In the first decades after the end of the Cold War, the Western international system tended to view China’s rise primarily as an economic process: a developing country opening to trade, integrating into the global economy, and, through that process, gradually converging toward Western political and liberal norms. This assumption proved fundamentally mistaken. The China of the last decade—and even more so since Xi Jinping came to power in 2012—does not seek to integrate into the existing world order, but rather to shape an alternative order in which it constitutes a hegemonic center of political, economic, and ideological power.

 

China’s worldview is not merely a reaction to hostile U.S. policies; it is grounded in a deep strategic tradition. As early as Sun Tzu’s writings in the 6th century BCE, the principle of victory without battle appears—defeating an opponent without direct confrontation. In recent decades, this principle has been adapted into modern Chinese military, ideological, and economic doctrines, which view direct confrontation with the West as a dangerous scenario to avoid whenever possible—but not at the cost of abandoning the struggle itself.

 

In this context, China does not operate in a single arena. It conducts a multidimensional and ongoing struggle: economic, ideological, technological, legal, and diplomatic. The West, in contrast, still tends to interpret each domain separately—trade, security, human rights, technology—and struggles to see the full picture. This gap is one of Beijing’s core sources of power.

 

One of Xi Jinping’s defining initiatives was the 2013 launch of the “One Belt, One Road” initiative, later rebranded as the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI). Contrary to its initial Western portrayal as a purely economic infrastructure program, it is a broad geo-strategic framework, aiming to bind dozens of countries into chains of economic, financial, and infrastructural dependence on China. Since its launch, more than 60 countries across Asia, Africa, Europe, and Latin America have joined, with declared investment volumes approaching one trillion dollars.

 

However, the initiative’s power is not measured solely in financial terms. China uses infrastructure projects—ports, railways, roads, energy facilities, and communication networks—as anchors for long-term political influence. Cases such as the Hambantota port in Sri Lanka, leased to China for 99 years after loan repayment failures in 2017, or the gradual acquisition of the Piraeus port in Greece by COSCO, turning it into a political lever within the EU, illustrate how economic investment translates into political leverage.

 

The Belt and Road Initiative does not operate in isolation. Simultaneously, Beijing consistently works to build alternative or parallel supranational institutions to Western frameworks. Organizations like BRICS and the Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO) have expanded in recent years to include countries such as Iran, Egypt, India, and Pakistan. Their goal is not necessarily to form a declared anti-American bloc, but to undermine Western hegemony by normalizing a “multipolar” international order where human rights, rule of law, and liberalism are not prerequisites for integration.

 

The war in Ukraine accelerated this process. China exploited Russia’s isolation from the West to become its dominant trading partner. By the end of 2023, one-third of Russian trade was already conducted in yuan, and China’s currency reserves in Russia surpassed dollar reserves for the first time. This created deep Russian dependence on Beijing—a clear strategic outcome, even if in the short term it provides economic relief to Russia.

 

Alongside state-level actions, China employs an extensive network of indirect agents, commercial companies, academic institutions, technology platforms, and diaspora communities, allowing it to influence internal Western processes without formally appearing as a state actor. This is the core challenge: blurring the lines between peace and war, commerce and conflict, legitimate influence and hostile action.

 

One of the most sophisticated dimensions of China’s influence strategy is the information and consciousness domain. Over the past decade, Beijing has invested heavily in developing a structured doctrine of non-kinetic warfare, based on the “Three Warfares” concept officially adopted by the People’s Liberation Army in 2003: psychological warfare, media warfare, and legal warfare. These do not replace military conflict but prepare the ground, shape perceptions, and reduce the adversary’s ability to respond.

 

Media warfare primarily aims to undermine Western public trust in its own institutions. China does not necessarily need broad sympathy; it suffices to deepen cynicism, distrust, polarization, and confusion. Studies by research institutes such as ASPI and the Atlantic Council have documented consistent Chinese activity on Western social media since 2019, including the use of fake accounts and bots to spread conflicting narratives during crises—COVID-19, U.S. elections, social protests, and discussions around the Russia-Ukraine war.

 

In this context, TikTok is a prime example. Unlike American platforms, TikTok is subject to Chinese national security laws, which require companies to cooperate with the state. While no direct use of the algorithm for overt political purposes has been proven, studies indicate systematic content biases: critical content about China receives less exposure, while content promoting anti-Western narratives or highlighting Western failures receives relative amplification. In the U.S., concerns peaked in 2023–2024, when several states, including Montana, attempted to ban the app, and Congress promoted legislation to force its sale to a non-Chinese entity.

 

China also extensively leverages overseas Chinese communities as part of its “United Front” strategy. The Chinese Communist Party’s United Front Work Department operates semi-openly to maintain political loyalty among overseas Chinese and sometimes to recruit and activate local agents. A 2022 MI5 report warned of Chinese attempts to enlist politicians, businesspeople, and local activists through community networks, donations, and indirect funding.

 

Another particularly sensitive dimension is the use of international law and norms as a tool of contestation—legal warfare. China promotes new legal interpretations for maritime law, space law, and cyber law, seeking precedents that challenge Western supremacy in these areas. In the South China Sea, for example, Beijing rejected a 2016 Hague Tribunal ruling that its territorial claims were legally unfounded, while simultaneously increasing naval and civilian presence to create “facts on the ground.

 

All these actions are neither random nor ad hoc. They are part of a systematic, long-term effort to erode the West’s structural advantages: freedom of information, pluralism, academic openness, and free markets. These same values, which are the West’s sources of strength, are exploited by China as vulnerabilities. In this sense, the struggle is not just between two power concepts, but between two visions of world order and state-society relations.

 

On the broader geopolitical stage, China systematically builds a global network of influence with a dual aim: strengthening its position as an alternative power to the West while simultaneously weakening the West’s ability to act coherently as a bloc. This policy is particularly evident in regions where Western presence is weak or perceived as problematic—Latin America, Africa, the Middle East, and peripheral areas such as the Arctic.

 

In Latin America, over the past decade, China has exploited declining U.S. engagement and political instability to expand its economic and political footprint. Since the Belt and Road Initiative launch in 2013, over 20 countries in the region have signed cooperation agreements with Beijing, including Venezuela, Argentina, Brazil, and Chile. China became Brazil’s largest trading partner in 2009, and by 2022 was the region’s second-largest export destination.

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Venezuela is a classic example: between 2007 and 2016, China provided the Chávez and Maduro regimes with over $60 billion in loans, mostly backed by oil. This not only secured access to strategic resources but also provided economic lifelines to a regime isolated by Western sanctions. Simultaneously, China refrained from substantive criticism of human rights abuses, sending a clear signal to partners: political support is not contingent on democratic reforms.

 

In the Middle East, China acts cautiously but consistently, presenting itself as a “neutral” and pragmatic actor. It deepened ties with Iran, Saudi Arabia, the UAE, and Israel simultaneously—a move previously nearly inconceivable for an external power. The 2021 strategic cooperation agreement with Iran, for 25 years, includes Chinese investments worth tens of billions in infrastructure, energy, and technology, providing Tehran partial protection against Western isolation. In March 2023, China even mediated the restoration of diplomatic ties between Iran and Saudi Arabia—a significant image-building achievement designed to present Beijing as a responsible mediator rather than Washington.

 

Simultaneously, China avoids imposing political conditions on cooperation. This approach appeals to authoritarian regimes and states weary of Western lectures on human rights but also effectively weakens the West’s diplomatic leverage in the region.

 

The struggle over the Arctic is another example of long-term thinking. Although China is not an Arctic state, it declared itself a “near-Arctic state” in 2018 and began investing in research, infrastructure, and future shipping routes. The opening of northern shipping lanes due to climate change significantly shortens distances between Asia and Europe and reduces dependence on Western-controlled routes. The deepening Sino-Russian cooperation in the region—including LNG projects on the Yamal Peninsula—highlights the potential to shift the balance of power even in an area previously considered peripheral.

 

Across these arenas, the common feature is patient, cumulative, multidimensional action. China does not seek direct confrontation with the West but aims for gradual erosion of Western influence through creating economic dependence, political fragmentation, and normalization of an authoritarian model as a legitimate alternative.

 

The most advanced and sensitive stage of China’s influence strategy occurs within Western countries themselves. Here, unlike distant arenas, China acts with greater caution but high effectiveness, combining economic, political, media, and academic tools. The goal is not overt control but shaping a favorable environment: weakening opposition, blurring criticism, and making Chinese interests appear “normal” or even desirable.

 

China also extensively acquires strategic assets. Since the beginning of the previous decade, Chinese entities have purchased ports, transportation infrastructure, power grids, and real estate near sensitive facilities in Europe, the U.S., and Australia. The 2016 COSCO acquisition of the Piraeus port in Greece marked a milestone: beyond economic value, the port became a political lever. Since the acquisition, Greece has blocked or softened several EU initiatives criticizing China on human rights, including decisions concerning Hong Kong and the Uyghurs.

 

China operates a wide network of influence through academic and cultural institutions. Confucius Institutes, operating since the mid-2000s at dozens of Western universities, were presented as cultural and language programs but also functioned as tools to restrain discourse. In several documented cases—in the U.S., Canada, and Australia—pressure was reported to remove content related to Tibet, Taiwan, the Tiananmen Square Massacre, or human rights in Xinjiang. Between 2018 and 2022, dozens of American universities closed their Confucius Institutes following investigations by the FBI and the U.S. Department of Education.

 

At the same time, researchers, students, and think tanks face direct and indirect pressures. Chinese researchers in Western academia know that publishing critical work on the Communist Party could cost them access to their home country, their families, or research grants. Western researchers, particularly in political science, China studies, and international relations, also report lost funding, canceled invitations, or frozen collaborations after critical publications.

 

The media constitutes a complementary arena. Foreign-language networks such as CGTN, China Daily, and international editions of Chinese media work to embed pro-Chinese narratives under the guise of legitimate journalism. Meanwhile, sponsored content appears in leading Western newspapers in a format resembling normal reporting, blurring the line between news, commentary, and propaganda. This approach is reminiscent in many ways of Qatar’s Al-Jazeera—using Western journalistic tools to exert ideological-political influence.

 

All of this rests on a central principle: using local agents. Businesspeople, former politicians, academics, journalists, and influencers are not required to see themselves as Chinese agents. It is enough that they advance overlapping interests—opposing sanctions, criticizing “American hegemony,” or highlighting liberal democracy’s failures—to effectively serve China’s strategy. This creates managed chaos: accelerated and amplified internal Western criticism shaped by an external actor.

 

The cumulative result is a weakened Western capacity for decisive, coordinated action. Democracies struggle to formulate assertive policies toward China when economic elites depend on Chinese investment, universities fear losing funding, and politicians worry about jobs or supply chains.

 

The strategic significance of these patterns is far greater than the sum of individual actions. China does not seek frontal confrontation with the West but steadily erodes the West’s foundations: public trust, political cohesion, economic independence, and decision-making capacity. In this sense, Chinese influence is not a classical war but a long-term struggle over shaping reality, narratives, and the constraints within which democracies operate.

 

One of the West’s central vulnerabilities lies in its openness. Freedom of expression, investment, academia, and press—all foundational values—are exploited by China against the system itself. Unlike Western countries, China does not grant reciprocity: free media, foreign lobbying, or independent academic research are not equally possible. This creates a structural asymmetry, with one side acting almost without constraint while the other is bound by liberal norms.

 

The strategic error of the West in recent decades was assuming that economic integration would inevitably lead to political liberalization. This policy, dominant since China joined the WTO in 2001, not only failed to democratize China but strengthened an authoritarian regime with unprecedented economic and technological capabilities. China adopted the advantages of the free market but deliberately rejected its political values.