Now, in Gilbert & George and the Communists (Cheerio Publishing, 2025), Birch has written of his time promoting the controversial British artists Gilbert & George in, first Moscow, and then, breaking more new ground, Beijing and Shanghai in 1993. That artists whose work tackled such controversial themes and used such (back then) shocking language and materials should be pioneers in China was amazing and unexpected. How did Birch get the idea and the permissions and then actually manage to stage the shows? Ultimately, Birch would achieve major groundbreaking success with the exhibitions and crucially, Gilbert & George would inspire a generation of young Chinese contemporary artists who went on to totally turn the international art scene on its head and place China back on the global art map. Paul French met up with James Birch to remember those times….

Can you briefly explain how the idea of taking Gilbert & George to China in the early 1990s came about? Nobody as controversial had ever exhibited in China before.

After the success of Gilbert & George in the Soviet Union in 1990, I said to Gilbert & George: “Where would you like to go next?” They said, “China. If you can make this happen, we’ll be your best friends for life.”

I gulped as I had no connections in China, and post-Tiananmen Square, the Sino-British relationship was at an all-time low, but fuelled by the incredible response to the Francis Bacon retrospective and Gilbert & George’s more recent exhibition in Moscow, I took courage in both hands. I asked a friend who had worked in China if he knew anybody I could go and see – he told me to go to Dublin and look up Brendan Ward who had been the Irish cultural attaché in Beijing at the time of the uprising. Brendan recommended that I see Wang Xiaoning in the cultural section of the Chinese Embassy, where this story begins.

In 1993, the long shadow of state-mandated Socialist Realism still constrained Chinese art, and local artists who used any of the more controversial motifs in their work, similar to those of Gilbert & George, still faced fines, arrest and self-criticisms. How did you persuade Beijing to let Gilbert & George in?

It was an extraordinarily quick process. Given the incredible restraints on Chinese artists of the time, I felt I had a one in ten chance of getting this exhibition agreed upon. Gilbert & George had a punk attitude and were fearless in their use of images and cultural references, which were often seen as controversial, even by a so-called ‘enlightened’ 20th-century audience. However, the optimist in me hoped that the Cultural Ministry would recognise the influence of social realism on their work and respond in the affirmative. I took with me the catalogue of the Moscow exhibition, which I hoped would reassure them that G&G had valid “communist credentials’. We’ll never really know what made the difference, but a week after visiting Mr Wang, they had rubber-stamped the exhibition. In retrospect, I feel that they saw it as an opportunity to show the West that they were open to new ideas and wanted to build relationships with us quite simply to expand their economy.

Previously, you had taken Francis Bacon and Gilbert & George to Moscow in the days of the old USSR. Both attracted huge audiences. Was it the same in Beijing and Shanghai in 1993 and do you have a sense of who came – artists, students, regular people?

You are absolutely right! It was mainly artists, students, officials, Beijingers and Shanghaiers. The exhibition was a big deal and was constantly packed in both cities. Steven Spielberg came, too! To this day, I have no idea how or why.

Many Chinese artists of a certain generation – those born in the 1960s – have written about how inspired they were by the 1993 Gilbert & George exhibitions. While taking Gilbert & George to China was obviously going to attract a lot of media attention to them and their work, did you also anticipate how important the visit was to struggling Chinese artists in the years before the great boom in Chinese contemporary art?

I didn’t realise that there were so many young artists who wanted to have exhibitions in Beijing. What was generally on show was state-funded art. While I was there, a young artist decided to cut his hair in front of the exhibition to protest that Western artists were being shown as opposed to Chinese artists. I’m afraid to say that he was arrested, and we never knew his fate.

During the days of the exhibition, I didn’t fully comprehend its impact. It wasn’t until post-Shanghai and after a visit to Hong Kong, where I met David Tang, who impressed upon me how significant he felt this moment was. David was an amazing collector of Chinese social realist paintings but also Chinese underground art. His collection was exhibited at the Marlborough Gallery in 1997-98. Charles Saatchi bought most of it, and that is when the West began to take a serious interest in the contemporary art of China.

Zhang Huan and Ma Liuming, two major Chinese performance artists, have written about how, in 1993, they were struggling – being fined, hassled by the cops, unable to show their work. Zhang has said that Gilbert & George inspired him to double down and continue performing. Ma has said that meeting Gilbert & George in Beijing and seeing what two artists who started out as performance artists could achieve was the major turning point in his career. Did either you or Gilbert & George have any sense of the impact you were having on the local art scenes in Beijing and Shanghai back in 1993?

We visited China in the days of heavy censorship. There was no internet or social media. Unlike Moscow, which is only four hours away from the UK and shares Europe’s cultural heritage, China felt a world away. It was much harder to meet people, we were never invited to people’s houses, and a frank exchange of views was impossible. I know that Gilbert & George visited a number of artists in their studios which was a first. Even now, it’s thrilling to learn of their impact on artists such as Zhang Huan and Ma Liuming.

And finally, what do you think Gilbert & George got out of visiting China? And you yourself? What was the biggest contrast between Beijing and your previous experiences in Moscow?

My fascination with China began when I was ten years old. I wrote a letter to the Chinese Embassy, asking for a copy of the Little Red Book. Chairman Mao was something of a hero of mine. Twenty years later, the USSR was beginning to disintegrate – it had the feel of an empire falling. Beijing, in contrast, was at the start of an economic revolution, albeit with a communist edge. I was amazed to discover that McDonalds, KFC and Pizza Hut were already in situ – it was so different from the culture I was expecting.

I can’t really speak for Gilbert & George, but it’s clear even now that they remain constantly interested in the new and unusual and are passionately committed to taking art to the people. After all, one of their most famous slogans is ART FOR ALL.

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While great strides have been made in recent years, it seems there’s still a long way to go, and China’s central government is not all that impressed with the sector. So argue Paul G. Clifford and Christopher Logan in their new book China Logistics: From Laggard to Innovator (Routledge). So Paul French sat down with Paul Clifford to chat logistics …

In 2022, the Chinese government criticised the nation’s logistics industry as ‘large but not strong’ (da er buqiang). But China’s logistics sector, from haulage to refrigeration, shipping and warehousing, has obviously made great strides since the 80s and 90s – so where are the main weaknesses still to be found?

Since the economic reforms began in the 1980s, China’s logistics have made enormous progress, but still struggle to meet the needs of industry and commerce. The key issues remain the fragmentation of the sector (logistics firms without scale), the slow pace of logistics outsourcing to 3PLs (third-party logistics), cut-throat competition resulting in poor service quality and low profitability, the high asset intensity of logistics firms, and weaknesses in key areas such as multi-modal (truck-to-train) and chilled-chain logistics.

You note that the government (national and local) plays a big role in the development and improvement of China’s logistics network, far bigger than we have seen in Europe or North America. Can you elaborate on how central and local governments work with the industry?

China’s central government has played a vital role in two respects. Firstly, in setting the bold planning goals for the sector, which in turn guides capital allocation. And secondly, through investing heavily in upgrading China’s transportation infrastructure, over which the logistics run. Meanwhile, local (mainly city-level) governments, in competing with each other for investors, jobs and fiscal revenues, have been instrumental in creating logistics hubs across the nation, whether through gateways for the railway land-bridge to Europe (as part of the Belt and Road initiative), highly automated ports, robotised e-commerce centres or cold-chain storage.   

You also talk of the ‘headwinds’ China’s logistics sector faces – international tension and massive disruptions. It looks likely we’re about to go into a significant ‘headwind’ with both a new administration in Washington DC and a raft of China-related policies from the EU. How do you think these will affect the sector?

You are correct. The critical uncertainties and headwinds are to be found internationally. But despite the geopolitical tensions and the new US administration, it will likely prove harder than many think to dismantle the global supply chain that has been built up so carefully over four decades. That said, China’s growing exports are bound to face increased pushback from nations with a large trade deficit with China. China may be expected to respond, for instance by investing in manufacturing in the countries to which it currently exports. The logistics industry will in turn inevitably need to adjust to these changes.

Do you think China has been a genuine innovator in logistics in any way, or simply thrown money and man power at the issue?

The Chinese government has invested heavily in its roads, ports and rail (and is now beginning in high speed freight rail). However, the big investment in China’s e-commerce logistics has come from private firms. This investment ranges from air cargo hubs to integrated IT platforms, AI for transportation management and robots for all kinds of package sorting and storage. In these respects, there is no doubt that China is truly innovating and leapfrogging the likes of UPS. The return on all this investment needs to be seen in relation to its social as well as economic and commercial impact and over the long term. History will be the ultimate judge of this. Did the Victorian UK rail system propel our industry and commerce (and society) forward?

In the book, you seem to suggest China’s logistics sector also has a role to play in China’s climate change and environmental initiatives – EV delivery vehicles etc. Is this happening or just hopeful rhetoric?

The logistics sector is a major producer of greenhouse gas emissions. Addressing this issue in China is certainly not rhetoric but a central part of China’s green transition. These efforts range from new propulsion systems for container liner shipping and shifting goods onto the railways from the roads and from air cargo, to the introduction of new autonomously-driven hydrogen truck corridors plus EVs for the last mile. It also includes the use of advanced technology to drive efficiency in goods delivery and to provide matching loads to avoid the dreaded “empty back haul”. This is highly transformative and, in some areas, a “low-hanging fruit”.

China’s logistics sector seemed to rise to the challenge of Covid-19 and the government’s zero-Covid policy successfully. Am I right in thinking this? And what are the longer-term lessons for the industry (in China and globally) from that sudden, unexpected headwind?

You are perfectly correct. While China’s overall response to Covid-19 may have fallen short in some respects, when it came to logistics, the Chinese government developed some smart workarounds with the result being that the delays at Chinese ports were nowhere near as severe as in the USA. I think a longer-term lesson is that logistics should not be an afterthought, but closely integrated into government emergency action so as to permit a coordinated and speedy response to unexpected events.

Taking this a step further, it is worth noting the degree to which China’s well-defined and well-delivered industrial policy towards logistics is yielding vital results, which are then passed on to the broader economy. 

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Reinventing the Chinese City, Richard Hu

Since the late 1970s, China has undergone perhaps the most sweeping process of urbanisation ever witnessed. It’s a story largely understood as one of growth, rapid development and economic dynamism. But it could also be seen as a tale of sprawl, bad planning and alienation. Now all the talk is of ‘quality’ in urban planning and city studies. In his book Reinventing the Chinese City, Richard Hu, a professor at the Canberra Business School, looks at the changes in China’s cities since 2010 and dares to make some bold predictions about the future. In the past, Hu has written about Shenzhen, as well as comparing Chinese cities to the rapid urban growth in other Asian countries. This latest work perhaps points the way to the urban future in China.

Wild Ride: A Short History of the Opening and Closing of the Chinese Economy, Anne Stevenson-Yang

Originally from Washington DC, Anne Stevenson-Yang moved to Beijing in 1993 to work for the US-China Business Council. In the next quarter century, she became one of the best-known foreigners in China, starting businesses in publishing, software and online media. Now back in the US, she has published a book that examines some of the current economic flashpoints in China – property, ghost cities, where power resides, and top-down control, among other issues.

Made in China: When US-China Interests Converged to Transform Global Trade, Elizabeth O’Brien Ingleson

How did the US, EU and Britain – along with many other countries – help make China the world’s foremost trading power? This is the question at the centre of Elizabeth O’Brien Ingleson’s latest book, and while it may focus on the US experience of trading with China, there is much for the UK to learn, too. The book is also an extremely useful overview of the up-and-down vicissitudes of trading with contemporary China. From the faltering, uncertain beginnings of trade in the 1970s through the period of opening up and reform to the go-go years around the new century and the problems of retrenchment since then.

The Southern Tour: Deng Xiaoping and the Fight for China’s Future, Jonathan Chatwin

On a freezing January afternoon in 1992, Deng Xiaoping, China’s former paramount leader and now a revered elder statesman, set off on a month-long trip around China’s south in defence of the reforms he had set in motion to open up China’s economy and transform the country into the political and economic powerhouse we know today. In The Southern Tour, Jonathan Chatwin travels 3,000 miles in the footsteps of Deng’s legendary “southern tour”, pursuing the stories of his journey and examining its legacies in the country today.

50 Useful Tips on China, Ralph Jennings

Even for seasoned China hands, some aspects of how business is done in China can be downright confusing. Luckily, journalist and author Ralph Jennings has attempted to demystify Chinese work culture in his new book, 50 Useful Tips on China. Paul French spoke to him about meeting etiquette, overtime and the concept of “chabuduo”.

The Great Reversal, Kerry Brown

Kerry Brown’s takes as its starting point that while modern China has a narrative of its relationship with Britain, Britons don’t have a similar understanding of our relationship with China. If they are taught any history at all, children at schools in the United Kingdom today are more likely to learn about European or American history. China is regarded as a subsidiary issue, a part of the vast, complex narrative of the British empire, despite the fact that it has profoundly influenced the culture of Britain through tea, porcelain, silk and ideas of garden design, and has impacted our politics through the role of British imperialism in China’s 19th and 20th-century history. 

The Mountains are High, Alec Ash

Originally from Oxford, Alec Ash is a writer and editor focused on China, where he lived from 2008-2022. Feeling burnt out, he decided to move to the more peaceful province of Dali in Yunnan to experience life there. And it was where he found himself living through the Covid-19 pandemic, too. Following the publishing of Alec’s memoir of his Dali life, Paul French talked to him about life in Dali, the rather relaxed pandemic experience there, whether burnt-out professionals are really forsaking city life for the mountains, what it takes to “drop out” in China, and who exactly is “lying flat”.

From Click to Boom, Lizhi Liu

It’s safe to say that many are amazed (and rather jealous) of the apparent success of China’s e-commerce market and the internet businesses that thrive within it. But how did they do it? From Click to Boom asks that very question – how did the world’s largest e-commerce market highlight a digital path to development? Paul French caught up with its author, Lizhi Liu, an assistant professor at the McDonough School of Business at Georgetown University in Washington DC, to discuss potential answers.

Male Idols and Branding in Chinese Luxury, Amanda Sikarskie

These days, male Idols are a standard part of the advertising toolkit across Asia and in China – in fashion magazines, shopping channels, adverts, and online sales channels. It may be a rarely seen phenomenon in the West, but rest assured that it is huge in China. Put simply, male idols are able to sell more magazines and more product than female idols – largely because of their enormous and loyal fan bases. Sikarskie’s new book explores the concept of the male idol, along with some of the major considerations for brands in China who want to work with them.

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Paul French caught up with Amanda Sikarskie, one of the authors (along with Peng Liu and Lan Lan) of the new book Male Idols and Branding in Chinese Luxury (Bloomsbury Academic, 2024).

Can you briefly explain to us the male idol phenomenon in China – how is it different to traditional male celebrity icons?

The word ‘idol’ comes from the Japanese ‘aidoru,’ which is simply a borrowing of the English word idol to refer to a celebrity or star. We might trace idol culture back to 1960s Japan and Japanese artists like Kyu Sakamato (Kyu-chan) – gaining popularity in the Western market with hits like “Sukiyaki” – and notice that fans called him Kyu-chan, rather than Kyu-san, likening him to a child. So there’s this decades-old tradition of making idols less masculine, first by rendering them childlike and later through both infantilisation and feminisation. This idol culture really began to take hold in South Korea and China in the 1990s (and a bit earlier in Hong Kong). 

Over time, the look of a male idol has become somewhat standardised across East Asia, usually quite thin and about 180 centimetres tall (this is also the height of many Western female fashion models and makes male idols ideally suited for modelling women’s luxury fashion), and with a v-line, rather than square, jaw (which some are born with, but can also be achieved through jawline botox or “K-pop surgery”).

Can you explain why these male idols seem to be so effective at shifting products – huge amounts of products – in China?

We are seeing a phenomenon in which women consumers are more interested in wearing the goods advertised by their male idols than by female idols, even when it comes to traditionally feminine products such as handbags and cosmetics.

Who are the fans of these male idols? And can toxic behaviour and inappropriate online behaviour damage the male idol brand ambassadors?

I wouldn’t say that there’s one monolithic demographic of idol fans. Fans might be anywhere from elementary school age to in their 60s, although teens to people in their 30s seem to be the most common. What young fans want and expect from their idols is different than what middle-aged fans (who generally have their own partners and families) are looking for. 

I think it’s a big mistake to assume that these parasocial relationships between idols and their fans are naturally toxic. The vast majority of idol fandom is actually pretty well-adjusted. Where we do see this toxicity is when groups of fans with different agendas choose to butt heads, such as Wang Yibo solo fans versus Xiao Zhan solo fans or solo fans versus shipper fans (fans that imagine a relationship between two idols). Negative posts, generally in the form of fake news, made by one idol’s group of fans against another idol can potentially be damaging to both idols’ reputations, but this sort of online disinformation is so common within these little insular communities of fans that I think most people generally take what they post with a large grain of salt. 

What are some of the major pitfalls for brands working with male idols in China?

Besides online turf wars between groups of solo fans or solo fans and shipper fans, brands also need to keep in mind that idols can make mistakes. These could be small mistakes that nonetheless affect the idol-brand relationship, like an ambassador for Redmi using an iPhone or Samsung phone in public. Or, an idol could make a very large mistake leading to them being “cancelled” in the mediasphere, like committing a crime. This would also generally lead to the termination of the brand’s partnership with the ambassador, of course. Because of these potential pitfalls, brands may increasingly turn to virtual idols in the future. While not as compelling as human beings, a virtual idol obviously cannot make these sorts of blunders.

How do the Chinese versions of male idols differ (or mimic) those we may be more familiar with in Japan and South Korea?

Chinese idols initially were sort of modelled on Korean idols (commonly known in online culture as ‘little fresh meats’ or xiǎoxiānròu in Chinese) and some of the most famous male Chinese idols of the 2000s and 2010s, Han Geng (Super Junior), Lay (EXO), Jackson Wang (GOT7), and Wang Yibo (UNIQ), all trained in Korea and debuted in Korean idol groups before moving back to China later. Since about 2018, the idea of Korean idols perpetuating a “sissy” niang pao aesthetic has gained traction in China, though. And so now, compared to the 2010s, you won’t see an idol like Wang Yibo wearing nearly as much makeup, especially eye makeup, as he used to. He’s still a brand ambassador for Japanese cosmetics staple Shu Uemura, though, because, as I noted earlier, male idols are just really efficient in marketing products to female consumers.

The Beijing government has seemed a little concerned with the rise of the male idol. How has the clash between male idol style and government ideas about masculinity and gender played out?

The idea of “sissy men” or niang pao (or alternately ‘luxury pig men’ — jing zhu nan — in Chinese) has gained currency largely because of Beijing. So, on the one hand, we see the state decrying men who aren’t manly, but on the other hand, we still see these idols not only all over billboards and red carpets in China, but on shows like holiday specials on CCTV as well. So, despite the bluster, it seems more or less that the government is tolerating male idols, at least for now. They are effective economic engines, after all, as contemporary, financially independent women tend to gravitate towards them.  

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Setting the Stage

The event, held in the British Library’s iconic conference centre, featured a diverse programme that highlighted the richness of traditional and digital storytelling. The venue was transformed with multimedia displays showcasing Yuewen’s vibrant digital literature platforms alongside treasured British literary artefacts, symbolising the union of heritage and modernity. Attendees were treated to visual presentations illustrating how Chinese online novels have captivated millions of readers globally, with an emphasis on their themes, innovative formats and cultural resonance​.

Keynote Address and Panel Discussions

The programme commenced with a keynote speech from senior representatives of the British Library, who underscored the importance of cultural diplomacy in an increasingly interconnected world. They highlighted the library’s dedication to preserving and adapting literature for the digital age, ensuring its accessibility to diverse audiences.

Panel discussions followed, featuring British and Chinese authors, academics, and digital publishing experts. Speakers included Yan ZK, a renowned Yuewen author, and Richard Pooley, director of the Conan Doyle estate and step-grandson of Arthur Conan Doyle. Topics ranged from the impact of technology on storytelling to the ways cultural narratives can transcend geographic and linguistic barriers. Particular focus was given to Yuewen’s pioneering approach to interactive storytelling, which enables readers to influence plot developments, and how this could inspire new ways to experience classic British literature.

Showcasing Chinese Digital Literature

One of the event’s highlights was the formal unveiling of ten Chinese online novels, which have been integrated into the British Library in printed format. These works represent a variety of genres, including historical fiction, fantasy, and science fiction, reflecting the diversity of China’s contemporary literary scene. This addition to the library’s collection not only celebrates these works as part of world literature, but also provides an opportunity for British audiences to engage with modern Chinese storytelling.

 “This collaboration with Yuewen is an exciting journey for us, one that underscores our mission to make our collection accessible and relevant to new audiences around the world,” said Jas Rai, Chief Operating Officer of the British Library. “We’re excited for what’s to come as this project unfolds and connects literature lovers across continents.”

Representatives from Yuewen explained the cultural significance of these novels, emphasising how they reflect the aspirations and challenges of contemporary Chinese society. Authors of some of the featured novels participated in a live Q&A session, sharing their creative processes and how digital platforms have allowed them to connect with millions of readers.

“These works show the world the creative energy coming from younger generations in China,” said Hou Xiaonan, CEO and President of Yuewen. “By having some of these works in the British Library collection, it will help UK readers and researchers better understand modern Chinese culture, while also introducing the web novel model to UK contributors, which provides access to a vast new readership and significant opportunities for IP expansion and global influence.”

Interactive Workshops and Cultural Exchanges

Interactive workshops invited attendees to explore the digital storytelling tools pioneered by Yuewen. Participants, including students and aspiring writers, learned to create their own narratives using these platforms. The workshops served as a testament to the partnership’s mission: fostering creativity and accessibility in literature.

The event also featured readings of British and Chinese works, performed in both languages. These bilingual sessions underscored the universality of storytelling while celebrating the unique qualities of each culture. Attendees expressed enthusiasm for the opportunity to experience literary works in such an engaging and innovative format.

Future Goals and Aspirations

The Literature in the Digital Age initiative aims to go beyond digitising literature by fostering deeper cultural appreciation. Future plans include adapting British literary classics for Yuewen’s digital platforms, and making them more accessible and appealing to younger Chinese readers. Similarly, the project will explore ways to bring Chinese digital literature to British schools and libraries, encouraging cross-cultural dialogue from a young age.

In their closing remarks, Yuewen’s representatives expressed their hope that this partnership would inspire more such collaborations globally. They highlighted the transformative potential of combining traditional storytelling with the interactive possibilities offered by modern technology.

Broader Implications

Literature in the Digital Age stands as a powerful example of how literature can act as a bridge between cultures. By embracing technology, the project showcases how tradition and innovation can coexist, offering new ways to connect with stories that define human experience. The event not only celebrated a partnership but also laid the groundwork for lasting cultural exchange, reaffirming the role of literature as a vital tool for global understanding​.

In sum, the initiative is emblematic of a broader trend towards integrating cultural heritage with digital innovation, ensuring literature’s relevance in a rapidly changing world. As the partnership unfolds, it will undoubtedly inspire further exploration into the dynamic intersection of culture, technology, and diplomacy.

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New book From Click to Boom (Princeton University Press, 2024) asks that very question – how did the world’s largest e-commerce market highlight a digital path to development? Paul French caught up with its author, Lizhi Liu, an assistant professor at the McDonough School of Business at Georgetown University in Washington DC, to discuss potential answers.

We’re all amazed at the size and rapid growth of China’s e-commerce market – can you tell us just how big and all-encompassing this market truly is?

It’s the world’s largest e-commerce market, with over 800 million users, a 40% share of global transactions, and retail e-commerce sales surpassing US$2 trillion. To put this into perspective, during China’s 2020 Singles’ Day shopping event (akin to Cyber Monday), an astonishing four billion parcels were generated – enough to circle the Earth at the equator roughly thirty times if placed end to end. (It is noted that caution is needed when interpreting these numbers, as some sellers inflate their sales figures to boost search rankings through fraudulent practices – a common issue globally. Despite these distortions, the scale and popularity of China’s e-commerce market remain unmatched.)

The market also offers far greater product variety compared to its Western counterparts. Chinese consumers often refer to it as an ‘omnipotent market,’ where ‘there’s nothing you can’t find, only what you haven’t imagined yet.’ Beyond everyday items like clothing and household necessities, shoppers can even purchase bad debt and court-seized assets. Some of the more unusual offerings mentioned in the book include a ‘Dog Translator’ (which claims to interpret dog sounds into human language) and a ‘Noisy-Neighbour Revenge Machine’ (a vibration motor designed to annoy an upstairs neighbour). Notably, there’s also a ceramic figurine of Donald Trump as Buddha, inscribed with the slogan ‘Make your company great again’ — a playful gift that may appeal to both Trump supporters and critics alike.

I think many think that the Beijing government fostered the development of e-commerce, but you argue that it is largely a result of just the opposite, weak government institutions – can you explain please?

We need to differentiate between government support and government institutions. While China provides strong, ad hoc support to favoured industries and firms, its government institutions – particularly legal frameworks in markets – were weak during the early stages of e-commerce. At that time, China lacked the norms and laws needed to regulate online behaviour and combat online fraud, leading to widespread distrust of e-commerce. Although the country eventually established relevant institutions (e.g., cyber courts and the E-commerce Law), these government institutions are largely the consequence of e-commerce development rather than its cause.

The weak government institutions, however, prompted e-commerce platforms to create effective private online institutions. Platforms had to innovate and build strong institutions to bridge the governance gap and build consumer trust. For example, Taobao, China’s largest e-commerce marketplace, introduced a payment-escrow system, return-freight insurance, a credit scoring system, a fraud detection program, and even a jury-like mechanism that allows users to vote on cases or change platform rules. My book examines these digital institutions and underscores their vital role in fuelling China’s e-commerce boom.

Once established, these digital institutions can also support the development of government institutions. The government has engaged with tech firms and adopted platform rules to create formal governance structures for the online market. Essentially, this is a private-public partnership in institutional building.

So many problems elsewhere with e-commerce, including here in the UK, have come down to contract enforcement, fraud detection and dispute resolution. We might imagine these would be major problems in China with the weaker institutions you suggest, yet they seem to have overcome these hurdles. How?

Yes, the issues of contract enforcement and fraud are indeed more pronounced in China than in the UK. However, backwardness can sometimes lead to leapfrog development, such as in e-commerce.

First, the UK’s well-established offline infrastructure in the 2000s – such as department stores and widespread credit card use – reduced the need for e-commerce shopping. In contrast, many less developed regions in China at the time had limited offline shopping options, leading consumers to rely more on e-commerce for greater product variety and quality.

Second, the weaker institutional framework in China has prompted Chinese platforms to create highly developed online institutions for contract enforcement, fraud detection, and dispute resolution. While platforms from the UK and US also incorporate these features, they tend to be less sophisticated. For example, eBay struggled in China in the early 2000s because it simply transplanted its US business model, failing to establish the trust necessary for Chinese consumers to engage in online trading.

Lastly, the Chinese government has played a crucial role in this evolution. As my book illustrates, the government initially acquiesced to and later partnered with platforms to build online institutions, which helped address problems of contract enforcement and fraud detection.

You do suggest it’s a fluid relationship between e-commerce entrepreneurs and the government – ‘from laissez-faire to crackdown and back to support’. What do you think is the long-term trend?

In the long run, the Chinese government is likely to continue regulating the e-commerce sector, but it will not apply the same level of intensity to the tech sector as during the crackdown phase. Given the challenges facing the Chinese economy, there is a pressing need for e-commerce platforms and technology firms to drive economic growth, job creation and China’s global competitiveness. Excessive regulation can stifle autonomy, deter innovation among entrepreneurs and limit growth potential. Currently, the Chinese government appears more cautious about regulating the tech sector, mindful of the potential impact that overly stringent regulations could have on market confidence.

Another issue with e-commerce and its regulation in the UK, Europe and North America is privacy issues and data gathering, let alone surveillance. How have these not become issues in China – or are they, but there’s just not really a framework to contest such violations?

These are also issues – and the dark side – of China’s e-commerce development (see Chapter 6 of the book). However, before 2020, these issues did not prompt strict government regulations. Government then maintained a laissez-faire approach. I call this era “strategic non regulation”: the government recognised the market’s problems but avoided heavy regulations to encourage market growth. With minimal regulations, firms faced low compliance, allowing the sector to flourish and create jobs – exactly what the government aimed for.

In 2020, the government changed its policy toward tech companies (explained why in Chapter 6). Following the suspension of Ant Financial’s IPO, China entered a 2.5-year crackdown. The government quickly rolled out numerous regulations – arguably too many – to tackle issues including privacy concerns and data collection. While many of these regulations were well-intentioned and overdue, they often proved excessively strict, overly broad, and were implemented without warning. The heavy-handed enforcement approach resulted in regulatory overkill, shifting firms’ focus from “maximising revenue” to “minimising risk.” This harmed the internet industry, wiping out substantial market values.

How big is e-commerce going to get? Not just in revenue terms, but in terms of where else it could spread and to which new sectors. And what regulatory challenges to both entrepreneurs and the state might these developments bring?

China’s domestic e-commerce market is nearing saturation, particularly in urban areas where most consumers are already frequent users and have made substantial online purchases. While there is some growth potential in rural regions, lower disposable incomes present a significant challenge to driving further expansion. Domestically, China’s sluggish post-pandemic economic recovery and weakened consumer confidence have turned once avid online shoppers into more cautious spenders.

Cross-border e-commerce presents significant growth opportunities. With limited prospects in the domestic market, Chinese e-commerce sellers have increasingly turned to international markets. Chinese sellers have established a strong presence on Amazon, while Chinese-origin platforms like Shein and Temu have rapidly gained global popularity. Nevertheless, foreign regulatory risks are on the horizon. In September, the Biden administration proposed restricting the de minimis tax waiver, which allows packages under $800 to enter the US duty-free. This proposal specifically targets platforms like Shein and Temu, aiming to exclude products subject to US-China tariffs from this exemption. As cross-border e-commerce continues to grow, we can expect further regulations from foreign governments to address this rising trend.

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The British Library x Yuewen partnership reflects the dynamic and growing world of Chinese internet literature, which has redefined the relationship between authors and readers, attracted hundreds of millions of devotees, and produced countless adaptations across various media. This collaboration promises to provide a unique platform for cross-cultural exchange, combining the British Library’s rich literary heritage with Yuewen’s influential position in China’s booming online literature industry.

The Rapid Growth of Chinese Internet Literature

Chinese internet literature has become a mainstream cultural force, with Yuewen, a subsidiary of Tencent Group, leading the way. Yuewen operates numerous online literature platforms with over 537 million readers and an incredible 24 million authors, many of whom are young, part-time writers with non-literary backgrounds. These writers, often born in the late 1990s and early 2000s, contribute to a diverse and rapidly expanding literary ecosystem, with 36 million literary works published online and two million new works added in 2023 alone.

Popular genres such as xianxia (immortal heroes), xuanhuan (Chinese fantasy), historical fiction and romance dominate the scene, though reality-based, sci-fi, suspense, and urban themes are also gaining traction. This literary world, rich with uniquely Chinese cultural elements, has attracted international attention, with works translated into more than 20 languages reaching audiences in over 40 countries and regions.

The commercial impact of Chinese internet literature is substantial. In 2023, this industry generated RMB 40 billion (approximately £4.3 billion), with adaptations into comics, animations, films, TV series, games, audio and books. About 60% of the top 20 most popular Chinese TV series are adaptations from online novels, reflecting the demand for these stories across different media formats. Yuewen’s platforms alone have seen 72,600 works adapted into other forms, showing how internet literature has become a fertile ground for commercial and creative opportunities.

A New Era of Cross-Cultural Collaboration

This partnership with the British Library aims to build on the success of Yuewen’s storytelling model and expand its reach to a wider, more global audience. The three-year project is structured in phases, with the official launch event set for 21 November 2024, featuring an industry-focused panel discussion. This event, supported by the China-Britain Business Council, will highlight the growing importance of intellectual property (IP) commercialisation, the unique elements of digital literature, and how writers in China and the UK are engaging with readers in innovative ways.

Kai-Chuan Chao, the British Library’s Head of Cultural and Commercial Partnerships and its East Asia lead, has emphasised the importance of the partnership for increasing the British Library’s visibility in China. “It’s challenging to reach Chinese audiences solely through traditional channels,” Chao noted, “but by partnering with Yuewen, which has a massive readership and a robust online ecosystem, we hope to engage a wider audience in a fun, accessible way.” This initiative not only aims to introduce the British Library’s collections to Chinese audiences but also foster a lively exchange between British and Chinese literary traditions.

The British Library × Yuewen Writers’ Programme

Central to this collaboration is the British Library × Yuewen Writers’ Programme, which will bring three to five prominent Chinese web novelists to the British Library each year. During their visit, these writers will participate in curated tours and exclusive workshops designed to expose them to the British Library’s vast English literature collections. The programme includes interactive sessions where the writers can draw inspiration from historical manuscripts, such as Arthur Conan Doyle’s original Sherlock Holmes works, to inform their own storytelling.

Rather than instructing these accomplished authors, the workshops aim to encourage a creative exchange where they can draw on the inspiration of classic British literature and reinterpret it in new and culturally resonant ways. According to Chao, this approach is intended to “enable [Chinese writers] to create something inspired by what they see in the Library.” This process is a meeting of literary traditions, where contemporary Chinese authors can blend their unique styles and themes with elements from classic English literature.

Engaging Readers in the UK and China

In addition to fostering a dialogue among writers, the project is also designed to involve readers in creative and interactive ways. Yuewen will host a creative writing campaign, encouraging Chinese readers to merge characters and settings from British literary classics – like Frankenstein or Pride and Prejudice. Through this initiative, readers from both countries will engage in “co-curation,” mixing protagonists from different eras, backgrounds, and cultures to create fresh, imaginative stories. This interactive approach mirrors the British Library’s mission to engage with young people and introduce them to the world of literature in a way that feels both relevant and exciting.

The Future of Literary IP Commercialisation

At the November event, experts from the IP sector, including representatives from the Conan Doyle estate, will discuss the challenges and opportunities of IP commercialisation in the UK and China, underscoring the potential for Chinese IPs to reach global audiences, and highlighting the British Library’s role in facilitating this international literary exchange.

A New Chapter in British and Chinese Cultural Relations

The British Library × Yuewen collaboration exemplifies the potential of cross-cultural partnerships to reshape literary landscapes and expand the horizons of both creators and audiences. This three-year initiative offers Chinese writers and readers access to the British Library’s prestigious resources while introducing British literary culture to China’s vast online readership. The event on 21 November is just the beginning of an exciting journey where digital literature, cultural heritage, and global readership converge.

As Kai-Chuan Chao puts it, “We can do lectures, talks, and research projects, but we want to engage with young people in a fun way.” Through this collaboration, the British Library and Yuewen are indeed reaching new audiences in an age where literature is no longer confined to the printed page but lives on screens, in communities, and across borders. This partnership promises to shape the future of literature in the digital age, fostering a rich dialogue that celebrates diversity and innovation.

Click here to register for the event on 21 November

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Internet literature in China has attracted over 500 million readers and created a rapidly expanding and lucrative commercial market both within China and beyond its borders. Through IP commercialisation, some of the most successful titles are gaining huge popularity and growing fanbases in their adaptions in different segments of the entertainment industry – from film and TV to gaming and animation.

The viral success of The Joy of Life, Nirvana in Fire, Empresses in the Palace and Candle in the Tomb TV series, which first started as online literature, heralds what the future holds. Last year, there were 29 million internet literature writers in China, attracting an audience of 550 million users. 

To celebrate the commencement of the British Library x Yuewen three-year collaboration, Literature in the Digital Age, the China-Britain Business Council is pleased to support an exclusive event about internet literature in China featuring renowned web novelist Yuewen, along with special guests from the British Library and the UK IP sector, to explore and discuss these cultural phenomena.

Click here to register for the event

Ahead of the event, we are republishing a 2022 conversation between regular FOCUS contributor author Paul French and Megan Walsh, author of The Subplot: What China is Reading and Why it Matters (Columbia Global Reports), a book that pulls together all the strands of what China is reading right now – including which authors, genres and styles are popular, as well as how Chinese audiences are reading (online, e-books, hard copy).

I think the Chinese online literature market is fascinating because we don’t really have any equivalent in Britain. Can you give us a brief overview of China’s online reading platforms, the size and scope of what they’re publishing and how many people use them?

Chinese online fiction is, in short, the largest, self-generating industry of unregulated, free-market fiction in the world, and the quality is usually pretty poor. Still, it boasts impressive statistics. There are an estimated 450 million active readers and 17 million authors vying to catch and keep “eyeballs.” Most platforms, including Hongxiu, Jinjiang Literature City (Jjwxc), Qidian and China Literature operate a pay-per-chapter system, which has created a culture of serialisation. It has nurtured a rather dog-eat-dog approach to writing, with writers often plagiarising other people’s work and deploying sloppy clickbait tactics in order to keep updating and keep people reading. Novels are cancelled if they don’t attract enough visits, while the most popular romance and fantasy titles might be snapped up for highly coveted and extremely lucrative TV, anime or gaming adaptations. 

Online platforms, the largest of which is Tencent’s China Literature, do not think of themselves as publishers, but instead IP cultivation powerhouses, in which the main aim of novel-writing is, basically, mercenary. China Literature sees itself as the new Disney, a media and entertainment behemoth that generates and capitalises on its own IP, with its own TV and movie production companies, including New Classics Media. While its growth has somewhat plateaued in China, it now has its sights set on international expansion, setting up Webnovel and Inkstone, platforms to showcase translated online Chinese fiction as well as a platform for international writers themselves — a canny move given how popular fan fiction is becoming these days. Webnovel is already very popular in the West, and mired in controversy, with poor regulations to prevent plagiarism and giving writers little opportunity to have a meaningful, individualised presence online.

It seems to me that online reading is where genre really exists in China – both familiar genres such as crime, fantasy and romance, as well as what you call “male oriented titles”, “face slapping books” and “xianxia” or immortal hero novels. Can you tell us which genres are most popular, which are unique to China, and which of them replicate what we have in the West?

The biggest overlaps between China and the West are fan fiction and teen romance. In terms of genres that are unique to China, traditional wuxia (the mythical world of martial arts heroes popularised by Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon) and the newer fantastical realm of xianxia are the most notable. Like wuxia, xianxia novels take place in a mythic alternate reality, but it has shunned the camaraderie, moral compass and magical realism of wuxia stories and replaced it with dimension-bending worlds in which an often shameless, militantly individualistic protagonist spends thousands of chapters levelling up and smiting opponents to achieve his own immortality and omnipotence. As a result, xianxia is completely detached from reality. Often referred to as “cultivation novels,” xianxia narratives are plotted more like a computer game in which new weapons, superpowers and enemies differentiate one chapter from another. Amoral, self-obsessed hotheads are, of course, not to the taste of the CCP, who want self-sacrificing socialist heroes, and the crackdown on xianxia is already in full swing. Beyond this, there are in excess of 200 genres — things like tomb-raiding sagas, gaming or avatar-style romances and workplace politics — but created within the same climate as all the others, they tend to be deceptively, rather than thrillingly, diverse.  

Clearly, the Party is keen to see certain sorts of fiction dominate – “saints and martyrs” as you say – and are also rather distrustful and wary of online reading platforms. What’s emerging in this new, somewhat more controlled, cultural moment, and is anyone buying it?

I think the popularity and scale of online fantasies has taken the Party by surprise, and they are desperately trying to reclaim control of production and content. Several websites, in particular Jjwxc, which hosts the majority of danmei novels, have had to undergo “rectification” and commit to a higher socialist rating in terms of the content they host. The government has set up its own University of Online Fiction, devoted to realism and patriotic narratives, and commissioned “Red Stories” in which it has been claimed that superhero narratives can simply be mapped on to the stories of China’s red heroes from history. I genuinely don’t know how popular these propagandist novels will be – it is arguably one of the hardest things to gauge. The government don’t want to see its socialist heroes floundering in fact or fiction. But certainly, just as many action movies have done in the West, screen depictions of China being the world’s moral, technological and military trailblazer have been incredibly popular in recent years. Whether or not patriotism works on the page too, and I suspect it doesn’t, we are yet to see.

Are reading tastes national, or are the cities reading differently to the countryside and younger readers differently to older readers? How segmented is the market?

I genuinely don’t think I can answer with any authority, but I can say what I imagine to the be case. There is obviously still a huge divide between rural and urban residents in terms of access to quality education and opportunity. By extension, there are big differences in lifestyle for those living in third or fourth-tier cities compared to those in Shanghai, Beijing and Guangzhou. It wouldn’t surprise me to find out that those with less economic mobility and perceived cultural capital were more likely to be drawn to escapist fantasies, while self-help titles dominate reading habits in the bigger cities. Many fantasy readers refer to themselves with a degree of ironic pride as diaosi (variously translated as “penis hairs” or “losers”); they are only too aware of the stark difference between the superheroes and irresistible heroines they read about and their own lowly status. But this is, of course, all relative. Young people who fail to ace the gaokao and get a high-earning job in Shanghai are also likely to feel the strain, and seek consolation in fiction, in computer games, in movie theatres.

In many ways, the internet has democratised reading tastes in a way that wasn’t imaginable even ten years ago. The internet has meant that a steel worker can make money writing fiction by night, and it has nurtured the growing trove of wonderful migrant worker poetry published on various online platforms that, steeped in cultural and literary references, suggest that many of these apparently “uncultured” rural workers are in fact better read than the urban elites who invariably binge trashy fiction on their daily commute. As far as the older generations go, the literary types are incredibly well versed in both Chinese and translated world fiction, but have a penchant for social realism. Ge Fei wrote an interesting novella called The Invisibility Cloak (translated by Canaan Morse) about the few middle-aged eccentrics who go against the flow, whilst everyone else is moving in the same, homogenising direction of wanting more money and more stuff. If there were to be a national taste, the restless desire to change one’s fate at this time of economic ascension, either through hard work, graft or idle fantasy, has probably had the biggest impact on the kinds of books people are reading and writing. 

What or who are you reading right now? Can you suggest a few books to us, preferably translated, that are useful for getting a handle on contemporary Chinese literary tastes? 

For a mix of titles reflecting various aspects of Chinese literary (and not so literary) culture, you could try combining something like The Day the Sun Died by Yan Lianke (trans. Carlos Rojas), Iron Moon: An Anthology of Chinese Migrant Worker Poetry (trans. Eleanor Goodman), I Shall Seal the Heavens by Er Gen (trans. Death Blade), Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation by MXTX, In the Name of the People by Zhou Meisen (trans. Emily Hein), A Perfect Crime by A Yi (trans. Anna Holmwood) and Invisible Planets: 10 Visions of the Future from China (trans. Ken Liu). 

The post The rise of internet literature in China appeared first on Focus - China Britain Business Council.

Ash now lives in New York, where he is the editor of the China Books Review, a digital magazine (and podcast) project of the Asia Society and The Wire China. Following the publishing of Alec’s memoir of his Dali life, The Mountains are High (Scribe, 2024), Paul French talked to him about life in Dali, the rather relaxed pandemic experience there, whether burnt out professionals are really forsaking city life for the mountains, what it takes to “drop out” in China, and who exactly is “lying flat”.

In 2020, you’re living in Beijing, and you decide to quit big city life and head to Dali. Of all the alternatives to the capital you could have chosen, what attracted you to Dali?

By the beginning of 2020, Dali felt like what I needed at that time in my life – rural seclusion, a new part of China to explore, and alternative communities that interested me, having lived in bigger cities all my life. I was burnt out in Beijing, and Chinese cities can be so smoggy and unlivable at times that they can exacerbate all the negative tendencies of city living, where you don’t talk to your neighbours and are caught up in the rat race. Dali looked like the opposite of that, with more close-knit communities of city escapees living in shared courtyards and pursuing their passions, given the lower cost of living for city transplants out there. Think of it like Londoners moving to a village in Tuscany or a New Yorker’s place upstate, only with escaping Chinese middle class instead. There are other places in China where city folk flee too, many of them in the west of the nation such as the outskirts of Chengdu in Sichuan province, but Dali became an especially popular destination for it.

We hear a lot about city folk from Beijing, Shanghai and other metropolises looking to get out of the rat race, escape the urban sprawl and drudge and find more satisfying lives in the countryside. You met some of these people – what motivated them to change gear, and how easy is it to do in China?

When I moved to Dali in mid-January 2020, I found that a lot of the other city transplants who were my neighbours in the valley had moved for the same reasons as me. Some were expats like myself, who had moved to China in their early 20s and spent a decade or so in a big city such as Beijing, Shanghai and Guangdong, then in their 30s wanted something different or closer to nature. Most were Chinese on the same trajectory, who had poured all their early energies into making it in the city, only to find that pursuing material and career goals didn’t make them happy. Instead of economic development, they sought personal development. This ties into a movement called “lying flat” or tangping, which is essentially opting out of the rat race. But that isn’t so easy to do, especially if you still have bills to pay.

Many of the people you met in Dali had started businesses to support their lifestyles. What sort of enterprises were they starting, and how successful are they?

Moving to the countryside is a privilege that only the relatively affluent can afford, and some of my neighbours from the city in Dali were living off their savings or family money or were retirees. But there were also a lot of them who didn’t have those kinds of resources and had to make do on their own. Some were hippies who busked and sold handmade jewellery on the streets. Another popular way to get by was to start a kezhan, an inn or BnB serving tourists who were visiting Dali for shorter stays. One character in the book, who went by the name Nutshell, quit his job and sold his flat and most of his possessions in a northern Chinese city, then drove to Dali and took out a bank loan, built a four-story BnB from nothing, and is still trying to fill enough rooms to pay back the loan, as the pandemic impacted his business.

Dali is a significant tourist destination, and you moved there just before Covid hit. What sort of impact has tourism had on Dali’s development, and how has it recovered from Covid?

Covid was a big part of this story, or at least the part that I witnessed, as I moved to Dali just two weeks before the epidemic in Wuhan broke out and became a pandemic. The trend of moving to countryside locations such as Dali had begun long before 2020, but Covid was a big accelerant for it. By 2021 and 2022, a lot of folks who had endured city lockdowns were ready to call it quits in the city and move to more rural climes. Dali didn’t have any lockdowns and was a pretty idyllic place during the pandemic. But as mentioned, a lot of the city transplants were making their living off the tourists who visited the valley. Tourism dipped during the first year of the pandemic, which was bad for them. But then the opposite happened: tourists could move internally in China but not go abroad. So, the number of visitors and transplants spiked.

You write a lot about younger people in China. Can you give us a snapshot of China’s urban youth now?

In my first book, I followed the stories of six (then) young Chinese born between 1985 and 1990 (that is, my age). That was a very particular generation I called the “wedge generation”, stuck between the old New China (a generation born in the 60s and 70s who witnessed China’s emergence from poverty and political chaos into growth and opportunity) and the New China (a generation born into a rising China, with no lived memory of what came before). One phrase I heard used a lot was “a generation gap every five years”. That meant those born after 1990 were a different generation altogether, and one I was less familiar with. At first, I found them more confident and nationalistic, but recently, the generation after them (born after 1995 or 2000) seems more despairing at China’s economic slowdown, the high unemployment rate for college graduates, and the tightening political mood of the nation. So this new youth seems more disgruntled than ever, and some have protested that by opting out of the system and moving to Dali.

Do you think that what you witnessed in Dali in the early 2000s – with people “dropping out” (or something akin to it) – will boom in these more economically uncertain times in China?

I believe the trend will continue, more people will seek a more affordable life outside of big cities, and in doing so the places they migrate to, such as Dali, will in turn become unaffordable themselves as gentrification pushes up prices. That’s what happened in upstate New York, and I could already see it happening in Dali; housing prices used to be an absolute steal, but they’ve increased dramatically in just the last few years. So this is the cycle of escape and gentrification in trendy rural areas which is perhaps the fate of every middle to high-income nation. But if the deeper economic trends and inequities that drove them out of the cities continue, I fear people will find it as hard to thrive out of the city as they did inside it.

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In The Great Reversal, Brown’s intention is to provide British readers with our own China story and an understanding of how and why the West, through Britain, impacted and shaped the east in the form of China. Paul French caught up with Kerry Brown to talk Anglo-Chinese relations, the issue of our collective China knowledge (or lack of it) and what we can do about it.

Why do you think China and Chinese history have been so historically absent from our school curriculums, and why should we try and boost the study of China at the secondary school level?

British imperial history is extremely contentious, but the one impact it did have that no one could dispute is that Britain became involved, directly or indirectly, in a vast number of other countries and territories. That means that China has largely been seen as a subset of this broader history and tended to get subsumed into it. Things are complicated by the fact that the Chinese story was not straightforward. Apart from Hong Kong, ceded in different stages from 1842, China was part of what some historians have called an ‘informal’ empire and never directly governed. So that makes British involvement a more complex story to tell. Those are two of the more obvious reasons why even the relatively well-defined area of Britain’s relations with China and Chinese history are not easy to teach today and, therefore, largely neglected. On top of that is the obvious unfamiliarity with Chinese dynastic history, which is vast and largely unknown by the British.

On the other hand, Anglo-Chinese relations are widely taught in China, invariably accentuating the negative aspects of the shared histories. Presumably, this doesn’t help either.

Many Chinese people certainly have an understanding of there being a shared history between Britain and China. A lot of this is covered during the patriotic education curriculum introduced since the 1990s, reinforcing the sense that China was victimised and mistreated by colonial powers during the modern era. Of course, Britain figures amongst the most prominent. Much of this history can be contested – if people at least know some of the detail. But the fact is that from the early 19^th century, Britain enjoyed huge economic, military and technological advantages over China (and elsewhere) and exploited those. It did so opportunistically rather than through any intrinsic desire to bully or destroy. But in the end, the collective memories these actions inspired took deep roots amongst the Chinese. British people need to have at least a counter narrative that, while acknowledging some of these issues, at least paints a more complex and better-informed picture. That was one of the reasons why I wrote this history book.

Looking at Anglo-Chinese relations, you talk of a “great reversal”. What do you mean by that?

Britain and China have links going back at least to 1600. Over that four and a quarter centuries, on the whole, in terms of key areas like economic strength, military ability, technological and cultural power, and geopolitical influence, Britain was often stronger than China – particularly in the 19^th century onwards. Britain was the leading industrialising nation in the early modern era, giving it massive capacity in terms of naval technology and the ability to impact and influence China. China certainly had some influence on Britain, it’s true, through its aesthetics and the production of things Britain needed, like tea and porcelain. But the British China story till recently was one where in most areas, Britain enjoyed relative advantages. Since the 1980s, that situation has now reversed. In 2005, China’s economy overtook Britain’s. It is now about three times larger. China now has the largest navy in the world, at least in terms of vessels. In the area of technology, from artificial intelligence to quantum mechanics, it is pulling ahead of Britain. This has happened recently and quickly. That is the great trend of reversal I am referring to.

Do you think that our lack of a collective national understanding of Chinese and Anglo-Chinese history means we tend to demonise the PRC when it comes to trade disagreements, quota battles and more personal enmities, such as with Huawei?

I think the main issue that really struck me as I wrote the book was not so much that Britain demonised China. There had always been strands of Sinophobia and antagonism towards China way back in history, from the era of our first encounter as nations. There was plenty of pretty clear dislike of the British among Chinese, too. What was more striking was how little Britain ever really invested in making its mind up about what sort of place China was, and what sort of people the Chinese were. There seemed to be this deep ambiguity in British attitudes, veering from fascination on the one hand to something approaching apprehensive fear on the other – with no real attempt to create a consensus between these. That China today has a political system that is alien to Britain is obviously an issue – but I wonder whether some of the reactions to China we see now have, lurking behind them, these longer-standing confusions amongst ourselves and, of course, the lack of a really clear understanding of what we think China actually stands for and what kind of common ground we have with the place.

Do you think that this lack of understanding that your book seeks to address also means that Britain’s voice on key issues is less than it should be, as so many of our key decision-makers lack a grasp of the issues?

I think British politicians in recent years (and, of course, there have been exceptions) who deal with these issues often have attitudes towards China but very seldom real knowledge. There are plenty of things that Britain could and should hold China to account for. But the default has become more about stating standard lines of where Britain feels China is not acting properly, and feeling that just stating this is sufficient. I don’t think China looks down on Britain. But these days, I also don’t think it automatically believes Britain occupies some morally superior position. I think if British people understood their history with China more clearly, then they would be in a better place to work out how they can talk to China and how they can select issues that matter and which they need to debate and discuss with China. We might not believe we can understand China, but we can certainly understand our own long history with the place. That at least gives us a place to start from.

And finally, how can we improve our national consciousness of China? More space for China on the national curriculum? More university departments? More exchange visits?

The British story with China is a rich and fascinating one. British people should not find China unfamiliar. When they drink tea from porcelain cups and wear clothing made from silk, usually in gardens with plants and design features once inspired by China, they are all touching the parts of British life today that testify to the deep impact China has had on the way we live and who we are.  Britain also deeply influenced China in its modern development, in ways which were critically important. Just a recognition of this deep joint connection would help. Like I said just now, it might be a big ask to get people to delve into Chinese history and culture per se. But surely understanding British history with China should be more straightforward. And at least there is one relatively accessible book they can find that in now!

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