Can Sharp Power Explain Chinese Interactions with Western Universities?

Jack Patfield - 26 June 2020

Masters Programme in Political Science

Programme: Authoritarian Leadership? The Rise of China in International Relations Supervisor: Dr Julia Bader Second reader: Dr Julian Gruin Candidate Number: 12718637 Department: Graduate School of Social Science Word Count: 22,000 Acknowledgments

Without the help of the following group of people, this paper would be immeasurably poorer. First, Dr Julia Bader for her patience and inspiration, and for supervising a course that has proven at times interesting, frustrating, challenging and enjoyable. To my classmates, for their good humour and the valuable information they provided over Zoom, Canvas and WhatsApp. To Ms Kim Ribbink, for her administrative nous. The University of Amsterdam, for providing an Australian (with an Irish passport) the opportunity to study abroad, and for being so reasonable when he decided to flee home in the midst of a pandemic. And finally, to my family and friends, for keeping me sane.

This thesis is entirely my own work, and any mistakes contained herein are my own.

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Table of Contents

Title Page 1 Acknowledgments 2 Table of Contents 3 List of Acronyms and Colloquialisms 4 Chapter One: Introduction 5 Chapter Two: Literature Review and Conceptual Considerations 8 Section 2.1: What is Sharp Power, and How Can We Recognise it? 8 Section 2.2: Clarifying Sharp Power 16 Chapter Three: Methodological Approach 21 Chapter Four: Empirical Analysis 26 Section 4.1: Students 26 4.1.1: Chinese Student and Scholars Associations 29 4.1.2: Patriotic Students 31 Section 4.2: Academics 33 4.2.1: Knowledge Sharing 34 4.2.2: Censorship 38 Section 4.3: Cyber-Attacks 43 Section 4.4: Confucius Institutes 46 4.4.1: Accusations of Espionage 47 4.4.2: Promoting Censorship 48 4.4.3: Discriminatory Practices 49 4.4.4: Moulding Student Behaviour 50 Section 4.5: Assessing Sharp Power 52 Chapter Five: Redefining Sharp Power 56 Bibliography 60

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List of Acronyms and Colloquialisms

ABC Australian Broadcasting Corporation

ANU Australian National University

ARC Australian Research Council

CCP Chinese Communist Party

CETC China Electronics Technology Group Corporation

CI Confucius Institute

CSSA Chinese Student and Scholars Associations

Hanban Office of Chinese Language Council International

NCSU North Carolina State University

NED National Endowment for Democracy

NUDT National University of Defense Technology

PLA People’s Liberation Army

PRC People’s Republic of China

US/ USA United States of America

USYD The University of Sydney

UTS University of Technology Sydney

VUB Vrije Universiteit Brussel

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Abstract: Since Walker & Ludwig first coined the term ‘sharp power’ in 2017 there has been a flurry of academic scholarship examining the term. This work has focused on defining the concept, and identifying where it can be applied in international relations. Walker & Ludwig argue the concept can help clarify the nature of malign authoritarian influence over democratic states (Walker & Ludwig 2017: 7). Noting scholarship has not been able to settle on an agreed definition, this paper uses their original definition and examines the case of Chinese interference in western university education to test the concept. It also advances a typological tool to identify sharp power. Because scholars have not been able to precisely define sharp power, this article finds the concept unequal to the task of clarifying authoritarian influence in international relations. The conclusion seeks to improve the concept, and invites discussion to further develop the utility of sharp power.

Chapter One: Introduction

In 2017 the term sharp power was first coined by Christopher Walker and Jessica Ludwig. Their report for the Washington D.C. based think tank, the National Endowment for Democracy (NED) described sharp power as the malicious and intrusive influence that one nation can wield over another. It is distinguished from soft power by the methods of its application, secretive, and malign, and from hard power by its lack of open coercion backed by military force (Walker & Ludwig 2017: 6). The parameters that define this term are broad. Where does the line between soft power end, and sharp power begin? Where does this then morph into hard power? To a large degree answering this question depends on terminology. Providing a precise and useful definition of the concept is one of the key aims of this paper. This is important for a number of reasons. In its present form the concept is vague, and does not necessarily provide clarity to a researcher looking into the interactions that take place between authoritarian states and democratic states and their institutions. It is only once we have arrived at a more precise definition for sharp power that we can address the central concern of this paper: whether sharp power can explain the interactions that take place between the People’s Republic of China (PRC), and western universities.

This topic matters. Since its economy reopened to the world in the 1970s, China has grown richer, and with that wealth, more influential. As an autocratic power, its style of governance, and its interactions with western institutions are necessarily different from democratic western nations. With its newfound global influence, the PRC has engaged with western industries and

5 institutions to not always positive endings. Universities are vital repositories of learning and knowledge; their work powers a country’s innovation. Influential policy advocates frequently work within universities. Perhaps most importantly - in their goal of educating students, universities shape the future. Their work influences the politicians, policymakers, business leaders, academics and activists of tomorrow. To influence such an institution is to hold sway over what a country might become.

So has China employed sharp power in its interactions with western universities? This is a difficult question to answer; the terms of engagement must be defined. This means unpacking sharp power, a nebulous and as yet ill-defined term. To answer the thesis question, this paper is divided into several chapters. These chapters step the reader through the topic, allowing for a logical progression from definition; to methodology; to analysis; and finally to conclusion.

Chapter Two contains a literature review that surveys the work undertaken by other scholars and identifies ‘gaps’ in the literature. It is in these ‘gaps’ that this paper seeks to place itself. In effect, this review sets the stage for this paper. It demonstrates a scholarly confusion surrounding sharp power. Clarification of this confusion may well be the key contribution of this paper. The review finds that there is no one commonly held and consistent definition of sharp power. Examples of authoritarian malfeasance and disruption of democratic targets are cited as ‘sharp power’, though no concrete definition is agreed upon. It is left to the reader to assume examples of authoritarian interference constitute sharp power, as and when they are cited.

Defining sharp power is therefore, one of the key tasks of this essay. By parsing the literature, searching through existing definitions of the concept, and discussions of the concept before it was named by Walker & Ludwig, Chapter Two arrives at a reasonable definition of sharp power. Adopting this definition throughout the rest of the paper allows us to address one final important aspect of this Chapter. This is developing a typological tool, whereby we can recognise examples of sharp power as they are presented to us. The typological tool, and the methods by which it identifies sharp power are justified in Section 2.2: Clarifying Sharp Power.

Following this theoretical chapter is a methodological exploration of how the analytical ballast of this paper, Chapter Four: Empirical Analysis, is organised. Chapter Three is a preliminary chapter, laying out: the subjects to be studied; the organisation of the empirical analysis; the

6 data employed; the biases that affect this data; the shortcomings and weaknesses involved with this approach and; the timeframe and geographical location within which this paper is situated.

Chapter Four examines several well-known examples of Chinese interactions with western universities. These examples are divided by type, into unique categories. This provides a suitable array with which to perform our analysis. Each category provides a fresh angle with which we can critique the concept of sharp power. While no qualitative study can be exhaustive, this approach provides sufficient evidence to develop a compelling argument on the nature of Chinese influence on western universities, and of sharp power itself. The categories are inspired by an Australian government report, and attempt to holistically account for the most important areas of interaction between the PRC and western universities. The categories contained therein are, in order: students; academics; cyber-attacks; and Confucius Institutes (CI).

The aim of this paper is to answer whether or not sharp power can account for the interactions between the People’s Republic and western universities. If sharp power is inadequate to explain Chinese interference, then we must ask how the concept can be altered. What might need to change in order to explain the malignant Chinese interactions we shall examine? The paper concludes with a discussion of how the idea of sharp power can be improved. It identifies where a refined definition of the concept could be employed for conceptual gain, and where it cannot be satisfactorily applied. With an improved definition of sharp power, we open up avenues for further scholarly exploration.

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Chapter Two: Literature Review and Conceptual Considerations

The goal of this chapter is to discuss literature that has already examined the idea of sharp power, and how the term is defined therein. Therefore, the evidence provided to demonstrate the concept’s existence shall be examined in this section, so that we might see the ‘proof’ for sharp power, as seen by political scientists. Moreover, because the terminology of sharp power is relatively new, first appearing in 2017, this chapter will also examine literature that employ a similar nomenclature to capture similar concepts. Therefore, articles discussing, but not closely defining, terms such as ‘charm offensive’, or ‘authoritarian soft power’ will also be included in this chapter.

This discussion will be followed by Section 2.2, A Definition of Sharp Power, which critiques literature on sharp power as a whole, and supplies a definition to be used thereafter throughout this paper. The final portion of this Chapter takes this definition one step further, developing a typological tool by which we can know whether or not an instance of PRC malfeasance on university campuses is indeed an example of sharp power. By probing the varied contributions scholars have made to the sharp power debate, this Chapter shall determine what is missing from ‘gaps’ in the literature. The answers this paper aspires to provide will fill the ‘gaps’ identified within this chapter.

Section 2.1: What is Sharp Power, and How Can We Recognise it?

The term sharp power first appeared in a 2017 report by the National Endowment for Democracy’s Christopher Walker and Jessica Ludwig. The authors assert that vast sums of money have been spent in recent years by Russia and China to “shape public opinions and perceptions around the world, employing a diverse toolkit that includes thousands of people-to- people exchanges, wide-ranging cultural activities, educational programs, and the development of media enterprises and information initiatives with global reach” (Walker & Ludwig 2017: 6). While the most visible of these techniques are not ‘hard’ in any nakedly coercive sense, neither can they be considered ‘soft’. The authors label this grey area, ‘sharp power’.

Before launching into a review of the academic discussion on sharp power, it is helpful to sketch the parameters within which it sits. In 1990, Joseph S. Nye coined the term ‘soft power’, to

8 describe the various ways in which a state may achieve the outcomes it prefers in world politics because other states want to follow it or have agreed to a situation that produces such effects. Such methods “tend to arise from cultural and ideological attraction, as well as rules and institutions of international regimes” (Nye 1990: 168). This might include music and film, sports, certain multinational companies, and democratic political institutions. Standing in contrast to this co-operative approach is the forceful and coercive, hard power, where one state uses military might to force others to do its bidding. Soft power has been described as a “force multiplier” (Nye 2018: 1). When combined with the military might of ‘hard power’, a strong army gains a strong narrative, in itself a potent source of power (ibid).

The literature review that follows charts attempts by various academics to grapple with the concept of sharp power. Here, different descriptions of the concept are offered, along with the empirical basis used to support these claims. Different examples of cases of sharp power in contemporary international relations are provided by these scholars. By comparing and contrasting the differences between these claims, we will be able to find some common ground, some core components that all academics agree forms part of the basis of sharp power. With these ‘core’ components, a definition of sharp power can be adopted to be employed throughout the rest of this paper.

Before examining the literature that discussed sharp power it is useful to consider the work from which this debate emerged. Joshua Kurlantzick was one of the first to identify China’s “charm offensive”. After years of economic growth, following Deng Ziaoping’s strategy of “hiding (one’s) strength and biding (one’s) time”, from the mid to late 1990s, Beijing began to maneuver to increase its soft power (Kurlantzick 2006: 35). Kurlantzick argued that China’s potent soft power tool was its socioeconomic strength (idem: 36). The PRC began to trumpet its success in feeding 22% of the world’s population, with only 10% of its arable land, lifting tens of millions out of poverty (ibid). These claims became central to the country’s diplomacy. Chinese-style governance became an attractive alternative ideology to authoritarian leaders worldwide (ibid). The charm offensive was based on three basic elements: a degree of openness to private enterprise, a large state sector, and a concerted effort to forestall democratic reforms (ibid). The alternative they offered to the aggressive free market-program of the so-called ‘Washington consensus’ won wide-spread support. Their success was seen in positive receptions in countries ranging from Latin America to South-East Asia to Africa (idem: 37).

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China’s emphasis on ‘win-win’ diplomacy and its policy of non-interference stood in sharp contrast to the United States, which was in the mid-2000s mired in several unpopular Middle- Eastern conflicts (ibid). Yet as it became more powerful and influential, Beijing began to export some of its domestic problems (Kurlantzick 2007: xi-xii). The poor environmental record of its companies, and their opaque business practices began to appear in the Global South (ibid). Writing in the mid-2000s Kurlantzick describes an overwhelmingly positive response to China’s charms, which corresponds with a decline in the US’ own soft power (idem: 8-10). He did, however, differentiate between the soft power of a ‘mouse’ versus that of a ‘lion’ (idem: 6). If the subject of Beijing’s ‘charm’ refuses to help China with its goals, the carrot can quickly be substituted for the stick (ibid). For example, China has continued to fund the construction of dams in South-East Asia’s important Mekong Delta. It blithely ignored the protestations of other countries and refused to join multilateral groups monitoring the health of the river. Even in the mid-2000s accusations abounded of China saying one thing, while at the same time single- mindedly pursuing its own interest (idem: 230-231). Some even raised the specter of a mercantilism, in which raw materials are sold cheaply to China, in return for high-priced Chinese exports (ibid).

Much of this work on China’s early ‘charm offensive’ focused on China’s interactions with developing nations. China’s soft power was not actually seen as being all that soft (Kurlantzick 2006: 36). This stands in contrast to the new literature on sharp power, which focuses on Chinese influence on wealthier western nations. Some see this sharp power as standing somewhere between the twin pillars of soft power, which depends on voluntarism, and hard power “which rests on inducements by payment or coercion by threat” (Nye 2018: 2). For Walker & Ludwig, sharp power entails a degree of stealth, as opposed to the blunt impact of hard power (2017: 13). Recent media and cultural activities by Beijing and Moscow are neither part of a ‘charm offensive’, nor an attempt to win ‘hearts and minds’. Therefore, these efforts cannot be classed as soft power. Examples such as the “large-scale fabrication of social media posts”, or the establishment of CCP controlled Confucius Institutes at foreign universities are said to be centered on “distraction and manipulation” (Walker & Ludwig 2017: 6). In a 2018 article expanding on the concept of sharp power, Walker noted that the ‘CAMP’ sectors are particularly vulnerable to sharp power penetration. CAMP, meaning culture, academia (including universities more generally), media and publishing are four influential spheres which depend on openness and accessibility as part of their very business model (2018: 13). It is this that has

10 made them such a vulnerable target for the deceptive and manipulative methods of sharp power.

Authoritarian regimes like Russia and China are looking to suppress political pluralism and the freedom of expression abroad in order to secure their interests (Walker & Ludwig 2017: 6). Walker & Ludwig caution against viewing this phenomenon as “authoritarian soft power”. The subversive tools of sharp power do “real damage to the targeted democratic societies”, and the “conceptual vocabulary that has been used since the Cold War’s end no longer seems adequate to the contemporary situation” (idem: 7). Rather, the authors of the NED report argue that sharp power better captures the spirit of foreign policy techniques that are designed to “pierce, penetrate, or perforate the political and information environments in the targeted countries” (ibid).

For Walker & Ludwig, China and Russia are the most notable actors currently exercising sharp power against target countries (idem: 6). This observation is common to most, if not all, contemporary accounts of the concept. According to Walker & Ludwig, the influence these regimes wield overseas cannot be divorced from the ideology with which they govern their own countries (2017: 12). Rather than engaging in ‘public diplomacy’, their NED report provides several examples of Chinese and Russian sharp power in Latin America and Central Europe. It is worth noting that the authors of individual chapters within this report use the term soft power to describe Russian and Chinese influence abroad. Authors were asked to assess authoritarian influence in the countries in question. Through examination of these reports, Walker & Ludwig developed the concept of sharp power (idem: 35).

In Peru, sharp power, (or, as described by author Juan Pablo Cardenal, authoritarian sharp power) can be seen in qiaowu. This is a Chinese outreach effort aimed at the country’s large ethnic-Chinese minority, which includes up to 2.5 million Peruvians (around 8% of the population) who are thought to have some Chinese ancestry. The policy seeks to “promote the PRC’s stance abroad, neutralise party-critics, and systematically shut down the regime’s critics” (Cardenal 2017: 69). It employs social and psychological tools that seek to influence—through coercive pressure and positive incentives—the choices, direction, and loyalties of the population that the PRC considers as overseas Chinese (ibid). These tools include the “neutralisation” of party critics and the construction of temporary alliances of convenience (ibid). “While it appears to be a straightforward attempt to encourage transnational cultural interest, raise ethnic

11 awareness, and promote business, qiaowu is in fact designed to legitimize the CCP and elevate China’s international image” (ibid).

In Poland, Jacek Kucharczyk writes of a polarised political atmosphere, where opponents routinely accuse one another of being under Russian influence. This has the effect of inuring the public into complacency over such threats. Russian “authoritarian influence” can be seen in, among other examples social media ‘trolling’, academics who refute the mainstream distrust of Russia by claiming to understand “geopolitical realities”, pro-Russian think-tanks, and the promotion of narratives potentially useful to the Kremlin, namely highly-conservative traditionalist, anti-gender, and anti-refugee messages (Kucharczyk 2017: 100).

A similar understanding of sharp power has appeared across a number of articles in magazines, think tank reports and academic pieces. The December 14, 2017 edition of the Economist magazine described the concept as (any measure) that “helps authoritarian regimes coerce and manipulate opinion abroad”. The corruption of an Australian politician, alleged to have been bribed into supporting the Chinese position in the South China Sea is offered as evidence. Custer et al. use similar language to describe the term as various methods “seeking regional hegemony and engaging in a game of zero-sum politics” (2018: 1). A 2018 article by Walker offered more clarity on this vision of sharp power, labelling it an “approach to international affairs that typically involves efforts at censorship, or the use of manipulation to sap the integrity of independent institutions” (2018: 11). Walker asserts the concept operates beyond the political sphere, where “the corrosive effects of sharp power are increasingly apparent in the spheres of culture, academia, media, and publishing—sectors that are crucial in determining how citizens of democracies understand the world around them” (idem: 12). A deal between the Australian Broadcasting Corporation (ABC) with the Shanghai Media Group is a prime instance of sharp power, according to Walker. Initially lauded as an opportunity for Australia to engage with the PRC, closer examination of the agreement revealed the ABC was contractually obliged not to report on issues sensitive to the CCP on its Mandarin-language service (idem: 9).

Other strands of thought on sharp power elect not to define the terms as being somewhere in between ‘soft’ and ‘hard’ power. In its 2018 report, the California-based Hoover Institution characterised sharp power as an ‘illegitimate’, more assertive, and less-opaque version of soft power (Diamond & Schell 2018: 2). This differs from the earlier academic characterisation we have seen. By aligning the term within the strictures of soft power, Diamond & Schell imply

12 certain, less coercive or forceful characteristics of sharp power. A case study of Hollywood is employed to demonstrate this claim. As its wealth grows, China is able to leverage foreign organisations to advance its agenda not just domestically, but on the international stage as well. In 2017, Chinese box-office takings were worth $7.9 billion USD to the film industry, versus an only slightly higher $11.1 billion USD in the US itself (idem: 111). For Diamond & Schell, such growth, coming as the industry faces substantial pressure from online-streaming services, raises the specter of self-censorship, the advancement of Chinese narratives, and the risk that the industry will lose its independence (ibid). Actor Richard Gere has stated there are certain movies he cannot take part in because of his outspoken stance on Tibetan independence (idem: 112). The popular Kung Fu Panda series is held up as another example; the third sequel was co-produced with Chinese money and has played an outsized role in positively defining Chinese culture (ibid).

The arguments of Diamond & Schell are reinforced by Sørensen, who channels Nye in arguing that soft power is a force multiplier CCP leaders regard as complementary to more traditional ‘hard’ manifestations of power (2017: 113. Although she does not use the term sharp power, her ‘authoritarian soft power’ is characterised in a similar fashion. Sørensen says that for the CCP, soft power is a “top-down-affair” (idem: 114). Because of the structure of its government, China has been unwilling to allow its citizens to generate the soft power it desires. As such, the party- led presentations of China often lack credibility and come across more as party propaganda, which does not persuade or attract as planned (idem: 116). While interested in soft power, domestic concerns take priority for Chinese leaders. For Sørensen, this ‘top-down’ attempt to generate soft power abroad is best illustrated through the Confucius Institutes, language and cultural organisations set up in foreign countries by the CCP. These bodies, “undoubtedly under a high level of control by the Chinese state” have been met with a number of accusations of espionage, control, and censorship (idem: 117).

Central to this view of sharp power is the Chinese system of government. According to Diamond & Schell, “many nominally independent actors - including Chinese civil society, academia, corporations, and even religious institutions - are also ultimately beholden to the government and are frequently pressured into service to advance state interests” (2018: 3). The two examples provided above, Confucius Institutes, and the (partial) co-option of Hollywood to suit Chinese narratives by state-approved bodies are key examples illustrating this definition. This is

13 a vision of sharp power decidedly more malevolent than soft power, yet still cast of the same substance. It wishes to win hearts and minds, yet uses manipulative methods to do so.

Directly opposing this view is the architect of the original definition of soft power, Joseph S. Nye. For Nye, sharp power is a “new term that describes an old threat”. It is “a type of hard power” (Nye 2018: 2). Nor is the deceptive use of information for nefarious purposes a new phenomenon, Nye argues that both the democratic United States, and the totalitarian Soviet Union made use of such techniques during the Cold War. In the 1980s the USSR seeded the rumor that AIDS was the product of US experimentation with biological weapons. The rumour began with an anonymous letter sent to a New Delhi newspaper (ibid). More recently, the ‘Pizzagate’ scandal spread online in 2016, alleging that some of Hilary Clinton’s senior election staff has been abusing children in the basement of a Washington restaurant (idem: 2). Both these examples rely on untruths and anxieties to smear their opponents. What has changed, and made the malign manipulation of information a much more potent tool, is the speed and lower cost of delivering such tactics (ibid).

While these tools are able to disrupt and undermine democratic processes, they do not win plaudits for the countries that employ them. For Russia, this may be an acceptable cost, however the cost of such measures is far higher for China, which has spent billions on soft power instruments for comparatively little return (Nye 2018: 2). Ultimately, for Nye, sharp power relies on deception to influence the decisions of actors. When this deception limits the voluntary choices actors can make, it crosses the line into coercion, and is therefore, hard power (ibid). Modern methods of sharp power, like the ‘Pizzagate’ scandal, for example, can make it difficult to determine where soft power ends, and sharp (or hard) power begins.

Finally, it is also worth considering the arguments made by Liu in 2018. Liu sees sharp power as “neither soft nor hard power—it is the product of an unskilled mixing of the two, or put simply, ‘unsmart power’. This is not to coin a new term, but rather to make the point that no new term is needed” (Liu, 2018). Liu alludes here to the concept of ‘smart power’, defined in 2007 as “an approach that underscores the necessity of a strong military, but also invests heavily in alliances, partnerships, and institutions of all levels to expand one's influence and establish legitimacy of one's action" (Armitage & Nye 2007: 7). For Liu, “smart power is the right mix or has the correct ingredients of the hard power of coercion and the soft power of persuasion and attraction”. She argues that “sharp power is better understood as a result of an unsuccessful

14 combination of the two” (Liu, 2018). In this view then, sharp power is the poorer cousin of ‘smart power’, an unnecessary term that fails to combine the twin concepts of soft and hard power.

For Liu, the ‘who’ is more important than the ‘how’. Even if Russia and China are doing the same thing as non-authoritarian countries, the nature of their government means their actions will still fall under suspicion. Chinese New Year celebrations, which should be a relatively innocuous method of soft power projection, are cited as an example. Liu questions how such an event could have a nefarious purpose. “All states’ soft power efforts can have good intentions, but the effects can sometimes be distorted by the application of hard methods” (Liu, 2018).

So far this review has made clear the breadth of definitions of sharp power. While there certainly is a malevolent intent implied, the terms that are frequently used to characterise the concept, ‘distraction’ and ‘manipulation’, are not clarified. Instead, empirical examples are provided and it is claimed that regimes like China and Russia are “surely seeking to manage their target audiences by manipulating or poisoning the information that reaches them” (Walker & Ludwig, 2017: 13). Such covert actions are necessarily difficult to source; proving an instance of sharp power may require the use of a ‘smoking gun’ piece of evidence. This evidence may only be accessible to individuals with privileged access. Reliance on such rare documentation surely limits the analytical utility and conceptual clarity of sharp power. The active nature of this concept must also be emphasised. This is a malignant and political action that one state inflicts upon another. It is not soft power, looking to win ‘hearts and minds’. However, neither is it hard power, seeking coercion through force. This ambiguity, coupled with the disagreements outlined in the literature review lead to this paper’s preliminary argument: Sharp power is too vague a concept to be of analytical use.

Because discussion on sharp power has largely been confined to defining the concept, there has, as of yet, been comparatively little assessment of its analytical utility. Of the literature examined in Section 2.1, only Liu’s contribution comes close to our preliminary argument. However, her conclusion is not enough to ‘plug’ the ‘gap’ left by vague definitions of sharp power. Liu’s short article asserts that sharp power is no more than ‘unsmart power’; and that it describes the unsuccessful combination of soft and hard power. What separates this assessment from our preliminary argument is the difference between a concept being too vague to be of any analytic utility, and a concept being of zero analytic utility. If the idea of sharp power could be, as it were, ‘sharpened’, more closely defined, it might prove to be of some use in

15 analysing, for example, Chinese influence over western universities. However, to reach that point, this thesis must first use empirical analysis to ascertain whether or not sharp power can be proved to be too vague to be of any analytical utility. The following section lays the groundwork for this analysis. It provides a concise definition of sharp power, based on the available literature, and develops the tools we require to analyse it.

Section 2.2: Clarifying Sharp Power

What then, to make of these varying accounts of sharp power? The existing literature examined above used qualitative empirical analysis to define the concept. So how can an idea for which no concrete definition has been provided be of any analytical and conceptual use? Certain key themes like secrecy and malign intent, along with core indicators like manipulation and deception remain consistent. Despite this, political scientists are seemingly unable to agree whether it represents something new, an instance of soft power, sharp power, or something of no use at all. In the chapters to come, the utility of sharp power will be critically assessed using PRC influence over western university education as a case study. In order to proceed, this paper must adopt a clear and consistent definition of sharp power. The remainder of this chapter is dedicated to two goals. First, developing a clear and consistent definition of sharp power, using information contained within the literature review. This definition will aim to be as all-encompassing as possible, given our goal is to examine PRC influence over university education. Secondly, a typological tool will be developed, such that we are able to recognise examples of sharp power as and when they occur.

Before we proceed to this paper’s empirical analysis we must first be confident in our ability to determine that something is, or is not, an example of sharp power. The literature review uncovered some key features of the concept including: malign intent; covert actions; authoritarian governments; and a desire to shape public opinions and force otherwise unwanted change on a political target. It is not soft power, but neither is it hard power. The literature review also made clear that it was a specifically ‘active’ concept, one that one state inflicts deliberately on another. Finally, we must note that because of its secretive nature, demonstrating evidence of sharp power carries with it a reliance on ‘smoking gun’ examples, proving one state wished to enact surreptitious harm on another. Understandably, such proof is difficult to find. To this end, a tool must be developed, whereby affirmative answers to a series of questions can only lead us to conclude that a specific case demonstrates both manipulation,

16 and distraction. Following the examples discussed in the literature review, these actions must be committed by authoritarian states, with deliberate political goals in mind. Operationalisation of these nebulous terms will allow us to show whether or not a specific case constitutes an example of sharp power.

The first task is to settle on a definition of sharp power. Because the discussion of the concept began with Walker & Ludwig’s report, the academic debate that ensued necessarily revolves around their original description. Their definition embodies the key tenets of sharp power that other political scientists sought to discuss and define. Therefore, and hereinafter, this paper shall adopt a definition of sharp power taken from Walker & Ludwig’s contribution to the National Endowment for Democracy report. Sharp power shall be defined as:

Authoritarian influence not intended to attract or persuade, but centering on distraction and manipulation.

Walker & Ludwig provide further context to their definition in saying that the repression exercised by authoritarian regimes at home is applied abroad to secure their own interests. “What we have to date understood as ‘authoritarian soft power’ is better categorized as ‘sharp power’ that pierces, penetrates, or perforates the political and information environments in the targeted countries” (Walker & Ludwig, 2017: 6).

The logic behind the decision to develop a typological tool is inspired by Oisín Tansey’s 2016 article The Problem with Autocracy Promotion. The tool Tansey develops sets out a series of straightforward questions to determine whether or not something is an example of autocracy promotion (2016: 153). In this paper the typological tool asks three questions, but with the same goal of identifying the presence of an abstract concept. The first question simply asks whether the example being investigated demonstrates some influence from an authoritarian state. China and Russia are two prominent examples of contemporary autocratic states; which are non- democratic, with a non-pluralistic and strong central state (Linz 1975: 264). They are also frequently cited as influential states that employ sharp power to achieve their own ends (e.g.: Walker & Ludwig 2017: 10; Mesežnikov 2017; 94; Mesežnikov & Pleschová 2017: 124). In this instance, ‘influence’ refers to the capacity for one actor to affect the actions of another. Often this interaction can be political in nature. In our paper, the affecting state is authoritarian:

17 the People’s Republic of China. The actor being affected is a university, or at a higher level, the state that houses that institution.

This first question seeks to identify authoritarian influence. The nature of this influence, positive or negative is not questioned. In a literal sense, all interactions between states are to varying degrees influential. What is important for our purpose is the political constitution of the state committing the action. The point of this first question is to rule out non-authoritarian influence, as per our definition. Because this essay looks at examples of Chinese influence on western university education, and because China is an authoritarian state, for every example that we can demonstrate PRC government involvement, we are able to answer this question affirmatively (Minzner 2011: 1).

The second question seeks to determine whether or not a particular case constitutes evidence of distraction. By its very nature, distraction grabs the attention of an actor. It would logically be easier to identify than manipulation. The largest English language dictionary in the world, Oxford English Dictionary, defines it as “as something that prevents an actor from concentrating on something else” (2020). I take this ‘something else’ to mean the normal course of events the distracted actor would otherwise be engaged in. The final question the tool looks to answer is whether or not manipulative action is at play. Successful manipulation, the ability to control or influence a person or situation cleverly, unfairly or unscrupulously is often covert and difficult to detect (Oxford Languages 2020). Examples that fail to respond positively to these criteria cannot be thought of as conclusive examples of sharp power.

Perhaps the key problem with Walker & Ludwig’s definition is that recognising abstract terms like ‘manipulation’ and ‘deception’ is difficult, and subjective. Operationalising such terms presents a serious problem. Quantitative or qualitative indices presenting evidence of their existence, and hence sharp power’s conceptual worth, are easy to provide, yet difficult to justify. Such is the ‘breadth’ of these imprecise definitions. In a limitless array of examples, from the quotidian to the unusual, we might find evidence of distraction and manipulation. For example, distraction could be demonstrated by noting the large-scale fabrication of social media posts; or counting reports and events hosted by sympathetic think tanks or state-controlled cultural bodies like Confucius Institutes. Alternatively, convincing cases could be made that distraction is evident in the US ‘Pizzagate’ scandal, or the USSR’s rumor of AIDS being the result of biological weapons experimentation. Such distraction could be counted by news articles or

18 social media comments, for example. The co-option of Hollywood film studios by Chinese firms could demonstrate distraction if one counted the number of positive or pro-China storylines or characters in films funded with Chinese money. The point here is that distraction is a broad term, and can be demonstrated by any number of indices.

The same can be said of manipulation. If one were looking at the manipulation of elections, then citing evidence of stuffed ballot boxes would be a good indication. Chinese qiaowu in Peru could demonstrate manipulation by examining the means of influencing Peruvians of Chinese descent, then tracking their voting habits and examining polling of their positions on various policies favourable to China. If you wanted to examine Chinese manipulation of politicians then perhaps examining well-known cases of corruption by Chinese means and examining their legislative record could provide evidence. Again, as with the paragraph on distraction, the point is that choosing one valid means of operationalising terms such as these risks excluding other equally valid interpretations of the words.

To exhaustively cover off all definitions of manipulation and distraction on university campuses with reliable indicators would require an enormous, perhaps insurmountable amount of work. Interpreting this data would be a similarly difficult challenge. In her piece examining the concept of ‘social capital’, Gabriel criticises such a scatter-shot approach to the measurement of abstract terms. “Too many indices with no agreed-on scale” can result in confusion and overwrought claims of relevance (Gabriel 2009: 1517). In any case, there is no authoritative list of every single definition of these concepts. One can never truly know if an accurate account of a term had been captured by the indicators used. Nevertheless, despite this problem, this paper still needs to be able to convincingly demonstrate that sharp power plausibly exists. To do this the first definitions provided by the Oxford English Dictionary shall be used. These are:

1) Distract: Prevent (someone) from concentrating on something (Oxford Languages 2020). 2) Manipulate: Control or influence (a person or situation) cleverly or unscrupulously (Oxford Languages 2020).

Quality of both analysis and example is important here. To plausibly demonstrate distraction, we will have to walk through the cases studied in Chapter Four and examine by a variety of means whether one actor has prevented another from concentrating on something. In some, this might mean a flurry of journalistic interest, or political speeches. In others, a change of direction, as

19 the distracted actor resolves to address a separate problem to its pre-distraction goals. Similar measures, for example, espionage, cyber-hacking, or the official CCP sanction of pro-China protestors at foreign universities, will be employed to reasonably identify manipulation. In the absence of physical or quantifiable indices, care must be taken that arguments are clear and reasoned. The aim is to demonstrate our examples would align with the dictionary definitions of deception and manipulation. When deciding whether an example counts as distraction or manipulation, we would do well to recall the nature of sharp power, imparted to us through the literature review. Malign political ends are part of the authoritarian nation’s goals here. Secrecy too, is an integral component of their method.

The advantage of such an approach is that it allows us to demonstrate manipulation and distraction in a variety of different settings. Free from narrow restrictions, sharp power could potentially be a useful concept with which to understand the nature of Chinese interference in western universities. The evidence of malign PRC influence employed here is not bound by overly prescriptive indices using this approach. On the other hand, by choosing not to adopt a particular indicator, we risk imprecise language undermining our analysis, and an over- abundance of examples of sharp power. The solution to this is precise and literal language, and a ruthless, though not reckless approach to examples that do not qualify as demonstrating both distraction and manipulation. Other scholars may well disagree with how distraction and manipulation are interpreted here. They may also propose indices that reasonably demonstrate evidence of how they understand our key terms and thus, sharp power. The approach this paper adopts is not conclusive. Rather it seeks to progress the conversation on the utility of sharp power as it is currently ‘understood’. This approach presents obvious avenues for future research.

As a final note on this chapter of conceptual considerations, it is important to take stock of what might occur if our preliminary argument is proved correct. If sharp power is indeed too vague a concept to be of much conceptual utility, it will need to be amended. If changes are to occur, they will become apparent in Chapter Four: Empirical Analysis. Therefore, our conclusion may need to devote time and energy to a discussion of a new definition of sharp power, one that can explain Chinese interactions with western universities.

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Chapter Three: Methodological Approach

Chapter Three: Methodological Approach describes how the evidence for the analytical portion of this paper is organised. Chapter Four: Empirical Analysis is perhaps the most important section of this paper. It guides the reader through several examples of potential sharp power. The groundwork laid out by this preliminary Chapter aids the reader’s comprehension. The method by which Chapter Four’s data is selected is discussed, and the justification for the categorisation of these sources is supplied. In addition, this chapter also defends the paper’s decision to adopt PRC influence on western university campuses as a case study. Biases and the shortcomings of the approach adopted are discussed. Finally, this section also sets up the timeframe and locations within which this paper sits.

The texts examined in the Literature Review repeatedly labelled China as a key player in the use of contemporary sharp power, and universities specifically as major targets (for example: Walker & Ludwig; Cardenal; Walker; Diamond & Schell; Nye). As such, the case of Chinese influence on western university campuses has been selected with the expectation that under these circumstances, we are very likely to find examples that satisfy the definition of sharp power this paper has adopted. With the discussion of enough potential examples of sharp power, we are able to assess the validity of the concept of sharp power, and its suitability to explain Chinese interference with western university education.

With a definition of sharp power adopted, the findings presented here are arranged in such a way as to holistically explore the academic utility of sharp power as an analytical concept. Different examples of manipulative or deceptive Chinese behaviour on western university campuses will be examined. This data will be categorised by type, to best provide a broad range of examples, as exhaustive as possible, while avoiding the duplication of similar specimens. These examples will be assessed against the typological tool developed in Chapter Two. By analysing these cases, we begin to see the emergence of an argument about sharp power itself, and whether it is of conceptual use in the case of PRC interactions with western universities. Chapter Five will draw upon this analysis and discuss a refined and more conceptually useful definition of sharp power.

The categories in which the examples sit are based on a 2019 report by the Australian Department of Education. The report: Guidelines to Counter Foreign Interference in the

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Australian University Sector (the Guidelines) provides guidance on how universities can safeguard their people, assess risk, and protect their data (University Foreign Interference Taskforce 2019: 5). It is revealing of the university sector’s sensitivities that potential perpetrators of foreign interference are at no point specified in the report. Because most examples in this paper are taken from the Australian context, it is appropriate to include examples from North American and Europe in these categories. Students, academics and administrators frequently move between institutions across these three regions. Rough cultural similarities mean the universities all operate in similar manners. The paper cites three specific areas of risk: communication and education, which deals mostly with students and teaching; knowledge sharing, which addresses research; and cyber-security (idem: 3). These three categories appear in this paper as: Section 4.1: Students; Section 4.2: Academics; and Section 4.3: Cyber-Attacks.

In addition, a fourth area of analysis has been included, which looks at the role of Confucius Institutes. The Department of Education’s report issues a series of recommendations, one of which urges universities to identify staff affiliated with international institutions (idem: 15). Although not mentioned in the report, this recommendation was widely seen as targeting Confucius Institutes (Bolton, 2019). Such targeted suspicion aligns with the concerns of many sinologists, who see these bodies as little more than an instrument for Chinese influence (e.g. Sørensen 2017:117).

Practically, this means Chapter Four is divided into five sections. Each sub-section describes a different kind of interaction between the PRC and western universities. Beginning with examples of student misbehaviour, the paper will then examine, in order: PRC interference in western academia; cyber-attacks; and Confucius Institutes. The examples used here are taken from well-known cases, and placed in their appropriate category. The final section summarises the findings of Chapter Four, in an assessment of the concept of sharp power.

Chinese influence on western university campuses surely extends beyond the examples discussed in the coming sections of this chapter. There are likely also examples not cited in this paper that do not neatly fit within the categories used here. In this sense, Chapter Four is by no means exhaustive. Nonetheless, we are presented with a wide spread of known examples of malign and politically motivated actions by the PRC against tertiary institutions in western nations. While the examples employed below may be subject to some form of editorial bias on

22 the part of their authors against the PRC, they are not fabricated. Taken from syndicated and respected sources like academic journals, newspapers and think tank reports, the material provided is more than adequate to examine the nature of sharp power. It is only by critically reviewing seemingly unambiguous examples against Walker & Ludwig’s definition of sharp power, and employing the typological tool, that we can know whether the concept captures the nature of China’s action.

Because of the secretive nature of sharp power, the majority of this analysis is employed against qualitative sources, for which inductive analysis is eminently suitable. Databases of quantifiable indicators of covert and secure material are rare indeed. The majority of the sources used here are drawn from academic articles and media sources like newspapers and magazine articles. Published non-fiction sources describing Chinese interactions with western universities reinforce this qualitative analysis. Where appropriate, quantitative sources have also been employed to supplement and reinforce arguments. This holistic blend of sources allows for a thorough and holistic argument. Such a complex approach is necessary given the nebulous nature of sharp power.

It is important to remind ourselves that by their very nature, the tools of sharp power are secretive and not open to ‘outsiders’. Only insiders have access to this kind of knowledge. Without a ‘smoking gun’, it is impossible to fully understand the actor’s intent. Governments do not publicly announce such malign actions. To be sure, such ‘smoking guns’ do exist. Clive Hamilton’s Silent Invasion relies heavily on the PhD dissertation of James To, a New Zealand academic who uncovered a trove of confidential PRC documents (Hamilton 2018: Loc 553). In the discussion to come, well-known examples of Chinese interference on western university campuses are carefully assessed. Using these cases reasoned judgements of plausible government-directed distraction and manipulation can be made. By conducting a detailed analysis of primary and secondary sources, we are able to answer whether or not sharp power can explain PRC interference in western university education.

In addition, it is also important to be conscious of the lack of Chinese-language sources employed here. With the notable exception of Joske, few if any of the academics and journalists cited in this paper are able to speak or read the languages of the People’s Republic of China. This colours their interpretation of events. Unfortunately this paper is hindered by that same shortcoming. Short of the occasional translation of PRC policy into English, the only remedy to

23 this weakness is a cognisance of the biases and limitations that accompany such a limitation. These include, among other things: an inability to spot cultural particularities; the potential for editorial bias in the sources employed; and my own unconscious bias as the author of this paper.

The timeframe for this analysis is overwhelmingly centered on the 21st century. This is partly because Walker & Ludwig’s original definition of sharp power was only recently formulated in 2017. It is also because the absolute number of Chinese students attending western universities before the year 2000 was far lower (Babones 2019: 3). So too, was the number of Chinese academics working outside of China. The possibility of PRC interference was therefore, not zero. But it is worth reminding ourselves here of Nye’s point that the basic model of sharp power is not new. Rather, it is the “speed with which such disinformation can spread and the low cost of spreading it. Electrons are cheaper, faster, safer, and more deniable than spies” (2018). China’s power has risen concurrently with the proliferation and widespread adoption of digital technologies across the world. It is only natural therefore, that the examples employed in this paper come from the 21st century. What’s more, these examples are concentrated in the latter half of the 2010s, as the trend of digital integration and rising Chinese power have continued.

The majority of sources adopted in Chapter Four are taken from Australian experiences of malign and politically motivated Chinese sharp power. The logic behind this approach is twofold. First, given its proximity, economic interdependence, and high proportion of citizens with Chinese heritage, Australia is bound to close PRC scrutiny. As with sharp power, some of this scrutiny is bound to be unwanted. However, the concept itself is by no means limited to Australia, hence examples from other countries. Where appropriate, some potential instances of sharp power have been taken from Europe, or North America. In a sense, the location of sources is not important. What matters is the content. Analysis of this content is intended to derive an assessment of sharp power, the better to then answer whether it can explain Chinese interference with western universities.

Some final issues of nomenclature and administration should also be clarified here before we proceed to this paper’s chapter on analysis. First, the umbrella term used for the regions of Australia, Europe and North America is ‘western’. Secondly, the terms ‘PRC’, ‘China’, and ‘CCP’ are used interchangeably to refer to the same authoritarian entity. University education is occasionally referred to here as ‘tertiary education’, following the Australian model. Finally,

24 italics are used sparingly throughout this paper to emphasise particular words within a sentence or quote. The earlier emphasis on distraction and manipulation in Walker & Ludwig’s definition of sharp power is one example of this. Italics are also used for non-English words and when referring to the names of books, reports, academic articles and papers, and one cartoon film series.

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Chapter Four: Empirical Analysis

In this chapter Chinese influence on western university campuses is examined. The aim of this empirical analysis is not to demonstrate Chinese clout over tertiary education sectors; that is a separate thesis unto itself. Rather, the goal here is to use the typological tool to test whether sharp power can enlighten us of the true nature of Chinese interactions with western universities. The analysis contained herein employs examples of distracting and manipulative influence employed with political intent. The quality of analysis of the case studies in this chapter will provide answers to questions of the conceptual clarity of sharp power.

As mentioned previously, due to the lack of ‘smoking gun’ instances of sharp power, this chapter will analyse examples commonly referred to in the literature, using the typological tool to determine whether they are indeed representative of sharp power. They are grouped according to type, to aid comprehension. Obviously, there is no quantitative list encompassing all examples of Chinese sharp power. Therefore, the ensuing inductive analysis takes a selection of examples to build up a picture of Walker & Ludwig’s definition of sharp power. The examples test the concept’s ability to describe the nature of deceptive actions being used by one country to influence another.

This analysis is presented across several distinct sections. Each of these examines a different aspect of Chinese ‘sharp power’ on university campuses, looking for examples of distraction and manipulation. Beginning with student misbehaviour, the paper continues on to the PRC’s influence over western university academia; cyber-hacking; and finally, Confucius Institutes. Each section ends with a brief analysis, tying it back to the core question this paper seeks to answer: whether sharp power is of any conceptual use in explaining the nature of these interactions. The significance of these conclusions and their impact on how this paper discusses sharp power will be considered in the final section of this Chapter.

Section 4.1: Students

In recent years many Western universities have enrolled record numbers of international students. Perhaps nowhere is this better illustrated than in Australia. Such an extreme example is useful because if sharp power can explain Chinese interactions on university campuses, then surely it is easiest to identify the phenomenon where it is most prevalent. Between 2012 and

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2017, international student enrollments in Australia grew at more than twice the rate of domestic enrollments (Babones 2019: 4). In the wake of declining government investment, universities are strongly incentivised to enroll ever greater numbers of international students, taking advantage of a system that allows them to charge their own fees, in a way that enrolling domestic students does not (idem: 3). The more prestigious a university is perceived to be, the higher the fees they can charge. Tertiary education in Australia in 2017 was a $32 billion dollar industry, rising from $19 billion in 2008 (ibid)1. This makes it Australia’s third largest export, behind iron and coal (DFAT, 2019: 19). Partly as a result of this newfound richesse, the international rankings of Australian universities have skyrocketed (as judged by organisations like Times Higher Education) (Ross, 2019). The USYD sociologist and sinologist Salvatore Babones underlined these developments in a recent opinion piece, “the 2010s were a halcyon decade for Australia’s leading universities” (Babones, 2020)

However, this newfound wealth is built upon shaky foundations. The new students funding this expansion are overwhelmingly Chinese. At several leading universities, Chinese students make up more than 50% of all international students (Babones 2019: 1). In 2017, it was estimated that the University of Sydney, the oldest, and arguably most prestigious university in the country, depended on Chinese students for fully 22-23% of its revenue (ibid). These students accounted for more than 35% of its total student body, higher than the 28.5% across all Australian universities. Similar numbers are repeated across all eight of the prestigious ‘Group of Eight’ research universities. Only two institutions have international students making up less than 10% of their student body: the rurally based University of New England; and the University of Notre Dame (idem: 7).

The revenues derived from international student fees have driven increases in infrastructure expenditure, research output, workforce capacity, and many other projects otherwise beyond the means of a domestically-orientated system (Babones 2019: 16). Fiscal overdependence on international students is one major problem, another is an alleged decline in academic standards. Investigative journalism by the Australian Broadcasting Corporation’s Four Corners program revealed marked pressure on academics to compromise academic and admission standards to accommodate these valuable international students (2019). The University of Sydney, for example, requires an International English Language Testing System score of 6.5

1$32 billion AUD (2017) is roughly equal to 22 billion Euro (2020) and $19 billion AUD (2008) is roughly equal to 12.9 billion Euro (2020).

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(competent user) as a minimum entry standard. However, students who fail to reach that threshold can apply to a for-profit college partnered with the university, paying up to $34,000 AUD for a 40-week course that advertises a 95% acceptance rate into USYD with a TEFL score of just 5.0 (partial command of the language) (Babones 2019: 11).

In response to well-publicised concerns, several institutions have promised to “diversify” their international student intake to reduce the risk these problems present (Robinson, 2019). However, China’s large population, geographical proximity to Australia, and relative wealth compared to other nations in the region, make diversifying the international student body a challenge for universities (Babones 2019: 18). There is no one nation wealthy enough, or populous enough to maintain the present system without relying on Chinese students in Australia. Babones notes with concern that several political factors, including a confrontation between Australia and China, a change in Australia’s immigration policies, or Chinese concerns about the safety of their students in Australia could affect the number of international students, and hence, the health of Australia’s tertiary education sector.

Such concern is only underscored by the fact that much of this financing comes from an authoritarian state. This concern is not without merit; several times in the past China has used its overwhelming purchasing power in certain industries to pursue favorable political outcomes. One example comes from the luxury fashion industry, for which China is a key market. Brands from Dolce & Gabbana to Givenchy to Versace have apologised to Chinese consumers for clothing designs that did not align with their political sensitivities (Washington Post, via SMH, 2019). In response to a t-shirt design that appeared to show Hong Kong and Macau as independent countries, the head of Versace said she was “deeply sorry” for the confusion, an attempt to ward off calls for a Chinese boycott of the brand (ibid). Such economic coercion smacks of manipulation.

Other Australian export markets have already set a precedent. In early 2019, Chinese officials banned the import of Australian coal. This boycott sent the Australian dollar tumbling, as a key export was momentarily prevented from reaching its largest market (ABC, 2019). It has been suggested that the Chinese boycott is an attempt to safeguard local supply from an abundance of foreign coal (Ralph, 2019). Using their large market share as capital, the threats against the coal and luxury markets certainly appear politically motivated, and we can in certain respects discern a negative intent. It visibly and loudly manipulates industries, instructing them of what

28 the PRC will and will not accept. It also draws attention, distracting these actors away from their normal course of business, as they scramble to correct the cause of offence. These are therefore examples of Chinese sharp power. The concern of China critics like Babones and Hamilton is that a similar strike against Australia’s tertiary education industry could devastate the sector.

What follows is an examination of two areas in which the Chinese students on whom Australian universities are so reliant have contributed towards Chinese sharp power. Drawing lessons from these extreme examples, we will be able to examine the utility of sharp power as an analytical concept. As with the other sections, this portion of the paper will conclude with an exploration of the ways in which instances of Chinese student misbehaviour, and the distraction and manipulation evident therein, contribute, or fail to contribute, towards Chinese sharp power. The typological tool will be employed to determine whether or not the specific instance in question counts as an example of sharp power.

4.1.1: Chinese Student and Scholars Associations

One of the key means by which students organise themselves on Australian campuses is through student organisations. These groups can cover any conceivable topic, from football, to music to chocolate. For international students, a local university Indian, German, or Fijian students’ society can provide an invaluable resource. These bodies can provide information on life in Australia, a means of meeting students from a similar cultural background, and can provide access to familiar cultural events.

Chinese Student and Scholars Associations (CSSA) differ from other international student societies in that their activities are often coordinated by educational attaches at local embassies (To 2014: 29). According to Chen Yonglin, a Chinese diplomat who defected to Australia in 2005, meetings of Sydney university CSSA’s take place in the local consulate, and the heads of each chapter are “hand-picked by the Chinese consulate” (Hamilton: Loc 4202). This arrangement goes against the policies of most universities, who require executives to be elected by democratic means. According to Hamilton, CSSA’s receive funding through the Chinese government, and liaise extensively with local embassies and consulates. Hamilton also remarks that each year CSSA presidents are flown to the Australian capital, Canberra, to a meeting held at the embassy’s educational office. Here, embassy officials instruct students on the latest party doctrines (idem: Loc 4216).

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Guided and supported by agents of the Chinese government, CSSAs have the potential to be a potent source of Chinese sharp power. In countries like Australia, weight of numbers amplifies the influence of these student groups. In 2018, student representative elections at the University of Sydney were won by a group made up of predominantly Chinese students, who claimed to represent the interests of all students, international and domestic (Honi Soit, 2018). The potential here for influence from the authoritarian Chinese state is clear.

One potent example of this potential for influence and distraction comes from the 2008 Olympic Torch relay in the build up to the Beijing Summer Olympics. Passing through Australia’s capital, Canberra, a group of Falun Gong and supporters of Tibetan autonomy were disrupted and outnumbered by a collection of CSSA students mobilised from a number of universities on the Eastern coast (Hamilton & Joske 2017: 18). Protestors were “attacked by a group of about 50 people draped in Chinese flags” (SMH 2008). Hamilton & Joske assert in their submission to the high-powered Australian Parliamentary Joint Committee on Intelligence and Security that other rallies in Sydney and Melbourne witnessed similar outbursts. While such counter-protests can certainly manipulate public opinion, influencing events that promote narratives anathematic to the CCP, they do so in a loud, public and transparent manner. There is none of the covert machinations generally ascribed to sharp power. Nor do they prevent an actor from focusing on a particular issue. If anything, the opposite is true. The actor affected resents Chinese intrusion in its internal affairs.

Seen from this perspective, CSSAs represent a crude tool for enacting foreign interference. Although they are a mechanism for the advancement of CCP policies and positions on foreign university campuses, CSSAs manipulate only insofar as they can disrupt legitimate protests and disagreement. This manipulation rarely if ever wins ‘hearts and minds’, and instead more often stokes disapproving media coverage and commentary (e.g. SMH 2008). It does not distract from an issue, but draws attention to it, and not in a manner that presents any obvious strategic benefit to the authoritarian state. Such occurrences cannot count as sharp power, and sharp power cannot explain this aspect of CCP interaction with western university education. Despite their authoritarian direction, CSSAs lack any covert considerations, and merely serve to set general public opinion against the larger goals of the PRC.

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4.1.2: Patriotic Students

It must be noted that in spite of the vast numbers of Chinese students, and Chinese educational institutions interacting with Western educational systems across the world, there are only a comparatively tiny number of publicly-known instances where the university’s expectations of proper behavior are breached. In questioning whether or not these instances of distraction and manipulation count as examples of sharp power it is worth reminding ourselves of Walker & Ludwig’s charge that the influence that regimes like China and Russia wield cannot be divorced from their ideology. In the absence of ‘smoking gun’ evidence, we would do well to remind ourselves of this key tenet of sharp power when examining individual instances of student malfeasance. Where we detect plausible influence from such authoritarian states over their students, we must also suspect that any distraction or manipulation present is being deliberately orchestrated.

In July 2019, political conflict between Hong Kong and the PRC erupted at the University of Queensland. On one side, supporters of Hong Kong protested against perceived interference by China in the affairs of the semi-independent city. On the other, international students from the Chinese mainland, their national anthem blaring through loudspeakers. Student leaders led chants on both sides (Zhou 2019). Events escalated when pro-Beijing students began ripping up the signs held by supporters of Hong Kong. Students began to push, shove, and punch one another. Eventually, police were called in to disperse the rival groups (ibid). Following the demonstration, the Chinese Consul in Brisbane praised the “spontaneous patriotic behaviour” of his compatriots, his praise providing official vindication for their narrative and actions (Cave 2019). In response, the Australian Foreign Minister took the unusual step of warning foreign diplomats against attempting to curtail free speech (ibid).

Another example. In 2015 at the Australian National University (ANU), the president of the local CSSA walked into a campus pharmacy, enraged by the fact they were selling copies of the Falun Gong Epoch Times. Yelling at the pharmacist, ‘who authorised you to sell this?’ the student intimidated patrons, removed copies of the newspaper, and threw them into a bin. ANU officials did not respond to the incident, noting that no one had called security. They did criticise the student, adding that ‘tolerance of difference’ was an important component to being admitted to study at the prestigious university (Hamilton 2018: Loc 4148).

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These two examples illustrate the problem with investigating Chinese sharp power on western university campuses. In the first, distraction from the normal course of events seems obvious. The story dominated media headlines and forced comment and commitment to action by both politicians and university administrators (Smee, 2019). This compounded the unwanted distraction caused by revelations that UQ’s chief administrator, Vice-Chancellor Peter Hoj had received fees for consultation work performed for the Office of Chinese Language Council International (also known as Hanban) (Pavlou, 2020). Manipulation too, could very plausibly be read into this example, demonstrated by the intervention of the Chinese consul. The intervention lends credence to reports that the pro-Beijing crowd was swelled by non-students looking to involve themselves in a university protest (Zhoue and Smee, 2019). In seeking to defend an avowed political position, we see here a clearer than usual picture of Chinese intent to disrupt a nominally apolitical Australian university. The violence that makes this outburst so notable certainly underlines the acrimonious intent that our definition of sharp power stresses. This can credibly be seen as an example of Chinese sharp power on an Australian university campus.

While this first example does fulfill the criteria for sharp power laid down by our typological tool, the same cannot be said of the second example. Here, we see a student who has taken offence to a subject disagreeable to the CCP. Although the incident strays beyond the boundaries of acceptable behaviour on most university campuses, we are not able to discern whether or not this represents an example of sharp power. Although certainly distracting, requiring university action and cited in articles and Clive Hamilton’s Silent Invasion, there is no definitive evidence of PRC manipulation here. It is not possible for us to say whether the intention of this act was driven by government dictate, or simply by an offended student acting alone. This example lacks a ‘smoking gun’. In the absence of such evidence, definitional vagueness means we cannot say whether this example does or does not constitute sharp power. This underscores the difficulty of identifying true examples of the term.

Our examination of CSSAs and aggressive Chinese students has illuminated one of the most crucial shortcomings of sharp power as a conceptual tool. The combination of CSSAs and aggressively patriotic students is only a potential instrument for PRC sharp power. CSSAs are a blunt mechanism at best. They fail to “pierce or perforate” the political environment, and instead seem to set areas of their host nations against the avowed political positions of the CCP (SMH 2008). Even the extreme example of student protests at the University of Queensland relies on plausible manipulation by the Chinese state in order to ‘demonstrate’ sharp power. The

32 cases we have looked at have certainly demonstrated distractive qualities, grabbing the attention of democratic actors, institutions and the commentariat. However, in the case of CSSAs, we cannot be sure that anything of use to the PRC was achieved with this attention. We may in fact, argue the opposite is true. And while manipulation may be demonstrable in that case, the same cannot be reliably said of the other examples of patriotic student action. In attempting to alter a target’s political environment, they have instead hardened their target’s resolve. Such missteps carry shades of Liu’s “unsmart power”.

Despite best efforts, definitional vagueness has undermined our efforts to identify sharp power as a conceptual tool with which to explain Chinese interactions with western university education. With omniscient access to information, or ‘smoking gun’ evidence, we could make a judgement of sharp power’s conceptual utility. However, scholars will never live in this world. The vagueness of its terms and its overdependence points to conceptual weakness on the part of sharp power, and to improve the concept, this shortcoming must be addressed. The following section will examine whether Confucius Institutes, organisations that blend Chinese and western students with the teaching of Chinese culture and language, ever stray beyond soft power and into the realm of sharp power. As with academia and Chinese students, the aim of this next section is to test the concept of sharp power, to probe its conceptual worth, and measure whether it can help uncover the nature of Chinese interactions with western university education.

Section 4.2: Academics

Academia, which includes university education more generally, is one of the four sectors highlighted by Walker as being particularly vulnerable to sharp power, alongside culture, media and publishing (2018: 13). For our purposes, it is most important to ponder the usefulness of academics to an ambitious authoritarian regime. The malign application of authoritarian attention here goes far beyond influencing thought and opinion. The knowledge generated by academics, particularly in the fields of science and engineering provide the tools for very real material advancements in Chinese hard and technological power. This section will concentrate on Australia as an extreme example of a phenomenon. What is visible here provides, in effect, a ‘best case scenario’ for viewing sharp power as a means to achieve PRC ends. If the distraction and manipulation characteristic of sharp power is visible in academia, in the work of the citizens

33 of the ‘ivory tower’, then this provides at least one incredibly useful instance where the application of sharp power brings clarity. Indeed if in academia, then why not elsewhere?

This section discusses the links between Australia and China that generate and share knowledge, either directly or through research grants. It also examines a worrying trend of Chinese ethnic enclaves observed in several IT, engineering and business faculties across the country. Following these international links, this Chapter progresses to an examination of censorship amongst scholars who study China. The goal of this chapter is to discern, where possible, instances of Chinese sharp power on western university campuses. In the absence of ‘smoking guns’, the examples to come will need to be analysed with keen eye to whether they can plausibly be said to exemplify the distraction and manipulation of sharp power, characterised by the typological tool.

4.2.1: Knowledge Sharing

According to the prominent Australian sinologist, John Fitzgerald, China’s knowledge economy is predicated on a “single minded pursuit of national security and development” (2013). He continues: “Rather than investing in open-ended critical inquiry and experimentation of the kind that stimulates innovation, (China) invests strategically in national development and defense and then steals what it cannot discover or invent”.

If China is indeed strategically investing in national development and defence technology, and stealing what it cannot discover itself, then this draws a sinister shade over the proliferation of linkages between Australian universities and the PRC. Several institutions have developed close links with Chinese organisations with close ties to the People’s Liberation Army (PLA). One example is the University of Technology Sydney’s (UTS) collaboration with the China Electronics Technology Group Corporation’s (CETC). The two have collaborated several times, notably on a 2016 ‘smart cities’ program that integrated and connected many civilian and military technologies (Hamilton 2018: Loc 3856). In 2017 this collaboration was taken one step further, with a partnership for a research centre focusing on big data, quantum computing and communications. All of these areas have readily apparent military applications (ibid). CETC is a state-owned conglomerate that develops a number of high-tech pieces of software and hardware with military applications. Its ‘sacred mission’ is to help build a ‘rich country, strong army’ (idem: 3809). Indeed, many of the research bodies now operated by CETC were founded by the PLA (idem: 3825). UTS dismissed any concerns that its work with CETC could be

34 exploited for the PLA’s gain, pointing out their compliance with the Defence Trade Controls Act, which polices such sensitive international research (idem: Loc 3841). It must be said that the effectiveness of this act has been called into question; on more than one occasion CETC has sought to satisfy its desire for military hardware by looking to buy military goods it knew to have been stolen. The most well-known examples of this comes from the USA, where several Chinese nationals have been arrested for conspiring to steal or export restricted electronics technology and supply these goods to CETC (Hannas et al: 259-60)

A report by the Australian Strategic Policy Institute was scathing of such collaborations. Researcher Alex Joske estimates that 300 PLA scientists have been sent to Australia since 2007. This is roughly three times the number that has been sent to Germany, despite the latter’s larger population. He suggests that Australia is being targeted by PLA scientists because of its lax security culture (Joske, 2018). Assessing the costs and benefits of these collaborations, Joske concluded that significant security risks are not offset by the unclear benefits they bring. Even the talent that such collaboration brings to western host institutions is transient, if one is to believe China’s National University of Defence Technology (NUDT), who boast that 100% of PLA scientists who venture abroad eventually return to the PRC (Joske, 2018). Joske ascribes several downsides to collaboration with China, including the theft of technology (especially where it has military applications), improving the scientific knowledge of a strategic competitor, and reputational damage on the part of the host university, among others (ibid). Such downsides make a mockery of a 2017 agreement between Australia and China, in which both countries agreed they would neither conduct nor condone the theft of intellectual property (Segal et al., 2018).

Research grants present another example whereby Australian academic exertion and funds contribute directly to Chinese material gain. In 2016, the Australian Research Council (ARC) granted $400,000 AUD to the University of Adelaide for a research partnership with the Beijing Institute of Aeronautical Materials. This institute is closely linked to the construction of next- generation stealth fighters, drones and aircraft carriers for the PLA (Hamilton 2018: Loc 3778). Hamilton’s research describes how the ARC grant will at once improve the efficiency of Australia’s military, as well as the PLA’s air force capacity (idem: Loc 3785). In 2016, a further $466,000 AUD2 was awarded to a joint research project

2$400,000 AUD (2016) is roughly equal to 290,977 Euro (2020) and $466,000 AUD (2016) is roughly equal to 338,989 Euro (2020).

35 between the University of New South Wales, National Instruments Australia (a Sydney based software engineering firm), and the Chinese telecommunications giant, Huawei (idem: Loc 3810). The goal of this project is to research ‘massive connectivity and low latency machine-to-machine communications’, a project with obvious applications for military and espionage. Just two years later, Huawei was precluded from building Australia’s 5G network on security grounds (BBC 2018).

The sharing of knowledge to the CCP’s benefit is only strengthened by the phenomenon of ethnic enclaves on university campuses and their faculties. In Australia the recent explosion in international student numbers has not been distributed evenly across all faculties. The cost of studying in Australia is significant, particularly so for international students, who do not have access to the generous government loans available to domestic students. Many international students and their families sacrifice enormously in order to attend Australia’s well renowned universities. As such, it is perhaps unsurprising that international students are more prevalent in the courses more likely to lead to greater future remuneration, particularly in the business, IT and engineering schools. At the universities of Sydney and Melbourne, more than two thirds of business student cohorts are international (Babones, 2019: 10). This far exceeds the numbers at American universities (ibid). As mentioned in Section 4.1: Students, this dependency has been linked by some to a decline in standards. There are even press reports of business students completing degrees with a less than masterful command of the English language (Burton-Bradley, 2019).

Where the student body leads, the academic department follows (Hamilton 2018: Loc 4003). Hamilton notes a strong series of anecdotal examples where non-Chinese academics complain of ethnic discrimination, allocation of PhD scholarships, and a cultural shift not towards multiculturalism, as with greater Australia, but towards a Han Chinese academic redoubt. At Curtin University in Western Australia, seven of eight academic staff at the Centre for Infrastructural Monitoring and Protection have previously worked with or for Professor Hao Hong, an adjunct professor at Tianjin University, and recipient of several Chinese government grants (idem: Loc 4014). Of course, the appointment of academics of Chinese heritage should be welcomed, reflecting their presence in the greater Australian community. However, this should not offset any valid concerns about the connections these academics may have to the CCP. Several senior academics of Chinese heritage are members of the Australian Research

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Council, while at the same time maintaining close links to the Chinese military (Hamilton 2018: Loc 4025).

Cultural shifts of the kind described above do not constitute examples of sharp power. This phenomenon doesn’t fit with our dictionary’s definition of either distraction or manipulation. Nonetheless they bear discussion here because these academics and the enclaves they inhabit constitute perhaps the most important venues for the transmission of knowledge between the PRC and western universities. While neither distraction nor manipulation become evident when a faculty skews towards a sole racial group, cultural and racial shifts amongst the academics who populate faculties may indeed produce political shifts at their school and university. The authoritarian country of origin of these academics could, in the long-term, ‘pierce and perforate’ their universities political environment.

This is however, generally true of any generational shift in any school of study. Nor is this necessarily a negative. These academics are admitted by their peers, and the wider community overwhelmingly and rightly accept greater integration of Chinese-Australians. More to the point, a malign foreign power is not likely to be able to orchestrate such a political shift. While the PRC may be more able and inclined to enact both distraction and manipulation when staff members have strong links to the Chinese mainland, this is again, only a potential source of sharp power. Sharp power cannot be all things to all issues. As academics linked to the PRC continue to join western faculties culture shifts can only grow more pronounced. However, sharp power does not help us to understand this phenomenon. It would be a mistake to see active manipulation where there is none. This speaks to wider issues and concerns beyond just malign and politically motivated Chinese influence. In this instance, once again, sharp power cannot explain Chinese interactions with Australian academia.

These ties deserve to be addressed. Their importance to the core work of university education is justified in the Australian Department of Education’s Guidelines (2019, 22). The examples discussed above outline some of the very real concerns accompanying the proliferation of research linkages between western and Chinese universities. That said, none are indicative of sharp power. There is a very real potential that western university research is subsidising and improving technologies that aid the PLA and the Chinese security state (Joske, 2018). The fact that these events were reported does demonstrate at least some evidence of distraction as per the Oxford Languages definition. Journalists and academics took note, and a reasonable person

37 would assume security agents did too (Hamilton 2018: Loc 3856). However, the universities hosting PRC scientists ignored concerns, and were not, as with UTS’ agreement with CETC, distracted by signs of PRC malfeasance. Where these examples really fail though is in proof of manipulation. We cannot definitively say that an authoritarian state played a role guiding such concerning collaborations, even though they certainly are the beneficiaries. This sort of ambiguity undermines the conceptual utility of sharp power. Vague terminology leads to equivocation, and a reliance on ‘smoking guns’ to prove a point. The concept does not enlighten our understanding of research links between western universities and an authoritarian state, and the interactions that take place within these relationships. Other lenses and conceptual tools may better inform scholarly research on the motivations that underpin links between the PRC, its institutions, and the tertiary education sector in the west. The next section discusses examples of Chinese interference in the social sciences, where joint research is less common, and the political content is often more sensitive.

4.2.2: Censorship

Thus far this paper has discussed instances of Chinese malfeasance in western universities through the lens of the typological tool developed in Chapter Two. Its goal has been to test whether sharp power can explain these interactions. For something to count as sharp power it needs to demonstrate both distraction of a target, and controlled manipulation for political gain. These actions also need to be performed by an authoritarian power. We have seen through this paper that some examples can fulfill this criteria, the UQ protests being one such case. More commonly however, are the examples that do not satisfy all the requirements of the typological tool. These failures so far stem from either a failure to fulfill both of the tool’s criteria, or significant caveats that preclude an otherwise successful example of distracting and manipulative interference from counting as sharp power. The disruption of protests at the 2008 Olympic Torch relay is a good example of this. Given the typological tool was developed using Walker & Ludwig’s original definition of the concept, these failures certainly point to some form of analytical ambiguity on the part of sharp power. The aim of this sub-section is to unpack the idea of unspoken threats of malign action. If unspoken actions are deemed to be a component of sharp power, then this would necessarily entail a reworking of Walker & Ludwig’s definition.

The unarticulated threat of action can easily alter the actions of strategic actors. If an actor does not perform a certain action it would otherwise perform, in the belief that to do so would anger another, then that is a by-product of either sharp or hard power. Where some distraction and

38 manipulation might forcibly alter a scholar’s research plans, the lessons learnt by others in the field may induce them to change their own plans, lest the same fate befall them. So while the former would be an example of sharp power, the latter is in fact not, using Walker & Ludwig’s definition. Rather, it is a by-product. China would well be aware of the effect the threat of its wrath could have over the actions of universities and academics. In this sub-section we will consider whether alterations must be made to the definition of sharp power in order to account for this phenomenon. This portion of the paper will first proceed by analysing several well-known examples of the by-products of Chinese sharp power on university campuses. This sub-section will make use of studies of the phenomenon of self-censorship in the face of Chinese influence. These examples will discuss whether the distraction and manipulation required of sharp power are present. In the first instance, this sub-section will look at institutional censorship; academic censorship in the second. The discussion that follows these two analytical examinations will decide whether or not the by-products of sharp power should be included in answering this paper’s research question.

Australian universities have benefited enormously from an increasingly globalised world. As other sectors, manufacturing in particular, have contracted in response to cheaper or higher quality competition from overseas, universities have grown almost exponentially. As universities have grown, government funding has fallen. The effect of this is that Australian universities rely on the fees of international students to fund their operations. The recent onset of coronavirus, and the subsequent closing of international borders have exposed this over-dependence as international students have been unable to return to study after the summer holidays (Babones 2020:3). Several universities have been forced to lay-off staff or reduce wages to address precarious finances (Dingwall, 2020). Their reliance on international, and particularly Chinese student fees leaves them open to external influence (Babones, 2019: 12). Some of the most important functions of higher education include fostering creativity, debate, and addressing societal problems. What follows in this sub-section are several instances where a university dependent on Chinese resources, and fearful of reprisal, has abandoned their principles in favour of a stable relationship with their autocratic benefactor.

In 2017, a human resources lecturer at a Melbourne university quizzed his students, asking them to complete the following statement taken from a ‘widely used textbook’: ‘there is a common saying in China that government officials only tell the truth when…’. The correct answer being: when they are either careless or drunk. Although a little crude and stereotypical,

39 this is a common sentiment in China, as in many other countries (Hamilton 2018: Loc 3683). A Chinese international student took offence to the question, posting about the incident on the popular Chinese social media website, WeChat. His complaint was picked up by the local consulate, who brought the matter to the university’s senior administrators. In response, the university decided to suspend the lecturer, withdraw the quiz, and commit to reviewing the course. Several Chinese language websites reported on the event, one gaining almost half a million comments. Hamilton describes the gloating reaction in China from the CCP mouthpiece, the Global Times: “The change we can see here is that as China’s power grows stronger… thoughtless remarks will die down” (Hamilton 2018: Loc 3696).

Another example can be drawn from the financial linkages between universities and the Chinese state. Ever tighter budgets and ever increasing numbers of Chinese students, have created a situation whereby universities in several countries are now dependent in no small degree on maintaining the satisfaction of these students, and on occasion, their government. An example from Columbia University’s Global Centre in Beijing is indicative of this phenomenon. Several talks at the Beijing outpost were cancelled by its mother institution in New York, who feared a backlash from China’s elite foreign non-profit and educational communities. Columbia started requiring its Global Centre in Beijing to submit a list of upcoming events for their review (Stone Fish, 2018). Isaac Stone Fish of the New Republic magazine describes how the events that were then cancelled by New York were more often than not of a nature sensitive to the CCP (ibid). These included talks from respected individuals from academia, activist communities, and even the Chinese government itself. It is worth noting that Columbia University was at no point asked by the Chinese government to cancel an event. Rather, these events were cancelled on the initiative of the American university.

The two examples above provide just two instances of western universities censoring themselves, their academics, and curtailing their goals of academic freedom, in the name of preserving relations with China. In both instances, there were no obvious words or actions from the CCP requesting such censorship. Fear of malign reprisals from the CCP have altered the political landscape on which these western institutions operate. The reaction of the Melbourne university to the Chinese consulate’s complaint may be an example of sharp power, there was distraction, enacted by the student, and effecting the work of both the university and the lecturer involved. Manipulation could very well have been directed by a representative of the CCP, either in Beijing, Melbourne, or elsewhere in the government apparatus. It does agree with Oxford

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Languages definition of the term. This is, therefore, a very plausible example of sharp power. Through political pressure and means out of proportion to the ‘crime’, an Australian university was forced to change to accommodate PRC sensibilities. The reasonable assumption of manipulation we have made here does not apply to our second example at Columbia University’s Global Centre in Beijing. Distraction is not evident here. There is no evidence of Chinese manipulation here. Rather this is something that, on weight of the evidence currently available to us, Columbia University has done proactively to avoid Chinese displeasure.

In a 2019 study, Greitens & Truex shed light on the long remarked-upon phenomenon of repressive research experiences in the academic study of China. By taking a sample of “social scientists who research China”, the two academics were able to build a broad database of researchers with relevant experience. A slight majority of these respondents, 53%, believed their research to be “somewhat sensitive”, and 14% said their research was “very sensitive” (Greitens & Truex 2019: 7). Their survey then focused on the research experiences of these academics. Their data suggested that Chinese repression of academics is a real, but rare phenomenon. The most common experience reported, at 21% or respondents, was denied access to archived material, or an archive altogether (ibid). This was followed by the unexpected withdrawal of interviewees, and Chinese contacts being contacted about their work. Approximately one in twenty researchers (5.1%) reported difficulty obtaining a visa to work in China, with outright blacklisting being a rare occurrence (ibid).

Greitens & Truex’s survey also reported instances of researchers being monitored, surveilled and even intimidated. About nine percent of respondents reported being ‘invited for tea’, a euphemism for being interviewed by local authorities (Greitens & Truex 2019: 1). A further 12 percent reported friends and colleagues being contacted, a figure thought to be correlated (ibid). Others described having their notes temporarily taken away for examination, and a small number, 2%, reported having their computer confiscated. Such incidents were more common amongst scholars who had undertaken larger amounts of fieldwork. These findings are reinforced by an investigation undertaken by Isaac Stone Fish of the New Republic magazine. Following more than 100 interviews with China scholars. Stone Fish quotes an anonymous student, who doesn’t “engage with anything overly political relating to the Chinese state”, and encapsulates the content of this paragraph through her fear of not “willfully do anything that would endanger (her) ability to get a visa to China in the future” (Stone Fish, 2018).

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One of the most interesting findings of Greitens & Truex’s work is that 15.5% of scholars decide not to pursue certain avenues of research because they may be sensitive to local authorities. Almost 50% used “different language to describe a project in China”, and 23.7% adapted the focus of their project to something more sensitive (2019, 17). Importantly, when asked what percentage of other scholars had adapted their work to escape censure, their estimates were far higher (ibid). With 70% of responding academics agreeing that self-censorship was a problem in the field of sinology, this points to a culture in which repression and intimidation are expected as everyday occurrences that colour not only affect what can be researched, but also the results of that research. Grietens & Truex conclude that risks of research in China are uncertain, individualised, and not easily identifiable (2019, 23). Therefore, decisions about whether to proceed with a potentially risky research avenue are left to the individual appetite of the researcher.

The work of Stone Fish and Greitens & Truex reveal worrying trends of self-censorship amongst China scholars. Both investigations found most that individual scholars do not believe themselves to be guilty of self-censorship. Almost 50% do, however, concede to using “different language to describe a project in China” (Greitens & Truex 2019: 16). Perry Link, an American sinologist blacklisted by China, likely on account of his work describing the Tiananmen Square massacre, describes China’s censorship as being akin to an anaconda in a chandelier. “Normally the snake doesn’t move, it doesn’t have to. It feels no need to be clear about its prohibitions. Its constant silent message is ‘You yourself decide,’ after which, more often than not, everyone in its shadow makes his or her large and small adjustments—all quite ‘naturally’” (Link, 2002).

Link’s analogy is clear. But is this sharp power? China is well aware of the degree to which western universities and academics are dependent on its largesse. Without Chinese money, western universities lack funding. The Coronavirus pandemic has underlined this fact (Babones 2020: 1). The quality of their research output suffers as does the ability of their sinologists to conduct research. In a very real sense, Chinese inaction is itself a political action. Discouraging the discussion of certain topics sensitive to the CCP, the ‘three T’s’ (Tibet, Taiwan and the Tiananmen Square massacre), for example, distorts the political environment of western institutions. However, the PRC have not done anything to distract the academics who choose not to research sensitive topics. These scholars have chosen to learn a lesson, to be influenced and controlled, by actions visited by the CCP on their colleagues. So while

42 manipulation is evident, it involves the acquiescence of western academics. Thinking of China as an anaconda in a chandelier doesn’t provide the examples of active distraction and manipulation required by our definition of sharp power. But it does nonetheless “pierce, penetrate (and) perforate” the academic environments of western countries. By extension this has effects on their political and information environments too. So despite failing the test laid out by our typological tool, on this basis we should understand PRC-inspired self-censorship as an example of sharp power. This will be addressed in Chapter Five: Improving the Concept of Sharp Power.

It is worth considering the significance of this conclusion, and what it means for the concept of sharp power, as it has been discussed in this paper. Most obviously, it signals that sharp power is not limited to manipulative and distracting action, but to conscious inaction as well. Though this amendment to Walker & Ludwig’s definition unfortunately still does not totally free us from the need for ‘smoking gun’ evidence, as Stone Fish and Greitens & Truex show, this kind of self-censorship can be quantified. For Walker & Ludwig, the nature of authoritarian regimes colours many of their interactions with other international actors as being malevolent, or at the very least, suspicious. As China’s economic, military and cultural strength on the world stage increases, its capacity to constrain the actions of others can only be enhanced. This potential relates not only to malignant and political actions, but also to conscious inaction. This conclusion therefore, illustrates that sharp power may become an increasingly common feature of the international system. After examining students, and now academia, this paper will now progress on to the third area of concern highlighted by the Australian Department of Education’s Guidelines on countering foreign interference. Targeted, aggressive cyber-attacks may provide a better venue in which sharp power can enlighten scholars on the nature of PRC interactions with western universities.

Section 4.3: Cyber-Attacks

In June 2019 it was revealed that the Australian National University (ANU) had been subject to a massive cyber-attack, resulting in the theft of the personal details of thousands of staff, students, and alumni, going back almost two decades (McGowan, 2019). The data included, names, addresses, phone numbers, bank records, birth dates and more. The prime suspect in this case is China; only a “sophisticated actor” being thought capable of evading detection from the university's security systems (ibid). The ANU is certainly an attractive target for malicious

43 foreign cyber-attacks; it hosts the influential Crawford School of Public Policy, and the National Security College. In addition, the prestigious research university educates thousands of young Australians who go on to careers in the Australian Public Service, Parliament, and think tanks across the country.

This was not the first time China has been accused of conducting a cyber-attack on an Australian university (Reuters, 2018). Nor are Australian universities alone in being targeted by foreign actors (Wall Street Journal, 2019). Such attacks are committed with both malicious intent, and can easily distort the political sphere by sewing fear and paranoia. They would, therefore, seem to be prime examples of sharp power on campus. The severity of these attacks can range dramatically, from Walker & Ludwig’s definition of sharp power, to more destructive examples of hard power. Depending on the action, the attacks can distract a target or manipulate information, or they can be used to steal vital information or even disable or destroy critical software and hardware.

According to Siedler, cyber network attacks (CNA), can be divided into two forms: Attacks that coerce, and brute force attacks (2016). Coercion attacks inflict harm or damage targets, and constitute a form of bargaining power, affecting decision making. Brute force impose limitations and involve the application of strength without involving the target’s decision making process (Siedler, 2016: 26). Each of these could be argued to be a form of cyber-hard power. The 2007 cyber-attacks on Estonia, disrupting both government and private targets is cited as an example of a coercion attack, and is thought to have been in response to proposals to relocate Soviet-era statues. This is contrasted with the brute force of the Stuxnet attacks. First uncovered in 2010, this computer worm disrupted Iran’s nuclear programs, destroying critical infrastructure. The Stuxnet attack is believed by many to have been directed by the governments of Israel and the USA (Lindsay 2013: 366).

In his critique of Walker & Ludwig’s definition of sharp power, Nye argues that sharp power has always existed, as a form of hard power. What has changed, is the speed, efficacy, and cost of its methods. (Nye, 2018). Describing Russian sharp power, Nye says: “Electrons are cheaper, faster, safer, and more deniable than spies. With its armies of paid trolls and botnets, along with outlets such as Russia Today (RT) and Sputnik, Russian intelligence, after hacking into the emails of the Democratic National Committee and senior Clinton campaign officials, could distract and disrupt news cycles week after week”.

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Russian CNA, as described by Nye, clearly falls into the former camp. But what of the alleged Chinese university attacks? ANU administrators were forced to devote vast resources not only to fending off further intrusions and re-securing their IT systems, but also had to contact tens of thousands of former graduates, informing them of potentially stolen personal information. In this sense, they certainly did distract from the didactic goals of most universities. In addition, the attacks provide ample material for contemporary and future manipulation. Oxford Languages would recognise these attacks as both distracting and manipulative. The information stolen provides significant leverage, particularly over public servants and politicians. Nor did it target an actor seeking to negotiate a particular issue. This attack inflicted damage on a target whose ‘hearts and minds’ were not a consideration for the actor responsible. This makes it a brute force attack. It also raises a problematic issue with sharp power. Although our typological tool is derived from Walker & Ludwig’s definition of the concept, the goal of the ANU cyber-attack is seemingly not to “pierce and perforate” the political environment through plausible distraction and manipulation, but rather to gather intelligence, knowledge and ideas. Even though it fulfills the strictures of our typological tool, the aims of this attack seem to stretch beyond those of coercion and influence over decision making, and into the more immediately hard power aims of brute force CNAs. Several cyber-security experts have suggested these strategic aims, as well as the undermining of rival economies, were the primary motive behind the ANU attack (Wroe, 2019). These attacks go beyond sharp power, their aggression and brute force coercion blur the line with hard power. Ultimately, these attacks are undertaken for the attacker’s material gain, rather than the detriment of the target.

This conclusion undercuts arguments of sharp power’s ability to grant conceptual clarity. Alleged Chinese CNAs against western universities provide a picture of the concept that is confused and lacks nuance. Its proximity to hard power undermines its conceptual utility. The typological tool developed in Chapter Two describes a desire to distract and manipulate targets, and a deliberate effort to distort a rival’s political environment. While CNAs can fulfil this criteria, the nature of the crime can exempt them from conclusively constituting an example of sharp power. This sort of confusion and ambiguity is characteristic of sharp power. Even when a case fulfills the strictures imposed by the typological tool, it is still not possible to conclude that it constitutes an example of sharp power. It may in fact be an example of hard power instead. What this sub-section has demonstrated is that even under the most favourable of circumstances, finding an unambiguous case of sharp power is a fraught undertaking. The

45 breadth of the definition, its very vagueness, once again undercuts its clarity and utility. Of course, this begs the question, what else is missing from the concept of sharp power? This is something that must be revisited in Chapter Five. Before that though, there is one final area to which we must turn our gaze.

Section 4.4: Confucius Institutes

Confucius Institutes (CI) are Chinese culture and language centers, sponsored in part by Hanban3, an institution directly affiliated with China’s Ministry of Education (Hanban, 2014). Funding is usually also provided by the host university in which the CI is situated (Gil, 2019). According to Hanban’s website, Confucius Institutes: “have provided scope for people all over the world to learn about Chinese language and culture. In addition they have become a platform for cultural exchanges between China and the world as well as a bridge reinforcing friendship and cooperation between China and the rest of the world…” (Hanban, 2014).

Since their inception in 2004, China’s Confucius Institutes have attracted suspicion (Kluver 2014: 195). Many critics leapt at a candid speech by a former CCP official, who described CI’s as an important part of China’s soft power projection, and an integral pillar of “China’s overseas propaganda set-up” (US Senate 2019: 20). Common criticisms assert that CIs: act as a vehicle for China’s geopolitical rise; attempt to present a white-washed and censured account of Chinese history and CCP policies; and have a tendency to displace alternate sources of Chinese cultural and language education (ibid; Hamilton 2018: Loc 4050). Another source of concern is the nature of their contracts with host universities, kept secret at the insistence of Hanban (ibid). Steven Mosher labelled CI’s “Trojan horses”, designed to “indoctrinate young Americans into thinking that the Chinese Party-State will not be a threat to its own people or to the world at large” (2012). Another academic described the “three-T’s”, Tibet, Taiwan and Tiananmen, subjects anathematic to the CCP, and as such, not able to be discussed in any of the CI’s activities (May, 2011). In situations where the host university is publicly funded, many critics worry that PRC propaganda is being enabled by the host country’s taxpayers (Cardenal 2017: 48).

3 Hanban is a colloquial abbreviation for Office of Chinese Language Council International

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As Joseph Nye puts it, CI’s are neither exclusively an instrument of sharp power, nor unambiguously ‘soft’ in their intent and deed (2017, 3). Clearly there is controversy regarding the goals of CIs. Are they the language and cultural institutes of soft power, or are they something more? To solve this conundrum, and ascertain their potential role in the promotion of Chinese sharp power, it is necessary to apply the typological tool developed in Chapter Two. This means asking three questions: firstly, whether influence was pedaled by an authoritarian power, secondly determining whether one actor (the CCP) sought to distract the attention of another; and finally looking for evidence of manipulation. The following sub-sections provide examples of Chinese malfeasance on university campuses, using examples where these alleged instruments of propaganda feature large. By applying these examples to the typological tool, and questioning their intent to distract and manipulate, we will be able to assess whether or not they constitute instances of sharp power. Furthermore, the conclusions we draw here will be of assistance in analysing the very conceptual clarity brought by the idea of sharp power itself.

4.4.1: Accusations of Espionage

In October 2019, Belgian security services accused the former head of Vrije Universiteit Brussel’s (VUB) Confucius Institute, Song Xinning, of working as an agent for Chinese intelligence, and recruiting informants from the Chinese student and business communities in Brussels (Lo et al, 2019). According to Song, Belgian authorities informed him his visa would not be renewed, because he “supported Chinese intelligence activities”. He said this was because of his refusal to cooperate with a US diplomat based in Brussels (Lau, 2019). Following the Belgian government’s refusal to renew Song’s residence permit, VUB made the decision not to extend its contract with its CI, as a “continuation of the cooperation is not in line with the principles of free speech” (VUB 2019). For his part, Song denied the allegations, claiming that Belgium’s actions were influenced by the United States (ibid).

If we take the accusations of the Belgian security services at face value, then Song Xinning’s intent to cause harm is clear. If he had been looking to recruit Chinese spies then it would not be unreasonable to conclude that by his actions China was looking to manipulate and unduly influence Belgium. Cultivating spies and intelligence is not hard power in any literal sense, but neither is it soft power, intended to ‘win hearts and minds’. It is an attempt to facilitate Chinese espionage, and may constitute an example of sharp power. Undercutting this argument is its covert nature. There is no attempt to distract, per the Oxford Languages definition, as the issue only came to light with the accusation of Belgian security services. Assuming the accusations of

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Belgian intelligence are true, then Professor Song’s activities could potentially have led to an alteration of Belgium’s political environment. Although it fails the typological requirements of our tool, this example does capture the ‘spirit’ of sharp power, “piercing and perforating” the country’s political environment. The vague terminology of Walker & Ludwig’s definition highlights the confusion surrounding the concept of sharp power. Some cases can seemingly meet the overall aims of the concept, without truthfully demonstrating both distraction and manipulation. We must also remind ourselves that this example relies on a series of hypotheticals. It is not free from the need for ‘insider information’. Commenting on this episode, Professor Jonathon Hoslag, who works at VUB while advising the European Commission said he was not surprised Song had been banned from entering Belgium. He continued: “Song is a nice, polite gentleman but the institute is clearly an instrument of propaganda … and shouldn’t be part of the academic community” (ibid).

4.4.2: Promoting Censorship

One of the criticisms most frequently voiced of CIs is that they encourage censorship at their host universities. University administrators are understandably hesitant to sever the financial and cultural connections that CIs provide. For example, in 2009 a talk by the Tibetan spiritual leader, the Dalai Lama, was cancelled by the North Carolina State University’s (NCSU) interim Chancellor, ostensibly on the grounds that there was insufficient time to prepare for such an event. This cancellation received much criticism at the time, with several commentators suggesting the real reason was a fear of damaging relations with China (Leef, 2018). The charge of self-censorship was given further credence when the director of the university’s CI, Bailian Li, a graduate of the Beijing Forestry University, ominously warned NCSU’s provost that any future visit by the Dalai Lama could disrupt the “strong relationships we (NCSU) were developing with China”. Indeed, the university’s provost later observed that the CI had presented an opportunity for “subtle pressure and conflict” (Sahlins, 2014).

A similar event occurred in Australia, at the University of Sydney. A scheduled visit by the Dalai Lama was moved off campus and any sign of university affiliation was removed from the event. Vice-Chancellor Michael Spence expressed relief, arguing the move was “in the best interests of researchers across the university” (Hamilton, 2018: Loc 4063). Spence’s logic behind this statement was not made clear. Understandably, it was widely reported in the media that the university wished to avoid “damaging its ties with China, including funding for its Confucius Institute” (The Guardian, 2013). Following large-scale protests and condemnation from the

48 public and political classes, USYD bowed to pressure and reinstated the original invitation (Sahlins, 2014).

The influence exerted by CI’s can be insidious. As the above two examples demonstrate, Confucius Institutes preference to not discuss issues like the “three T’s” (Tibet, Taiwan and Tiananmen Square) can affect the decisions made by their host universities. Universities work best as ‘islands of freedom’, apolitical institutions where students and academics can study and research potentially sensitive topics free from repression and censorship. By welcoming CI’s onto campuses, administrators risk undermining these foundational pillars. While neither example discussed here demonstrates distraction, nor active manipulation, the character and political and philosophical outlook of the CI’s host universities has certainly been “pierced and perforated”. In their desire to not offend the CIs and the PRC, universities can undermine their own values. While sharp power cannot explain Chinese interactions with western university education in this regard, there is something to be said for the effect of Confucius Institutes. Following on from our discussion of censorship in the section on academia, there is a strong argument to amend the definition of sharp power to include this kind of passive Chinese influence.

4.4.3: Discriminatory Practices

Although associated with many western universities, CI’s do not seem to always operate by the same principles of academic integrity that these institutions strive for. In 2012 McMaster University in Ontario, Canada, was accused of discrimination after a teacher at its CI was fired after revealing her adherence to Falun Gong. For over two decades this religious sect has been the target of an anti-religious campaign by the nominally atheistic CCP (Lemish 2018). The event became such a scandal that McMaster University was moved to sever its contract with Hanban (Sahlins, 2014). A copy of the teacher’s contract was later procured by several media groups, revealing that CI employees are “not allowed to join illegal organisations such as Falun Gong” (ibid). Overt discrimination such as this is anathematic to many liberal western universities, explaining McMaster University’s embarrassing reversal in the wake of this scandal. For Sahlins, this event is only one notable example among many ‘incidents’ too innocuous or seemingly insignificant to come to light. Nonetheless, little examples capture a Confucius Institute culture that promotes a different political outlook to what is commonly accepted in the west, and one that, in instances such as this, can be decidedly discriminatory and malicious in nature.

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Similar ‘incidents’ have been reported at a number of universities hosting CI’s. In many cases scandal has led to a severing of relations between organisations. Disreputable behaviour on the part of CIs is embarrassing for the host institution. The implications of such examples are manifold, and significant. In the case of McMaster University, a Canadian institution was held accountable for the views of the Chinese government. Of relevance to this paper, we have witnessed the operations of a western university influenced by CCP policy. The malicious intent of the CCP towards practitioners of Falun Gong has been well documented (Lemish, 2018). This case provides another example where our Oxford Languages definition of manipulation is evident, but not of distraction. This event only came to light following investigative work, not as a result of CCP machinations. Nonetheless, the case is in keeping with the ‘spirit’ of sharp power, seeking to alter the political environment of a target country. Although not strictly in line with Walker & Ludwig’s definition, it seems prudent to count this as an example of sharp power. At the same time, we must take note of the definitional vagueness of the term ‘distraction’, and remind ourselves once more of our dependence on ‘insider information’. In this rare case, we have come perhaps as close as it is possible to be to ‘smoking gun’ evidence of authoritarian influence and manipulation of a democratic target country.

4.4.4: Moulding Student Behaviour

Whitewashed accounts of recent Chinese history, and the promotion of political perspectives favourable to the CCP is one of the most frequent criticisms of CI’s (Hamilton 2018: Loc 4050. Many fear that this could incubate uncritical or naive opinions of China amongst students destined to take leading positions in government, business and community sectors (Gil, 2019). An oft-cited example supporting this claim comes from Canada, where, in 2008, the director of the University of Waterloo’s CI mounted a campaign against local media’s coverage of a Tibetan uprising (Sahlin, 2014). The director, Yan Li, mobilised her students to “work together to fight with the Canadian media” (Sahlins, 2014). Their campaign was successful, forcing a large television station to apologise for its previously pro-Tibetan stance (ibid).

It is difficult to determine whether or not the above example represents an instance of sharp power. The director of the University of Waterloo’s Confucius Institute was formerly a newsreader for Xinhua, the CCP’s official news agency; she may have been acting on orders from Beijing. On the other hand, she may have been acting on her own volition, which, though problematic in its own right, is surely the lesser of two evils. While the university and local media

50 were both distracted and eventually manipulated into changing their political stance, it is not clear who is doing the manipulating. While the outcome is concerning regardless of whether it was the CCP or Yan Li directing events, this does have significance for our analysis of sharp power. Even though it seems clear that both distraction and manipulation have taken place here, it is not obvious that it was enacted by an authoritarian state. Our typological tool stressed the importance of the involvement of an authoritarian state. As such we are confronted with a potential shortcoming. The absence of a ‘smoking gun’ denies us the opportunity to frame this case as an example of sharp power. It does, however, emphasize the important point that sharp power is overly dependent on information that scholars cannot always acquire.

In each of the examples described in this section we have seen actions with some combination of manipulative or distracting effects, or concerning acts of self-censorship stemming from the fear of Chinese reprisal. In each case we do see something of the Oxford Language definitions. This does suggest some sort of conceptual utility on the part of sharp power, in the interactions between western university education and cultural institutions sponsored and promoted by authoritarian regimes. However, it is important not to forget Nye’s nuanced point that Confucius Institutes do not necessarily represent a malign front for foreign operations (2018: 3). After all, other nations operate cultural institutions; France’s Alliance Francaise, or Germany’s Goethe- Instituts being two prominent examples. Both are independent enough to credibly act as sources of soft power (Nye, 2018). To be sure, the existence of a CI does not necessarily indicate sharp power. The difference here is that CI’s are closely associated with an authoritarian state. It is only when these authoritarian state-endorsed bodies cross the line by engaging in distracting and manipulative actions that we can consider the existence of sharp power.

If nothing else, this section has demonstrated that sharp power is difficult to prove. This, doubly so, given the positive and valuable cultural work that Confucius Institutes undertake. Typical CI programs include, for example: Mandarin courses for all ages and abilities; Chinese cultural programs open to the general public; scholarships and fellowships and; study tours to China (Confucius Institute, University of Melbourne, 2020). It is to these legitimate cultural programs and language courses that CI supporters point to when defending the organisation’s work. For Yang & Hsiao, and many other supporters of CI’s, the organisations are aimed at nothing more than “promoting the internationalisation of Chinese culture”. According to these advocates, the “diffusion of CIs is embraced by domestic pursuit of purposeful soft power diplomacy” (2012).

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Clearly, Confucius Institutes cannot be relied upon as a vehicle to reliably discern PRC sharp power being exercised over western universities. The majority of their work is good, and important. However, we have also seen examples where they have been used as a vehicle for sharp power, the VUB and University of Waterloo cases being two plausible examples. It is important here that we take the time to assess the concept of sharp power itself. Several cases in this section have demonstrated that without ‘smoking gun’ evidence, it is near impossible to discern whether or not an instance of distraction and manipulation is indeed an example of sharp power. This reaffirms the preliminary argument made by this paper that the concept’s vague definition would lead to an over-reliance on ‘smoking gun evidence’, greatly reducing its capacity to provide conceptual clarity.

Moreover, sharp power’s failure to account for the reactions of others to Chinese intimidation undercuts the analytical potential of the concept in the case of censorship at CI’s at USYD and NCSU. In both cases, the by-products of sharp power produced adverse results. However, these results do not conform to the typological tools requirements of sharp power being both acrimonious and political in its intent and implementation. That this was already mentioned in our sub-section on academic self-censorship in the face of Chinese pressure lends further weight to our need to reconsider and redefine sharp power. When considered alongside the dependence on ‘insider information’ and its own definitional ambiguity described in the previous paragraph, these exceptions undermine the concept’s claims to clarity. While there certainly remain other criticisms of CI’s, notably on the charges of promoting cultural homogeneity and a one-sided view of history, these speak more to a concern with the actions and character of the CCP, rather than any conceptual insights afforded to the analyst. If sharp power is too vague a term to be demonstrated through the action of students, or academics, or these decidedly suspect institutes, then perhaps some of the most infamous examples of alleged Chinese malfeasance on university campuses will provide a platform for us to understand where it can be used. The final section of our analysis examines alleged PRC cyber-hacking on university campuses.

Section 4.5: Assessing Sharp Power

The analysis in Chapter Four has revealed some serious conceptual weaknesses inhibiting sharp power’s ability to explain the nature of PRC interactions with western universities. These

52 flaws render the concept an inappropriate tool to understand the nature of these malign interactions. Four major flaws were identified. In the first instance, we found an over- dependence on ‘smoking gun’ pieces of evidence hindered the conceptual utility of sharp power. Such items are often locked up beyond the reach of scholars. Secondly, our analysis has demonstrated that the concept’s fundamental lack of definitional clarity undermines its utility as an explanatory tool. In addition, we found that Walker & Ludwig’s definition failed to account for the passive effects of an authoritarian power, and the reactions of others to this ‘snake in the chandelier’. Finally, we also found that it could be difficult to differentiate sharp power from other conceptual ideas, like hard power. These weaknesses were largely in line with the preliminary expectations laid out in this paper’s literature review.

Different weaknesses hindering the efficacy of sharp power were identified in each section of Chapter Four. However, a common thread weaving throughout the analysis was the concept’s dependence on ‘smoking gun’ examples. According to the typological tool, examples of sharp power would demonstrate an effort to distract and manipulate on the part of an authoritarian state, and a desire to influence the political environment of its target. The sensitivity of the events described in Chapter Four means scholars are unlikely to have access to the ‘smoking gun’ evidence needed to prove ‘distraction’ and ‘manipulation’. Sharp power is a covert concept, and such information is jealously guarded by nations of all stripes. Instead, we must attempt to make do with a careful and deliberate analysis, demonstrating beyond reasonable doubt a desire to both distract and manipulate, as per Oxford Languages’ definitions. Ultimately however, such conclusions that can be drawn through this analysis rely on a series of assumptions. As such, sharp power cannot consistently explain the phenomena of PRC interference on western university campuses. This conclusion belies the fact that in some rare cases we may have sufficient ‘smoking gun’ evidence for sharp power to be of conceptual use.

This dependence on a ‘smoking gun’ evidence is in part caused by the definitional vagueness of the terms by which sharp power is defined. Examples of authoritarian influence are simple enough to demonstrate by way of a number of PRC interactions with western universities, several of which have been discussed in this paper. What is more difficult is demonstrating that these interactions are launched with the intent to distract and manipulate the target. In spite of our care to stick to the dictionary-defined definition of distraction and manipulation, the broadly defined nature of these terms defies simple analysis. Who is to say what is and is not distracting? At what point do we decide that the agency of a target nation has been

53 manipulated? International Relations is not a clean-cut subject, even when we take pains to be precise with terminology and definitions. This leads to a dependence on ‘insider information’, which is often inaccessible to academics. In Chapter Four, various sections on Chinese students, academics and the work of Confucius Institutes could not reliably demonstrate distraction and manipulation orchestrated by the CCP. For every case of sharp power, there were often two or more examples of Chinese malfeasance that failed to fulfil the requirements of our typological tool. All this casts doubt on the claim that sharp power can provide conceptual clarity.

This doubt was reinforced by the section on cyber-attacks. Such attacks fulfill the requirements of the typological tool, developed in Chapter Two. In keeping with the preceding analysis on Chinese students, academics and Confucius Institutes, we should not be surprised to find this tool, derived from Walker & Ludwig’s definition, has conceptual weaknesses. However, in the case of cyber-attacks, these weaknesses are not of a definitional nature, but instead conceptual. It adds confusion, rather than stripping it away. What this means is that even spite of the fact that such attacks should qualify as sharp power, according to the typological tool, we cannot rule out the potential that they are instead an example of hard power. The examples that were studied demonstrated both distraction and manipulation from an authoritarian power. However, the aggressive and coercive nature of cyber-attacks lead them to go beyond the malignant and political aims of sharp power; their coercive and destructive actions place them squarely in the camp of hard power. This confusion further undermines any conceptual strength on the part of sharp power. We cannot be sure that a particular case is an example of sharp power, even if it does fulfill the aims of the typological tool. It is difficult in the utmost to differentiate the concept from hard power.

Finally, we must also recognise what is not included in the definition of sharp power crafted by Walker & Ludwig, and adopted here in this paper. While sharp power is said to involve the acts of an authoritarian state aiming to ‘distract’ or ‘manipulate’ a target, what is left unsaid is the response of these targets. Even in the absence of authoritarian sharp power, a strategic actor must be aware of the potential for distraction and manipulation. He may well then alter his own actions to avoid unwanted attention in the form of sharp power. Has our actor been manipulated here, or does he exercise his own agency by choosing prudence? Again, this is subjective. As with the other conceptual shortcomings discussed in this section, this profound qualification does not free us from the strictures of ‘smoking gun’ evidence. If anything, it complicates the

54 task to come. Chapter Five: Improving the Concept of Sharp Power takes the shortcomings discussed here, and attempts to address them and improve the utility of Walker & Ludwig’s concept.

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Chapter Five: Redefining Sharp Power

The aim of this conclusion is to summarise the paper and discuss improvements that could be made to the concept of sharp power. By strengthening the shortcomings identified in Chapter Four: Empirical Analysis, this final chapter builds on the concept’s potential, molding it into something that could be of greater scholarly use. Before progressing to an experiment in strengthening what has been shown to be a vague and problematic concept, some time should be spent evaluating sharp power. At present, using Walker & Ludwig’s definition, the concept does not explain various international phenomena. Our study has demonstrated that sharp power does not sufficiently account for or explain PRC influence over western university education. Nor is it necessarily always possible to distinguish the concept from either soft power or hard power. This speaks to a vague and loosely defined idea. In addition, it is overly dependent on information that is rarely, if ever, available to scholars. Finally, despite its current loose definition, it is nonetheless overly restrictive in some respects. The concept places too much emphasis on active influence, at the expense of considering passive influence on target behaviour. To improve the concept of sharp power, to provide it with conceptual heft, it must be altered from Walker & Ludwig’s original definition.

Following our analysis of the conceptual utility of sharp power, three major flaws were identified that will need to be addressed. These are:

1) a failure to account for self-censorship or inaction in the face of anticipated sharp power; 2) difficulty distinguishing the concept from hard or soft power; and 3) definitional vagueness, which leads to an overdependence on ‘smoking gun’ examples.

In order to refine the concept of sharp power, our new definition must address these concerns. Under this new definition, real-world manifestations of sharp power will be easier to recognise, more readily distinguishable from other phenomena, and will not just encompass active examples of sharp power, but also passive examples that affect the actions of others. However, it is important to maintain the original spirit of Walker & Ludwig’s definition. Changing the terms of sharp power too much would render it unrecognisable from the true nature of the concept as it was first ‘defined’. What we want is a more precise terminology that can help us describe the authoritarian ‘penetration and perforation’ of democratic states. With these objectives in mind, we can make the concept of sharp power more precise and of greater utility.

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Beginning with the censorious effects of sharp power, we can expand Walker & Ludwig’s definition to include the reactions of others as a passive effect of the concept. This is a simple change, which expands the range of influence of the concept. A more suitable definition could therefore read along the lines of: active or passive authoritarian influence not intended to attract or persuade, but centring on distraction and manipulation. The range of actions that count as sharp power is expanded, and clarified. Metaphorical ‘snakes in chandeliers’ now count as sharp power. Acting against select targets, in the knowledge that the prudence of third parties not directly targeted will see them take steps to avoid angering the authoritarian actor is sharp power. Such selectively employed aggression is accounted for under this new definition.

Using this altered definition we can now work to distinguish our concept from both hard and soft power. By refining our language we can avoid confusing the concepts. Sometimes distraction and manipulation can veer into hard power, coercion through military force, or into soft power, where the target nation actively chooses acquiescence of its own volition. The imprecise nature of distraction and manipulation must be corrected. The best way to achieve this is to build hard limits into the definition of sharp power that prevent spillage into soft or hard power. Soft power convinces a nation that it prefers a certain outcome because that is in its interest; neither sharp nor hard power do this. A refined definition would refer to an unattractive option, which is nonetheless adopted or forced on a state as a result of sharp power. To avoid being counted as hard power, this reworked concept would also need to ensure there is no threat of military force implicit. Our definition could therefore read:

Authoritarian influence free from violence, and the threat of violence, that actively or passively seeks to compel an actor to undertake a particular action against their best interests.

The terms ‘distraction' and ‘manipulation’ are absent here, as is our dependence on a dictionary definition. However, their significance to the old definition is retained in our new one. Through malevolent means, the best interests of a state are curtailed by an authoritarian actor. The benefit of removing these vague indices is that more reliably quantifiable or qualifiable substitutes can be employed.

Finally, we must accept that the overdependence on ‘smoking gun’ examples limits the conceptual utility of sharp power. If the concept is to be improved and refined, scholars looking

57 to understand the nature of authoritarian state interactions with foreign nations and institutions must accept there are a limited number of cases in which sharp power can be of conceptual use. Sharp power may not be able to explain a potentially large number of cases because of a dearth of relevant information, which could remain classified indefinitely. Determining when it becomes worthwhile to investigate a case and apply notions of sharp power for clarity is up to individual researchers. This may well mean that sharp power is more effectively employed retrospectively, as information is declassified for public consumption. Future scholars of sharp power may well find the concept more useful in exploring the actions of the past, rather than the future. Its predictive qualities are hampered by imperfect information. Of course, these scholarly explorations will be all the more effective if they make use of the altered definition we have developed in this conclusion, rather than Walker & Ludwig’s original formulation. While the number of cases in which sharp power can provide conceptual clarity is small, where adequate information is available, the idea can deepen our understanding. There is a place for sharp power. Future scholars may well discover circumstances in which it occupies a worthwhile niche.

Looking to the recent past, there are several noteworthy cases in international relations that can be fruitfully explored with this new definition of sharp power. As one example, in 2010, ties between China and Norway were cut following the latter’s decision to award a Nobel peace prize to Chinese democracy advocate Liu Xiaobo. Trade talks between the two nations broke down, particularly affecting the export of Norwegian oil and salmon to the PRC (Bos, 2016). Economic threats are a common tool employed by Beijing to wield against those who fail to account for the CCP’s political sensitivities. The Norwegian example fulfills the strictures of our new definition of sharp power. It is non-violent, and actively compelled Norway into an unfavourable position. The Norwegian government tried several times over six years to normalise relations, including ‘committing’ to the one-China policy, returning columns acquired from Beijing by a nineteenth century Norwegian cavalry officer, and accepting China’s application to join the Arctic Council as an observer (ibid). Many examples studied in this paper fulfill the strictures of this new definition. Its purpose is not necessarily to exclude previously cited cases of sharp power, but rather to make the concept more precise and accessible. Using our new terminology, scholars are more readily able to deploy sharp power. They can discover new facets of understanding in authoritarian interactions with democratic actors.

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The alterations we have made go some way to addressing the shortcomings of the original definition of sharp power. Future scholars may disagree with the suggested changes we have made here. But the concept introduced by Walker & Ludwig was inadequate. It lacked conceptual coherency, and its ability to enlighten scholars of the past, present and future was limited. It is likely that in the push and pull of defining concepts to improve their utility, the definition we have arrived at will be further altered. But what has been accomplished here may well begin a conversation. There is a place for sharp power, and it can provide clarity and enlightenment. It is up to future scholars to push the boundaries of this concept to its fullest.

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