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Todd H Hall, Alanna Krolikowski, Making Sense of China's Belt and Road Initiative: A Review Essay, International Studies Review, Volume 24, Issue 3, September 2022, viac023, https://doi.org/10.1093/isr/viac023
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Abstract
Although less than a decade old, the People's Republic of China's (PRC) Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) has been the subject of considerable attention and conjecture. After initial waves of speculation and punditry, now more rigorous work on the plans, structure, and implementation of this initiative is beginning to contribute to the debate. In this essay, we showcase how three recent monographs make sense of the BRI: One Belt One Road: Chinese Power Meets the World, by Eyck Freymann; The Belt Road and Beyond: State-Mobilized Globalization in China: 1998–2018, by Min Ye; and Orchestration: China's Economic Statecraft across Asia and Europe, by James Reilly. Surveying the arguments and findings of these works together, we seek to draw out insights and implications for how we should understand the BRI. In particular, we highlight the political significance of the BRI's close association with PRC leader Xi Jinping, the ways in which the BRI follows long-standing patterns of campaign-style mobilization within the PRC, the crucial role of local partners, and the BRI's potential consequences for the larger international system in light of the broader literature in international relations. We conclude by discussing the need to now also consider unintended outcomes.
Si bien su desarrollo tuvo lugar hace menos de una década, la Iniciativa de la Franja y la Ruta (Belt and Road Initiative, BRI) de la República Popular China (RPC) ha sido objeto de considerable atención y conjeturas. Luego de una oleada inicial de especulaciones y opiniones de expertos, un trabajo más riguroso sobre los planes, la estructura y la implementación de esta iniciativa empieza a contribuir al debate. En este ensayo, se aborda cómo tres monografías recientes dan sentido a la BRI: One Belt One Road: Chinese Power Meets the World, de Eyck Freymann; The Belt Road and Beyond: State-mobilized Globalization in China: 1998–2018, de Min Ye; y Orchestration: China's Economic Statecraft across Asia and Europe, de James Reilly. Mediante el análisis de los argumentos y las conclusiones de estos trabajos, intentamos recopilar ideas e implicaciones sobre cómo debemos entender la BRI. En particular, destacamos la importancia política de la asociación estrecha entre la BRI y el líder de la RPC, Xi Jinping, las formas en que la BRI sigue patrones antiguos de movilización de campañas dentro de la RPC, la función clave de los socios locales y las posibles consecuencias de la BRI respecto al sistema internacional más amplio según la literatura más amplia sobre las relaciones internacionales. En la conclusión, se analiza la necesidad actual de considerar también los resultados no deseados.
Bien qu'elle date de moins d'une décennie, l'initiative de la nouvelle route de la soie de la République Populaire de Chine (RPC) a fait l'objet d'une attention et de conjectures considérables. Après les premières vagues de spéculations et d'avis d'experts, des travaux plus rigoureux sur les plans, la structure et la mise en œuvre de cette initiative commencent maintenant à apporter leur contribution au débat. Dans cet essai, nous présentons la manière dont trois monographies récentes comprennent l'initiative de la nouvelle route de la soie : One Belt One Road: Chinese Power Meets the World d'Eyck Freymann, The Belt Road and Beyond: State-mobilized Globalization in China: 1998–2018 de Min Ye et Orchestration: China's Economic Statecraft across Asia and Europe de James Reilly. Nous étudions l'ensemble des arguments et des conclusions de ces travaux et nous cherchons à en tirer des renseignements et des implications quant à la manière dont nous devrions comprendre l'initiative de la nouvelle route de la soie. Nous mettons en particulier en évidence l'importance politique de l’étroite association de l'initiative de la nouvelle route de la soie au dirigeant de la RPC, Xi Jinping, les manières dont cette initiative suit des schémas de longue date de mobilisation de type campagne au sein de la RPC, le rôle crucial des partenaires locaux, et les conséquences potentielles de cette initiative sur le système international au sens plus large, à la lumière de la littérature plus large sur les relations internationales. Nous concluons en abordant le fait qu'il est maintenant également nécessaire de prendre en considération les conséquences imprévues de l'initiative de la nouvelle route de la soie.
Introduction
In September 2013, speaking at a university in Kazakhstan, the President of the People's Republic of China (PRC), Xi Jinping, proposed establishing a “Silk Road Economic Belt” (Ministry of Foreign Affairs 2013). Addressing the Indonesian parliament a month later, he advocated creating a “Maritime Silk Road of the 21st Century” (ASEAN-China Centre 2013). These two speeches marked the launch of the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI).1 Since then, this initiative has assumed massive proportions, both in its official ambitions and in its putative scale. Subsequent elaborations have proposed a series of land and maritime corridors, establishing connectivity—including trade and transportation links—with the PRC across the Eurasian continent and into Africa (Ministry of Foreign Affairs 2015). Compared to everything from the Marshall Plan to the World Bank, its exact dimensions and nature remain far from clear. As one paper observes, estimates of its size “have varied widely from $272 billion to $8 trillion” (Hammer and Litwin 2020, 1). And despite centering ostensibly on infrastructure and connectivity, the BRI has ballooned to encompass countless projects outside its proclaimed corridors and expanded into a plethora of domains, from real estate and retail fashion to health data and satellite imagery (Hillman 2018).
Although less than a decade old, the BRI has attracted considerable attention and debate. Some praise it, as did Greek Prime Minister Alexis Tsipras, who described it as “a great proposal which reflects the wisdom of ancient Chinese philosophy and embodies deliberation on the future of the world, thus serving as a bridge between East and West and a development opportunity for all countries” (Belt and Road Forum 2019). Others denounce it as a “debt trap” (Pence 2018), a “geopolitical enterprise” (Kliman 2019), or a means of “weaponizing globalization to create a commercial and political order centered around and dependent on China” (U.S.–China Economic and Security Review Comission 2020, 82). And yet others simply label it “a mess” (Jones 2020), “full of holes” (Hillman 2018), and “overhyped” (Scissors 2019).
After initial waves of conjecture and punditry, more rigorous work on the plans, structure, and implementation of the BRI is now beginning to appear.2 This essay surveys how three recent monographs make sense of the BRI. One Belt One Road: Chinese Power Meets the World, from Oxford DPhil candidate Eyck Freymann, looks into the workings of the BRI, providing insights into both its domestic propaganda and several of its projects overseas. The Belt Road and Beyond: State-Mobilized Globalization in China: 1998–2018, by Min Ye, Associate Professor of International Relations at Boston University, focuses on the domestic dimensions and drivers of the BRI. And last, Orchestration: China's Economic Statecraft across Asia and Europe, authored by James Reilly, Associate Professor in Northeast Asian Politics at the University of Sydney, examines how the PRC engages in economic statecraft, with the BRI a key example.
These books illustrate the diversity of perspectives and modes of inquiry that form a growing body of scholarship examining the BRI. Each author marshals an impressive range of sources and, in some cases, extensive multi-sited fieldwork. Although unable to offer a full accounting of all their nuances here, we aim below to outline potential insights gleaned from reading them side by side. We begin by presenting how each offers a distinct perspective on what the BRI is and what constitutes its origins and drivers. All do agree, however, that—to various degrees—PRC leader Xi Jinping has taken a personal role in its promotion, raising the political stakes involved. Examining the BRI's implementation, these authors' works also reveal that the initiative's soaring rhetoric has not necessarily matched its realities on the ground. Taking a step back, we suggest that these findings point to a broader need to appreciate how the BRI may be internationalizing long-standing PRC practices of campaign-style mobilization—which we label partycraft—in ways that challenge simplistic characterizations of it as a strategic, unitary actor. Given that the BRI is not a feat Beijing can accomplish alone, a further crucial insight these works yield is the significant role of local partners, who often pursue their own agendas. Zooming out, we then survey these authors’ approaches to larger questions raised by the BRI for international hierarchy and order, and suggest that more needs to be done to engage the existing theoretical and comparative literature on these topics. Indeed, the latter helps illuminate the thinness of the BRI as a source of hierarchy and complicates efforts to present the BRI as part of a clash between putative Western and Chinese world orders. We conclude by emphasizing a need for future work to theorize unintended consequences and note that the BRI's story is still very much in the process of unfolding.
What Is the BRI? Three Takes
Freymann, Ye, and Reilly present three different—albeit not entirely irreconcilable—characterizations of the BRI, reflecting how they highlight different aspects of and focus on different motivations behind the initiative. In the process, they identify certain continuities between the BRI and its various pasts, contributing a richer historicization of the program.
The BRI Tripartite
To the question of “What is OBOR [One Belt One Road, or BRI]?,” Freymann offers an answer in three parts. It is first a “hugely diverse set of overseas investment and construction projects that Chinese firms have undertaken since the early 2010s” (Freymann 2021, 10). Second, it is “also a concept or brand for Chinese power on the global stage. . .” (Freymann 2021, 10). To foreign audiences, this branding sells the PRC as an “open, peaceful, and forward-looking country” (Freymann 2021, 10); for domestic ones, the branding frames Xi as reprising the role of a historical Chinese emperor leading a revitalization of the Silk Road and China's global position more broadly. And third, it is for now, in practice, “the bottom-up campaign that has emerged to sell the brand. . . [in which] individuals, companies, and institutions—Chinese or foreign—pay lip service to Xi and the OBOR brand while pursuing projects and relationships that (mostly) advance their own interests” (Freymann 2021, 11).
With this answer, Freymann presents a multifaceted, complex picture of the BRI. The initiative, he also tells us, has “many fathers” (Freymann 2021, 21). The language of a “New Silk Road” did not begin with Xi; others had already used it both inside and outside of China (Freymann 2021, 24–26). Prior to 2013, various proposals prefiguring elements of the BRI were already circulating within the PRC, such as suggestions for a “Eurasian Continental Bridge,” a “Chinese Marshall Plan,” or “Marching Westward.” Consequently, Freymann argues that “Xi's ‘One Belt One Road” announcement. . .was not proposing a new idea; it was settling a long-standing debate” (Freymann 2021, 40). That being, Xi nevertheless claimed authorship, asserting therewith his personal authority and “invoking the grandest memories of Chinese imperial history and himself. . .as the heir to that legacy” (Freymann 2021, 43).
The BRI as State-Mobilized Globalization
For Ye, the BRI constitutes the latest iteration of the Chinese developmental state in action, illustrating what she calls “state-mobilized globalization” (Ye 2020, 7). Ye argues that the BRI is a successor to two other PRC initiatives, the Western Development Program and the China Goes Global policy, and shares with these key similarities in structure and process.
The Western Development Program, launched at the turn of the century by PRC president Jiang Zemin, ostensibly aimed to promote growth in western China, improve border security and “ethnic unity,” and further PRC development more broadly (Ye 2020, 38). The campaign was meant to remedy the worsening regional inequality that saw western China falling ever further behind booming coastal provinces. The China Goes Global policy also came into being around the same time, with Jiang again being its central proponent. Its official goals were for the PRC's state-owned enterprises to attract foreign financing and expand their markets abroad (Ye 2020, 41).
Ye argues that these two initiatives featured several common characteristics. First, they were introduced by the PRC’s central leadership at a time of perceived economic crisis. Second, they involved “ambitious political rhetoric and ambiguous policy measures” at the national level and appealing to nationalism and prioritizing national growth (Ye 2020, 6). Third, implementation occurred in a fragmented and piecemeal fashion, with various national and subnational actors interpreting and responding according to their own circumstances and generally with an eye to their own interests and bottom line.
The BRI, Ye claims, also shares these features, following the same pattern of exhorting Chinese companies, state agencies, and local governments to develop new markets—first in the country's Western interior and then beyond its borders—in order to overcome developmental bottlenecks. Upon assuming power, PRC President Xi Jinping faced a panoply of domestic economic challenges, external pressures, and a national political landscape riven with disagreements. His response was to announce the extraordinarily ambitious, but also ambiguous, set of measures that coalesced into the BRI. Like Freymann, she observes that the ideas behind the BRI were not new. Various elements of the BRI vision had already been circulating in the form of “infrastructure diplomacy,” discussions of a “Chinese Marshall Plan,” and scholar Wang Jisi's “China Goes West” proposal (Ye 2020, 118–24). However, none had managed to gain national-level support. With the BRI, Xi advanced a grand plan of “major imperatives in diplomacy, development, and security. . .” and thereby “rapidly galvanized support from top agencies and influential stakeholders in China” (Ye 2020, 124). Various actors were then mobilized to spread the message, but in the process have also worked to insert their own policy preferences.
The BRI as Economic Statecraft
Reilly approaches the BRI as a form of economic statecraft—understood as the attempt to deploy economic resources abroad for foreign policy ends—that reflects the nature of the PRC system. While not denying domestic motivations, Reilly looks more to the BRI's outward facing elements—and thus also places current PRC policy in the context of lessons Beijing gleaned during the Cold War and after. “Chinese experts and policymakers,” he argues, “demonstrate confidence that economic resources can be deployed for both strategic leverage and reassurance, faith that economic statecraft can be deployed in ways that advantage both China and the recipient country, and a belief that the Party-state can and should mobilize commercial actors to advance Beijing's foreign policy goals” (Reilly 2021, 19). These views, in turn, are bolstered by “skepticism toward Western claims of morality, identification of China as a developing country, and faith in the overriding significance of economic growth for all countries” (Reilly 2021, 36)—themes that all ring familiar to anyone who follows PRC foreign policy discourse more generally. The combined effect is a worldview rooted in the PRC's late twentieth-century experiences, which showed that the PRC could mobilize its economic resources and actors for international political goals. This worldview now underpins the BRI.
Like the parable of the blindmen and the elephant, each author's findings reflect their approach and source material.3 Freymann, by focusing in part on the domestic propaganda, places Xi in a more central role than Ye or Reilly, even if all grant his importance. Ye, investigating the BRI's domestic dimensions, spotlights its economic aims, while Freymann and Reilly also emphasize its foreign political goals. And Reilly, by approaching the BRI as economic statecraft targeted at specific states or regions, takes a less global view of its political implications than Freymann. These are not mutually exclusive interpretations but rather differences in emphasis and angle of perspective, offering important points of complementarity. Indeed, by reading these works together, a few broader observations emerge.
It is a Xi Show
Although none use this exact terminology, all three authors to a certain extent emphasize that the BRI has become a “Xi show”—a program closely attached to the political persona and prestige of Xi Jinping. That PRC leaders associate themselves with particular projects and concepts is nothing new (Zeng 2020a). A decade ago, scholars focused on Hu Jintao's notion of a harmonious world and the concept of harmony more broadly (Zheng and Tok 2007; Liu 2009; Guo and Blanchard 2010; Nordin 2016). With Hu out of the picture, these concepts have grown obsolete. Now the BRI brand stands alongside more abstract concepts such as the “Chinese Dream” and the “Community of Shared Destiny” as part of Xi's political pantheon. In fact, the BRI has even been written into the Chinese constitution (Shepard 2017).
The BRI must, therefore, be understood in conjunction with its political significance as something bearing Xi's imprimatur and tightly associated with his image. Ye (2020, 210) calls it “Xi's brain child.” Reilly notes that it is associated with “Xi Jinping's personal prestige” (Reilly 2021, 46). And Freymann puts particular emphasis on this aspect. He examines, for instance, a China Central Television documentary on the BRI made for domestic consumption, through which the PRC now—in a blatantly revisionist retelling of history—casts the Han Era emperor, Han Wudi, as central to the opening of Silk Road trade and portrays Xi as his modern-day incarnation (Freymann 2021, 49–53). The personal association with Xi undoubtedly enhances the program's mobilizational potential (Zeng 2020a). This results in all variety of actors having incentives to both rebrand existing projects and propose new activities under the label of the BRI, ranging anywhere from infrastructure and energy ventures to art shows, blood donation campaigns, kitchenware manufacturers’ forums, and beauty industry seminars. Indeed, as Freymann notes, “All firms that want to pull money out of China now have incentives to brand their projects as part of OBOR, whether or not they have coordinated the investment with the government in advance” (Freymann 2021, 89–90). Freymann reads in all this a political logic—“What matters most is the performance of submission—in this case, to the emperor's new brand” (Freymann 2021, 91). Or in the words of another scholar, it is “a loyalty check” (Zeng 2020a, 89). The domestic story Freymann tells of the BRI is thus one centering on Xi Jinping and the political imperative of shoring up loyalty and showing obedience, superimposed upon myriad actors within the system pursuing their own interests.
While one might question attempts to read with any certainty Xi's personal intentions off policy choices (Freymann 2021, 36–38), it is clear he has become a personal champion of the BRI and the surrounding propaganda has tied him tightly to it. This close association with Xi himself arguably means that political calculations of image and face are in play with this initiative. On the one hand, as Reilly observes, this “helps limit bureaucratic resistance while increasing domestic actors’ confidence in the initiative's durability and likely rewards” (Reilly 2021, 46). But on the other hand, a further implication is that it can create a political imperative to maintain an image of BRI success. In other words, we may witness the PRC repeatedly forced to rescue high-profile BRI projects that falter, to engage in political damage control when its commercial actors misbehave, and to quietly absorb losses in order to keep up appearances. In short, the BRI may be too closely associated with Xi to be allowed to fail.
A Mismatch between Rhetoric and Reality
The BRI, according to its official description, embodies a “Silk Road Spirit” dating back millennia and promises a “systematic project” to advance policy coordination, connected infrastructure and common technical standards, financial integration, and people-to-people linkages (Ministry of Foreign Affairs 2015). In particular, the initiative “aims to promote the connectivity of Asian, European and African continents and their adjacent seas, establish and strengthen partnerships among the countries along the Belt and Road, set up all-dimensional, multi-tiered and composite connectivity networks, and realize diversified, independent, balanced and sustainable development in these countries” through creating corridors extending out from China (Ministry of Foreign Affairs 2015). It seeks to establish nothing less than “new models of international cooperation and global governance” to support trade and investment flows (Ministry of Foreign Affairs 2015).
The BRI's stated aspirations are thus quite ambitious. However, as the authors find, its actual implementation does not live up to its rhetoric. Ye explains, “Were it to be truly a foreign policy strategy or new global vision, as the political rhetoric stressed, we should see strong and concrete roles by the MFA [Ministry of Foreign Affairs] (diplomacy) and MOFCOM [Ministry of Commerce] (international negotiation)” (Ye 2020, 128). Instead, the National Development and Reform Commission (NDRC)—an agency tasked with domestic economic planning—was placed in the leading role. And of the documents it published, Ye finds their guidance is “vague and voluntary. . .Most of them seem to fold the NDRC's domestic agendas into the name of the BRI” (Ye 2020, 132).
Reilly also notes how limited the actual institutional structure of the BRI is: a BRI leading small group that “brings together key Politburo Standing Committee members” (although Xi himself is remarkably absent); a “coordinating “BRI Office”. . .established within the NDRC, with subordinate leadership roles allocated to MOFCOM and MOFA” that has issued “vague ‘action plans’”; and a Silk Road Fund capitalized with the PRC's foreign currency reserves (Reilly 2021, 47). Apart from this, subordinate actors such as state-owned enterprises, banks, and regional governments were broadly left to their own devices to propose or rebrand projects for the BRI (Reilly 2021, 46–47).
Official ambitions and actual implementation diverge even more as one proceeds down the hierarchy. Ye points out how diverse subnational actors rebranded existing activities as BRI projects, used the BRI to advance their own policy goals, or drew upon the BRI to gain access to financing and approval. All this dovetails with other research revealing that in many cases, so-called BRI projects are in reality just preexisting investments now sporting the BRI label, endeavors only tangentially related to BRI goals, or ventures located far outside proposed BRI corridors (Hillman 2018; Jones and Zeng 2019; Hale, Liu, and Urpelainen 2020). As Lampton, Ho, and Kuik (2020, 82) observe, “The reality is that different bureaucracies, localities, and groups in the PRC pursue their own interests, couched in a language that fits under the broad central policy umbrella.” And what is more, a good portion of announced BRI investments and projects have never actually been realized (Eder and Mardell 2018). Data on BRI-branded projects “[do] not support the BRI's ‘imperialist’ agenda, but [a] consistent commercial [motive],” Ye notes (Ye 2020, 138). Freymann also concurs that “the simplest explanation is that [the BRI] is not really a developmental master plan at all” (Freymann 2021, 86).
Both Ye and Reilly argue that the loose management of these diverse actors is intentional. For Ye, it is inherent to the PRC's “state-mobilized globalization” model. Ye tells us that the BRI, like initiatives proceeding it, constitutes an attempt by the center to overcome gridlock, objections, and fragmentation within the PRC bureaucracy and spur various subnational players into action. The grand nationalist rhetoric, in particular, is a means of creating momentum and overriding more parochial resistance at lower levels to push forward economic development and growth. That said, confronting the PRC's internal diversity and fragmentation, the central leadership has deliberately maintained a light touch, leaving it to subnational actors to choose what to propose and how to participate. Consequently, “wide gaps exist between the ambitious wording and nationalist rhetoric in the announced strategy and more limited and typically economic-oriented implementation of the strategy. . .” (Ye 2020, 28). These are no secret to PRC policymakers—as Ye notes, “top-down and bottom-up information and communication were frequent” (Ye 2020, 46). The rhetoric aims high to overcome domestic hurdles and mobilize domestic actors. However, the goals proclaimed in the bombastic rhetoric are not the dominant ones guiding those tasked with implementation: “the lower units’ main priority was to find growth opportunities, not to ‘sacrifice’ their financial prudence in implementing the BRI” (Ye 2020, 46).
Reilly paints a similar picture using his concept of orchestration. Drawing upon Abbott, Genschel, and Zangl (2016), Reilly posits that when the PRC center desires its diverse bureaucratic and economic actors pursue goals serving its interest, it can either delegate or orchestrate. Delegation involves empowering an agent to act on a principal's behalf, using direct rewards, punishments, and monitoring to ensure the agent is properly executing the principal's wishes. In the context of economic statecraft, the PRC center does delegate, granting “authority for designing, overseeing, and implementing much of economic statecraft” to an assortment of state agencies, including MOFCOM, the NDRC, the MOFA, and the People's Bank of China among others. Coordination across these actors is also assisted through various means: through bringing the leadership of these agencies together in the Executive Committee of the State Council; through having certain ministries take lead responsibility for drafting initiatives that then circulate to other relevant ministries and agencies; by exercising oversight through agencies such as the National Audit Office and the party's Central Commission for Discipline Inspection; and by controlling promotions and appointments through the party's Organization Department (Reilly 2021, 40–41). All this may be true, but as Reilly notes, “ministries do not invest, lend, or trade abroad; nor do they build roads or railways. . .” (Reilly 2021, 41).
In the context of economic statecraft, then, the ministries and agencies to which such authority is delegated confront the challenge of mobilizing commercial actors to realize the center's goals. Here we see not further delegation, but rather orchestration, which is closer to encouragement than control. In the PRC setting, it works through the creation of funds and the direction of resources for certain goals, thus generating competition among commercial actors to capture these lucrative prizes. It also works through what Reilly (2021, 58) labels “interest alignment,” which amounts to “designing policies aligned with the implementing actors’ own interests” by, for instance, providing foreign aid, leveling sanctions, or promoting politically beneficial trade deals that also advance commercial interests. The ministries do not issue absolute dictates but rather provide support and incentives for commercial and regional actors to advance the aims of economic statecraft.
For Reilly, the BRI is therefore a massive instance of the PRC delegating authority to various ministries that in turn orchestrate: using inducements such as investment funds and promoting political initiatives that align (or can be massaged into appearing to align) with the interests of local and commercial actors. The advantage of pursuing the BRI thusly is that it “help[s] Chinese leaders mobilize domestic actors who would advance an array of policy objectives without requiring institutional restructuring or dramatic resource reallocation” (Reilly 2021, 48). However, there are disadvantages as well. As Reilly observes, “To attract eager participation without requiring extensive oversight or coordination, the BRI relies upon encouraging domestic actors to develop new infrastructure projects or rebrand existing projects while setting few limits on project scale, location, type, or time frame. . .” (Reilly 2021, 46).
The outcomes, as Reilly outlines, are predictably diverse and patchy. Given the nature of orchestration, he finds PRC leaders are most likely to have trouble getting their desired results abroad when they “rely upon regional and/or commercial actors who are difficult to monitor and have strong economic interests in the target state, and when the target state has weaker domestic governance capacity” (Reilly 2021, 15). Reilly notes local and commercial actors may engage in “stretching”—expanding or distorting central policies in ways that deviate from their original authors’ intentions. This tendency is apparent in all the ways the BRI label has been attached to projects bearing little relation to the BRI's stated goals. There is also a “moral hazard”—that commercial actors engage in risky behavior with the expectation that the PRC state will bail them out for supporting the center's political aims. Here Reilly points to the BRI port projects in Sri Lanka, Pakistan, and Myanmar, which received PRC investment despite dim commercial prospects. Furthermore, such a structure creates the danger of simple malfeasance: “Accustomed to operating in a highly competitive environment characterized by widespread corruption, limited oversight, and cutthroat competition, Chinese firms going abroad are likely to engage in predatory business practices with limited attention to political or social risk” (Reilly 2021, 15). A prime example is the CEFC Energy Group, rising to be the Czech Republic's top investor under the BRI flag only to have its assets stripped after its CEO, Ye Jianming, was detained on corruption charges (Reilly 2021, 109–13).
PRC Behavior: Statecraft or Partycraft?
This divergence between planning and implementation has broader implications for IR theory than the authors themselves appear to acknowledge. Significant voices within the field consider the PRC to largely be a strategic, unitary actor (Friedberg 2014; Doshi 2021; Mearsheimer 2021). However, such characterizations seem poorly suited for understanding how the BRI has been planned, promoted, and implemented. Indeed, Freymann, Ye, and Reilly all reject the notion that the PRC is an ideal-type autocracy with complete control over its commercial and regional actors.4 And yet, at the same time, Beijing does still appear to have impressive mobilizational capacity. So, theirs is not simply the relatively trite observation that PRC also suffers from bureaucratic politics, even if it may bear repeating. And attempts to characterize this state of affairs as resulting from increasing fragmentation under globalization (Hameiri and Jones 2015) seem to downplay the considerable power the center can reassert when it chooses (Reilly 2021, 166) and the substantial diplomatic, propaganda, and social tools it uses to spur activity and promote its message. Interestingly, the two works seeking to place PRC behavior in a comparative, theoretical perspective—Ye's and Reilly's—end up treating it as relatively sui generis.
These studies’ findings suggest that analyzing the PRC's role in the BRI through the standard lens of statecraft may be misplaced. Statecraft—as traditionally understood—is strategic, coordinated, plan-driven, and target-oriented action in pursuit of clear, long-term goals using the tools of a state. It operates through the rational channels of a hierarchical institutional structure and “includes the construction of strategies for securing the national interest in the international arena, as well as the execution of these strategies by diplomats” (Kaplan 1952). It is the behavior of a unitary actor toward specific ends and through directed steps. As these works reveal, the BRI appears to be a “mess” (Jones 2020) when held up to the standards of traditional statecraft, especially what one would expect from an actor with full authoritarian control. Rhetoric and practice diverge, propaganda exceeds implementation, activity overtakes purpose, and actors further down the hierarchy have much latitude in interpreting the terms of their involvement.
How then should we reconcile the apparent contradiction between energetic promotion of the BRI at the highest levels of the PRC system and the diverse patchwork of its implementation? Part of the answer, we suggest, comes to light when we add an extra conceptual tool to the analytical toolbox: partycraft.5 Stemming from its revolutionary past, the PRC has a long-standing tradition of large-scale, extraordinary mobilization (Strauss 2006; Perry 2011; Wang 2018). In Chinese scholarship, it has been described as yùndòng shì zhìlǐ (movement-style governance), in contrast to the guānliáo móshì (bureaucratic model) of standard governance (Tang 2007, 116; Huang 2013). While certain political elements of this tradition have faded in the post-Mao Era, a core set of campaign-style mobilization practices has nonetheless endured into the present (White 1990; Li 2019; Zeng 2020b). These practices serve to create bursts of activity and overcome bureaucratic inertia, working simultaneously through state institutions, the party structure, and popular participation. Playing a key role is the massive information apparatus the PRC has built, one capable of intensive propaganda blitzes in the service of such campaigns (Brady 2009). Often, as Zeng (2020a) so insightfully observes, such campaigns are organized around loosely defined slogans only subsequently filled with content. And as Shih (2008) notes, the obsequious participation of lower-level actors in such campaigns works to signal loyalty to the leader at their helm.
We use the term partycraft to denote this complex of mobilizational political practices the PRC has developed, one standing in contradistinction to more standard notions of statecraft or Weberian-style bureaucratic politics. Partycraft is a form of politics focused more on generating masses of actions by masses of actors in a general direction than any one precise outcome. When observers describe the BRI as a “campaign” (Ang 2018; Hale, Liu, and Urpelainen 2020, 12; Freymann 2021, 11), “mobilization” (Ye 2020; Reilly 2021, 173), a “slogan” (Lampton, Ho, and Kuik 2020; Zeng 2020a, 216), or even a “brand” (Freymann 2021, 10; Reilly 2021, 47), they are capturing the partycraft aspects of the BRI.
This is not to say the BRI is simply partycraft, but partycraft plays a vital part. Like the PRC party-state itself, within the BRI elements of partycraft and statecraft coexist, intermingle, and intertwine in ways both complementary and contradictory. And to be clear, partycraft and statecraft are forms of political practice distinguished by their methods; they map not in any neat way onto distinctions between party and state organs within the PRC, as if such distinctions were themselves entirely possible. Partycraft has its advantages—it spurs actors into motion, stimulates (or at least simulates) mass excitement and activity, and promotes widespread participation and grand visions through propaganda. We can observe partycraft in the rush to recruit international partners to sign loose and symbolic BRI cooperation agreements or memoranda of understanding (Nolan and Leutert 2020; Ackert et al. 2022). We can see partycraft at work in domestic and international publicity (or propaganda) campaigns proclaiming Xi's role (Freymann 2021) or touting the BRI as the PRC's great gift to humankind. We can find it in the ways it has rallied participation from actors across the spectrum within the PRC that have little to do with its stated aims.
Granted, certain BRI-branded projects may more closely conform to the strategic logics of statecraft, be they economically, politically, or otherwise motivated. However, identifying these requires attention to detail—examining specific projects in their specific contexts. And as the Hambantota port case in Sri Lanka described below reveals, undertakings appearing at the first glance as the clever stratagems of statecraft may under scrutiny reveal themselves to be anything but that (Brautigam 2020; Freymann 2021, 95–129; Hillman 2020, 151–71; Jones and Hameiri 2020). The problem is that the rhetoric and vision promoted by the PRC's BRI partycraft encourage outsiders to see grand designs where the reality may be quite different (Ye 2020, 224). While the PRC is not the only state to feature mobilizational politics (Looney 2021), with the BRI the PRC's partycraft is now spilling out onto the international stage.
Partner Countries Matter
That being, achieving any of the BRI's international ambitions, however defined, will further depend on the cooperation of partner countries across the globe. More popular accounts have argued that the BRI will give Beijing leverage over recipient states: “Because it is based on relations of dependence, it cannot but reproduce relations of power” (Maçães 2018 [2020], 35). And yet, although Beijing appears to hold the upper hand because that hand holds the money, not all is guaranteed to go how it wishes. As Lampton, Ho, and Kuik (2020, 117) have noted, “Small and medium powers are not putty in the hands of Beijing.” A growing body of work (Beeson 2018; Hillman 2020; Lampton, Ho, and Kuik 2020; Zhao 2020; Patey 2021, 329–32; Wong 2021) now suggests that BRI participants often act with their own local, political, and parochial interests in mind; that domestic politics in BRI partner countries cannot be taken for granted; and that the PRC cannot count on gratitude or always assume a deal is a deal. The works reviewed here further contribute to complicating a narrative of Beijing's growing unilateral influence.
Freymann, in particular, illustrates the difficulties of dealing with host-country actors. Most striking are his studies of three different relationships—with Sri Lanka, Tanzania, and Greece—and major port projects in each. Each project had been proposed by local partners prior to the launch of the BRI, and each also faced domestic political turnovers. The Sri Lankan case, the port at Hambantota, is the most well known, and as the poster child for PRC predatory lending—the Sri Lankan government ended up granting a PRC-controlled joint venture a ninety-nine-year lease—has become among the best studied (Brautigam 2020; Hillman 2020, 151–71; Jones and Hameiri 2020). Echoing the emerging scholarly consensus, Freymann argues that, far from constituting a debt trap, Hambantota's story is one of local politicians pursuing their own interests and, furthermore, needs to be placed in the context of Sri Lanka's external debt exposure to other foreign creditors following the 2008 financial crisis. The Tanzanian case is less well known, possibly because the proposed Bagamoyo port development was subsequently suspended and at the time of this writing faces an uncertain future. Here too, Freymann finds a story of domestic politics, with an incoming leader distancing himself from his predecessor's project. And the third port, Piraeus in Greece, has been quite successful commercially, even if the Greek government at times came under criticism for ceding too much for too little. The ups-and-downs of Piraeus track the political transitions within Greece and the vicissitudes of its sovereign debt crisis. And as Reilly (2021, 87–88) observes in his study of Piraeus, even if the PRC succeeded in gaining a supporting voice from Greece in the European Union, it has not managed to generate a positive attitude in Brussels.
Assessing these cases—as well as shorter studies of Central Asia, Pakistan, Malaysia, and Iran—Freymann argues two major lessons emerge. First, partner countries are likely to “see China through the lens of their own history and regional position. . .politicians and business elites. . . are almost always preoccupied by short-term local issues” (Freymann 2021, 231). Second, although politicians from rival parties or factions may criticize their predecessors’ arrangements with the PRC when seeking power, once in office they frequently find a new modus vivendi preserving the relationship with Beijing. These cases also offer other potential takeaways: that context matters greatly for how BRI projects unfold, that partner states often seek PRC cooperation for lack of other potential suitors, and that the reasons why these actors are forced to turn to the PRC often also make them difficult partners. Perhaps most centrally, Freymann concludes partners become recipients out of “genuine self-interest” (Freymann 2021, 232). It should also be noted that the ability of local partners to be capable partners—even when interests align—is also a crucial additional variable. As Lampton, Ho, and Kuik (2020, 115) have observed in the context of Southeast Asia, “It is fair to say that China tends to rise, or sink, to the level of governance it finds in each country in which it operates.”
A Challenge or Fraught with Challenges?
While these works share convergences, they do also diverge in places, and one domain in particular stands out: the implications of the BRI for future PRC hegemony and world order more broadly.
Freymann concludes that the BRI is a “profound threat to US global leadership. . .because it represents a working model for a future geopolitical bloc led by China, structured along the lines of a modern tributary system” (Freymann 2021, 20). Of all Freymann's arguments, this is most thinly developed; it is also curious, given the more critical stance he presents elsewhere in the book. At present, he views the BRI as bringing “countries into closer political alignment with China” (Freymann 2021, 231). However, it is not obvious that this is a function of the BRI per se, as opposed to a more general desire from partner states to curry the PRC's favor in order to keep economic assistance and investment flowing, especially where other sources are limited and showing support relatively costless. Freymann (2021, 12) suggests the BRI “operates in a more subtle and insidious way than a traditional ‘public diplomacy’ or ‘soft power’ initiative. . .[it is] a particular model of bilateral diplomatic relationship, lubricated by tribute.” And yet, if “the main strategic advantage that China derives is the set of political relationships it has built with foreign politicians and political parties and the intangible status benefit of showing how many countries want Beijing as a partner” (Freymann 2021, 234), as he asserts, then the returns on the BRI to date appear meager (Wong 2021). That being, Freymann posits that the future potential of the BRI is much greater: it could “broaden and deepen into a China-led trading block”; high-tech investments could transform the BRI into a “tighter-knit bloc with shared geopolitical interests”; and “it is also inevitable that China's bilateral relationships with many OBOR countries will eventually expand into the security realm” (Freymann 2021, 234–6).
Ye, in contrast, largely treats the BRI's ramifications for world order as outside the scope of her book, focusing instead on the initiative's internal complexities. Indeed, the word “geopolitics” does not appear in her text. Ye approaches the BRI not as a foreign policy strategy, but as yet another iteration of how PRC policymakers seek to stimulate domestic growth while overcoming obstacles. In the brief discussion she does present of the BRI's larger global implications, she argues Beijing “faces profound disadvantages in power projection outside China. . .Mistrust of China-led globalization runs deep in many parts of the world” (Ye 2020, 218). She is skeptical that the means by which Beijing implements the BRI are sufficient to overcome this barrier. She concludes that “While the BRI can build a lot of roads abroad, it faces a lot of roadblocks too” (Ye 2020, 226).
Reilly offers a mixed—and thus possibly the most balanced—prognosis for the BRI as a global strategy. The PRC sees that the orchestration through which the program is implemented is relatively effective at “advancing multiple policy goals at modest political and economic costs” (Reilly 2021, 170). As a result, the PRC is likely to continue efforts to maintain alignment between foreign policy objectives and the conduct of commercial actors abroad. Yet, viewed externally, the approach has yielded only limited foreign-policy dividends and even inflicted some costs. In many partner countries, “local actors’ pursuit of their own economic interests undermined Beijing's diplomatic objectives” (Reilly 2021, 168). Worse, the PRC's “aggressive expansion of trade, aid, and investment into target countries failed to reassure them of Beijing's benevolent intent and the mutual benefits of economic engagement,” often exacerbating concerns and distrust (Reilly 2021, 168). In short, the BRI's effects on recipient countries have varied greatly and, on the whole, the initiative has not won the PRC vastly expanded influence or earned it the capacity to reshape global power structures.
It would seem all missed the opportunity to engage the larger literature on hierarchy (Zarakol 2017) and global order (Hurrell 2007) within the field of international relations (IR). In the broader IR literature, much scholarship on international hierarchy has taken the U.S. and, to a lesser extent, British and Soviet experiences as key points of reference (Lake 2009; Ikenberry 2011; Bukovansky 2012). When the BRI is placed in this comparative context, the contrasts are stark. At the time of this writing, the BRI has not been accompanied by the projection of military power that attended U.S., British, and Soviet forms of hegemony and hierarchy (Lake 1996). Nor does its partycraft language of win–win, domestic non-interference, and common destiny (Zhao 2020, 332–34) arguably carry the same grand normative sense of purpose as the ideologies—liberal, communist, or other—that underwrote the construction of hierarchies prior. What we observe is an array of unequal bilateral relationships with the PRC being built with primarily technological, commercial, economic, and financial tools and wrapped in grandiose rhetoric. Questions remain as to what extent Beijing can translate these transactional relationships into more comprehensive leverage in other realms and what type of more substantive hierarchy—if any—is being created.
Scholarship to date on China and international hierarchy has examined the historical experience of the tributary system (Kang 2010). Leaving aside debates over whether such a system ever in fact existed (Van Lieu 2017) and the orientalist tropes it invokes (Callahan 2014; Krishna 2017), framing the BRI as a modern instantiation of this model (Freymann 2021, 61) actually suggests its thinness. Insofar as foreign actors receive economic benefits in return for paying lip-service to certain Chinese political formulations and making occasional trips to the capital, the BRI would, it seems, at most amount to “hierarchy light,” a largely symbolic, rather than substantive, form of subordination. It is a series of transactional relationships generated by loans and largess (or the promises thereof) and packaged in partycraft. It remains unclear how durable such a hierarchical model would be going forward should PRC funding dry up, alternative sources of economic support appear, the costs of appearing aligned with the PRC increase, or countries grow resentful over time of having to continue to repay debt for goodies that are no longer so shiny.
What is more, prognostications of the BRI generating a hegemonic, geopolitical block also assume some form of convergence across the diverse actors who have signed onto the BRI. As Freymann himself notes, one reason states have signed up so far is because being a member “does not carry any specific responsibilities” (Freymann 2021, 234). Whether they remain such enthusiastic partners when membership entails greater commitments and trade-offs is a major question. Especially in Southeast Asia, where many countries have sought to “hedge” (Goh 2005; Kuik 2016), many may be unwilling to abandon their autonomy and side with Beijing. If managing bilateral relations within the BRI framework is far from straightforward, pushing policy harmonization and cooperation across states will be a task of even greater difficulty (Lampton, Ho, and Kuik 2020, 226–28). This we know from work on multiplayer games (Snidal 1985). Truly realizing the benefits of transnational interconnectivity will require significant multilateral alignment in terms of regulatory and policy convergence (World Bank Group 2019). At present, the BRI's primarily bilateral nature is ill-equipped to deliver this and, should it be attempted, will constitute a coordination game involving massive hurdles and complexity.
Last, caution is advised when approaching questions of the BRI and the international system—as Freymann and others do (Doshi 2021, 4; Maçães 2018 [2020], 193)—as one in which a US-led “Western order” is in competition with a “Chinese order” as if these were clearly demarcated and coherent oppositions. As recent scholarship argues (Johnston 2019), there is no singular, fixed, and established world order of which the United States is the unequivocal steward, but multiple different orders, each specific to a domain of international activity. Even within these different orders, there exist contestation and alternatives, in some cases taking the form of a cleavage between developed and developing countries, in others reflecting more particularist concerns. Beijing has itself demonstrated support for some elements (such as in trade and finance) and opposed others (such as humanitarian intervention) (Tang 2018). Given the diverse manifestations the BRI assumes, it cannot but intersect with aspects of these orders in a range of ways—reinforcing some and undermining others—that the trope of a challenge to the West fails to capture.
Looking Forward
So where does this leave us? The works reviewed here show the BRI combines many different elements: sweeping visions for international connectivity and growth; foreign-oriented economic statecraft; a political project centered on the persona of Xi Jinping; a fragmented effort at domestic economic mobilization; and more. While BRI propaganda may simultaneously seek to draw ancient parallels and praise Xi's wisdom, the initiative clearly builds upon reform-period policies and other proposals from the pre-Xi PRC era. With the BRI, the PRC has spurred to action a diverse collection of regional and commercial actors—all with their own interests—and is simultaneously engaging a multiplicity of foreign partners—here too with their own interests. There exist wide divergences between rhetoric and practice, between vision and implementation, and we must be careful not to mistake BRI partycraft for BRI statecraft. It follows that the implications for broader questions of world order remain murky and mixed at best, and in some cases the PRC's efforts to gain influence may in fact be counterproductive (Reilly 2021; Wong 2021).
The books reviewed above deserve praise for avoiding the common pitfalls of punditry on the BRI. They do not conflate being able to articulate grand plans with being able to realize them, they do not assume away the messiness of PRC domestic politics, they recognize that international partners are not necessarily dupes, and, for the most part, they do not seek to explain Beijing's behavior by referencing ancient Chinese practices or thought, a habit Callahan (2014) has called Sino-speak. Although Freymann does in places flirt with Sino-speak in his allusions to the tributary system, he also is quite outspoken in dismantling certain shibboleths of PRC propaganda, most notably the historical relationship of China to the silk road (Freymann 2021, 50–51).
Read together, these books bring into greater definition a picture of how the BRI is being articulated, promoted, and executed both within the PRC and across the globe. But what will be its likely ramifications going forward? As these works illustrate, simply extrapolating out an answer from the PRC's currently stated ambitions is a highly problematic endeavor. Intentions can evolve, plans may be warped by contact with reality (Lampton, Ho, and Kuik 2020, 79), and the PRC is but one of multiple players relevant to how this story will unfold. Unexpected feedback effects may occur, particularly ones implicating the PRC's reputation (Garlick 2020, 219). What is more, the PRC is relatively new to this game; we will likely see numerous missteps, modifications, course corrections, and innovations.
All this would appear to highlight the need to further conceptualize and analyze the unintended consequences of foreign policy strategies. Indeed, the grandiose rhetoric—a product of the BRI's partycraft—itself carries the peril of unintended consequences. The study of rhetoric in the field is nothing new (Schimmelfennig 2001; Krebs and Jackson 2007), but the scale of the disjuncture between the rhetoric and the current practice of the BRI merits particular attention. As Ye observes: “Oversized rhetorical pledges generate unrealistic expectations of Chinese ‘generosity’ in the receiving countries, which leads to disappointment, disillusionment, and resentment. . .Diplomatic disputes have ensued and will ensue in the future” (Ye 2020, 224). Equally significant is how the expansive rhetoric of the BRI may elicit backlash from those feeling threatened by it, particularly in Washington. To wit, US President Joseph Biden has suggested G7 countries band together to offer an alternative (Sanger and Landler 2021). All this points to the importance of how the PRC—and rising powers in general—discursively project their visions and aspirations (Goddard 2018; Miller 2021), and to the unintended consequences that may entail.
Scholarship on other historical empires has noted the “disorganized and accidental nature” (Games 2000, 341) of their growth. Going forward, then, it will also be important to theorize the potential unintended consequences stemming from the rapid expansion of PRC loans and commercial actors across the globe under the BRI banner. Emerging research is starting to show a more complete picture of PRC borrowing practices, including how PRC actors have been very “muscular” in crafting loans with clauses to make themselves preferred creditors and provide relatively liberal discretion to cancel and demand repayment (Gelpern et al. 2021). However, legal stipulations do not necessarily provide full protection against political complications or reputational damage. Foremost is the possibility that threats to these overseas interests will draw the PRC into myriad, complex local security entanglements (Freymann 2021, 236–37; Ghiselli 2021), sapping its resources and conceivably forcing it to reevaluate its commitments to noninterference. The PRC can also do little to prevent its partners from repeatedly seeking to renegotiate their deals or receive more handouts. Indeed, many key BRI participants have their own difficulties, and as a latecomer the PRC has been left to pick up projects and partners others have avoided. Even “all-weather friends” such as Pakistan have not been the easiest of partners, given their domestic issues (Aamir 2021; Wong 2021). Consequently, the PRC may find itself hostage to its debtors, as reputational concerns about the political fallout and visible economic losses that would stem from their defaults compel it to continually provide lifelines. For a state that seeks to project an image of being a friend to the developing world (Pu 2019), playing hardball with developing country debtors risks appearing usurious and hypocritical. BRI-related image concerns are further exacerbated by the close association the initiative has with Xi personally, making it “too Xi” to fail.
That being, the BRI remains a project in the works. The monographs reviewed here have captured snapshots of a process in motion and, perhaps, still in its infancy. Indeed, we are continuing to see new developments emerge—even before the pandemic, there was talk of a BRI 2.0 potentially more focused in its investments (Rana and Ji 2019), and we have since witnessed the growth of various “Silk Road”-branded offshoots centered on health, environment, digital trade and technology, or information flows (Han and Freymann 2021). These may come to overshadow the more traditional infrastructure projects investigated above. Moreover, because the PRC is adjusting its tactics and learning as it proceeds (Ang 2019), we may see even greater course changes in the future. Importantly, the persistent impacts of the pandemic may further cloud our view of the BRI's prospects (Mingey and Kratz 2021), and as of the time of this writing the full impact of the Russian invasion of Ukraine remains unclear. Thanks in no small part to research such as reviewed here, however, we now know much more about how the BRI has unfolded. But should Hegel's Owl of Minerva take flight at dusk, all indications are that we will have to wait quite a while to see the sun fully set on the Belt and Road.
Footnotes
Previously known as the One Belt One Road Initiative (OBOR), the latter being a less catchy but more literal translation of what remains its Chinese name, 一带一路倡议 (yídaì yílù chàngyì).
This also includes Garlick (2020), Hale, Liu, and Urpelainen (2020), Hillman (2020), Lampton, Ho, and Kuik (2020), Zeng (2020a), and Zhao (2020), all of which we draw upon below.
Hillman (2020) also uses this analogy.
See also Norris (2016).
We are not the first to coin this term—that honor belongs to Wang (2017)—but we are the first to define it in this manner.
