Shouldn’t we just close all Confucius Institutes?

24 March 2022

To counter “inadmissible interference” by Chinese diplomats in academic life, Germany’s outgoing Education Minister Anja Karliczek, recommended closing all Confucius Institutes (CIs). Her suggestion was a political reaction to the reported interference of Chinese officials in academic activities involving a Confucius Institute.

This move reminds us of criticism of these institutes by US politicians such as Marco Rubio portraying them as “espionage centers”, having a “malign influence“, or being a “foreign mission” of the Chinese government. CI teachers are suspected of parroting propaganda and influencing impressionable students at Western universities to follow the narrative of the Communist Party of China (CPC). Although independent research has debunked most of these allegations, they still dominate the discourse in America. The emergence of such rhetoric in Germany indicates that relations between China and the broader West are turning into an ideological ‘New Cold War’.

What should we think of this? Calls for an open debate on the state of academic freedom are rightly gaining momentum, and such a debate is urgently needed. However, collaborations with Chinese universities are an important pillar of the ‘people-to-people’ connectivity that oils the wheels of healthy cooperation between countries.

Germany must ask itself serious questions about its desired relationship with China in a future where its influence is gradually reduced. Where are future technologies being developed? How are ethical standards in research, development, and data usage negotiated globally? What leeway do companies have when they find themselves caught between competing compliance systems? Who buys which technologies from whom? And will Europe play the ‘national security’ card? The defence of academic freedom is a non-negotiable part of this policy constellation but a blanket closure of Confucius Institutes seems a politically expedient knee jerk reaction.

Declining academic freedom in China

On any measure of academic freedom and open dialogue, China was in better shape ten years ago than it is today. Contrary to commonly held opinions in the West, it was possible to have rather open debates a decade ago. In 2010, a group of European scholars and I established ‘ThinkIN China’, an informal discussion format in the university district in Beijing, where Chinese intellectuals and a global audience of young professionals discussed all sorts of contemporary topics. But from 2013 onward, we received clear signals from trusted locals not to ‘abuse’ our freedom. Since we neither pursued an anti-China agenda nor made ourselves the mouthpiece of propaganda we were allowed to organise our events until the COVID-19 crisis, obviously with the tacit approval of the authorities.

Instead of simply closing the Confucius Institutes to avoid granting too-easy leverage to the CPC, the West should try to achieve its goals of cultural diplomacy by taking a series of smaller well-thought-out measures.

But the audience was Western and the venue was a café, not a university campus. Since 2014, Beijing has run an increasingly conservative campaign to bring the country’s young elite more firmly into line. The Communist Party gradually became hypersensitive about tolerating foreign voices since Western values are considered dangerous, mainly because they may trigger internal contradictions. Hence, the government identified unfiltered academic exchange as a potential threat.

Since 2016, Chinese academic colleagues have been subjected to extra layers of red tape when they want to participate in conferences abroad. Standard Western texts have been removed from curricula and surveillance cameras in classrooms ensure that lecturers and students express themselves carefully. The list of ‘non-topics’ and compulsory topics is getting longer. Chinese students at some provincial universities are no longer allowed to take courses from foreign lecturers. This is the result of ‘anticipatory obedience’ rather than a central diktat, but it is still indicative of broader trends.

Furthermore, numerous agreements with Western universities have been terminated, but this has gone largely unnoticed due to the pandemic. Since China continues to pursue a zero-Covid strategy, the disruption of normal academic exchange will continue for the foreseeable future.

An imperial attitude in Chinese cultural bureaucracy

The Chinese cultural bureaucracy has developed an imperial attitude. For its part, China relied on the Hanban (National Office for Chinese as a Foreign language, NOCFL) as the central state institution to coordinate the Confucius Institutes. So, partner universities on the Chinese side were not really autonomous actors, whereas their Western counterparts were all acting individually, sometimes positioned in direct competition with each other. For instance, Xu Lin, the long-time head of Hanban, has gained some notoriety by interfering in cultural exchange activities in Europe already in 2014.

In what became known as the “Braga incident”, Xu instructed the local CI teachers to collect conference booklets of a Sinology conference in Portugal and tear out pages ‘violating regulations’ such as an advertisement for the Taiwanese Chiang Ching-kuo Foundation. The result of her actions for China’s broader cultural policy in Europe was a medium-sized scandal. When I spoke with Minister Xu in 2006, she already took the view that Western partner universities offering HSK language proficiency exams should be grateful to be a part of the “glorious spread of Chinese culture”.

Such an imperial worldview is met with little enthusiasm abroad. The indignation and shrill comments of the so-called “Wolf Warriors” (zhanlang) in protesting foreign actions they deem critical of China has become mainstream, although this risks destroying years of painstakingly established goodwill between China and Europe. For the Party, the taboo against discussing Chinese government policy critically applies not only to discourse within the country itself but also beyond its borders.

Nonetheless, a large number of clever and committed people at all levels are open to dialogue and can at least understand the values of the West (even if they do not always share them). With them, one should maintain relationships of trust and goodwill.

The importance of ‘people-to-people’ exchanges

Would it be prudent to close all Confucius Institutes as a reaction to “interference in our internal affairs”, as Beijing’s Foreign Ministry spokespeople are so fond of saying? Scientific cooperation with China is very important, but not more than the academic freedom of European educational institutions. Such freedom, I would hope, remains sacrosanct and non-negotiable. No external influence and no culture of self-censorship among scientists who work with China should be tolerated. Interventions by foreign government representatives in German educational institutions should not be left unopposed.

Yet, the influence of CIs on public discourse — even though Hanban might wish to see more — seems utterly negligible and the potential danger that they pose is vastly overestimated in German media. At the Confucius Institute Nuremberg, for example, sinologists organise lectures by Chinese dissidents in the same room in which the CI teaches its courses.

Beyond any need to protect academic freedom, the call to close the institutes may be understood as a desire to show Beijing that there are still ‘red lines’ that it cannot cross. Ironically, the PRC constantly demands such respect for its own ‘red lines’. But since the Chinese capital is far away, the cultural institutes in Germany become the only targets within reach. While safeguarding academic freedom is of utmost importance, I doubt that this is achieved by taking a ham-fisted approach to our own cultural diplomacy. Rather than achieving any significant changes in the behaviour of Chinese officials, we run the risk of merely satisfying feelings of indignation.

Platforms for exchange across ideological lines are increasingly rare but remain important. Burning them down amounts to counterproductive “symbolic politics” rather than purposeful action. Closing the CIs, although easy to implement, would neither safeguard academic freedom in Germany nor will it promote liberal values in China in any meaningful way.

Nineteen institutions, most of which have been doing a good job for over a decade, would be swept away without adequate replacements. Those in China who already accuse the West of having dishonest intentions are confirmed in their prejudices when, of all things, cultural institutions are caught in the crosshairs. Moderate liberal voices within China will find it even more difficult to portray aspects of the Western liberal model as desirable.

Targeted action instead of symbolic politics

Instead of simply closing the Confucius Institutes to avoid granting too-easy leverage to the CPC, Berlin should try to achieve its goals of cultural diplomacy by taking a series of smaller well-thought-out measures. First, it should broaden the existing “China Country Strategy”, drafted in 2015, to include specific instruments which allow universities to develop a joint approach to meet the challenge of external encroachment.

Second, it must develop fair and transparent regulatory procedures to avoid a climate of general suspicion of Chinese students and scholars. In defence of one cardinal value — academic freedom — one should not give up another, namely the presumption of innocence. Third, since Beijing always insists on its own sensitivities, one can confidently reciprocate. One may terminate contracts if explicit clauses on academic freedom are not included and mandate them to be run only by non-Chinese citizens, with Chinese appointees holding the deputy posts.

Fourth, we must seek clear definitions regarding the involvement of official foreign bodies, and delineate unacceptable behaviour. In the event of non-compliance, the institutes might have their sanctioned status within the university withdrawn, resulting in a demotion to the rank of an adult education centre. However, we should also be aware that this will dramatically reduce the level of oversight.

Fifth, actions by unofficial actors such as associations of Chinese scientists and students should be monitored. At the China Centre Tübingen, we have often successfully collaborated, but made clear that certain forms of interference, such as attacking students from Taiwan or Hong Kong for making political demands, are not acceptable. Efforts at subverting academic freedom in Western university campuses include campaigns by so-called “Little Pinks” (xiao fenhong) — zealous young Beijing apologists who verbally or even physically counter any offence, real or imagined, to the Chinese national psyche. All foreign students need to be reminded that they are welcome to participate in public discussions, but that attacks against people holding opposing views are forbidden.

Sixth, if none of the above measures work — which would be a shame — the institutes might be closed. Then Berlin could make it clear to Beijing that there was sufficient opportunity to comply. Finally, to make it very clear that Germany sincerely wishes to promote the understanding of Chinese language and culture, the German side should create its own institutions for imparting ‘China competence’, with federal funding for both teaching and inviting artists, scholars and other experts from China.

The discussion of the role of Confucius Institutes is part of a much broader debate: the future of academic exchange with China in general. With the broad participation of experts from science, business, civil society, culture and politics, Germany must think carefully about what its meaningful ‘red lines’ with China really are, and how it might secure guardrails that both enable cooperation and prevent attacks on our values. Berlin must implement these guardrails consistently and ensure sufficient long-term funding should it decide to opt for its own ‘China competence’ institutions.

Observers in the US detect a similar ‘lose-lose situation’ between lack of domestic funding and external Chinese sponsoring that may come with unwanted strings attached. Maybe the political fallout of closure will be smaller than anticipated, since some pundits think Beijing is moving away from investing in CIs, anyway. In the absence of adequate substitution, the costs for Chinese language learners will be considerable, nonetheless.

DISCLAIMER: All views expressed are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent that of the 9DASHLINE.com platform.

Author biography

Dr Matthias Niedenführ is a Senior Research Fellow with the Leadership Excellence Institute Zeppelin, Zeppelin University in Germany. He is a specialist in Asian business culture and also the founding Vice-Director of the China Center Tübingen, a Professor for Chinese Business Ethics University and Co-Founder of ThinkIN China, Beijing. Image credit: Wikimedia/Kreeder13.