A Janus-faced nationalism propels China towards its global objectives while simultaneously undermining regional security in the Indo-Pacific. As Beijing and Washington compete to build a coalition of Indo-Pacific states, the contradictions at the heart of China’s foreign policy are driving its neighbors not toward Beijing’s orbit, but into Washington’s embrace. Paradoxically, Xi’s nationalist rhetoric and policies project strength and ambition on the global stage, advancing the twin pillars of the “China Dream” (中国梦) and pursuit of “national rejuvenation” (民族复兴). Yet the very narrative of rejuvenation that fuels China’s ascent also undermines its appeal. Under the banner of a Chinese-led “Community for the Shared Destiny of Humanity,” Beijing’s outreach increasingly carries the imprint of coercion rather than collaboration, pushing regional partners westward as they question China’s intentions.
Beijing’s assertive conduct—manifest in Chinese Coast Guard confrontations with Philippine vessels at Second Thomas Shoal, launching water cannon attacks and injuring Filipino sailors and damaging ships; the deployment of the Haiyang Shiyou oil rig and reclamation of 3,200 acres in the Spratly Islands to aggressively assert the nine-dash line; and coercive interference in Vietnam’s longstanding oil and gas activities in the South China Sea—illustrates how Xi’s doctrine of “courageous struggle” (勇于斗争) and a politics of national revival have deepened regional distrust.
China is succeeding by some measures in its desire for national rejuvenation. The ascent of China under Xi Jinping has led to unprecedented levels of Chinese global influence. The Chinese economy is the second largest in the world and the closest contender to American power. China’s global image by other countries is up—the share of people with a favorable view of China has increased since last year in 15 of the 25 countries Pew Research Center surveyed in the spring of 2025. Yet, the very instruments through which China projects power—economic statecraft, infrastructure investment, and cultural diplomacy—have become sources of anxiety across the developing world. Debt accumulation, opaque lending practices, and labor imbalances have fueled resentment in Africa and Central Asia; in Southeast Asia, fears of overdependence on Beijing have led states to seek renewed security ties with Washington. As Robert Ross observes, even as regional states deepen economic engagement with China, they simultaneously expand naval cooperation with the United States.
The instability in China’s foreign policy is largely driven by domestic politics. Despite its image as a highly centralized authoritarian state, Beijing’s foreign policy does not emerge from a unified strategic core. Its external behavior emerges from contested terrain in which bureaucratic actors such as ministries, provincial authorities, and the People’s Liberation Army all vie for influence. Agencies such as the State Oceanic Administration (SOA) and PLA Navy, for instance, have at times leveraged popular nationalist sentiment and growing maritime capability to advance maximalist interpretations of sovereignty. The result is a foreign policy that is often assertive, reactive, and inconsistent both in execution and objective.
Survey data from 2012 revealed that nearly 80 percent of Chinese respondents supported the use of military force in response to “provocations” in the South China Sea. Popular forces of nationalism intersect with bureaucratic interests, co-opting policy to advance maximalist interpretations of sovereignty. For a ruling party facing slowing growth, demographic strain, and financial uncertainty—which challenge the legitimacy of the CCP—nationalism provides an ideological ballast. Yet it is a volatile one. To retreat on issues framed as matters of national dignity risks provoking domestic backlash; to press too far invites international isolation.
What differentiates China’s nationalism and its aspirations on the global stage from other nationalist movements is that the success of its policies depends as much on the persuasiveness of its soft power as on its material strength. Among the largest obstacles Beijing has faced in enhancing its role as a global leader and expanding its influence since 1989 has been a fundamental image problem. In 2013, the Pew Research Center published survey findings that a far higher number hold a positive view of the United States than of China. As Professor Yan Xuetong at Tsinghua University in Beijing observes, “a gap exists between the outward humanistic legacy that the authorities seek to show and the authoritarian tendencies, corruption, and near-obsession with money within the Chinese community itself.” “Only when a government is able to demonstrate an ability to govern in accordance with good values at home,” Yan argues, “can it hope to inspire people in other countries” (Stenslie 2016, 127).
This is why Beijing has resorted to “discourse power”—China’s broadcasting of narratives about itself. But the gap between rhetoric and behavior—between “peaceful development” and water-cannon diplomacy—renders China’s soft-power ambitions precarious. China promotes a form of international engagement that, while couched in the language of peace and mutual benefit, often prioritizes strategic autonomy, regime security, and the consolidation of influence in key regions such as the Indo-Pacific.
This tension between image and reality constrains China’s ability to transform economic reach into genuine influence. Despite the vast scope of initiatives such as the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) and the Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank (AIIB), Beijing has struggled to convert material dependence into political loyalty.
The consequence is a diplomacy caught between conviction and contradiction. On one hand, China articulates a vision of global order rooted in mutual respect and non-interference; on the other, it asserts territorial claims and economic prerogatives that evoke the very hierarchies it denounces. While the BRI is intended to attract a coalition capable of offering an alternative to the US-led world over, anti-Chinese riots have erupted in North Africa. Eurasia is also chafing, with countries such as Turkey joining military engagements with the US. Japan, Malaysia, and Thailand have all reached new trade agreements with Washington in response to China’s import/export controls, and South Korea is looking to sign a security agreement on nuclear submarines with the United States.
Nationalism in Xi’s China functions as a double-edged sword: this applies to the idiom jun zhou min shui (君舟民水) that translates to “the ruler is the boat; the people the water.” In its expanded form, it implies that while water can carry a boat, it can also overturn it. The metaphor aptly describes the CCP’s dilemma. Nationalism sustains the regime’s expansion and domestic stability, yet it also binds its foreign policy to an isolating and assertive stance. As Ross has noted, nationalism is “the strongest ideological currency among contemporary Chinese,” but it is a double-edged one: if the state is perceived as failing to defend national interests, the very sentiment it harnesses may be what ensnares it.
As China navigates an increasingly polarized Indo-Pacific, its future influence may depend less on the magnitude of its power than on the credibility of its conduct. To convert economic centrality into moral authority, Beijing would need to temper its nationalist impulse, embrace transparency, and allow diplomacy to operate free from the constant pressure of domestic performance. Yet such a transformation would require the Party to loosen its grip on the very forces—national pride, ideological control, and bureaucratic dominance—that have sustained its rule.
Edited by: Marshall Wu