Silent Invasion: the question of race

The real racial double standard is the suggestion that the government should allow some Australians, on account of their ethnicity, to be less protected than others from Chinese interference and intimidation.
By Rory Medcalf

Clive Hamilton’s new book Silent Invasion: Chinese Influence in Australia is coming in for considerable criticism. 

But I doubt anyone will question the author’s courage to say things as he sees them. 

His publisher, Hardie Grant, of Spycatcher fame, likewise deserves acknowledgement for its commitment to open debate.
As a morally charged voice from the civil libertarian left, Hamilton punctures the lazy myth that concern about China is limited to conservatives or national security types on a “China threat roll”, who for some reason feel the need to conjure up new trouble.
Broadly speaking, Hamilton has done Australia a long-term service. 

The book’s forthrightness is resounding internationally. 

Many countries have looked to Australia to understand how to uncover and curb covert, corrupt, and coercive forms of Chinese influence and interference. 

From the United States to Germany, France to Singapore, Japan to India, Canada and New Zealand, many eyes have focused on the Australian experience to understand how China exploits the upsides of economic, societal, and political bonds to advance its interests at others’ expense.
The Australian story has included startling media revelations about political donations and more, extraordinary warnings from the Australian Security Intelligence Organisation, political controversies, and tough proposed legislation. 

And now scrutiny is turning to Hamilton’s book.
Silent Invasion will be essential reading for those in many countries concerned for their national security and the integrity of their institutions. 

Worth attention is the way the book illuminates the motives and secretive methods of the United Front Work Department. 

This organ of the Chinese Communist Party is now a familiar name in Australian public debate, so all this sunlight is getting us somewhere.
There is plenty to debate about the balance of Hamilton’s unsettling assessments on issues such as politics, espionage, Chinese community dynamics, and academic links. 

On politics, despite efforts at influence, parliamentary democracy is demonstrating resistance to Chinese expectations; for example, the rejection of the extradition treaty.
Much is made in Hamilton’s work, and elsewhere, of the risks of scientific research collaboration leaking new dual-use technologies to China’s military and security apparatus. 

But does primary responsibility lie with universities or with thinly resourced government policy frameworks designed for a time when the boundary between peaceful and strategic technology was simpler?
The starkest critique of the book, however, is about race.
The accusation of racism has been deployed by representatives and mouthpieces of the People’s Republic of China to discredit legitimate concerns about Chinese political interference.
Still, any suggestion that xenophobia is entering the Australian policy discourse must be taken seriously. 

One prominent warning has come from the pro-China Race Discrimination Commissioner Tim Soutphommasane. 

He warns against anything that stirs echoes of Australia’s old history of discrimination.
To this end, Soutphommasane selectively cites certain lines of the book, along with the sensational title, Silent Invasion. 

He says it is “doubly dangerous to invite anxiety about the Chinese party-state that may shift into animosity towards people with Chinese heritage”.
Soutphommasane is saying here that Australians have no right to feel or express “anxiety about the Chinese party-state”; in other words, that they must censor their honest concerns about a foreign state’s interference simply because that state is China.
It would be morally offensive to cast a blanket of suspicion across a particular ethnic community. 

Yet if you read Hamilton’s book in full and in context of the gathering national debate, it takes quite some filtering and imagination to conclude that this is what he has set out to do.
Throughout much of the (mostly) well-footnoted text, Hamilton goes to great lengths to reiterate the distinction between the Chinese party-state and the Chinese people.
But it is not enough to say that Hamilton has chosen the wrong words to make his case, and leave it at that. 

His critics also need to give a clear sense of whether and how concerns can be expressed acceptably – of how genuine debate can proceed without censorship.
There must be a way for Australia to reconcile its proper sensitivities about race with the need to provide transparency and early warnings around a risk to national security, democratic institutions, and multicultural integrity. 

That risk is not posed by Chinese Australians but by a foreign power -- China -- and those individuals, whatever their ethnicity or citizenship, who choose to place its interests above Australia’s.

The fifth column: Beijing Bob and Chinese agents in Australia

Criticism of influence by the Chinese Communist Party is not about ethnicity. 

This is borne out by the fact that voices in Australia’s diverse Chinese communities are taking the boldest stand in the pushback against such influence, and demonstrated this by being in the majority at the Sydney launch of Hamilton’s book.
The issue of Chinese interference needs to be addressed in a context of respect for the rights of Chinese-Australians. 

Racially charged partisanship needs to be avoided, otherwise a window will be opened for new modes of influence by Beijing, especially at election times. 

The whole issue must be owned and addressed by the bipartisan centre, or we will only hear voices at the extremes.
If there is racism in this debate, it is not in the suggestion that Australia should protect itself from Chinese interference.

The real racial double standard is the suggestion that by being silent on this issue the government should allow some Australians, on account of their ethnicity, to be less protected than others from Chinese interference and intimidation.

Die Endlösung der Hanfrage

The dark side of China’s national renewal
The race-based ideas of the country’s leaders have unwelcome historical echoes
By Jamil Anderlini

Examples of the west ceding global leadership seem to have become a weekly occurrence. 

In the vacuum left behind it is natural to look for a replacement and for many, including the mandarins in Beijing, China appears to be the most credible.
But how much do we know about the kind of global leader China wants to be? 

The best place to start is with the stated intentions of the country’s leaders. 

On assuming the mantle of the ruling Communist party’s paramount leader in 2012, Xi Jinping declared it his mission to realise the “China Dream”, which he defined as the “great rejuvenation of the Chinese nation”, according to official translations.
This phrase has been repeated ad nauseam since then and has come to underpin and justify everything China does. 

Building a new silk road to Europe, rapid expansion of the People’s Liberation Army and militarising artificial islands in disputed waters in the South China Sea — all are part of the glorious task of rejuvenation.
To an English-speaking ear, rejuvenation has positive connotations and all nations have the right to rejuvenate themselves through peaceful efforts.
But the official translation of this crucial slogan is deeply misleading. 

In Chinese it is “Zhonghua minzu weida fuxing” and the important part of the phrase is “Zhonghua minzu” — the “Chinese nation” according to party propaganda. 

A more accurate, although not perfect, translation would be the “Chinese race”.
That is certainly how it is interpreted in China. 

The concept technically includes all 56 official ethnicities, including Tibetans, Muslim Uighurs and ethnic Koreans, but is almost universally understood to mean the majority Han ethnic group, who make up more than 90 per cent of the population.
The most interesting thing about Zhonghua minzu is that it very deliberately and specifically incorporates anyone with Chinese blood anywhere in the world, no matter how long ago their ancestors left the Chinese mainland.
“The Chinese race is a big family and feelings of love for the motherland, passion for the homeland, are infused in the blood of every single person with Chinese ancestry,” asserted Li Keqiang in a recent speech.
This concept is reflected in Hong Kong where any recent arrival who can convince the authorities they are at least part “Chinese” can get citizenship. 

Meanwhile, people of Indian or white British descent whose families have lived in the territory for over a century will never be granted full citizenship rights.
Some theoreticians in Beijing even argue the modern idea of the sovereign nation state is an illegitimate western invention that contradicts the traditional Chinese notion of “all under heaven”, with the Chinese emperor at the centre and power radiating out from the Forbidden City to every corner of the earth.
Race-based ideas of national rejuvenation and manifest destiny have deep and uncomfortable echoes in 20th-century history and earlier European colonial expansion. 

That is why Communist party translators have opted for the misleading official translation of “nation” rather than “race”.
For many in the Chinese diaspora this linguistic trick does nothing to ease their discomfort as they are increasingly called on to contribute to the “great rejuvenation” regardless of their nationality or attitudes towards the ruling Communist party. 

Li said it was the duty of all people of Chinese descent to help achieve the investment, technological development and trade goals of the People’s Republic of China.
He said they are also required to promote traditional Chinese culture (as defined by the Communist party) all over the world and to unwaveringly oppose Taiwan’s independence.
In exchange for compliance, the party offers the prospect of belonging to the “great family” of the Chinese race as well as a chance to participate in the country’s continued economic boom. 

But those who reject their filial duty to the Communist party risk being labelled “race traitors”, vilified within expatriate communities and banned from visiting mainland China.
For countries in China’s own neighbourhood the rhetoric of rejuvenation has starker implications. Under past dynasties and emperors large swaths of their current territory were conquered and controlled by China.
The logic of China’s great rejuvenation is essentially revanchist and assumes the country is still a long way from regaining its rightful level of power, influence and even territory.
The dangerous question for the rest of the world is at what point China will feel it has reached peak rejuvenation and what that will look like for everyone who is not included in the great family of the Chinese race.