author of Unmasking Boko Haram: Exploring Global Jihad in Nigeria (Lynne Rienner, 2020) and has published widely on militant movements in leading academic journals. Zenn holds degrees from Georgetown Law and the Johns Hopkins SAIS Nanjing Center and has studied Uyghur and Persian in China and Uzbekistan.